FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In theory, stellar navigation is a fairly simple affair: the forces at work on a starship are so great that gravity, except in extreme situations, is essentially negligible. It's a matter of subtraction, really: Take the amount of fuel you have in your tanks, subtract the appropriate distance-per-unit of fuel from it in accordance with where you want to go, and that should be about it. In practice it's even simpler; just tell your ship to go somewhere and it will probably go there.

These thought buzzed constantly in Nenwef's mind, matched in volume only by the constant buzzing of insects all around him as he hiked through the jungle.

All the steps of the process were so simple. And yet he'd screwed it up badly enough that he'd ended up in entirely the wrong star system. And nearly out of fuel, too. Fortunately, there had been a planet nearby. Unfortunately, it was covered from pole to pole in the thickest jungle the duck had ever seen in his life.

But the fuel gauges didn't lie, and Nenwef didn't have much of a choice. Teleporting down to the planet, he began to search through the undergrowth for any sign of Erchius crystals. There had to be some around somewhere. They were rare, but, like, good skipping stone rare, not diamond rare. He'd stumble across one eventually, given enough time. Or at least someone who had some. Or maybe someone would show up from Avos to save him.

The duck continued to make his way deeper into the jungle, darkness closing around him as he pushed aside dense brush and undergrowth, branches snapping under his feet. Water condensed onto his feathers and rolled down his body, soaking his shirt and making it cling to him. Nenwef pulled at his collar, panting, peeling it off his damp feathers. Even his mohawk, slicked up with liberal amounts of feather-gel, drooped in the sweltering heat.

There was a sharp snap, and the avian stopped dead. Nenwef felt a tingle in the pit of his stomach, and he began snapping his head around, turning in circles as he desperately scanned the forest around him. Sunlight glared off the moist leaves, making him squint and dart his eyes to the ground, white spots bubbling in his vision.

In that moment of blindness came the strike. Something long, thick, and firm wrapped itself around his wrist and yanked downwards, tearing off his communicator.

Gasping in terror at having his only means of escape quite literally ripped away from him, Nenwef spun around to try and retrieve it, only for another something to wrap around his neck and yank him back. His hands were similarly bound, the soil tearing up around him as thick green tendrils rose to wrap themselves around his limbs, pressing his light blue feathers against his frame tightly as he was wrestled to the ground and held there, despite his desperate attempts to escape. His arms strained as he tried to wriggle free from whatever had caught him.

His first instinct was that it was some kind of carnivorous plant, which wasn't totally correct, although, to his horror, it was a good guess.

Stepping out from behind a thick trunk in front of the bound bird was the only being that could've been worse than whatever he was ensnared in: A floran.

He was immediately struck by several highly unusual aspects of her anatomy; the first being that she was huge. It wasn't particularly unusual for florans to top six feet, but this one was easily eight, the very tips of her head-leaves probably breaking nine. The second thing he noticed when his eyes drifted downwards: Despite her female voice and very prominent breasts, there was also a massive, green cock hanging between her legs, half-hard and dripping a thin, sticky, yellowish substance that he imagined was their version of precum. Heavy, pendulous balls swung freely between her thighs.

Black eyes peered at him from a head that was shaped and colored vaguely like a head of cabbage, topped with a headdress of multi-colored feathers; her only clothing aside from a few bits of jewelry around her neck and limbs. Thin lips peeled apart to reveal a mouth of dagger-like teeth, and the head cocked to the side. "What do we have here?" The voice was high and reedy, carrying menace, malice, and curiosity all at once. "A naughty little birdie, caught in my ssssspecial web?"

"The war's over; it's all in the past." Nenwef blurted out. It was the first thing he could think of to say. And the only thing, at the moment. He never thought he'd come face to face with a floran in the wild, always assuming that the only place he'd have to interact with them was on space stations, where there were guards to prevent brawls and general unpleasantness.

The floran knelt down, and he flinched away as she reached out to touch him, grinding his back into the dirt as he tried to squirm out of her reach, but the vines held him fast. Her hand, fingers tipped with sharp, blackened thorns in the shape of claws, landed on his hip, rubbing at his feathers and skin through his shorts, before sliding over his leg to cup his crotch, giving his package a firm squeeze. She grinned at him, her member growing fully erect as she continue to play with her new toy.

"Stop it! Let me out! The treaty stipulates-"

The vine around his neck curled tighter, choking him into silence as his eyes bulged and he struggled to breath.

"Good sssslaves do not speak unless spoken to. Good sssslaves are obedient." The vine loosened, and Nenwef opened his bill to protest yet again, but cut himself off when the floran's fingers curled around the bulge in his pants, her thorny claws poking warningly through the fabric of his clothes.

The avian gulped but said nothing, holding his tongue even as his thoughts swirled in his head. 'This can't be happening. I'm not a slave, I'm not! This is just a prank or a misunderstanding; soon enough a Protector will show up and sort it all out...'

The floran futa gave his package another squeeze through his pants, making Nenwef huff in pleasure, feeling his own cock starting to harden from the stimulation. Her other hand reached up and starting tugging at the hem of his shirt, pushing it upwarps to expose the white feathers of his belly.

Fear gripped Nenwef, even as he struggled to keep himself from bucking into the floran's squeezing grip. His wrists strained against the green tendrils holding them as he tried to reach down and push his shirt back into place.

"Stop! Leave me alone!"

The time the floran ignored him completely, her hand slipping under his shirt to trail up his stomach as she leaned forward. Her cock dripped yellow pre onto his pants, and she grinned as her wandering hand reached his chest and her fingers deftly curled around one of the nipples she found there, pinching it and twisting it cruelly as a pained whimper escaped Nenwef's bill.

