FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The orca's chair creaked in protest when he sat down at his desk. His large chest heaved in effort as he forced air into his lungs and his long tongue draped out of his mouth, almost like a dog before retracting into its home. Each breath helped him restore his heart rate to normal. Moby Lick had pushed himself with his run. 5 miles in 30 minutes was a really good time but it left him in need of oxygen for his lungs.

"That wasn't too bad," he said, taking a gulp of water from his water bottle. Moby's long tongue had made drinking a challenge at first but he'd long since adjusted to the ample appendage.

With a few clicks on his keyboard, the orca's computer chimed its login confirmation. He guided the cursor over to his browser, popping open his email. Glancing over his subjects, he saw the usual fare: shipping confirmations, bank statements, a few personal correspondents and the day's minnows. Most of the time, his fan mail went to the address he'd set up for that, but on occasion, a few found their way into his personal account. He called those messages the minnows, small messages that slipped through the net his other address should have been.

"I need to figure out how people are getting this account," he sighed. But nonetheless, he clacked the mouse to open them.

The first two were thank you notes for saving people from a fire. He clicked away, that familiar glow growing through his stomach. He didn't do this for the thanks, but when he got them, he didn't deny that it felt nice to be appreciated for his hard work.

The next one was a bit different. He'd saved this one couple from a mugger and the boyfriend apparently was trying to save face. Shaking his head at the wolf's assertions that he could have handled the situation, Moby just clicked away, ignoring the bravado from the other male.

"C'mon, man..." the orca grumbled. He took another gulp, his breathing finally back to normal. "Just trying to help."

With a sigh, Moby clacked the mouse rather hard, letting the next email wash the foul taste of the spiteful comments out of his mouth.

On the screen in front of him was an attachment.

His eyes glanced up to subject: A gift. The sender was blocked which left Moby's tongue scratching his head.

"I didn't think you could do that..."

He looked at the blank email and saw the attached video.

"This... seems sketchy."

Moby moved his mouse up to the delete button but something deep in his gut made him pause. "Well, it didn't trigger my anti-virus..."

His large hand moved back down to the file and hit play, letting it buffer for a moment before it began.

"Welcome," a voice chimed. "Please sit back and relax, and let StraddleX Productions take you on a journey."

A logo appeared in the center of the screen and it started to spin in smooth, slow circles that seemed to go on and on and on. The orca winced at first when a shrill noise shot out from his speakers and into her ear canal but it went away as quickly as it began. And all that Moby could do was stare. He wasn't sure why. The logo wasn't doing anything but spinning and the speakers seemed only to be letting out low mumbles of voices that Moby wasn't entirely sure weren't imagined. He tried to move his hand to stop the file but he seemed... unable to. His whole mind seemed to slip away, getting farther away as his body remained.

His hand moved off of the desk and landed on the bulge of his running shorts. Or--at least he thought it was bulging. Now it seemed more like a strain than anything. When did he get so hard?

Moby didn't know what he was doing; he didn't even know anything just then. But his hand nonetheless pulled his shorts down, letting that large prehensile cock into the cool morning air. His eyes were still glued to the screen, but he grabbed his own pink cock and started to rub it. His strong paw seemed to be made for stroking it; he seemed to be made for stroking himself. And with each stroke down the cock that surged to life so quickly, so ready, a rope of pre would leak out of that cock and onto his hide. His body, already glistening with sweat, would soon be covered in a mixture. Some part of Moby, distant from his body, knew that much must be true.

The screen changed and the colors from the logo began to bleed together, shifting and melting in a psychedelic dance. The orca's other hand started to collect the dripping pre and apply it to his shaft. The slick fluid made his rubbery hand have an easier time of its gliding journey along the impressive length that he was known for.

Moby's mind was long gone. It felt like he was looking at himself from outside of his body. That the actions he was doing, the body he was in wasn't his own. The video's control over him was all but complete. His body did what the video told him to do--what it made him do--he was gone. The only thing that was left of the orca was his body which did what it was told. His tongue swept across his lips and his hulking figure leaned over, eyes never leaving the trancing video which had him locked to its power. His tongue wrapped around his shaft and began to stroke.

Moby never used his tongue again after a brief experiment when he had just been transformed. And even that was only out of curiosity, not a lust. This was different though...The orca's hands squeezed his base and his hips started to buck upwards into it. The strong scent of his arousal quickly grew and still he kept going. His mind was in a haze but his body seemed to burn. He felt hot and the stroking only made the burning worse. He needed to cum. His whole being seemed centered on release, the sweet feeling of emptying his large, sweaty balls. His hips bucked up, and Moby thought he would cum just as quickly as he began.

But he stopped.

Just when Moby felt his body getting close, right there at the cusp of his peak, he stopped entirely. The videos colors changed from the permeating colors to a bleak white with the black logo. His tongue fell away from his cock and he only stared. His mind still gone, the orca just obeyed. It felt right to obey, it felt necessary for him to do what he was told to do, even when his balls ached and his considerable shaft pulsed with his heartbeat.

