FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Calling all humies!

Job market got you bummed? Need some cash? Just some adventurous weirdo responding to posts on the internet? It’s cool, we don’t judge.

We’re a new adult entertainment site, www.YEEN’D.com, bringing you all the yeen on human content your heart desires. Big yeens and small yeens, fat yeens and lean yeens. Yeens in jeans! Yeens with beans! Teen yeans, mean yeens, clean yeens, and queen yeens! If you want yeen, then we got what you need!

We’re looking for a prime cut human male who wants to get in on the ground floor of a major enterprise. We want rockstars, visionaries, and someone who’s not afraid to get down and dirty! Someone who anthros want to have, and humans want to be! We’re totally not creeps, by the way.

What you bring to the table:

-Human

-Male

-18-30

-Submissive

-High endurance

What we can offer:

-$500 per shoot, no matter what. If we don’t finish, you still get paid.

-No contracts. Take the jobs you want, when you want.

-Professional working conditions.

-Respectful coworkers (we’re totally not creeps!)

-Free catering, plus homemade cookies for good boys.

If you’re still interested, please respond with some recent head and body shots (non-nudes are totally cool, just need to see what we’re working with), as well as some stats (length, girth, estimated pain tolerance, etc.) and a contact email. No resume required. Feel free to use a stage name till you’re more comfortable.

Hope to hear from you soon!

By the way, we’re totally not creeps.

For the seventh time that day, Michael read through the advertisement with something like dread pooling in his stomach. He closed his phone, tossed it into his car’s center divider, and wiped a bead of sweat from his face.

He looked at the house again.

It was a small, one story building somewhere deep inside a middle class suburb. He couldn’t find anything suspicious about it. Light blue paint. Trimmed hedges. Bay windows, a toolshed peaking over a side yard fence, and a silver minivan parked in the driveway. Michael had half expected the place to be covered in graffiti and bullet holes. Instead, he had found the most pleasantly average suburban home he could remember seeing in years.

His attention focused on the garage. Right now, the door was closed. Of course, with the minivan parked in the driveway, he could only guess that the crew were hard at work setting up for the shoot. In his mind, he saw a queen-sized bed, multiple camera angles, a whole forest of lights and sound equipment. Professional working conditions, the advertisement said.

Jesus Christ, what was he doing here?

He opened his phone again, scrolling through the long email chain he had shared with someone named Daisy. For the eighth time that day, he read her last message.

Just knock on the garage. Don’t go through the front door—Summer’s mom is home. But, hey, show up early. Get some catering, chat a little. We only bite on camera, trust me.

Oh, and wear something you won’t mind getting ripped to shreds.

See ya soon :D!

Daisy

Fucking hell, man.

He read through the Cora’s List posting again. It seemed innocuous enough. Show up at our house, meet the folks, have some laughs, get fucked into a mattress for several hours, and get five hundred dollars.

Get covered in bites. Get your pelvis ground to dust. Get your submissive humie face plastered online for thousands to see. From then on, at any given time, there would always be some lonely anthro jilling off while you got piledrived by four yeens at once.

Get five hundred shining buckaroos.

All in a day’s work.

Michael leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, trying to breathe deeply.

He needed the money. He was overdue on rent, there were at least a dozen other bills piling up in his mailbox, and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity for some quick, solid cash. According to Daisy, they were willing to pay him upfront, regardless of how well the shoot ended up going. Selling his body to make ends meet wasn’t a particularly proud moment of his life, but, well, it was better than being homeless. He could do it once, collect the cash, and try to forget it had ever happened.

Being inexperienced might even work in his favor. The yeens might think it was cute.

Oh, God.

If he was being honest with himself, the reason he kept rereading the job listing was because, in some way, it excited him. He’d browsed some of the anthro on human sites before. He had a few unorganized folders on his hard drive. When he had first stumbled upon the Cora’s List posting, his heart had started beating faster, and he had ended up sending pictures of himself before he’d really thought the whole thing through. Some kind of perverse thrill, deep inside his subconscious, had made him drive all the way out to this random suburban home. It was still there, right now, lurking beneath the fear. Was it going to carry him into that garage?

God.

Shit.

Fuck.

Michael grabbed his phone, took a deep breath, and got out of his car.

He walked across the street. The house did not lunge at him. None of the neighbors seemed to sense his presence. It was a cool, lazy afternoon, and a soft breeze ended up blowing across the asphalt, feeling like heaven against his clammy skin.

As he entered the driveway, something clattered inside the house. When he looked, he saw a yeen appear through a window, wearing an apron and scrubbing insistently at a dinner plate, like she was working through a nasty stain. That must be the mom. Daisy had told him not to bother her.

She noticed him walking up the driveway. Her ears perked, and she gave him a cheerful wave. After a moment, she offered a thumbs up and a winning smile.

Jesus Christ.

He stopped at the garage door. Somewhere inside, he could hear muffled conversation, something like wood scraping across concrete. There were definitely several people. Anthro-sized people. Fucking yeens, of all things. Big, dumb, nasty yeens. They were going to tear him apart.

His dick was achingly hard.

His fist hovered above the aluminum door. His heart pounded in his chest.

Five hundred dollars.

He hammered on the door.

Immediately, all conversation inside the garage grinded to a halt. Silence bled from the walls. Michael felt every second rubbing across his skin.

There was a mechanical whine. The door began to climb into the garage ceiling. As it rose higher, he could feel the exposure like a physical weight on his body, spreading from his feet, to his legs, hips, chest, and face.

On the other side, a very large yeen was waiting for him.

“You’re here! So nice to meet you!”

She stuck out a paw with a smile full of teeth. When Michael returned the handshake, it felt like grabbing a baseball mitt. Her grip was very strong.

“Daisy!” she said. “In the flesh! Come in, come in!”

He came inside.

Michael wasn’t really sure what he’d expected to see in the garage. A studio with a dirty bed, poor lighting, and mountains of cocaine? A sex dungeon with a couple gimps hanging from the ceiling? A bunch of human traffickers with AKs and gang tatts about to pack him off in a shipping crate?

Whatever it was, instead, he found an old workshop that had been hastily converted into an amateur film set. The center of the garage was dominated by a queen-sized bed with a tall headboard and a clean duvet, something that had probably been dragged out of a guest room in the house. Around the bed, there was a forest of equipment—tripods, folding chairs, light reflectors, portable fans, and enough high definition cameras to bankrupt a college sophomore. Towards the back, there were rows of cupboards and shelves, bulging with old carpentry tools that had obviously been tossed there years ago and not been moved since. The air tasted faintly of sawdust and varnish.

There were three other yeens in the garage. All of them had continued working through his entrance.

“So!” Daisy said, with an enthusiasm that Michael already found annoying. “This is Summer!”

On the outer edge of the equipment, a skinny hyena was standing on her toes to adjust a light reflector. She was dressed in a schoolgirl outfit—white buttoned top, pink bowtie, and a short blue skirt. Summer tried to flash him a smile, but she ended up losing her balance, nearly tilting the reflector towards the ceiling. “Shit, sorry, sorry!” She hastily corrected the angle. “Hi!”

A hyena manning one of the cameras threw up a hand. “Dude!”

“Sorry!”

Daisy gave a short giggle. Michael had never seen a yeen giggle before. “This is Austin!”

The hyena at the mounted camera was fairly tall, with a messy frock of hair falling around her eyes and a punk-rock outfit that would’ve been out of date a decade ago. A joint burned between her fingers. After a moment, Austin looked up from the camera viewfinder and gave him a quick flick of her head. “’Sup?”

Daisy gestured toward the bed. “And last, but not least, we have Veronica!”

A hyena was sprawled across the duvet, striking a seductive side-pose for the camera. She wore a flowing cocktail dress, well-brushed fur, and a smile that was equal parts cool and wicked. Veronica greeted Michael with a wiggle of her fingers before returning to her pose.

“Yo, V,” Austin said, squinting at the camera’s viewfinder. “Uh, shift back a little.”