"Good. Plump. Firm." The floran smirked, her cruel smile growing wider. She hooked a finger upwards, puncturing Nenwef's shirt and yanking the digit back towards herself, tearing the fabric right down the middle of his chest, ignoring his protest as she grabbed the loose strands and tore them away, leaving the bird's midsection totally exposed.

Her eyes swept over his chest, continuing downwards to rest on the bulge in his pants. Again ignoring her captive's squawks of protest, she reached down and worked her fingers under the brim, yanking down Nenwef's pants and underwear in one swift action, exposing his pink, humanoid penis and large balls covered in soft white feathers.

The floran's expression was now neutral; about as interested in his genitals as a store clerk reading the price tag a customer's item: A task which held no joy but had to be done for the sake of thoroughness.

"Accccceptable." She hissed to herself, lifting up his penis and comparing it to the length of her forfinger, finding it slightly shorter. To Nenwef's horror he couldn't suppressed a little sigh of unwanted pleasure as she hefted and squeezed his balls, his horror only increasing as she frowned at his testicles. "Sssso large for a ssssslave. It would be unhealthy to let them sssstay. Would breed dissssobediencccce..."

"What?!" Nenwef protested nervously, not daring to struggle lest his captor crush his vulnerable balls like wallnuts or stab her clawlike thorns into his sack.

"If you are a very good ssssslave, I will let them ssssstay. They would be fun to play with."

The duck's beak clacked open and closed a few times as he struggled to find a response. "You- I'm not a slave! This has to be a misunderstanding; according to the rules of the Interspecies Compact established by the Terrene Protectorate, the enslaving of sapient races is strictly forbid-"

As feared, the hand tightened around his balls, warning him that any further mouthing off would result in an extremely unpleasant punishment, now or later. "That'ssssss now not a good sssslave sssspeaks. A good ssslave is deferential; says "Yesss, Massster" at any sssugestion. Perhapssss it would be better to have thesssse overgrown thingssss taken off..."

"No!" Nenwef squeaked, once again cowering in the mud. "Please, don't. I'll be quiet." He promptly shut up, illustrating his proficiency at silence.

The cruel smile returned to his captor's face. "Sssuch a good ssslave. You learn sssoo quickly... A good trait. And sssince you've riled me up ssso much, I think it is time for your first lessssson..." Her deep-green member throbbed, and a whole string of sap dribbled from it, staining Nenwef's feathers.

The duck gulped, flinching away as the shemale reached out to caress his face with her hands. Running them from the crown of his head, over his cheeks, and down to his neck. Caressing him tenderly as her black gaze seared into his skull. Her fingers curled around his head, and suddenly he was being pulled forward, the vines moving with him rather than loosen their grip and allow any possibility of escape.

He cock landed on his bill, sliding over it and poking him in the eye, smearing presap over his face. He realized immediately that she was trying to get her member into his mouth, and promptly clammed up, refusing her entry.

"Ballsss..." Came the hissed reminder.

Nenwef blinked. He breathed in and out through the nostrils on his bill, the sweet, savory scent of his captor's genitals clouding the air as she rubbed her balls against his face. He considered his options; all two of them, and decided to go with the one that didn't involve being castrated. Hesitantly, he cracked open his bill.

This was all the opening that his assailant needed, and she swiftly pulled her cock back and stuffed the tip of it right into his mouth, not stopping even as she slid past his tonsils and pushed down into his throat.

The duck gagged, but quickly suppressed the reflex. The grip on the back of his head relaxed slightly, and he heard a sign from above; the massive shemale was clearly enjoying having her cock stuffed down a warm, tight throat. There was a pause, where the only noise was her heavy, blissful breathing. Something warm and stick tickled his esophagus, and he realized that it was her precum, leaking down into his stomach with nothing to stop it.

Nenwef was unable to think; his vision entirely consumed by the floran's crotch and all of his attention devoted to the task of not choking on her length. This was his first sexual experience ever with another being... and he was being raped. He felt violated. He felt like dirt. He was helpless and alone and at her mercy. And then it all got worse as she started to thrust.

She wasn't gentle and she didn't make any effort to keep him comfortable, just started to rut his throat like an animal in heat.

"Guh... Ulg..." Were the only sounds that escaped from Nenwef's bill as that huge green cock rocked in and out of his mouth, that solid crotch slamming against the ends of his bill. Deep down he knew it wasn't really happening, but he still imagined that he could feel his upper and lower mandibles being forced further and further apart, and he was suddenly stricken with the image of his jaws being split apart against the floran's crotch.

It brought him no comfort that his rapist was enjoying this much more than he was, her sighs and moans echoing away into the dense jungle as she continued to abuse her new toy, forcing as much of her emerald green member down his throat as she could in one go. He cried got louder, and the duck knew what would come next. The prospect seemed bad enough, but his tormentor, apparently an expert on breaking the minds of her victims, did the one thing that could make it even worse.

Right as she began to orgasm, she yanked her cock out of his smarting throat and held it in his mouth.

'She's going to make me swallow it myself!' Nenwef thought, despair flooding his mind as thick, bitter spunk flooded his mouth. It tasted nothing like the sweet sap that had been leaking from her member before. She didn't have to tell him that his balls were still very much on the chopping block, literally, if he didn't swallow all of it, and so he shut his eyes tight and did what he had to do. Gulp after agonizing gulp sent warm, thick waves of semen flowing down his gullet and into his stomach.

He could feel himself filling up with it, his midsection beginning to bloat outward as he swallowed spurt after spurt of it, the torrent never seeming to end. And when finally it did, he collapsed backwards onto the ground, laying spread eagle, naked, and with his stomach so swollen he could've been mistaken for a hen that was about to lay.

Semen and spittle dripped onto his stomach, and he looked up to see the floran appraising him critically. "A good firssst performance, ssslave. You will take well to your training... Come now, your life beginsss..."

