FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

His eyes opened against the ashy sunlight. The scent of rot hung like a pall over the woods, but nearer, more intimate was the odor of wet dog, soil and musk. Desmond looked under the hood of the creature seated nearby.

A long, lupine snout grinned at Desmond. The jowls pulled back, and then came a giggle. "Good morning, Meat," he said. "I knew you'd return. Come to take in my beautiful features, have you? You're lucky I smelled your stink before the dogs did you in."

Desmond sat up slowly. Male beauty he had once enjoyed was being stripped from him by the cursed forest. His hair and fur were pocked with brambles. Once he had bothered to pluck them, now survival was more important. Poor nutrition left him bony. His teeth, previously white, were yellowing; several had loosened.

"Can't take much more of this," he said to the Wolfman.

"Can't you?" the Wolfman jauntily asked. "Is being a smelly skeleton with skin and fur stretched over it not the goal here?" He grinned his sharp teeth at Desmond, leaned in close, then clutched a paw around his sallow guest's neck and licked his face. "After all, if you fattened up at all I might make a meal of you, Meat. As it stands you're not much more than a morsel, more fun to watch than to snack on."

In another time, a better place, Desmond would have shoved the Wolfman off and recoiled in disgust. The hooded creature stank of desperation. But so did Desmond. When the Wolfman was through, Desmond sat up and hugged his knees. Beside him, stricken by mange and lumpy with brambles, his tail lay like a deceased caterpillar.

"I want out of these fucking woods," Desmond said, sounding defeated and tired. "And away from you and your games."

The Wolfman giggled. "What's wrong with a game, comrade? There's not much else to do. Not getting out of here anytime soon." Now he prodded at Desmond's ankle, where a stained bandage reeking of alcohol was tied around the limb; Desmond hissed and swatted the Wolfman's paw. The wolf said, "Survival is not your strong suit. I couldn't say why someone like you would come here, but you're sure not cut out for fighting."

The foxcoon eyed the Wolfman cautiously. Even his eyes seemed paler, like scuffed jades. "I've never been a fighter. Or a survivalist."

A lusty growl rose in the Wolfman's chest. He sidled up to Desmond, hooked an arm around his bony shoulders and chummily squeezed him close. "Everyone has a niche, my fuzzy little carcass. Even here, in these woods. What say we find yours?"

The Wolfman didn't wait to ask. He slid down his dirty trousers but left on the coat. His rifle remained slung on his back. His musky scent worsened as he bared his lower half, and his fur reeked of sweat and grime. A smile on his snout, teeth bared like yellow knives, he held the back of Desmond's head and pulled him down until the foxcoon's nose touched the matted fur on his sheath.

"Get a whiff of this, Meat," he said. "Wonderful, isn't it? You can be honest."

The odor of the Wolfman made Desmond cringe; the smell was one of decay and of masculinity. As he inhaled the scent, his first reaction was revulsion. The Wolfman forced him to smell the opening of his sheath. Desmond's nostrils were greased by the odorous mucous inside the fleshy tube; his eyes watered. He grabbed the Wolfman's sweaty pelt, holding a leg and a hip. He breathed in the scent and shuddered.

"You know, I lied. I would eat a morsel like you. This is a better use of you, though." He unhanded Desmond's head then plucked the brittle blonde hairs from between his fingers. "Go ahead and explore down there. No reason only one of us should appreciate my exquisite form, eh?"

He slid his paw down Desmond's back, over the threadbare shirt and ragged jeans. When Desmond had arrived, there had been no room at all for even a finger between the waist of his jeans and his hip; but now the Wolfman's paw slid under with room to spare. He felt over the curve of an ass cheek, still round enough to be a pleasant treat in a cursed forest. He squeezed it, then grumbled in lurid delight.

"Very nice, Meat. Yes, I think this arrangement could work for us both. Don't think I can't smell that rotten little peach between your thighs - giving me that's fair trade for your safety, wouldn't you say?"