FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I barely had time to take a breath when the horse cock left my throat, as only mere seconds passed before he rammed it in again. Then he rested his cock for several seconds in my throat, which involuntarily spasmed and thus massaged his length. All the while I lied on another one of those massive creatures, his cock was buried balls deep into my ass, while his arms pressed down on my chest with considerable strength, so I couldn't budge. A third horse, positioned between my legs had hammered my asshole for at least 15 minutes straight by now. Yes, two cocks at once in my ass-- that's a new one for sure; one I really didn't need to experience, though.

During this brutal triple horse meat stuffing, I further provided handjobs to two more equines. Focusing on this task proved difficult, considering how mercilessly they ravaged my holes with their big fat cocks. Even though, keeping my own cock hard, so they could continue to dwell on their illusion that I actually did enjoy being fucked raw by a bunch of horses, turned out to be an even harder task. Yet, miraculously, I managed to not fail thus far. While, for a lion, I possessed quite a sizeable cock, the massive rods of those horses dwarfed it, which, strangely and unreasonably, made me feel even more inferior. To make things worse, more distraction was added by the loud chanting of the other five equines, in the back of the small shabby motel room. The -ten!- horses kept taking turns on who "used" me. Their usual routine appeared to be: first I had to give them a handjob to get them hard and ready; then they pounded my ass for a while; and lastly, they wiped their cocks clean in my throat. Fucking disgusting! The horse I had to lay on seemed to be decided by a poker game, hence their loud chatting. By now, I was trapped in this motel with them for hours. Even my well-trained ass and throat had reached their limit quite a while ago. Not that I had even the littlest thing to say in this.

My thoughts broke, when a huge load of horse semen flooded my mouth. Gulp for gulp, the salty liquid vanished into my stomach. A most disgusting taste as always. If I'll ever get used to it? Not that those guys expected me to, they cheered mockingly whenever I did manage to swallow their loads. However, I had nonetheless quite a good incentive to try and swallow as much as I could, since, eventually, when they're done, I had to mop up the whole mess they caused. And I, for sure, ain't have time for that. Besides my dignity took enough hits over the past years, so gobbling down horse semen really didn't add anything.

The horse that had currently pounded my ass pulled out and moved around the table to push his length into my mouth and throat without hesitation or care. Leaving me with only one phallus in my ass for a moment, which made me feel almost empty and missing the second one. --What a horrifying thought!-- Every horse cock I took into my mouth tasted like horse semen by now, the new one wasn't an exception. Not a surprise, like my stomach, my ass was filled up with horse cum. One could mean my whole innards consisted only of their white fluid. And considering how bloated my belly was, it at least looked like it.

"My turn now!" one of the horses, which currently received a handjob, proclaimed. Quickly he changed position and drove his, by my hands perfectly prepared, cock merciless into my ass. His rod slipped right into my entrance, and even if I'd wanted, my loose anus could have not offered any resistance at this point in time. The whole change did take less than 30 seconds, and once more, my body sheltered three horse cocks. The, now vacant, spot for a handjob was quickly taken by one of the equines chatting and playing cards at the table behind me.

I don't know why, but suddenly the horse pounding my ass, began to stroke my dick, which had been completely ignored for the last couple of hours. There would have been no objections from my side if they had kept my lionhood untouched. As the whole ordeal was utterly unarousing to me. In fact, it took me years of training to retain an erection despite being turned off.

"Yeah, kitty-cat, wants a bit attention too, don't ya?"

Thankfully, I couldn't answer, with a mouth full of horse meat. I doubt a convincing lie could have escaped my mouth in my state, and the truth was certainly very evidently: "No, I do not want any attention." Though receiving an unwanted handjob would be one thing, receiving the world's worst handjob another. Right at this moment, I received the world's worst handjob. Like what the fuck! Everyone who had, at least, masturbated once in his fucking life could do better. In fact, he actually increased the difficulty for me to retain my erection tenfold. He jerked me too rough and too fast, it hurt!

"Yeah, cum for me, pussy-cat!"