Nenwef didn't even try to escape. Even without the vines he would be too weak to run. And too heavy. He wouldn't make it as far as the nearest tree with his stomach like it was.

The tendrils around his limbs relaxed, strong hands replacing them as the duck found himself hoisted up and thrown over the floran's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His stomach was smushed against her shoulder, and for a moment he maintained a spiteful fantasy that the pressure would make him vomit up her load. But her seed sat infuriatingly well in his stomach, like a warm, yummy meal, and he didn't even gag as she started to carry him away, the floran pulling his undergarments from around his ankles and carelessly tossing them away into the underbrush, leaving him totally naked as she marched onward.

The duck had no clue where she was taking him; if the floran was following a path then he couldn't discern it. All he could see was varying shades of green and brown as leaves and branches slipped past them. Something smacked against his ass, making him yelp, and a branch scraped over his back. He craned his head to look behind himself, and saw the floran grab a branch, push it back, and then- "Ow! Hey!"

"Silence."

Nenwef slumped back down over her shoulder with a petulant frown, flinching every time a branch slapped his ass.

With every minute that passed his heart sank further as his chances of escape dwindled. He would probably never be able to find his way back to the clearing that he'd been ambushed in, and, by proxy, never find his communicator, which was his only way of getting back up to his ship.

It was hours before they arrived at their destination, and Nenwef's last hope of escaping had long since vanished, leaving him sullen and depressed as they stepped into the village clearing, filled with bamboo huts with thatches roofs. And then his mood got even worse.

There were other avians here, scattered around the village under the watchful eye of more florans. All of the birds were male and all of them were naked. Nenwef's eyes widened as he saw them, and he had to hold in a scream of horror. They looked so downtrodden, their eyes hollow and without light, staring at the ground in sullen, fearful silence, doing whatever they were ordered to, which, more often than not, was sexual in nature. Several were orally servicing male or hermaphroditic florans, and many others had been bent over whatever was in the vicinity and were being fucked silly, their beaks hanging open in bliss as saliva dripped to the ground. Even worse, a few avians actually seemed to be enjoying it, eagerly acquiescing to any order they were given.

And Nenwef couldn't fail to notice that many of them were... deformed. They had breasts, modest A-cups, but breasts nonetheless. He felt a cold shiver run the length of his spine; he'd never seen males with breasts before, and he had a horrible feeling that he was going to find out how they'd gotten them, his nipples tingling as he remembered how eager his captor had been to grope them.

He didn't struggle as he was carried through the village, lying still on his floran's shoulder and observing his surroundings as he tried to spot some opportunity to escape. Maybe he'd never get off this planet, but anywhere had to better than here.

He heard screeching off his left and was horrified when he looked over and saw a black and white avian, still wearing a few ripped vestiges of clothing and notably lacking breasts, meaning he was probably a new arrival, locked in a solid set of stocks as a floran behind him plucked out his tail feathers one by one as the poor bird thrashed and screamed, fitting them into several multi-colored headdresses.

Nenwef gulped, glancing up at his own floran's headdress and wondering how many avians had "contributed" to it. Which led naturally to wondering if he would be made to contribute to it.

The answer to that question, as it turned out, was "yes". He was carried to the center of the village, where there was an open square in front of a large stone building. In the center of the square was a wooden sawhorse with well-worn leather straps. A brazier sat nearby, its flames stoked by a male floran in a black apron, his head-foliage an ominous shade of dark grey. There were several iron rods sticking out of the fire, their handles wrapped in leather straps to insulate the bearer's hand from the hot metal.

His captor walked over to the sawhorse and gave the duck's leg a firm yank, pulling him off her shoulder even as his webbed feet scrabbled at her smooth, leaf-like skin, trying to resist. He was grabbed under one arm, then the other, held off the ground like a squirming hatchling, before being slammed down on the sawhorse so hard that it knocked the breath out of him. Tears leapt to his eyes as he tried to suck in air, his beak hanging open.

His wrists were seized before he thought to struggle, one by the male floran in the apron and one by the futa, and they were pulled down through the leather straps, which were then tightened around them, sinching his wrists in place painfully. They were so much larger than him that his attempts to resist were almost adorable in their futility.

"Ack! Hurts!" He bleated, trying to work his legs under him on the smooth wood, only for those too to be grabbed by the ankles and yanked downward, slipped under their own leather straps and clamped in place under them.

Nenwef continued to struggle, grunting as he tried and failed to free himself from the sawhorse. "Let me go!" He demanded, his fear about his balls temporarily forgotten as he scowled indignantly at the florans. "You can't do this! It isn't in accordance with galactic law! Under the rules of the Terrene Protectorate, slavery is a class A offense!"

"Mouthy, isssn't he?" The futa hissed to the aproned male, turning her head to look him in the eye.

"Ssso were the ressst." The male replied, unphased. "They learn."

The duck spluttered indignantly, spouting off more legalese in a vain attempt to say something that would phase the florans.

"Sssilence, bird!" The male floran shot Nenwef a look so threatening that the offending duck immediately clamped his beak shut. "Your insssolence will not be tolerated here, bird." He curled a lip, showing off razor-sharp teeth. "It would be wissse of you to ressspect our shaman."

The futa floran stood up taller, the many-colored feathers of her headdress shimmering in the late-day sun. She grinned, showing off her own set of teeth. "Petalsss of Coal, I think the ssslave needsss a lesssson in obedience. Dissscipline him."

The male, apparently named Petals of Coal, grinned wider. "As you command, my shaman." He walked around behind Nenwef, giving the duck a threatening smile as he did. A hand grabbed the base of the duck's tail, pulling it upwards to expose his rump.