Veronica shifted back on hip and elbow, using one of her hands to fluff up her mohawk.

“Summer. Down left.”

Summer stood on her toes again and gently tilted the light absorber. She kept taking glances at Michael.

“Hey, Daisy,” Austin said, waving her stogie around. “Close the door. Fuckin’ up the light.”

Daisy scampered over to a hidden switch. There was another mechanical whine, and the garage door began to close. Michael watched it go down with a sudden jolt of fear, thinking that he only had a few seconds to choose his fate. Lock himself in a garage with four large anthros he barely knew? Or run for his life?

Daisy flashed him another smile.

He didn’t move. The aluminum door shuddered as it kissed the concrete. Now, the only sources of light in the garage were a couple tungsten bulbs sitting on tripods and a small glass window way off in a corner.

That was it, then. He was committed.

Daisy returned to his side, clapping her paws together. “So! You’re here! Nice to meet you, Mister Man. Your headshots—”

“Major Manly,” Michael said.

“Oh, uh—what?”

“. . . my stage name is Major Manly.”

“Oh! Right, right, sorry.” She began to coo from deep in her chest. “Oh, I like that, actually. Major Manly. It’s cute!”

Michael blushed. “Uh, well, yeah, it’s supposed to be kinda cheesy—”

Daisy began to assume a dramatic pose. It was only now, after he had oriented himself a bit, that Michael noticed she was wearing a tight sports bra and skimpy track shorts. Unlike the other three, it didn’t look like a costume on her—she had a hard, fit body beneath her tawny fur, like she exercised with religious devotion. She would probably have the easiest time folding him in half.

“Come here, Manly!” Daisy said, attempting to sound husky. “I just had a hard workout, and I need a tongue bath from my favorite lil’ humie!” She switched to a hackle-raising growl. “Yeah, eat that stinky pussy, Major! Clean my sweat! Taste me!”

Michael blinked up at her.

After a few long seconds, Daisy began to deflate. “The script I sent you. Did you read it?”

“Oh. Yeah. I did.”

“Well. Okay. We’re still . . . workshopping the dialogue. Feel free to ad-lib.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

“I don’t actually smell, by the way. All clean and showered.”

“Good to know.”

“Our target demographics just really like a bit of musk play. Huffing, smelling, so on.”

“Of course.”

“You know, just—play it up. In the scene. Take some deep breaths. Bury your face. Maybe don’t mention pheromones—makes some people upset—but, you know, say you love the taste. We’re enchanting. Intoxicating. You’re just so embarrassed and turned on you don’t know what to do with yourself. Right?”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “Right.”

“Great!” Daisy replied, smiling wide. “So, uh, do you have the . . . liability wavers?”

Michael reached into a back pocket, unfolded a thick set of papers, and handed them to her.

“Alright! Awesome!” She waved the consent forms at Austin, like the other yeen had just lost a bet. “We close to making magic?”

“Totally,” Austin replied, almost bored. She was cycling through the lenses on her camera, eyes glued to the viewfinder. “Give me a loose ten, and we’ll start rolling.”

Daisy quickly rifled through his stack of papers. “Gonna go store these somewhere safe. Be back soon!”

“Oh, wait,” Michael said, seeing a chance to speak. “Before you go—”

“Go on, meet the crew!” She gave him a playful punch in the shoulder, which mostly felt like a real punch. “Do some stretches!”

Daisy raced off toward a side door before he could get a word in. When the door opened, he caught a glimpse of white kitchen tiles, as well as the sweet smell of barbecue pork. Seemed like Summer’s mom had been put in charge of catering. Daisy began to chatter excitedly to the matronly yeen, but whatever she said was cut short by the door closing behind her.

And, just like that, Michael was alone. He was standing in the middle of a garage, surrounded by yeens, and, by some miracle, he had managed to not get raped immediately. That was a good sign. Probably.

He glanced back at the set. The three other hyenas were still focused on their tasks. Summer was adjusting the lights and performing mic checks. Austin was watching the camera feed. Veronica was sprawled out on the queen-sized bed, having a little too much fun assuming various poses. She pretended to ride cowgirl, stuffed an imaginary object into her crotch, and, finally, made a show of gripping something between her paws so she could bite down hard.

Michael took a deep breath.

Slowly, doing his best to act casual, he strolled over to a set of high folding chairs close to Austin. They were the exact same kind he’d seen in movies—tall, jet black, about as sturdy as a bunny’s ear. It took him a solid fifteen seconds to figure out how to sit comfortably. By the end, he was mostly just leaning on his knees, watching everyone perform their jobs.

He didn’t need to do anything. From the scripts Daisy had sent him, his only job was to lie on the bed and have things done to him, with some whimpering moans thrown in for effect. The one important duty he did have—maintaining an erection at all times—had been accomplished ever since he woke up this morning.

Just lay on the bed, get ravaged for six to ten hours, and walk away with five hundred dollars.

Five hundred. Five zero zero.

Five times a hundred. Ten times fifty. Twenty five times twenty.

Two-fifths would go to his car insurance. A fifth to his grocery bill, if he bought in bulk. Somewhere between a half and a third could finish off his rent. How many tanks of gas could five hundred dollars buy?

Jesus Christ.

He’d read Daisy’s scripts. All four of these yeens were going to have their way with him, in one way or another, and none of them were going to be gentle. There was always an emphasis on biting. Licking. Ripping off his clothes. Lipstick on bare skin, visible for the camera. Submissive moans picked up on every mic. The dialogue always vacillating between what a good boy he was, how much he knew he liked it, how much he loved their smell, their fur, their taste, and just how much he really wanted them to—

“Yo.”

Michael blinked. Austin was leaning over the back of her chair, a thin stream of smoke curling up from her joint.

“You good, dude?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Michael sat up straight on his chair, which nearly caused it to tip over backward. “Just . . . going through my lines.”

Austin snorted. “Right. Of course. I mean, how are you supposed to answer when someone asks ‘who’s a good boy for momma’? What is the nature of a good boy, really?”

“Well,” Michael said, “see, I was thinking I could tell jokes. Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Sherwood.”

“Sherwood who?”

“Sherwood like to eat your pussy.”

The shaggy-haired yeen began to snicker. “Oh, you gotta fucking say that. When you’re munching on Daisy, just stick your ear in her cunt and be like, ‘I can hear the ocean!’”

Michael felt himself smile and blush in equal measure. He laughed a little too hard, breaking eye contact to look over the shelves and workbenches lining the back wall. When he looked back, Austin was still watching him.

“Hey,” she said, more serious. “This your first time?”

“I’ve had sex before.”

“. . . is this your first time on-camera?”

“Oh. Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. It is.”

“What’s your stage name, again?”

“Major Manly.”

Austin started to crack up laughing. On the bed, Veronica gave an exaggerated moan, like the name had made her ovulate on the spot.

“It’s supposed to be funny,” Michael said, his face burning hot.

“Oh, yeah,” Austin said. “It is.”

“Like, you know, you guys are taking me down a peg.”

“A pegging is one way to take you down, sure.”

Michael took a deep breath. He was sweating through his clothes, and the smell of sawdust and disinfectant spray was beginning to feel like a smothering blanket. The fact that Austin was obviously smoking weed didn’t help much, either.

“Just teasin’ you, man. Take it easy.” She took a drag on her joint. “What’s your real name?”

“. . . just call me Mike.”

“Okay, Mike. Lookie here.” Austin leaned to the side of her chair and pulled up a white plastic box. “This is a first aid kit. We’re gonna disinfect every bite you get. We’re all liable by contract if one of us pokes too deep. And, you know, we’re all practiced humie biters around here, so nothing permanent’s gonna happen, alright?”

“Oh, great,” Michael said. “Glad to hear you guys are good at it.”

“You know what I mean,” Austin replied. “We’re professionals. Tryin’ to be, anyway. And, well, you’re the first human employed by YEEN’D.com, for all your yeen on human needs, so you could say we got a vested interest in making sure you stick around.” She shrugged. “We’ll treat you better than some other labels, believe me.”