He ain't serious? He plainly asked for the impossible. While having two cocks in my ass; another one chocking me; giving two more guys a handjob; and receiving, in turn, a handjob that's more torture than pleasure, and yet he wanted me to cum? Really? Unfortunately, I had to try. Focusing on something that is actually hot might help. Maybe a nice busty lioness. I imagined my penis ente...

"Damn, shoot your load already!"

"Dude, just let him be and enjoy his hole. What's your fucking obsession with watching the guy cum?" Another horse scolded him, and thank fuck, he stopped "pleasuring" me.

"Fine, man! Kill my fun!" he pouted before simply continuing to pound my ass.

One hour later, but not before every single one of them, did the full routine, of handjob - ass fuck - throat fuck, three more times, they seemed to be exhausted and bored enough to stop. After having been gangbanged by a flock of horses for 5 hours straight, they -thank god- finally finished and prepared their leave!

"How much, whore?" one of them asked.

I winced, even after all those years, I hated it so much being called a whore. Even though it was the undeniable truth. "Five hundred" I muttered. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me.

"K, 'll leave it on the table, I put a bit extra. You've been a good fuck, will come back. Bye!"

"T-thanks" I had to fight to not pass out right here.

Shakily I got up on my feet. I had no time to linger around, that damn Hyena certainly waited already. And before I could leave I had to take a shower and clean up at least a little bit. Despite trying my best, some cum nonetheless ended up on the floor, table and, well--me. It's a motel, yes, but leaving while cum stains are all over, usually ends in an "if you ever come back, we'll call the police!". And I really need to be able to rent rooms for my---" job."

First, that horse cum and sweat needed to get off me, so as quickly as my ruined body allowed, I waddled toward the shower. The stream of hot water washing all over my fur revitalized me immediately. As the water rinsed off their cum, sweat, and smell and made me feel like a proper lion again, my fingers searched for my aching asshole, which still gaped and refused to close. No wonder, after having housed two horse cocks for hours. At least though, it stopped leaking cum. And as much as I could tell by my quick examination, nothing seemed to be actually damaged. Just a bruised and used up hole. These days an almost permanent condition, as I'm rarely allowed the time to fully heal up.

My tears vanished unseen, as they mixed with the shower water. "What has my life become? When did it go so horribly wrong? Why? I want my old life back--I want to fix things--but I can't. There's nothing left to fix." Those thoughts---ever haunting. I pushed them away as good as I could. They won't help me to survive this hell. And I won't get much cleaner as I'm now so before more dark thoughts had a chance to torment me, I turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower cubicle. After quickly drying myself, I turned my attention toward the cum stains on the floor and table. A sufficient amount of toilet paper quickly got rid of the worst of it, and for more cleaning, I had neither the energy nor the patience.

However, time to get dressed again. Even though looking at the pile of my clothes made me shake my head. One would think I should have gotten used to it by now, but really, how can someone call this shit I have to wear clothing. But ma'am wants me to, so with no choice as always, my hands shakily reached for the pile. First on goes the white jockstrap, with which my underwear was already completed. Next, I squeezed my legs into the skin-tight black leather pants. Followed up by the most tasteless part; those ugly black cowboy boots with their, unnecessarily fancy, white engraved tribal patterns. And lastly, I put on the tank top, if one could even call it that, to finish up the cheap-gay-whore look. It pretty much was nothing else than a wide-meshed net that barely covered my chest and hid absolutely nothing.

That lion that stared at me from the mirror, with his empty eyes---who was that? His hands twitched uncontrolled, and he breathed heavily. That's not me--I don't want it to be me--I hated it, I hated what I had become. Tears ran down my cheeks just by seeing myself. The pink-painted claws and my mane, once my pride, rounded up this most despised picture. The right third of my mane had been shaved off, just some little stubbles remained, where long hair should grow. The other two-thirds were combed backward and dyed in bright teal, with light pink highlights. Tasteless--cheap--not me--yet me.---I wished that happy looking college boy picture back, that I used to see in a mirror. But it disappeared years ago, and will never make a return.