"W-what are you- AAH!" He screeched as an open palm slammed into one of his ass cheeks, leaving a bright red welt on the skin under his soft bum-feathers.

The blows kept coming, leaving stinging welts in the shape of handprints on his rump. At first Nenwef tried to resist, but his attempts to escape his bonds were futile, and after a few moments of struggle all he could do was lay limp on the wood of the sawhorse, worn smooth by the fruitless struggling of countless avians before him, and wait for his punishment to end, sobbing like a child as he was punished like one.

The spanks eventually stopped, leaving the bird a shivering wreck. There was no respite for him, though, as almost immediately he felt a large hand groping at his breast, fondling a pectoral as thick fingers gave one of his nipples a squeeze.

"His chessst and teatsss are very well developed, for an avian." The shaman hissed to Coal, who strode around to Nenwef's other side and proceeded to explore the bird himself, giving the duck's other pec several firm gropes. The shaman continued: "I think he would make a very good milker. With correct treatment, hisss production could be very high..."

Nenwef clamped his eyes shut, unsure of what was happening and just wanting his captors to leave him alone and stop groping his chest, letting out a low whine of distress.

"I concur." The other floran said, after another few moments of examining the captive. "Would you like me to brand him as such?"

"WHAT?!" Nenwef shrieked, immediately resuming his struggling. "No! No no no no! Don't-!"

A green hand grabbed his beak and clamped it shut, muffling his protests even as he continued to try and verbally prevent the inevitable. "Do ssso."

The male nodded and walked over to the brazier, looking over the heated irons until he found the one he was looking for and pulled it out of the flames. It was a circle with a rounded bump on the outside, sort of reminiscent of a breast and nipple, in a very minimalist way.

The duck's eyes grew huge as he beheld the red-hot ring of metal, and he let out a high keen of distress through his beak as he looked up at the shaman with pleading eyes.

"Don't worry..." She purred, grinning at him mercilessly. "It only hurtsss for a moment..."

Nenwef began to struggle again, desperately trying to find some way out of his bonds as the aproned floran walked behind him, leaving his peripheral vision. 'No, this can't be happening, this isn't happening! This is some kind of joke, this can't be happening to me! This isn't real, it isn't-"

The shaman's free hand landed on his back, pressing his down onto the sawhorse and holding him in place. "Be ssstill now. We wouldn't want to have to do thisss more than once, no?"

Another hand, Coal's, closed around his tail feathers again, pulling them upwards to fully expose the duck's rump. He felt something warm near the exposed flesh of his backside, still red and stinging from his earlier spanking. Something firm and round pressed into his right cheek. And for a moment, he felt nothing. Then came the pain. White-hot agony shot through him, lighting up every nerve in his body. He went ridged and stared straight ahead as his beak forced itself open to let out the loudest scream of his life.

He screamed and screamed, waves of unbearable pain coursing through him as the mark was burned into the flesh of his rump. Tears formed in and ran from his eyes in cascading rivers, and he didn't notice at all. Every part of his body was sweating profusely, his hands sliding uselessly against the legs of the sawhorse as he tried to grip them. To force his wrists out of the straps. To crush the wooden supports into toothpicks. Anything that would let him escape.

He screamed long after the pressure on his rump had ceased as the iron was pulled, until his throat hurt just as badly as his ass. And finally he collapsed back onto the sawhorse, wheezing pained breaths through his gaping beak, each intake of air burning against his hoarse throat. His rump still hurt. It hurt so badly he thought it would never feel normal again. Tears dripped from his beak as he stared blankly into the distance, shell-shocked and silent.

He was dimly aware of the two florans talking to each other. Discussing something. Coming to an agreement. The male suddenly filled his vision, standing in front of him and then brushing his apron to the side expectantly, exposing his half-hard cock, a thick foreskin slowly rolling back along the dark green head as the shaft hardened in front of him.

He didn't have the strength to resist as Coal slipped a few fingers into his beak, lifting it open so he could push his member into the duck's mouth. It wasn't as big as the shaman's but that was small comfort. It pushed into the back of his throat, making him gag, and there the floran stopped. "Wouldn't want to strain you too much yet. Consider it a kindness."

A kindness. A deranged laugh bubbled deep inside Nenwef, dissipating before it made it up his windpipe. After everything he'd just been put through, this was supposed to be considered a kindness?

"Well?" Coal demanded, his voice sharper. "Suck, bird."

Oh, he wanted the duck to put some effort into this instead of being a passive fuck toy. Begrudgingly, knowing deep down he didn't have a choice, Nenwef began to suck on the floran's member, gently pressing his bill around it and working the length with his tongue. Sweet presap oozed into his mouth, which he swallowed, hating how the taste was actually fairly pleasant.

The shaman was doing something behind him. Hands brushed against his tailfeathers, and Nenwef knew that she would be taking his rear.

He was correct, but there was something else that had to come first: With a pair of sharp, painful yanks, two tailfeathers were pulled from his rump, one from either side do they'd be symmetrical.

Nenwef yelped, just barely stopping himself from biting down on Coal's cock as his feather were yanked out. He couldn't see it, but he was pretty sure that they were now the newest addition to her headdress. Only then, after that one further bit of humiliation, did the expected hand land on his rump. Right on top of his brand, in fact, making him squawk in discomfort and then choke a bit on Coal's member.

The male floran growled, grabbing a fistful of Nenwef's head-feathers and holding him in place. He rocked his hips back and then forward again, apparently unsatisfied by the blowjob he was currently receiving as he started to thrust into his victim's mouth.

At the same time the shemale splayed her fingers over the brand on his backside, digging her claw-like fingertips into the sensitive flesh and pulling his asscheek to the side to reveal his tight, pink pucker. "Sssuch a pretty little pussssy you have..."