Veronica jumped off the queen-sized bed. Her cocktail dress glimmered under the lights as she slinked her way across the set. “I have a question for you, Mikey.”

“V,” Austin said, as if she already knew where this was going.

Veronica sauntered over to his seat. With a devious glint in her eye, she struck a pose—hips cocked, hand on her breast, leaning over far enough that Michael could smell the shampoo on her fur. “Have you ever been with an anthro before?”

Austin rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake—”

“You don’t have to say,” Veronica said, a hint of teeth in her smile. “But I think I know the answer.”

Michael squirmed in his seat, trying to avoid Veronica’s gaze, but she was a well-proportioned woman, and he felt his eyes being pulled back with gravity-like attraction. His blush had achieved nuclear criticality.

“What was her name?”

“Sade,” Michael said. “In college. Just an—um—one night stand.”

Veronica’s grin grew a little wider. Michael wanted the ground to swallow him.

“Hyena?”

“. . . yeah.”

“Alright,” Austin said, getting out of her seat. “Look—”

“Leave him alone!”

Summer came rushing through the forest of poles and tripods. Instead of a gallant rescue, she tripped over a loose wire, knocked a handheld camera clear across the bed, and sent a light fixture screaming into the concrete. There were several crunches of metal.

“Dude!”

Austin raced over to the equipment. Summer awkwardly stood around the destruction.

“Mikey,” Veronica said. “This is Summer. Would you like her to rescue you?”

“Uh—”

“Get your paws off him!” The yeen in the schoolgirl outfit continued toward the seats. “God, you always do this!”

Veronica made a show of adjusting her bra.

“Always swooping in on every humie we find!” Summer nearly barreled into Michael’s flimsy seat. He suddenly felt sandwiched between two large, fluffy women. “You’re gonna scare him off!”

“Hardly,” Veronica replied. “God forbid one of us talks to him.”

“Look at him! He’s scared!”

“Good. Better for the camera.”

“Shut up!” Summer began to crudely mimic Veronica’s posture. “Oh, look at me, bachelor of theatre arts! I went to college! I’m a drama student!”

“I think you mean, ‘classically trained actor’.”

“You work at Costco, bitch.”

Over to the side, Austin was re-aligning the light fixtures. The smoke from her joint turned a deep, curling blue beneath the glare. “Hey, Summer, we’re renting this equipment, so keep your white-knight shit in check. If you fuck up the cameras, you’re gonna be his fluffer.”

Michael shifted in his flimsy chair. Veronica and Summer were still looming over him, a preppy schoolgirl versus a sleek cocktail dress.

“Can I finish my point?” Veronica asked.

“Oh, what? Gonna try some method acting shit?”

“No.” The well-brushed yeen returned her attention to Michael. “I was going to tell him that I had a human boyfriend, too.”

Michael tried to keep a straight face.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Veronica said. “We’ve all had some magical experience with sex. Like Summer, for example.”

“Shut up, don’t—”

“Oh, yeah,” Austin said, snickering. “She got fingered under the bleachers and never looked at an anthro again. Clawless hands!”

“Smooth tongues,” Veronica purred.

If Summer could blush through the fur, she would be as pink as her bowtie. She fidgeted in place, glanced at Michael, and took a small step back.

“That was my point,” Veronica said. “We’re all perverts. We all like sex. That’s why we’re here. That’s why thousands of people will subscribe to YEEN’D.com for thirty dollars a month. There is a demand for this content, and we have to be in touch with what the audience wants.” She fluffed the fur on her neck with a few, languid sweeps. “I was trying to tell Mikey that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get fucked by a gang of yeens. Is there?”

“Actually,” Michael said, “I’m mostly here for the cash.”

“Yes,” Austin said. “Thank you. We’re not all perverts, V. Some of us just want a paycheck.”

Michael glanced between the two yeens on either side of him, feeling like he finally had a chance to speak. “You guys promised to pay upfront. No contracts, no withholding. Five hundred dollars for a single shoot is way above industry standard, from what I saw, so I . . . couldn’t pass it up.” He shrugged. “I need to pay rent. That’s about it.”

Veronica made a noise in her throat. “If you needed cash, you had plenty of options. Sell your plasma, delivery driver, whatever.” She leaned above him. “You chose to come here, Mikey. You decided to star in a porno. Didn’t you?”

“. . .yeah. Guess so.” He cleared his throat. “You’re not wrong.”

“Good to hear,” Veronica said, smiling. She gave an exaggerated bow. “Thanks for indulging me.”

The side door burst open. Daisy came racing into the garage with a steaming plate of BBQ ribs gripped in her paws. “Catering!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Dawson!” Austin yelled.

Summer’s mom leaned into the doorway and gave the entire garage a thumbs up, like she was cheering on her kid at a little league game. Summer looked like she wanted to hide in the cupboards.

Daisy placed the ribs on a nearby bench and came jogging up to the group. “Are we all ready? Time for magic?”

Veronica ran a hand up her thigh. Austin leaned over the main camera, checking the viewfinder. Summer’s ears were perking up at the smell of fresh meat.

“Yo, Austin,” Michael said. “Pass that shit.”

Austin blinked. After a moment, she offered him her joint. He took a long drag, sucking it down deep in his lungs. It was good weed. He’d been smelling it ever since he came in.

If he was really going to do this, he sure as shit was gonna have a good time.

Veronica was right. He had chosen to be here.

“Alright,” Michael said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Who’s up first?”

All four yeens looked at him, then back at each other. Something silent passed between them.

One by one, they gave him a smile.

---

Summer dragged her tongue across his face.

So far, the first porno shoot of his life had been a storm of licks. There were long, hot strokes on his cheeks, questing dashes on his neck and ears, the slight pecks on his nose that were always a prelude to a deeper taste. Occasionally, she would try to kiss him, pressing the black, cold tip of her nose against his own, her tongue slithering wildly inside his mouth until he was left gasping for air.

Hot skin. Wet muscle. The tiniest little barbs.

His entire face was steaming.

After a particularly long kiss, Summer pulled back. They stared at each other, breaths colliding, eyes struggling to focus.

Shit. His line.

“B-but Suzie,” Michael said, playing up the stutter, “what’s gonna happen if-if we skip another c-class?”

Summer growled. With a single paw, she dug her claws into her school uniform and tore open the shirt, sending half a dozen buttons bouncing across the set. Her breasts spilled onto his shoulders.

“Oh, Major, you’re already in detention. My detention.”

She dove for his neck. Her licks became deeper, heavier, crawling up from his nape to his ear in thick, brutish lines. He went weak at the knees, surrendering into the warm, fluffy embrace of her arms.

Time for the moan.

“Ohhhhhh, Suzie!”

That was too much. Way too much. God, he sounded like a girl.

Summer didn’t react. She began to alternate between nibbles and licks, getting him ready for the first bite of the shoot. With her furry cheek rubbing against his face, Michael managed to glance over at Veronica, who was standing only a few feet away and wielding a large boom mike above his head. She was struggling not to laugh. When she saw him looking at her, she closed a fist and pretended to jerk off, giving the most silently whorish moan Michael had ever seen.

Thank God for ADR.

“Bite,” Summer whispered.

Shit. Shit. Shit—

She bit him on the shoulder. There was white hot pain, a crushing pressure that seemed to shoot down his arteries, and then it was gone. Summer licked the wound with a pace that bordered on frantic, like she’d accidentally broken the skin. Michael couldn’t stop himself from moaning again.

The world tilted. He landed on the bed, the white duvet glowing like a sunlit cloud beneath the four tungsten bulbs. Summer was already looming above him, her breasts engulfing his chest, her fuzzy thighs wrapping around his waist. Her paws began to roam down his body with a growing hunger, like she was finally letting herself use more of her strength.

She whispered in his ear. “Good?”