Unable to endure my reflection any second longer, I turned, took the money, 500 bucks, and he indeed added something like 50 extra, and left the room and the motel, as quickly as I could. The room had been prepaid, so the receptionist took barely notice of me as I put the key on the desk while I ran past. I wished I'd never had to come back to this run-down motel or any other motel, but I knew that wish would not be fulfilled.

After a fifteen-minute walk, I spotted my pimp's black sports car. My legs got weak, and I swallowed my spit--and my fear. I wanted to turn and run, I didn't want to see that person, I didn't want to talk to that Hyena. Yet slowly and unwillingly I approached; as so often these days, there simply wasn't a choice for me. The door opened before I even knocked.

"H-here is your money, Ma'am." My hands shook as I handed over the dollar bills.

She took an obnoxiously long time to count it. In fact, she recounted it several times, to make sure I really didn't take any for myself. I never did or would even think about it, I had enough trouble as it is, and I'm certainly not going to even think about pissing off the scariest person I know. "Mhm--good--" She muttered after a while. Sweat ran down my forehead despite the running air conditioning in her car. "Alright-- 10-- 20-- 30-- 50-- here your cut."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"Fine--now there is another customer for today, here's the name and address." She handed me a hastily scribbled note with a name, street, and house number on it.

"W-what, another one? I-I'm tired please, ma'am, a--and I need some--you know--"

"Yes another one, you lazy bitch! And if you want to get your H, you better work for it! Appointment with your customer is in an hour, so better hurry up."

"Wait, what? In an hour? That address, it's on the other side of the city. I'm not making that."

"Use a taxi, duh?"

"B-but it costs money."

"Yeah, and what? I gave you money just a minute ago. Should be more than enough, fag."

"B-but, t-tha..."

"... is your money?" she finished my sentence. "HA! Now it's your cab money! Get over it! Be glad I even employ a lazy fag like you!"

"P-please--- don't call me---"

"A fag? I call you what I want, and considering that you got a 50 bucks tip from your last customer, it seems you enjoy playing the bitch lion for them, and now out-of-my-car---fag!"

I left her car, and as always, with no choices. She allows me to barely keep any of the money I make off my hard and dishonorable work, and now I had to spend all of it on a cab; just to do more of the same. It wasn't fair; she wasn't fair; my life wasn't fair! Yet disobeying surely was not an option, she'd send her thugs after me or worse. That bitch of a Hyena showed me once, as a warning, what happened to her whores who fail to fulfill her expectations--; his screams still haunted my dreams. Besides I needed my fucking injection, the withdrawal kicked in already. How was I supposed to get through another customer tonight? It seemed impossible! And the withdrawal symptoms aside, my ass and throat still throbbed with pain from the brutal gang bang earlier. I just wanted my H and my bed.

My hope dwindled when the fifth taxi driver refused to take me with him. Though, they were hardly to blame, because quite frankly, I looked exactly like what I was; a drug-addicted street whore. But at last, one showed mercy and agreed to drive me to my destination, even though I had to pay him the whole 50 bucks upfront. Relieved, I entered the car. And to avoid conversation, I sat down onto the backseat, that way it also was less apparent to the driver how much I shivered by now. I needed the H, I craved it so badly. Cold sweat ran down my face, while my claws dug deep into the flesh of my thigh. Need; need; I needed---it---NOW!

After an eternity, we arrived, and I hastily stumbled out of the car and looked around. A pretty typical suburban area, with lots of white painted middle-class houses that had a garden open toward the street. It didn't take long until I spotted the house with the number matching on the note my pimp Hyena gave me. Shakingly my steps lead to the door, and my finger pushed the button to ring the doorbell; once---twice---then a third time. Finally, the lock turned with an audible clank.

In front of me stood the biggest guy I'd ever faced. Yeah sure, elephants tend to be big fellows, but damn, he was huge even for his breed--huge and muscular. "Hey, boy! Guess you're the whore?" he greeted me. "You're smaller than anticipated--good, very good indeed--hope your hole is well trained, haha--come in!"