The duck wanted to whimper, but Coal thrust into the back of his throat, making him gag instead.

Something warm and slick pressed against his rear entrance, making Nenwef fear that the shaman would just push right in and tear him in two, but it turned out to be thinner and covered in something wet: Her finger, covered in what he assumed was her saliva. It worked his pucker open mercilessly, making no provision for his comfort as it pushed inside.

The avian's mouth was too full of floran cock to protest, so he was forced to just take it, wincing and screwing his eyes shut as a thick digit was jammed into him. It thankfully remained straightened, the thorn-like claw at its tip refraining from slicing into the walls of his rectum. Even so, the shaman began to stretch him, gently swirling her finger around his pucker in progressively wider circles, teasing the muscles of his ring and gradually forcing them to open up.

Nenwef made the mistake of getting his hopes up, thinking for a few precious moments that that might be all she subjected him to.

And then the finger was withdrawn and something much thicker was pressed up to his rear in its place.

"Moh!" He instinctively tried to protest, Coal giving him a warning glare as the duck stopped sucking him for just a moment. He whined loudly, sliding his legs against the wood of the sawhorse, his knees gliding back and forth in shallow groves that he only just then noticed; he was far from the first to waste his energy trying to escape the inevitable.

The pain washed over him like a forest fire, coming all at once and frying every nerve in his anus as the ring was forced to stretch far beyond what it had been prepared for. In that moment Nenwef was certain that he was about to die, that he would be split open on her cock then and there and bleed out. She was so big, bigger even than the male who was using his beak. The rapidly shrinking part of his mind that analyzed the world in logical terms told him that her penis and balls would make up a significant portion of her body mass, perhaps up to 5%. Maybe even more. He might've laughed at how absurdly large that number would've seemed, but now the part of him that processed comedy was dwindling, being chipped away into nothingness by the cruel, humorless reality he found himself trapped in.

And then he gasped, eyes bulging, as her head crashed into his prostate like a meteor impact, sending another shockwave through him, this time of sheer pleasure. And he welcomed it. Anything was better than the intense burning that had come before.

Her tip pushed against the little bundle of nerves deep inside of him, and he had to resist the urge to groan, knowing that if he did, Coal would be pissed. This was a new kind of torment, being forced to make no noise and suck a cock nonstop while his virginal rear was fucked with for the very first time.

The shaman pushed deeper, past his prostate and into his guts. Nenwef felt like a rod had been shoved inside of him; like his insides were being forcefully straightened out. He was so focused on his backside that he didn't even notice Coal orgasming until hot, sticky cum was shooting into the back of his throat.

He gagged, tried to swallow, and then gagged again as the bitter, salty liquid refused to go down his throat, the stringy stickiness of it making his stomach churn and threaten to expel its contents. It spilled out around the edges of his bill and dripped onto the ground, pattering heavily against the dirt.

Her groin now pressing against his backside, the shaman pulled her cock a little ways out before pushing it back in. She repeated this action, and repeated it again, slowly drawing out more and more but never increasing her pace. Her throaty moans and sighs were like nails being driven into Nenwef's ears, torturing him with the pleasure she was feeling, how it was very much taken from him while he was given nothing in return.

She continued to fuck him at her own pace as Coal pulled out and wiped his cock off on his apron. Some of his cum still sat in the duck's mouth, which he was too frightened to spit out and too disgusted to try and swallow.

Nenwef's rim burned, but at least it wasn't the white agony of initial penetration, or the red-hot agony of the brand. His current predicament vaguely reminded him of something, although he didn't have a clue as to what.

And then the shemale's thrusting suddenly increased in pace, her moans becoming deeper and louder as she slammed into him a few more times before hilting inside the avian as she came, spurting hot, sticky spunk into his guts.

It occurred to him then what it was that he had been reminded of: Masturbation. She had been using him like he would've used a fleshlight; no passion, just going through the motions to get some pleasure and unload his balls. Somehow, despite everything, that was still insulting.

Coal looked up at the shaman as she came, which Nenwef judged to be the perfect time to lower his head a little and let the rest of his semen drip out of his beak while he wasn't paying attention. His own penis was still soft and dangling between his legs; nothing about this experience had been arousing for him.

'At least I have that.' He thought as his abuser pulled out of him, leaving his anus red, inflamed, sore, and dripping. 'They can't make me enjoy this. I'll always resent them. Someday I'll escape. I'll escape and come back and kill them all. I'll find Terrene Protectors or more avians and we'll burn this fucking place to ashes.'

Heavy footsteps came around to his front, and his captor knelt down so that they were at eye-level. He scowled at her, seeing his two tailfeathers now adoring the periphery of her headdress, and she grinned right back. "Sssuch a good little bitch for usss. Yesss, you will do well here. Now... sssleep." She placed her hands on the sides of his neck and pressed. Pressed harder. Not hard enough to cut off his air flow, but... his brain felt... fuzzy. "Sssleep..."

'Oh, blood choke.' Nenwef thought. And then he passed out.

***

Nenwef came to lying on his back on something hard. He lay there for a time, his brain slow to wake. And then for a time longer, hoping that if he opened his eyes he would find himself on his ship, despite the leather bands he could feel around his wrists and ankles keeping him spread eagle, or the lingering taste of semen on his tongue.

When he finally did open his eyes, he was confused when he saw a moon up above him, before realizing that he was seeing it through a hole in the ceiling and that he was actually inside now. He lifted his head and looked down at himself, confirming that he was in fact laying down on a hard wooden table and was also restrained with leather straps around his limbs. Not his neck though, apparently. That was convenient.

He looked around the room, not really seeing much. He was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight in a way that was disconcertingly similar to how patients undergoing operations in hospitals were illuminated by lights from above them. He really hoped that that was a coincidence.