Michael gave a breathy affirmation. Summer bit him again, her front teeth wrapping around the side of his throat. His heart pounded into her jaws.

Off to the side, Austin operated the primary camera with one hand while taking a drag off her joint in the other. Daisy skulked around the side of the bed with a handheld, slowly zooming in on his neck.

Summer took a few seconds to lick his wound before rising above him. Her meaty paws pressed into his shoulders, a growl bubbling from her throat.

“You’re always talking about the other girls,” she said. “But I saw you lookin’ at me.” She came closer to his face. “Oh, you want a good girl, but you need the bad pussy, don’t ya?”

“Suzie, I. . . .”

She silenced him with a wet, heavy lick across his face.

“You wanna steal my panties?” Summer asked. “You wanna rub one out to my dirty laundry?”

In one smooth motion, Summer dragged her claws from his left shoulder to the opposite hip, ripping his shirt into shreds. Michael whimpered dramatically.

“I’ll show you what yeens can—”

Summer stopped. Her slit pupils began to widen.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry!”

Michael looked down. Her claws had gone straight through the fabric of his shirt and into his chest, leaving several parallel cuts that were already beginning to bleed. With the bite wounds on his neck, and her heavy weight pressed into his legs, he genuinely hadn’t noticed.

“Mike,” Austin said. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

Daisy leaned over the two of them, tracing a padded finger along his chest. “Quick five?”

“No,” Michael said. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

“Yo, Summer,” Austin said. “You’re doing great. Keep it up.”

Summer took a few short breaths. “Yeah?”

“Total humie killer, babe.”

“Oh, thanks, babe.”

With her tits swinging in his face, Michael gave Summer a thumbs up. She smiled. After a moment, she began to growl again, forcing herself back into character.

“Positions,” Austin said. Daisy retreated back into the shadows. “As you were. Three, two, one. . . .”

Summer tore the rest of his shirt off. Michael gave a loud gasp, acting as if he wanted to crawl out from beneath her, but Summer planted her paws back on his shoulders, leaning in close. The cold tip of her nose stabbed through the hot spread of saliva still on his cheek. Her eyes were sharp and lethal.

“You wanna beat it to me, Major?”

She pressed her chest against him, falling slightly to his side. With hot breath blowing across his throat, Michael felt one of her paws shift down toward his pants. The waistband snapped like a rubber string. His tattered shorts were ripped from his legs, and his cock finally sprung out into open air, so painfully stiff that he could feel it bounce with every beat of his heart.

“You like my . . . beans?”

Summer cringed at the line. Daisy, who had written it, loomed in the darkness, her teeth glinting in a grin.

A paw wrapped around his cock. Her pads were thick and firm, not quite leathery, each of the black beans wrapped in tufts of soft, spilling fur. Above, her other paw began to cup his face, the dull points of her claws resting gently against his cheek. She forced him to look at her.

“You wanna fuck me, Major?”

Summer began to stroke. Her paw pads glided across his shaft, squeezing lightly at the top and loosening at the bottom, like she was directing all the pleasure to the head of his cock. The interplay between fur and thick, callused skin was like nothing he’d ever experienced—the fur was soft, heavenly to the touch, while her pads provided such intense friction that Michael felt his vision began to blur, the tingling ecstasy shooting through his body.

“You like this, Manly?”

“Yes,” Michael moaned, his face burning hot.

Summer nibbled at his neck. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it!”

“Beg me to jerk you off.”

“Please!”

She tilted his face toward her muzzle, kissing him hard on the lips. Her paw never stopped pumping. After a few seconds, Michael tried to break away, giving an almost involuntary moan, but Summer kissed him again, invading his mouth with her tongue, determined to take things at her pace. When they finally broke away, both of them were gasping.

“I always wanted you.” She bit him again, harder, teeth sinking into his shoulder. “God, the way you looked at me. Like I didn’t notice.” Her tongue lashed at his cheek. “I wanted to slam your tight humie ass into the locker room floor and make you my bitch.”

Pump and stroke. Rise and fall. Pins and needles.

“You’re mine now, Manly. All mine.”

Michael’s back arched off the bed. Summer immediately pressed him back down into the duvet, reasserting control.

“Cum for me.”

Blinding pleasure. Smothered in fur. Bright lights and cameras.

“Cum for me, bitch!”

Rising fast. Rising strong.

“Suzie!” Michael yelled.

He came all over her paw, moaning and bucking through her embrace, his body seeking out every inch of pleasure it could find. Ropes of cum painted her hand, her arm, his belly, the freshly laundered duvet on the bed. For a moment, Michael was no longer in the garage of a stranger’s home, filming a porno for rent money—instead, he was back in his college dorm, slightly drunk, being brought to the hardest orgasm of his life by the tough hyena chick he’d met at a bar. The two experiences merged. He found the ecstasy he’d been chasing for years.

When the waves of pleasure finally receded, Summer kissed him again. She was much gentler this time. She licked all his wounds, stroking her padded fingers through his hair. Michael was putty in her hands.

“You’re mine, Manly,” she said, staring deep into his eyes. “All mine.”

Michael smiled.

“Cut!” Austin yelled.

Summer jumped off the bed, holding out her cum-painted paw. “Can I get a towel?”

Daisy handed her a pink, finely embroidered towel, like something she’d taken out of the house bathroom. She tossed the handheld camera onto the bed and pulled Michael back to a sitting position. “That was awesome!”

Michael blinked up at the hyena, like he’d forgotten who she was.

“High-five!”

She smacked his hand. It came so hard that his joints began to ache. “Oh, I felt it! That was magic! Instant viral! We’re getting that up and running ASAP!”

“It was pretty good,” Austin said, strolling around the camera. She took one last drag of her joint and snuffed the cherry between two fingers. “Killer job, babe.”

“Thanks, babe,” Summer said, wiping cum off her paw. “You were great, too, Mike! Sorry about the scratch!”

Veronica dragged her hand up and down the shaft of her boom mike. “Love the moans.”

Austin cocked her hand for a high-five. Michael raised his own, nearly losing his balance when she struck him with a massive paw. Behind him, the duvet was covered in a mixture of blood, cum and sweat.

His mind was still a mess. Less than an hour into filming, he had been licked, scratched, bitten several times, and given his hardest orgasm in recent memory.

“Right,” Austin said. “Everyone, take a loose twenty. Mike, drink some water. We roll again in thirty.”

Oh, God.

---

Michael dragged his tongue across her nipple.

So far, the second porno shoot of his life had been a storm of licks, and all of them had been focused on Daisy. For nearly a minute straight, he had lavished her breasts—parting the fur with his tongue, tracing the bumps on her areolae, using his lips to form a gentle seal around the nipple, sucking and tugging on one breast while his hand gently kneaded the other. Daisy was sitting on the edge of the bed, stark naked and huffing in contentment, guiding his efforts with a massive paw on the back of his head.

The tags for this video: body worship, cunnilingus, musk play.

“You’re beautiful,” Michael said, like he was losing his breath at the sight.

“Don’t tell me,” Daisy replied. “Show me.”

He renewed his efforts, tugging on a nipple with his lips while massaging the doughy flesh with his hands. Above, Daisy let out a happy sigh. Her claws began to scratch his hair.

“Such a good humie. After a long_,_ hard workout, I know you’ll wipe me down.”

She really did have a gorgeous body. There was a very small amount of fat above a rock hard layer of muscle, every part of her so perfectly toned that he could easily trace the curves beneath her spotted fur. She had perky tits, an ass that could bend steel, and seemingly endless amounts of stamina.

Daisy worked out a lot. She was also the one that wrote this scene. Go figure.

Right on cue, Michael freed his lips from her nipple, the pink areolae glistening wet beneath the harsh tungsten bulbs. Slowly, he ran his hands down the side of her abs, watching the fur bristle beneath his fingers, before settling his palms on her inner thighs. He pushed open the walls of her legs. Her pussy was a thin hint of pink beneath a valley of golden fur, the vulva slowly blossoming as he spread her thighs, her natural musk already seeming to—

“No.”