After a short pause, he added: "Do you shake so much because you're excited or does someone miss his drugs? Haha! Don't answer that, but I hope it hurts, I like my whores in pain!"

Without hesitation, he grabbed my arm, and forcefully dragged me into the hallway. He didn't waste any more words, and right then and there, he pulled down my leather pants and shoved two of his humongous fingers into my ass.

"W-wait--woah--like--right here?" Being fucked between shoes and coats in a hallway, that's even for a cheap street-whore like me a new all-time low. It felt dirty--like dirtier than usual.

He didn't answer; instead, he twisted his fingers until my moans of utter discomfort signaled that he found what he sought. He firmly--one might say painfully--massaged my prostate, causing my cock to involuntarily twitch and grow to half-mast. But not before my cock began to leak precum he stopped. "Ah, here it comes, good boy, I love how you whores always carry lube within your body, it's so handy." He collected the fluid with his other hand, and after pulling down his own pants, smeared it all over his member. Only a quick glance at his monster told me that this was not going to work! Not even two hours ago, I had 2 horse cocks in my ass simultaneously, but his half flaccid cock already dwarfed those in girth and length. I needed my drugs more than anything right now, but his cock seemed to be an unpayable price. He will tear me apart. I'm sure of it. Yet I can't say no. That would be only a bet of what kills me first, the Hyena or the withdrawal.

"W-wait---t-there is no way that fits--"

"Hush boy, you'll be fine. If it hurts and you want to scream; well--scream. Hmm, in fact, I insist that you scream! Scream in agony and pain for me!"

And without further ado, he pushed his giant tool into my loose hole. Although being penetrated by something this huge made me feel like being the tightest virgin imaginable. I screamed! Loud! Not because he wanted me to, but due to the unbearable agony. It felt as if my organs got rearranged, while he crushed my innards and tore open my asshole, but since I'm still alive, it, fortunately, might actually just feel like it. His full erected pain train measured at least five of those horse cocks, I took earlier, in girth. Not to speak about the length, the horses had been tiny compared to this. At least pain and adrenaline let me almost forget about the withdrawal symptoms, which were at the same time the reason that I endured the most painful fuck in my life - and by now to my shame there had been a lot of challenging encounters.

Slowly his length crept further and further into my cave. It stretched my innards at places that had never been stretched nor reached by any cock, dildo or other depraved toys. It didn't stop, he didn't stop, my screams filled the hallway. I never took such a girth, never such a length. Agony! Pure agony!

"Ya know, boy, elephant cocks are special, not just in size, but even when fully erect they keep a certain amount of flexibility, that allows me to follow your-- let's say inner curves--and reaching so much deeper than you could ever have imagined. Do you feel it? How you're getting stretched deep inside? Yeah, so tight in there."

Only screams of fear, terror, and agony escaped my mouth. I couldn't form any coherent sound. The torment of my withdrawal symptoms, mixed with the pain of my insides being torn apart pushed me closer and closer to the brink of unconsciousness. But there was no mercy; not for me; not for the cheap drug-addicted lion whore; not for the worthless bitch I have become. My body refused to give up; refused to pass out. The cock still slowly snaked deeper into me. How? How was it so long? How was it physically possible? Then, finally, after an eternity, it stopped!

"I'm proud of you, boy, knew you could do it. How does it feel to have my cock buried balls-deep in your ass?"

Having this monster of a phallus stuffing your ass is horrible, but this sadist of an elephant managed to make it worse. While he asked, he had begun to rub my stomach with his hands, in a manner that was everything but gentle. The additional pain, the pressure caused on my stomach, made me scream in pain; loud and louder and even louder. Tears ran down my face, and cold sweat soaked my fur. I wanted him to stop, I couldn't endure it. But I had no choice.

Despite being half dazed by pain. I somehow coughed out an answer: "I--it--h--hurts, S-sir. A lot! P--p-please---make---ughhhh---it-- s-s-top---I--beg-you--agh" And right after those words left my lips, my innards got filled up with elephant semen. Lots of it. LOADS OF IT! It had been already challenging to fit his cock inside me, but now, somehow, my body needed to come up with a solution to store liters of elephant semen as well. Yet miraculously the wonder happened, and I did not pop like a balloon. Even though I felt as if I was going to burst any second now.