There were some shelves against the walls, holdings lots of stuff, although what that stuff was he couldn't quite make out. Mostly nondescript bottles and jars. There was a door at the far end that considered of lines of beads on strings. Laying his head back on the table to rest his sore neck, he looked back up to the ceiling and realized there were actually two holes in the roof, one above him and one a few feet in further away between his spread legs. He raised his head again, straining against the straps that bound him to try and see what was under the second beam of moonlight. He couldn't see anything, although he couldn't see the floor either. Maybe there was some sort of low pedestal there. Or maybe there was nothing at all.

The duck laid back down, sighing softly. His ass hurt. His wrists and ankles hurt too. His brain also hurt, a headache punishing him for the unforgivable crime of being choked while he couldn't do anything about.

Nenwef tried to work one of his limbs free, although he couldn't manage it; the straps were too tight. He shifted around as much as he could on the table, which wasn't much, and despite his efforts he still wasn't able to leverage any of his limbs out of their bonds. "Fuck." He considered trying to overturn the table, but he didn't see what that would accomplish. It hadn't swayed at all while he was shifting his weight around, so it was pretty sturdily built, maybe even secured to the floor.

The tinkling of beads signaled that his time to escape was up, and he lifted his head to spot the shaman entering. She was just as nude as ever, her cock swaying between her legs as she leisurely swaggered towards him, grinning with her ever-pointy teeth. "Good evening, my sssweet birdie..."

"Let us go." Nenwef ordered. "Others will come for us, and they'll destroy this place. If you let us go now I can guarantee fair treatment and a fair trial under the laws of the Terrene Protectorate."

"Thisss again." The shaman looked less than pleased, her grin replaced by a disappointed frown. "Sssome take ssso long to learn. I thought you might be different, but no. All you meatbagsss are the sssame."

She walked over to a shelf and retrieved what looked like a long, thin tree brank, devoid of foliage and slim enough to bend freely. "And ssso it alwaysss fallsss to me to educate..." She approached him again, striding right up between his spread legs, despite his fruitless attempts to wiggle away. The branch went up in the air and then came right back down with a swish and a crack.

Pain exploded in Nenwef's penis, and for a second he was afraid that it might've come right off. But no, as he craned his head he saw that it was still safely attached to him, just with a big red welt across it.

"Ssspeak no more of thisss protectorate. Ssspeak no more of itsss lawsss. You are here. Not there. Further disssobedience will require further countermeasssuresss. These" the stick landed gently on his balls, pressing them against the table hard enough for him to feel, "are ssstill not guaranteed to you, and never will be. If they continue to caussse problemsss, then they will be taken away. Do you underssstand, ssslave?" She raised the switch again, resting it on her shoulder, hinting at another strike if he did not obey.

Tears of pain and fear pooling in his eyes, Nenwef nodded quickly. The last of his resistance was slowly trickled away.

"If I mussst remind you again, the sssource of the problem will be dealt with permanently." She hissed, moving away from him to replace the switch on the shelf.

She moved down to another shelf, picking up a jar decorated with bright green and red paint. It was about the size of her head, and, given the way she hefted it, was full of something. She set it down next to him on the table, giving him a devilish grin as she lifted off the top and reached a hand in.

For a moment, Nenwef was unreasonably terrified that she would pull out a snake, or, goodness forbid, a huge spider, but instead her hand came back out covered in an off-white goo, which, reaching over, she began to apply to his chest.

It tickled, and the duck stared down at her hand as it circled his nipple, covering his chest with the slimy substance before slathering more of it over his pert nub. "Ack!"

"Calm. It isss for your benefit."

'Like the brand?' He thought sarcastically.

She dipped her hand back into the jar and repeated the process on the other side of his chest before gathering up another handful of goo and reaching between his legs to start slathering it over his taint. Then lower, over his sore hole.

Nenwef didn't complain, first and foremost because he was worried that his balls would be taken away if he said one more word out of line, but also because the cool gel was soothing on his sore ring, and if nothing else he wouldn't complain about it hurting less.

Her finger pressed into him, and the duck squirmed in discomfort, whining unhappily as the finger worked inside of him, aggravating his aching backside. The digit swirled around inside of him, slathering the goop around his rectum before withdrawing. Her hand returned to the pot and she retrieved another handful of the stuff. Instead of applying it to him though, she stepped away from the table towards the other spotlight.

The shaman sighed heavily, swiping her free hand above... whatever was down there, just beyond Nenwe'f sight. "Arise."

And something did. Something long and green and thick. A vine, probably sprouting from the floor under the hole in the roof.

The shaman closer her goopy hand around its tip, gripping it gently, and then pulled back, leaving a thick trail of whatever that stuff was behind as she did.

The avian was already getting a very bad feeling about where this was going, which was only confirmed with the shaman next uttered "Penetrate."

The vine turned towards Nenwef like a snake, dropping down a bit to slither across the floor, holding the slimy part of itself above the dirt, before appearing again over the edge of the table. Sliding up between the bird's legs, it took a moment to align itself, a task that its victim did as much as possible to frustrate, wiggling around and whimpering loudly.

And then, like a snake, it struck. The vine lunged forward, pressing its slender tip against the duck's exposed anus before pushing inside, spreading him gently as it slithered into his back passage. It kept coming, more and more of its slick, slimy length sliding into him, gradually growing thicker, though nowhere near the girth of the florans' cocks.

Nenwef groaned, lying back on the table and lifting his rump as far off of it as he could, clenching down in a futile attempt to catch the vine and prevent its progress. He could feel it deep inside of him, finding its way into his guts and rearranging his insides, pressing the passage beyond his anus into a straight line right up into his midsection and turning him into a sort of cocksleeve. The vine paused for a moment and began to draw out, giving the duck hope that perhaps this was over and it was going to leave him alone now. But no, it was not.