The paw on his head shifted around to his jaw, tilting his gaze back up to her face.

“Good boys need to earn my pussy,” Daisy said. She bent her arm back over her shoulder, placing the hand between her shoulder blades. The fur on her armpit seemed to glow beneath the lights. “My sweat rag still has work to do.”

On cue, Michael rose up on his knees, burying his face in her armpit. He found a deep pocket of fur in the hollow between breast and back, the fluffy hairs tickling his cheeks and swallowing his vision. The fur was heavenly. Rich and soft. He breathed it in, loud enough for Veronica to pick up on the boom mike, and, as he did, he caught the faintest hint of musk lurking below, like a few playful notes of perfume. A promise of what was to come.

The scene was all about musk play. In the interest of general hygiene, Daisy had taken a long shower before shooting, but, for the sake of the cameras, Michael had to act like she was the smelliest yeen that had ever escaped biohazard containment. A walking violation of every chemical weapons treaty known to man.

Some part of him wished she did smell a little stronger.

“You love my fur, Manly?” Daisy asked.

Michael nodded, his face buried in fluff.

“How much do you love it?”

He pulled back. “I wish I could shave it off and wear you like a coat.”

Daisy giggled. “Well, then—”

“Cut! Cut!”

Austin strolled out from behind the primary camera. Off in the darkness, Summer stopped recording on the handheld, and Veronica rested the shaft of the boom mike on the garage floor, rubbing her aching muscles.

“We’re cutting that line,” Austin said. “It’s fucking creepy.”

Daisy continued to hold Michael’s face close to her armpit. “What? It’s romantic!”

Austin began to speak in a whiny tone, which was apparently how humans sounded to her. “Oh, yeah, babe, I wanna shave off all your fur. I wanna wear you like a jacket. Maybe I’ll take your skin and turn you into a lamp.”

“No, no! It’s supposed to be—like—oh, he loves it so much, he wants to keep it on him all the time! You know, it’s sweet!”

Veronica cracked up laughing.

“It’s a little weird, Daze,” Summer said.

“It’s really fucking weird,” Austin continued. “Mike, for the love of God, don’t say that shit.”

“Done,” Michael said, trying to spit out some fur.

Daisy made a pouting face. Austin returned to her seat behind the camera.

“Right. Rolling again. Three, two, one. . . .”

Michael took one last dive into her armpit, savoring the feeling of total fur immersion. Sniffing loudly, he started to drag his face down the side of her body, taking a long journey around the curve of her breasts. His cheek never left her fur, and he never stopped inhaling her aroma, like he didn’t want to miss a single inch.

Her shampoo did smell nice, admittedly.

“Rock solid,” Daisy said. “Huh, babe?”

When he felt the hard ridges of her abs, he began to lick again. Tracing the bumps and grooves, digging in and out, veering from side to side like he was working his way through a maze of muscle. He gave a dramatic moan into her abs, like it was the one thing he’d been missing from his life. The paw on his head made a show of scratching his hair.

“Tell me you love it, Major.”

“I love it,” Michael said, her breasts looming above his head.

“How much do you love it?”

I’d shred my face like a cheese grater.

Instead of saying his line, Michael began to lick faster, dragging his face across her abdomen, burying his tongue in the small cavity of her belly button. He left no part of her unworshipped. At the same time, his hands roamed from hard muscle to the softer fat of her hips, eventually finding their way back to her thighs.

Time for the money shot.

Slowly, with his face covered in strands of fur, Michael sat back on his knees, looking up at Daisy in silent appeal.

A devious smile spread across her muzzle. “You want my pussy, Major?”

“Yes.”

“You want my smelly hyena pussy?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

“You wanna breath my musk at the source?”

“Please!”

She opened her legs, pressing down on his head.

His lips met her pussy in a hot, lurid kiss. She was sopping wet, the fur around her labia glistening with invitation, her natural musk so thick in the air that it almost seemed like a visible fog. Because the camera didn’t have a good angle on the action, and Michael’s tongue was beginning to grow numb, he began to mash his face against her lips, dragging his nose through her inner folds and kissing whatever rosy flesh he could find. The audience couldn’t tell the difference.

Daisy tightened her grip on his head. She moaned, loudly.

“Oh, fuck, Manly!”

Behind him, Summer began to lean out of the darkness, shoving the handheld close to his ear. To give a better view, Daisy fell back onto the bed. She planted her feet on either side of his body, her thick, fuzzy thighs settling on his shoulders, her tail sneaking up from below to wag against his chest. His entire vision was swallowed by fur and flesh.

“Use it! Use that humie tongue!”

Michael began to lick in earnest. He traced the tip of his tongue through the folds and details of her vulva, spelling out letters, drawing random shapes, turning his efforts into thick, heavy drags whenever he wanted a reaction. She was burning hot, the heat of her pussy mixing with the blush on his face, and the fuzzy thighs wrapping around his head began to feel like the world’s finest earmuffs, keeping him warm, snug, and trapped. Pure bottled fragrance, at his convenience.

“How’s it taste, Major?” Daisy asked, breathless. “You like my musk?”

She tasted salty. A little sour. Most of all, everything was seeped in a thick, musky smell. Whenever he came up for air, strands of her excitement would drip off his jaw, covering the length of his tongue like a slimy film, every breath tasting like her. He couldn’t describe it as anything other than feminine. Her hyena flavor boiled his brain. Her natural stink made him dizzy. It almost made him forget that he had two cameras and a boom mike hovering above his head.

“Yeah, that’s right.” She pressed his face deeper. “Breathe it in, bitch. Suck my stinky pussy. I kept it nice and marinated for you. I knew my little humie sweat rag would want it sweaty, you little slut, so I sat there in my dirty workout clothes, toying with myself, knowing my husband would be waiting right there at the door for me to—”

“Cut! Cut!”

Daisy immediately let go of his head. Michael gasped for air, strands of grool and spit still connecting his lips to hers.

Austin approached the bed again. “Daisy, what the fuck are you doing?”

“What?” Daisy asked. “That’s in the script!”

“Yeah! I know!” Austin threw up her arms. “Marinating! Dirty clothes! Stinky pussy! You gonna lay it on any fucking thicker, bitch?”

“Well, if we’re gonna focus on musk, we gotta—”

“Also,” Austin said, “you’re just going off on a monologue! Who talks like Shakespeare when they’re getting prime humie tongue? Just moan, for God’s sake!”

Daisy rested her head against the duvet, growling under her breath.

“Mike, you’re doing great. Real trooper. Everyone else, shut the fuck up.”

The shaggy-haired yeen returned to her position behind the camera. Summer and Veronica readied their equipment. Michael tried to work some feeling back into his tongue, ignoring all the liquid that was dripping down his chest.

“Right,” Austin said. “Rolling again. Three, two, one. . . .”

He dove back to action. Daisy began to moan.

---

Veronica dragged her teeth across his cock.

So far, the third porno shoot of his life had involved biting. A lot of biting.

It had started with some nibbles. Quick little tugs from the front incisors, a devious look in the eye. Slowly, the licking intensified, the barbs on her tongue growing from a light scratchy feeling to “might flay me alive”. Soon after, Veronica had added full bites to the equation—jaws on his shoulder, a full row of teeth dancing around his throat, leaving craters and spit wherever they went. By the end, he was covered in circular bite marks and scarlet lipstick kisses. Just as spotted as the rest of the yeens.

Nothing had broken the skin, at least. Veronica clearly had experience with her teeth.

Of course, she had also found herself running out of unchewed flesh. Her maw had ventured southward, painting him like a canvas, making sure the cameras saw him squirm like a good little humie. Before long, she had focused her attention on the grand prize. The hot button topic.

“M-mistress,” Michael said, whimpering, “please—”

She slapped her tongue against his cock. It landed with the weight of a carpet, the flat edges curling around his shaft, the little barbs jolting his mind into a frenzy. At the same time, Veronica dropped her ass on his face, smothering his moan in a tight valley of fur and cheeks.