"Yeah, good, that's what I wanted to hear, boy. It's 50 bucks, right?" he asked, while his cock quickly shrank back to its flaccid state and finally popped out of my asshole. Leaving a beyond its limits stretched gaping asshole, that leaked onto the stone floor of the hallway.

Indeed 50 bucks were the measly pay for this life-endangering encounter, but he didn't even wait for an answer. He stuffed the 50 dollar note into my asscrack, uncaring that a fountain of elephant cum still spilled out of my ass. Then without hesitation, he opened the door and threw me out with my pants still down. I heard the clank of the door shutting before my face even hit the dirt.

I just lay there. Everything hurt; physically; mentally. I didn't care if anyone saw me, with my pants down, while cum spilled out of my ass soaking a bill. My vision went black even though I didn't really pass out--unfortunately. Yet my fur was soaked with my cold sweat. I involuntarily shook and twitched. I knew what could stop it, what would help me, what would stop making me feel sick; the drug; the H. The minutes passed by, and nothing happened. Outside noises seemed dull and far away, as blood pounded through my ears. More time passed by, I didn't know how much, but eventually, my body calmed down enough so that at least I managed to pull up my pants and put the bill in my pocket. It took a bit more time until I mustered the strength to crawl toward the sidewalk. Eventually, I sat down and used a lamp post as a backrest, not caring how much dogs have pissed on that thing in the past, and protruded my phone. I texted the accursed Hyena:

"I'm done with my customer.

Got the money.

Please, I need it, you know what!

Where you at now, ma'am?

Mike"

I stared at my phone as the minutes passed by. What if she was too far from here? I neither had money for a taxi, not even for a bus nor could I walk in my current condition. If she still did business on the other side of the city, I was screwed. Finally, my phone buzzed:

"James Street, the Chinese Restaurant.

Hurry up!"

I began to cry and shake. Yes, while not at the other end of the city, it definitely was not in walking distance. The money in my pocket belonged to the Hyena, so spending it would be suicidal. But my body craved the drug, I needed to get it! But I couldn't reach it. I wanted to die. I couldn't endure. But I had to. After several failed attempts, I managed to stand up. Dizzy and shakily, I began to move forward. Supposedly I won't reach James Street, but I needed to try. At the very least, I needed to reach the next bridge to jump from. I couldn't take this anymore. None of this, neither the pain, nor the need, nor the humiliation, nor the fear, nor the poverty. Why did she send me to another customer without giving me the H beforehand? She knew how this stuff works! Every single one of my steps hurt, every step took an eternity. I wanted to drop dead. But my body refused to die.

"Can I help you? You look horrible! Hey? Sir, do you hear me? Hey?"

The voice seemed distant. Was it even real? Suddenly a hand grabbed my shoulder. After my initial shock, my unsteady gaze met the face of a worriedly looking male Cheetah. He asked again: "Hey, can I help you? Shall I call the ambulance?"

"N-no---I---need---get to---J-james Street, please."

He squinted his eyes. "You sure you don't need the ambulance?"

"Y-yes, fuck. I'm sure, either you can bring me there or stop wasting my time.--Fuck." Little strength was left in me, and this small outburst did cost me a lot of it. My breaths became even shallower and heavier. I barely got any air into my lungs. Everything hurt. My body shut down more and more.

It took a few seconds before he sighed. "Fine-- I'll bring you there, come my car's right there."

Should I, for once, have a slight bit of luck? I sat down and tried my best to not pass out or vomit into his car. My body craved and cried for the drug.

"Uhm---might be a bit direct---but what's wrong with you?--Drugs?"

I couldn't stand a conversation right now, especially not one with that specific topic, nor preserve any illusion, it was too apparent anyway. So I just nodded. I didn't care anymore. If he calls the cops--whatever. Only one thing mattered right now. And if I didn't get it soon, it would be the end of my road no matter what.