His chest pumped, air going into his lungs and refilling him. But his brain was still gone. His body was a shell; it was at the mercy the colors which once again danced cross the screen. The mumbling voices got a little louder, and more insistent. And all that Moby could do was take his cock into his hand, damp with the copious pre-fluids, and stroke himself once again. He grunted, his body returning to its state of near-release with every stroke of the cock which he'd used so often. Moby's hips were rolling up, humping his paw. His breath grew quick and he felt the familiar tingle in his body, only dimly aware of what it meant, but the voices stopped, the colors drained from the screen and he was once again denied.

The orca's body screamed in anger, fighting for release, wanting it, needing it. He was desperate for a peak, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't let himself cum. It wouldn't let him cum. So he waited, waited for the colors to resume, for the order, the powerful tug on his mind to resume and guide his hand, letting him stroke his large cock once more. But it didn't seem to come. He seemed to be waiting longer than last time. It was as if someone was taking some cruel pleasure in his denial.

Moby wasn't aware of how much time had passed. He was only somewhat aware of anything that was going on anymore. The aching in his cock was horrible. He reached for his cock but he couldn't touch it. The screen was still monochromatic.

He whined, begging the force that held his body in control to let him continue.

The colors returned, flashing vividly. The orca's hand seized his cock, stroking fast. It was like a race, as if some subconscious part of him though that he could outrace the cruel force that presently controlled him. But it stopped just when he thought he was getting close.

He growled in frustration, not sure if it was directed at it or himself. He needed to cum, to look away. His eyes were hurting from the way blinking seemed impossible except when he was allowed to. Moby wasn't sure what was happening, but he needed to cum soon.

He wasn't sure how long the video made him edge. Time seemed to slip away from him, becoming a distant memory, same with his name, his job, even where he was. The only that Moby could focus on, the only that he knew anymore was how sweet the release would be when he finally was able to have it.

"Please..." he groaned to the screen. "Please..." he said again, eyes on the verge of tears at being pushed so hard. It wasn't as if he thought that the screen could hear him, but he wanted to hope.

The logo began to spin. Its slow, methodical spin made his eyes go slack, his brain was empty. He was empty. His body was a shell and his cock was in hand once more. Somehow, the logo's speed synchronized with his strokes. It controlled him. He was controlled by whatever it was and he didn't even care. All that Moby cared about--all he could care about at all--was the coming orgasm.

His hand moved to grab his balls, squeezing them while his hips moved up, bucking into the hand which stroked. Moby was groaning much louder now, his body aching with desire but any thoughts of stopping, of ceasing the pleasure that he was in seemed impossible.

"Oh yes..." his voice came out, not of his own accord.

"I'm cumming, sir," he said to no one, with words that rang true.

And then it came. A torrent of orca cum shot onto his face, ropes of heady cum coating his skin, the scent of him was strong and it seemed to cover his body, to coat him in his own release. Anyone would know that he had fired his cum onto himself.

But it felt sublime. It was beyond pleasure, it was heaven. It was what he needed more than anything. Moby was at peace with his peak, letting his cock finally get the rest it needed. His white cum coated his body, practically disappearing on the field of white muscle that was his stomach and chest. His cock finally stopped, drooping over and oozing the last bits of cum out onto the floor below.

His vision fogged up, growing dark but Moby wasn't worried anymore. He wasn't sure that he'd be anything but what the video told him to be again.

***

When Moby Lick woke up, his head pounded worse than he thought it would.

The smell hit him first, and for a moment, Moby wondered whether he had been drugged or worse. But the scent was familiar--definitely of his making. The way that his skull seemed to be throbbing made him think he was hungover, but that wasn't true either. He didn't feel like he'd been drinking. Sitting up, he looked around at got his bearings.

His desk was smattered in cum, and it seemed to cover his entire body for that matter. While the orca was no stranger to his large orgasms, this seemed to be another level entirely. He looked around for the clock on his computer. The corner of his monitor had a generous heaping of cum on it, oozing down, and hopefully not getting in to mess up the wiring.

"What was I watching?" he groaned, wiping his cum away to at last see the time. "It's night?!" he said in disbelief. He couldn't remember much, but it seemed like the last thing that he remembered was the morning jog. Instead, he looked out the windows and saw the sky, dark as the skin on his body.

"That's... that's not possible," he moaned. But the ache in his stomach was unmistakable. He was famished and probably hadn't eaten anything since the night before. "Maybe that's why my head hurts so bad..." he said, knowing it was a feeble excuse. Something had happened and he wasn't sure what that was.

Looking at the screen, he stared at the words, in simple black text atop a field of white:

Thank you for visiting StreetSluts.com!

Moby leaned back, his brow quirked. He had no memory of going to any site like that at all. He knew what he should do and his hand moved up to the mouse and the cursor followed his movements to the corner of the screen, ready to hit the X but he paused.

Gliding his hand over, the orca clicked the bookmark button instead.

As Moby stood up on shaky legs to go and grab a bite to eat, he was unaware of the webcam on his computer that was facing his direction the entire time.