“It’s alright, darling,” Veronica said, using a posh British accent. “Just a bit of fun, yeah?”

The tags for this video: Biting, sixty nine, facesitting, breathplay.

His world was fur. Nothing but ass. Soft flesh enveloping his cheeks, bending his nose, pressing down on his jaw. As she wriggled her hips, forcing his head to rock back and forth, his face began to sink deeper, slowly driving through the luscious padding of her cheeks as she used more of her weight. Her thighs hugged his chin. Her tail wagged above his head. By the time she dropped everything she had, Michael was completely smothered.

No breath. No air. Only yeen.

“Hold a moment,” Veronica said.

She shifted. Michael felt a brief spurt of air, the slightest glimpse of tungsten lights and a dusty garage ceiling. Then, she hooked her hand around the back of his bed, forcing him back into her ass as she rose off the bed. More shifting occurred. When he was let back down, he found his head resting against the leathery pads of her feet. She wriggled her toes, testing the new position.

“There we are. Much better.”

She licked him again. This time, her tongue circled around the base of his cock, teasing the edges of his balls with rapid upward strokes. If Michael hadn’t been trying to hold his breath, he would’ve moaned.

“As I was saying, darling,” Veronica said, “it’s quite good to get some aggression out, from time to time. You would not believe what they put me through at the office.”

Michael worked his arms out from beneath her thighs. He did his best to hug his arms around the wide curve of her hips, giving her a few soothing strokes.

Veronica made a cooing noise. “Oh, that’s sweet. You’re always so good to me.”

He was running out of air. A tightness growing in his lungs.

“It’s just the usual.” She pressed the cold tip of her nose against his cockhead, giving a few lazy sniffs. “Betty in accounting. George and his meetings. Not everything needs an action plan, you little monkey. God, he is such a bore.”

She paused for a few seconds, as if lost in thought. Then, she lifted her ass off his head.

Michael gasped. The world returned. Her furry ass had become the sky, looming over him with all its promised weight. Off to the side, he could see Austin roaming around the bed with a handheld, Daisy wielding a microphone and stoptimer with a look of concern. Night had fallen an hour ago, and everything outside of the bed was a starless black. An empty void.

Everything was raw. The bites, the clawmarks, the memory of teeth and weight.

Veronica tilted her head, peering at him from across the length of their bodies. There were a pair of breasts swinging above his stomach, a battleground of spit and lipstick on his chest, a growing haze of feminine musk.

“You’ll let me have my way, won’t you, darling?”

“Y-yes, mistress.”

She smiled. Her ass fell like a meteor.

He was slammed back down into her paws. Her toe beans didn’t make the greatest pillow, but proper neck support was always nice, and Michael would need everything he could get. The few breaths he’d taken hadn’t been nearly enough, and Veronica was already working his face deep inside her crevice, shifting her hips until he was completely sealed beneath her. He held his breath again. There was nothing else he could do. At the very least, he knew Daisy was timing everything.

But, as Veronica began to bounce, working the last bits of his face into position, she felt the tip of his nose kiss her pucker. A growl shuddered through her body.

“Slave, eat my ass.”

Michael tried to oblige. Somehow, despite the immense weight against him, he managed to slide his face upward, his cheeks gliding through velvety fur and soft, yielding flesh. He found her pucker after a couple blind guesses, giving it a few tentative pokes with the tip of his tongue. Veronica had cleaned herself thoroughly for the scene, using a bunch of medical-grade equipment that Michael wasn’t familiar with, and the effort had clearly paid off. She tasted like nothing but skin and musk. All he felt were tiny folds and a few tufts of fur.

He began to dig in.

“Oh, darling! Good boy!”

Her teeth clamped around his cock. She had come in sideways, the twin points of her canines rubbing past the tip of his dick and the bottom of his shaft simultaneously. Nothing was torn, no blood was spilled. She did nothing but bite him with a gentle pressure. Remind him of who was in control.

Michael continued to tongue her ass, trying not to squirm.

All at once, her tongue slapped into his shaft, and she began to lick him harder than she had ever licked before. She lavished his cock, swirled around his head, rising up and down, back and forth, never once letting go with her teeth. Michael was already growing dizzy from lack of oxygen, and her slippery assault nearly made him see stars. Pleasure screamed down his legs, swirling high into his chest. It took all his willpower to keep from bucking beneath her. A single wayward thrust, and his manhood would turn into sashimi.

It became a race, of sorts. Her tongue against his cock. His tongue against her ass. His last few bits of oxygen against unconsciousness. A desperate attempt to not cum his way into an ER visit.

He was losing the battle. The YEEN’D.com porno shoot had wrung three orgasms from him in however many hours, and Veronica was now taking him sprinting across a fourth. The pressure was building. His mind was fading. She gave him no mercy.

Lick.

Lick.

Lick.

God.

Please.

Veronica lifted her ass. He gasped for air.

And, before he could stop himself, he came against her face. He came so hard he nearly fainted. There was not much cum left for him to give, but his body was determined to release everything it had—his cock spasming inside her jaws, his heartbeat throbbing against her teeth, the sharp deadly points only highlighting the mind-shattering ecstasy that coursed through his body. He moaned into her ass, rising up to meet her cheeks in a desperate bid for leverage. When everything was over, he let his head fall back into her paws, spent and empty.

Jesus Christ.

Above him, Veronica began to shift. Fur sliding along skin, weight rising and falling. Michael hardly noticed. He could only focus on breathing. The duvet below him was soaked with several combinations of fluids, and the harsh glare of tungsten bulbs speared down into his eyes. He’d grown used to the darkness of Veronica’s ass.

The yeen hovered above him. Her face was coated in cum. Ropes on her cheeks, drops on her ears, long pearly strands slathered across her black muzzle, like a tangle of jellyfish.

She was grinning wide.

“My,” Veronica said, leaning in to her British accent. “Someone was pent up, weren’t they?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Did you enjoy my teeth on your cock?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Who’s a good boy?”

Michael gazed up at the ceiling. “I am, mistress.”

She leaned down towards his face, brown eyes staring deep into his own. After a moment, she kissed him gently on the lips, trying not to smear his own cum back on his face. Some of it did. He didn’t really care.

“No,” Veronica said, “you’re not.”

She pushed herself above him, paws pressing down on his shoulders. Slowly, she dragged her pussy from the bottom of his abdomen to the center of his chest, smearing a damp trail of fluid wherever she went. By the end, she was sitting flat on his chest, her thighs locking around his head, her tail tickling his stomach.

“I didn’t give you permission to cum. You’ll need to be punished for that.”

She raised herself onto her knees. The bright light above his head was eclipsed by tawny fur and the drooling folds of her pussy. She spread herself with her claws, as if giving him an invitation . . . or a command.

Far above his head, Veronica watched him for a moment. She couldn’t break character while the cameras were rolling, but her eyes were asking him a silent question.

Are you okay?

Daisy and Summer were watching from the shadowy edge of the bed. Behind the handheld cameras and long fuzzy boom mikes, there were looks of concern.

Michael took a deep breath. Eventually, he nodded.

Veronica dropped down.

---

Austin dragged her pussy across his face. Summer bounced on his cock.

So far, the fourth porno shoot of his life had involved a three-way. It started innocently enough. Tossing him onto the bed. Summer pouncing on his chest, bathing him in licks, and Austin working at his legs, ripping off his clothes with claw and teeth. Between takes, they had decided to go out and buy him new clothes just so they could rip something off him again. When the microphones recorded the sound of tearing fabric, and the cameras saw Michael’s look of fear, it had seemed very worth the effort.

Austin had lifted him by the legs, settling his knees against the spikes of her punk rock jacket, digging her claws into his skin, licking him from the head of his cock to the crack of his ass. Above, Summer had attempted to pepper him with kisses while tearing off her schoolgirl uniform.