He seemed to be at a loss of words by my honest confession that I indeed am a drug-addict. For several seconds he tried to reply, but while his lips moved no words escaped his mouth. Finally, he, unfortunately, attempted to continue the unwanted conversation: "So, how does a sweet guy like you end up like this? Uhm--so sorry, that sounded almost like I wanted to hit on you. I mean I don't want to say you're not hot--but--like sorry, I didn't want it to look like-- I mean I don't want to abuse your situation. I just tried to say you should have other choices, like, you know.---Ugh, I'm not making it better---I shut up now--sorry."

"Lucky... those---who still---have choices---" was all I could mutter.

I don't know how long it took, but eventually, my unexpected savior called out: "James Street, here we are."

"Ch-chinessse R-r-r-restau-aurant." It cost me all my remaining strength to push out those words.

It didn't take long before he exclaimed: "Chinese Restaurant!"

I opened my eyes, quickly noticed the black car of my pimp, and stumbled out of the Cheetah's van. "Uhm-- I'll wait here, in case you need to get somewhere else later!" he shouted after me, while I unsteadily made my way to the Hyena's car. Several times I fell to the ground on my way to her, my legs were weakened, and my senses overwhelmed by the pain of withdrawal, but eventually, I reached her car. After opening the door, I handed over the 50 dollar bill and began to beg.

"Please-- ma'am--please, I need it--please, keep all the money--I don't care--but please give me..."

"Why is this fucking dollar bill wet and sticky? Ugh!"

She rolled her eyes before she threw a syringe at me. "Here, fag! Tomorrow at 8 a.m. Berkley Street. Don't be late." She didn't wait for an answer, she simply closed the door and drove away, with no further concerns for my health.

Not caring about anything else, I sat right there on the street and rammed the syringe into my arm. Initial release came quickly, and the worst withdrawal symptoms began to cease. Finally, I could think more straight, and my senses slowly started functioning again. Though still very exhausted, I kept sitting on the sidewalk. Slowly the Cheetah's red car rolled up beside me.

"Uhm---feeling better, man? Who was that?

"My pimp--"

"Woah-- you're a whore? Wouldn't have thought that. But hey offer still stands, if I can bring you somewhere else, that's fine by me!"

"Of course I'm a whore--like how much more obvious would I need to dress for you to recognize? And why would you waste your time with a fucked up, drug-addicted whore? I don't give discounts. And I certainly don't search for a relationship if this, for whatever reason, is your naive and shallow hope. I'm not even gay, even though I probably had more sex with males than you ever will."

His ears dropped as he sighed. "Not sure if I needed that much honesty in my life right now, but you know there are people who just help because they can. Granted I noticed you because--- well--- you're attractive. But if you're not interested, that's fine. I'm not that desperate. I still want to help you, and that's not connected to conditions. So jump in I drive you home or wherever you need to go."

After the hell, my life had become over the last couple of years, I almost forgot that friendly people actually existed. My reaction had been certainly too harsh. There had been a time where I would have helped a stranger in need too. Unfortunately, it seemed that time had been a lifetime ago. "Sorry, I didn't want to be so harsh---. It's just---" I sighed, shook my head and told him my address instead: "West Street 893."

"Don't worry about it. I'm not that sensitive. I can hardly fathom how hard your life has to be. And let's be honest it probably sounded like I wanted to hit on you earlier. Wasn't too smart of me either."

We drove silently for a while. Being around someone who didn't want sex with me was quite relieving. Neither did he demand my hard-earned money like a certain Hyena. Nor did he want to punch me to mush like some persons aforementioned Hyena protects me from. He just was nice. Even though he clearly had hoped for a bit more. Though he didn't seem to be too heartbroken.

"Is there really nothing that could get you out of that mess you're in? Like can't the police help you? Or something--I mean, I don't know what it is to be---well--a whore."

"Be glad you don't know, and no there is nothing that could help me--not anymore. There was a time--but it's long gone. Now I'm just---" I shook my head, no need to even think about it. I'm a whore, and the only one who can change that is my pimp, and she won't; not until she squeezed the last bit of money out of my wrecked body.