The vine crammed back into him, curling around itself to increase its girth and start stretching him out all over again. Part of it pressed against his prostate heavily and with definite intent, making Nenwef cry out in pleasure and his cock leap to hardness. It slithered around inside him, sliding against his inner walls and writhing around like a snake.

To his horror, Nenwef realized that he could see it moving around through the skin of his midsection. "Get it out of me!" He screamed up at the shaman, begging at her with wide eyes. "Get it out of me! Get it out! I can't take this, do anything but this; please get it out of me!"

She was nonplussed, putting the lid back on the pot and putting it away as Nenwef continued to writhe on the table, slamming his body against the wood as hard as he could in an attempt to concuss the vine that had buried itself in his guts. This had no effect, and it simply continued to slide into him more and more, stretching out the rim of his anus and smearing that gloop all around inside him.

As he continued to struggle, he noticed a strangle tingling sensation on his chest. Pausing for just a moment to consider this, he realized that he could feel it inside him too. It was the slime, it had to be the slime. "What is this stuff?" He looked up to the shaman for an explanation, but she merely grinned.

The vine pressed against his inner walls again, and a wave of pleasure washed through him, making him grunt and squirm against his restraints. Another writhing motion from the vine and he cried out in pleasure as hot, tingling ecstasy flowed out from his anus. "W-what the fuck?!" He grunted, his eyes squeezing shut against the onslaught of sensations as his cock spurted precum onto his stomach.

The vine, now stuffed deep inside him and coiled over itself to be as thick as possible, began to turn around and around inside of him, working itself against his rectal walls and making wave after wave of blissful, near-orgasmic pleasure crash through him. He opened his bill and let out a deep groan, involuntarily pressing back against the vine for the first time. It felt too good to do anything else.

Another fiery wave wracked his body, shooting from his prostate all the way up to his mohawk, but this time the tingles did not fade away as they passed his midsection. They lingered. Intensified. Began to burn with a new heat all their own.

"Ung!" Nenwef grunted, knocking his head back against the table as he tried to move cool air over his chest by thrusting it up into the air, to no avail. The vine within him twisted once more, and as the sensation of being stretched shot through his body, it took him an extra moment to realize that the flesh of his rim wasn't the only place that was feeling that way. Eyes snapping open, he craned his head down towards his chest and gasped in horror, seeing the flesh around his nipples slowly swelling. Worse still, as he gave his arms a few more panicked tugs, his swelling breasts jiggled, and he realized he could feel something else within them, a weight that sloshed from side to side. "What are you doing to me?"

The grin was huge and menacing, deforming the shaman's face hideously. "Making you ussseful."

"No... No no no no..." His flesh prickled, rising into goosebumps as his breasts continued to grow, swelling with milk, until they reached A cup size, where the growth finally, mercifully, stopped.

The shaman stepped forward again, running her fingers over the feathered flesh of Nenwef's new breasts, her teeth showing themselves again as he groaned in a mix of dysphoric discomfort and unwelcome pleasure. Then two finger came together around a teat and squeezed roughly, eliciting a yelp of surprise and pain as milk -it was a white liquid coming out of his breast, it couldn't be anything else- squirted onto the floran's hand."

To the avian's ever-mounting horror, she raised her fingers to her mouth and licked them lavishly, making eye-contact with Nenwef as she did, her nimble tongue running between the groves of her green fingers to savor every last trace of his milk. "Deliciousss... You birdsss make sssuch good cream. Yesss, you will fit in well here..."

She went back to the shelves before returning with a pair of shears. "Only one more thing to do before you can be made at home..." A too-large hand caressed the bird's cheek, even as he flinched and turned his head away. Then, claws gently pricking his skin as they were dragged upwards, her palm brushed against his mohawk. His pride and joy. The part of his body that he'd cared for and cultivated for years.

She had taken everything from him. His own body was alien now, pleasure churning in his gut along with the vine, his insides turned into a perfect, inviting cocksleeve, and his chest sporting breasts that eagerly and unnaturally lactated. "Please..." He begged quietly, tears pricking at his eyes. "Let me keep it. It's just one thing, I promise I'll be a good boy, please-"

The snipping of the shears was the only answer he got, his proud mane of head-feathers dropping away readily between the blades.

Nenwef whimpered, his eyes squeezing themselves shut as hot tears spilled out of them.

"Shh..." The shaman's voice was soothing and gentle, an alarming development in itself, and a hand returned to caress his cheek, gentle but firm. Paternal, in a way. "You will come to love your place here, among othersss of your, kind freed of your tiresome obsessssion with the universsse beyond." A hand stroked over Nenwef's head, the feathers of his mohawk now conspicuously absent.

Nenwef ignored her, deciding that, out of spite, he would never admit to enjoying anything that they did to him.

She replaced the shears and then left the hut, probably to attend to whatever other horrid business she was in charge of. For an hour, Nenwef was left to himself, with nothing but his thoughts and the steadily thrusting vine as company. Before long he began to sweat again, his feathers glistening with it in the cool night air. The teasing of the vine became unbearable, and he began to attempt to squeeze down on it and buck against it, trying his hardest to make it brush against his prostate. His beak hung open, letting moans and sighs spill out readily as his eyes, half-lidded, stared blankly up at the moon as his will began to break. For the last half hour, he could think of nothing but pleasure, vainly trying to induce an orgasm while the length within him obstinately, almost skillfully, refused to make it happen.