“Use your teeth,” Austin said.

“Oh,” Summer replied, giving an almost dog-like whine, “but he’s so cute! I don’t wanna hurt him!”

“Fuck that. Humies want it rough.” She hefted his legs higher. “Don’t you, bitch?”

Austin rimmed her tongue around his ass. When that didn’t get enough reaction, she dragged it wide across his taint, flicking his balls with a wet slap of tongue.

“Oh, God,” Michael said, trying to sound pathetic. “Please.”

Austin growled.

The tags for this video: three-way, cunnilingus, cowgirl, amateur.

Summer was supposed to be an innocent schoolgirl who had been dragged to a concert by Austin, her punk rock bestie. They’d found Michael all alone. They’d dragged him back to their suburban home. And, now, the badass chick was supposed to show her innocent, nerdy friend how you fucked a human.

Something like that. From an acting perspective, it hardly mattered to Michael. The theme was always the same.

Look scared. Look submissive. Look like you’ve never wanted anything more.

The two yeens had grown aggressive. There had been a flurry of movement. Unorganized fondling. Overlapping licks, slapping hands, some fights for territory. Eventually, Austin had ended up biting his shoulder, while Summer gave him a gentle handjob. He had moaned. They had given up all attempts at foreplay.

And now here he was. Austin fucking his face. Summer fucking his cock.

Five hundred dollars, right?

“Told you it’d be fun,” Austin said, grinding herself deep. The shaggy-haired yeen was humping him like she wanted to tear off his nose. “Good drinks, good music.”

“G-good dick,” Summer said. She had taken his cock to the hilt, rubbing her clit against his crotch in slow, circular motions. “Oh. Oh!”

Austin snorted.

Michael’s entire world was fur, heat, and saliva. Austin grinding back and forth, her outer lips scrubbing his cheeks, her inner folds parting around the length of his nose, the sheer friction of her movements blending with the fevered heat of her loins. He was blind and wet, barely able to hear anything but the sound of her furry thighs brushing past his ears. Raw musk seeped into his brain.

Suddenly, Austin rose from his face, giving him a chance to breathe. After being stuffed between her legs, the air felt chilly.

“Stick your tongue out, Manly,” Austin said. “I’m gonna fuck it.”

Michael stuck his tongue out, resting it flat against his chin and widening it into a landing strip. Austin grinned as she slammed back down. When she started thrusting, his tongue was crushed against her weight, the taste of her excitement spilling into his mouth. He felt a shudder pass through her thighs.

“Oh, fuck yeah. That’s it.”

She began to grind faster. Leaning a heavy paw on his chest, Austin began to tilt her hips, sharpening the point of contact, focusing the length of his tongue upon the hood of her sex. He was barely able to brace his jaw against her thrusts, let alone try to lick her back. Eventually, Michael felt some air pass between the gaps, and he quickly took the chance to breathe through his nose.

Meanwhile, Summer was beginning to bounce on his cock with more confidence. At first, she had gone down slow, wriggling back and forth at the bottom, every touch and contraction given with care. Now, she had placed a heavy paw on his stomach, beginning to piston up and down with a steady rhythm. Because Michael was currently having his face fucked, it was difficult to focus on anything happening below, but Summer was soon distracting him just as much as Austin.

She was tight. Soft as satin. Inner walls squeezing and flexing, almost undulating like a mouth. Gliding inside with impossible ease. She began to rise up higher, lifting herself until only the tip of his cock remained inside, and then she crashed back down, taking him to the hilt in a violent clap of flesh. He felt like he could never be deep enough inside her.

She rose. She fell. The bed groaned in protest. When a particularly heavy plunge sent him cratering into the mattress, Michael began to writhe beneath her, the dull bruising pain boiling beneath the sharp stabs of pleasure.

“Is . . . is he okay?” Summer asked.

“He loves it,” Austin replied. “Don’t you, bitch?”

In response, Michael raised his arms around the curve of Austin’s legs, grabbing handfuls of her furry hips. He began to stroke in rhythm with her thrusts, like he was guiding her along.

Austin barked out a laugh.

“Oh,” Summer said, acting surprised. “Well. Uh. . . .” She pressed her claws into his side, just at the point of breaking skin. “Yeah. That’s right. Do you—um—did you like—”

Michael thrusted up from the bed, perfectly timed with her plunge. Summer gave a completely real grunt of surprise as he speared himself deeper than he had ever been before.

That wasn’t in the script.

“Hey!” Summer shouted. “I am fucking you, Major!”

He thrusted again. Summer quickly planted her full weight back on his pelvis, pinning him to the bed. Immediately, Michael tried to take an active role in licking out Austin, motorboating his face against her pussy with tongue outstretched. She gave a girlish yelp, trying to trap his head between her thighs.

He didn’t know what he was doing. Was it the long hours? The constant pet names? The fact that he’d look like nothing but a chew toy for thousands of YEEN’D.com subscribers?

Whatever it was, he wanted a change. He wanted to live dangerously.

He licked and thrusted, squirmed and grabbed.

“He’s gettin’ feisty!” Austin said.

“No! He wants more!”

“I think he does! He really wants us to fuck him!”

“Are we going to take that attitude from some little humie?”

“Fuck no! He’s our bitch!”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

They high-fived above his body.

They braced. They prepared. And, soon, they fucked.

Summer lost any sense of caution. She began to thrust even harder, her pace remaining constant but the force of her blows increasing, his dick scouring her passage as she rose and fell, squeezed and clenched. Every inch came screaming his nerves, and the only time his pelvis found relief was when she stayed planted at the bottom, feeling his cock jump and flex inside her slippery walls.

Meanwhile, Austin had gone back to fucking his face, and she seemed to determine to wring him of every pleasure she could find. Her thighs clamped around his skull, swallowing his vision beneath soft spotted fur and the doughy flesh of her ass—once she had him secured, she began to thrust with merciless abandon, smearing herself down from the tip of his eyebrows to the point of his chin. She went fast on the downstroke and slow on the upswing, alternating between slippery glides and wet heavy drags. Michael felt like she’d fucked her musk directly into his brain, and now the only thing he’d smell for the rest of his life would be wet, sloppy yeen.

The garage filled with sound. There were dull claps of flesh, the whining groans of a queen-sized bed. Austin was growling between pants. Summer seemed like she could barely focus on breathing.

The yeens had taken his rebellion a little personally. They were going out of their way to put him back in place.

Maybe that was what he wanted all along.

Their movements became desperate. Muscles tensing, claws tightening on skin. All rhythm vanished. Coordination was lost.

Fever pitch.

Screaming rush.

They all moaned together.

Austin came on Michael. Michael came inside Summer. Summer came everywhere. There were quivering thighs, guttural moans, a symphony of spraying liquid, heavy breaths and several desperate swallows. Most of the bed became a writhing, senseless mass of muscle, fur and skin, and the sheer passion of their climaxes made it certain that the mattress was going to be stained for months to come, if it could even be washed out at all.

Talk about a money shot.

Eventually, all three climaxes faded into tingles and residual heat, letting everyone collapse onto the duvet. Breasts heaved beneath tungsten bulbs. Mouths panted in sight of cameras. Every time one of them tried to move, there was the sound of something wet being peeled away, and a resulting grunt from something sensitive being disturbed. None of them even tried to say their lines.

After a while, Michael felt people moving. There were shadows moving behind the light reflectors and long camera tripods, gentle creaks in the bed as the other occupants began to stir. He didn’t join them. He laid back on the mattress, staring up at the dusty garage ceiling, feeling like he was somewhere between passing out and falling gently to sleep.

He was exhausted. Covered in bite marks, painted with lipstick and bruises. There was no part of his body that was not drenched in some kind of fluid, and he had cum so many times that the next one would probably be nothing but dust and blood. He did not have one single last bit of sexual intent left in his body.

He was going to ache. He was going to spend the next several days lying in bed, trying to recover.

He was going to remember this shoot for the rest of his life.

“Yo, Mike.”

Austin’s face drifted down from above. Her black muzzle eclipsed the light, and her shaggy hair swayed like a curtain.

“Still alive down there?”

He gave her a thumbs-up.

“Gonna need verbal confirmation, dude.”

“I’m alive,” Michael said.

“Repeat after me,” Austin said. “Pineapple.”

“Pineapple.”

“She sells seashells.”

“She shells—” He swallowed. His tongue was numb and slimy. “She sells seashells.”

“Thank you for subscribing to YEEN’D.com, for all your yeen on human needs.”

Michael flopped over onto his stomach, facing one of the cameras with glazed over eyes and a weakly pointed finger. Veronica was still seated behind the device. The tape was rolling.

“Thank you for subscribing to YEEN’D.com, for all your yeen on human needs.”

Veronica gave a toothy grin. “Cut!”

“That’s a wrap!” Austin shouted. “We’re done! Pack your shit, say your prayers!”

Daisy started clapping enthusiastically. Veronica gave a yipping cackle. Summer smiled while cleaning the cum off her fur. Michael let his head flop back down into the bed.

A garage light flickered to life. One by one, the tungsten bulbs were switched off. Light reflectors were folded, fans were detached, long black poles were bent into sticks and returned to casings. The forest of film equipment came down with rapid speed.

A heavy paw fell on Michael’s shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to see who it was.

“Hello?” Austin asked, like she was calling someone at the bottom of a well. “Major Manly? Sure you’re alright?”

Michael mumbled something in reply.

The yeen gave him a few tentative sniffs, humming softly. “Gonna grab the first aid kit and clean some of these bites. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You want anything?”

“Water.”

“We got Gatorade, you know. Electrolytes.”

“Water,” Michael said.

“Right. Sure. Summer’s mom has left over ribs, if you wanna take ‘em home.”

“Please.”

“No bones, right? You’re not gonna eat ‘em?”

“. . . fucking yeens.”

Austin snorted. She patted him on the back, in one of the few areas that was not covered in bites, lipstick, and saliva. But, before leaving, she seemed to pause for a moment, as if thinking of something to say. “Hey. You did good today. Alright?”

Michael pushed himself up, looking the shaggy-haired yeen right in the eye.

He was going to say something funny. He was going to tell her to hurry up and leave him alone. He rose back onto his elbows with the intention of claiming back some of the dignity that had been ravaged on camera.

But, instead, he looked right at the hyena, and he gave her the slightest bit of a grin, like someone who was well and truly satisfied.

---

“Next right?” Austin asked, turning on the blinker.

Michael mumbled a yes. He sank further into the passenger seat of his own car, watching the orange streetlights dance through the window.

After the shoot was over, the four founding members of YEEN’D.com had spent nearly an hour cleaning up the set, dragging the queen-sized bed back into the guest room, and tending to the medical needs of their human co-star. He’d drunk a lot of water, eaten two plates of ribs. Summer’s mom had handed him a plastic bag full of steak for the road.

Once outside, Veronica asked him if he was okay to drive. Summer had immediately jumped in, suggesting that they should drive him home—two in his car, two in Daisy’s. All four had insisted. Later, it occurred to Michael that he had given his address to a bunch of strangers that he thought might rape him earlier.

He didn’t care. He was broken, spent, and more tired than he’d ever been in his life. He just wanted to be home.

And, so, now, there he was, lying half-awake while Austin drove his car back to his apartment complex. She’d had to adjust the seat all the way back to fit into the human-sized compartment. Veronica was lounging in the backseat, her face glued to her phone as she texted someone back and forth. Michael watched the glow of her screen, the bright store signs drifting by in the night, the few stars twinkling through the inner-city sky.

He had arrived at their house in the early afternoon. According to the clock on his dashboard, they had filmed for nearly twelve hours straight. It felt like a week.

Eventually, Austin pulled into the residential neighborhood close to his apartment. He saw her leaning over the dash, trying to check the addresses through the dark. He could also see her checking out the cracked sidewalks, the condemned buildings, the ragged humans shuffling around in the wee hours of the morning.

He was flat broke, shooting pornos for rent money. People like him had to live in places like this.

Austin glanced his way, but didn’t say anything.

Eventually, she parked along a curb close to the complex. It was the best spot she was going to get. As Daisy pulled up behind her, Austin yanked the emergency brake, killed the engine, and tossed him his keys.

“Well,” she said. “Pleasure working with you, Manly.”

He rubbed a bite on his neck. “Likewise.”

Austin got out of the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind. Veronica flashed him a smile in the rearview mirror as she shuffled out the side. Behind, Daisy and Summer hopped out of their car, leaving it running in the middle of the street.

Michael leaned his head against the passenger window. He took a deep breath, trying to prepare his battered body for the walk up to his apartment.

Five hundred dollars.

Five times a hundred. Ten times fifty. Twenty five times twenty.

Two-fifths would go to his car insurance. A fifth to his grocery bill, if he bought in bulk. Somewhere between a half and a third would finish off his rent. How many tanks of gas could five hundred dollars buy?

How much longer could he afford to live in this city? How many more emergencies could he handle? Which bottomless hole was going to take his paycheck next?

What was he doing with his life?

Someone knocked on the window. Michael flinched, realizing he’d almost fallen asleep. When he looked, he saw all four of the yeens standing around his car, watching him with expectation. Slowly, like an ignorant tourist on safari, Michael rolled down his window.

“Still gotta pay you,” Veronica said, casually. “Imagine that.”

“We got a little carried away,” Summer continued. “Sorry.” It didn’t sound quite as joking as she might’ve wanted.

He blinked at them.

Austin stepped forward, handing him a neat stack of bills. “Here you are. Hard-earned cash.”

The smell of freshly printed money filled his car. Michael felt a tinge of something in his chest. It might’ve been relief. He wasn’t sure.

But, even in the darkness, even with his entire body begging him for sleep, he noticed that something was off. When he spread open the stack of bills, there were ten instead of five. Ten hundred dollar bills.

One thousand dollars.

“So,” Austin said, leaning on the open car window, “we were talking, and uh—well—we thought you deserved a bonus. For all your hard work.”

“You did great today!” Daisy said, her teeth glinting orange under a streetlight. “Better than we expected!”

“Best we could’ve hoped for, honestly,” Veronica added.

Summer tried to squeeze in next to Austin. The shaggy haired yeen gave her a look. She stepped back, fidgeting. “We all took pay cuts to make it happen. I mean, you were in all the scenes, so. . . .”

“So you deserve it,” Austin finished. “There you go.”

Michael stared down at the money. The tight feeling in his chest began to spread. This was going to help. A lot. Jesus Christ, this was the best thing he could’ve hoped for. He could cap off his rent, make the minimum payment on his cards, keep gas in his tank and his phone in service. For the first time in months, he could stop worrying about the fucking bills.

He had no idea what to say.

Austin cleared her throat. “And, well, if you don’t mind us saying so. . . .”

He sat up in his seat.

“We’d like to work with you again,” Austin said. “All of us. I mean, if you’re willing.” She gestured at the money. “There’s no contracts, no obligation. If you want to walk away and pretend this never happened, that’s fine.”

“But the door’s always open!” Daisy said. “Any time you want!”

“Probably gonna have a better studio,” Summer said. “Now that we have proof of concept, we’ll make a real website, domain listing, copyright agreement.”

“Couple viral videos,” Veronica added. “Featuring Major Manly on his debut appearance.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Austin said, waving them away. “Just, uh . . . .” She tapped a slow rhythm into the window frame, her head surrounded by a halo of streetlight. “Think about it. You know?”

Michael leaned back in his seat. He ran his fingers over the ten crisp bills. After a moment, he took a deep breath, his mind replaying the events of the day in perfect detail.

Bites on his neck. Licks on his chest. Every breath tasting like musk. Fur and sweat. Pain and pleasure. Claws and teeth.

He didn’t have to think very hard.

“When’s the next shoot?”