He was drooling by the time the shaman returned, spit oozing out of the corner of his slack bill and dripping down his cheek to puddle on the table. "Retreat, rest now." The vine uncoiled itself inside him, making him grunt and squirt another bout of pre onto his stomach as it rubbed against his prostate. It slid out of him, and a whimper escaped his bill as he realized how empty he felt without it; how much he missed the sensation of fullness within him. He could feel his anus gaping obscenely, hanging open and slack. He tried to clench down and found that he could only barely make it close, and even then he couldn't hold it there.

"Don't fret, you will be full again before long." The comforting tone was still there, more disturbing than her hissed threats had ever been.

Nenwef lay still as the bindings around his limbs were loosened, attempting to make a break for it when he was entirely free of them, but being caught with a firm arm around his midsection before even making it off the table.

"Nnnf!" He hugged, struggling against his attacker like a small child against their parent. He knew it was pointless, but he refused to just go along with this insanity. He was pressed against her side, held horizontally, belly towards the ground, like a small dog being carried by its owned, and taken out of the hut. Across the open square. Behind the big stone hall. To a long, low wooden building with a thick thatch roof.

The floran stooped down to carry him through the doorway, and what lay inside wasn't really a surprise, although it still sent a wave of nausea into Nenwef's stomach.

There were avians here, more than a dozen of them, all bound up in stockades of sturdy bones, held together with vines worryingly similar to the one that had just spent a moonlit hour molesting him. The same brand marked their backsides, easily visible even in the low light, and their breasts sagged heavily, some of them leaking milk onto the wooden floorboards. Several of them were obviously missing their testicles. The smell was... unique. Not unpleasant, but still thick and musky; males who hadn't gotten their rocks off in a while.

Despite the hour, many of the avians were awake, craning their heads to stare at the newcomers with glazed eyes. A few flinched away, but most of them let their beaks and bills fall open as desperate pleas filled the coop.

"Milk me!"

"Please, Mistress, milk me!"

"They're so full, I can't take it!"

"Fuck me; do something!"

"Please!"

Despite the warmth of the room, Nenwef shivered and redoubled his fruitless efforts to escape. He knew it wasn't true, but at the same time he was certain that this was a nightmare. It had to be. This was too horrible to be real.

Hard reality encroached upon his delusions as he was pushed into a stockade, the structure closing around him as the vines shifted and locked him into place.

"Welcome home." The shaman hissed. She stood and walked out, unmoved by the incessant pleading around her.

No amount of struggling could shift the stocks, no matter how hard Nenwef tried, and the other avians proved unwilling to speak to him. This was explained in the morning, when several male attendants came in, one of whom gave Nenwef several brutal swats on his exposed balls with a switch when he tried to ask the avian next to him who these florans were. He didn't talk out of turn again after that.

Since he was the "newcomer", or so the male florans explained, he would be shown how things were done. It fairly simple, really. Nenwef was fucked for a good half hour, moaning compulsively as his still-sensitive ass and aching bill were stuffed full of floran cock. They wasn't as big as the shaman's, but it felt just as good. When at last they were finished the florans pulled out, leaving the duck bloated and dripping semen from both ends. A large bowl was slid underneath his chest, and they began to milk him, squeezing his teats between thick, over-large fingers to make rich cream squirt into the bowl.

Nenwef cried out with each compression, his nipples smarting painfully even as pleasure rolled though his chest. He groaned as the pleasure finally overcame the pain and he started to press his breasts into the floran's hand, moaning wantonly as those skilled fingers continued to work his nipples, spurts of milk leaping into the bowl below as the pressure was finally let off. When it was over he found himself begging for more, but his cries went unanswered, and the males took the bowl and left.

From there his life fell into a steady rhythm: He half-slept at night, and spent the days waiting around, daydreaming. He quickly learned that milkings were infrequent; the males in the coop with him often went three or four days between them, which lead to a near-constant feeling of pressure in his chest. The florans only fucked the avians that they were milking, which led to him being largely ignored when it wasn't his turn. With all that time on his hands he also started to speculate that the increased size of the florans compared to avians like him was due to their diet; there was probably something in the avian's milk that made them grow like that. Or maybe he was just going crazy.

At first he was glad that he wouldn't be molested too often, but as the days passed the emptiness in his passage turned into a deep, burning need to have something in him, and his breasts swelled up and hung beneath him, straining at his skin as milk leaked onto the floor, forced out of him by the sheer pressure of the volume inside.

He found himself relieved when his turn came again, sighing in grateful bliss as a hard, thick cock was pushed into his rear and another was shoved down his gullet, which he drooled eagerly around. The warm bloom of semen deep in his guts was like a soothing lotion, keeping the need at bay for a few hours. He never orgasmed despite the intense pleasure but being milked was close enough. The feeling of pressure being released was wonderful, and he found himself profusely thanking the florans who were doing it, which earned him a chuckle in response, but no swats.

This went on for weeks, and eventually months. They were fed raw grains like birdseed and taken outside infrequently to relieve themselves. But mostly they spent their time in the coop, either being milked or waiting to be milked. Nenwef's mind wandered, and more and more his daydreams turned to milking. Instead of escape, he fantasized about his next few hours of relief, and his hatred for his captors melted away, replaced with need and desire and gratefulness when his turn came.

The shaman visited them sometimes, usually once a week to pick out an avian she wanted to fuck, and occasionally to introduce a new member to their coop; avians getting lost here and never returning was apparently quite common. She was, despite Nenwef's initial appraisal, much more merciful than the rest of the tribe, usually not punishing speaking out of turn unless the subject was unacceptable, such as escape or complaints about the conditions.

Nenwef stopped thinking of time in terms of weeks and days and years, those meaningless numbers replaced with the reality of when his last milking was and when his next would be, which he awaited with eager anticipation. He loved it here. He never wanted to leave. If he ever got loose, he thought, he would throw himself at the nearest floran and beg them to fuck him. He was happy. He was sure he was. Happiness couldn't feel any better than this, could it?