FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

By A. P. Damien and Uncollared

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Cover for this story: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1873521

Prologue: 9AM

Woody put on a pair of pink sneakers, went to the snuff fair and headed straight for the hanging carousel. He chose a horse with a relatively low risk orange noose: a small chance of being pulled into the air for the entire five minute ride.

The marmot was okay for about a minute, experiencing a few seconds of hanging at a time before the noose let him down again. But the third time the noose pulled him up, it locked in that position. By the time the ride ended, Woody was just meat.

That Afternoon

Mike was really worried about his brother. Woody had left early in the morning, and Mike suspected that he'd gone to that carnival, the one that opened just two days ago. Mike had tried calling him, but it just rolled over to voicemail.

Mike drove to the fairgrounds and bought a ticket. He didn't even bother reading the big sign over the entry gate. He walked into the fair grounds and looked around trying to find Woody, but there were way too many furs. He wandered aimlessly, checking different attractions.

Mike spotted a familiar looking mane of golden hair., He rushed forward and stepped right into a puddle of dirty water, getting his boots soaking wet. He pulled out his phone again, angrily dialed Woody, and heard a familiar ringtone coming from a nearby trash bin. Mike looked inside and found Woody's phone, jeans and favorite sweatshirt.

Mike realized he'd been searching in the wrong places: Woody must have finally decided to fulfill his fantasy and volunteered. Mike continued walking around, but now he was checking each booth that he came to. He saw furs dying, fucking, jerking off but no sign of his brother.

Mike had been avoiding the food places: if he found Woody there it would be too late. But at last there was nowhere else to look. He browsed through stalls and dining tables -- but how would he recognize Woody in a slice of roast, a sizzling steak or a freshly made sausage?

Then Mike spotted a familiar looking pair of sneakers on a shelf next to a BBQ place. He picked them up: the pair that Woody had bought the previous week. It was too late to save Woody.

Mike started toward the exit, but his sneakers were soaked with dirty, bloody water... and Woody's sneakers -- the same shoe size as mine -- were clean and dry. He took off his wet shoes and put on Woody's, then started walking back toward the parking lot.

As he got to the center of the fair, a polar bear in a striped shirt came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "On behalf of the fair, I'd like to thank you for volunteering. As it happens, we need somebody to demonstrate our newest game. But we'll have to get you out of those clothes."

Mike was surprised. What does this guy mean about volunteering? "Listen dude, I just lost my brother and I don't have time for this crap. I didn't volunteer for anything and like hell I'm stripping here in front of all these furs." He tried to free himself from the bear's grip.

"You're wearing pink sneakers. Didn't you see the sign when you entered the fair?" The bear pointed at the sign:

Anyone wearing pink sneakers inside the Snuff Fair is considered a "volunteer" and may be fucked, tortured and/or snuffed as the finder chooses.

"Now get out of those clothes. Don't bother with the sneakers: they don't come off." The staffer's grip tightened until it was nearly painful.

"This is ridiculous! How can my choice of sneakers allow you to snuff me? And these aren't even mine. They're my brother's..."

The grip on Mike's shoulder tightened even further. The chances of getting out of this were starting to look pretty slim.

"Well, congratulations. You get to demonstrate the new Autohang at the quoits booth. I'm told it's really good. Gives the demonstrator lots of time to enjoy the experience."

"Just a demonstration, right? And do I really have to be naked for it?"

"Yeah, you need to be naked. If enough customers manage to get their quoits on the right pin, they'll wanna watch you get hard as the noose tightens, and then see you cum when you get hoisted up."

Noose? Hoisted? This doesn't sound good! Well... nothing for it but... Mike nodded, and started taking off his clothes. He tried to cover himself but realized that it was pointless given what the bear said. Modesty didn't seem to be much observed here anyway. Woody had been a naturist, as comfortable naked as clothed. But Mike was very conscious about his body in public. It's a good body, he reassured himself. He went to the gym four days a week, and was proud of his sculpted muscles. Mike carefully folded his jeans and shirt, then looked around and spotted an empty bench. He gestured, and the staffer walked him over there. Mike put his clothes there and left the backpack underneath it, then did his best to cover his privates.

It's just like a new gym routine. Mike tried to think of stuff that would turn him off, but his dick had it's own mind. Well to be perfectly honest, the public nudity is exciting.

The bear marched Mikes what seemed like halfway across the fair to a booth. There was a slightly chubby tanuki behind the counter, an empty noose at one side, and a stacked squirrel at the other side with a noose around her neck.

That naked squirrel on the other side of the booth is pretty attractive. And she looks like she's enjoying this. A lot. Damn, this isn't helping me lose that erection.

Surprisingly the rope tied around my neck also feels oddly erotic. In a way I can't wait to feel it tightening, even though I would really rather not be here. And my dick isn't going down -- it's harder than ever.

The operator picked up a microphone. "Come one, come all. Only $10 per quoit. Aim for the pink pegs to raise the cute squirrel on my left, aim for the blue pegs to raise the marmot on my right. But be careful: if you get one of the orange or green pegs, they'll be loosened instead. Oh, and if you can ring the tall blue or pink pole at the back, they'll hang for real."

A young mole-girl with dark brown headfur came up to the booth. Mike had a soft spot for that particular kind. Normally I'd try to get her number, but I'm kinda tied up right now. I wonder how things will go. She handed some money to the booth operator, got some quoits in return, and started tossing them. It looked like she was mostly aiming for the blue pegs. The first two throws landed on the table, missing all the pegs. What a relief. But the third quoit leaned against a blue post. Mike felt the noose tugging slightly. He could still breathe even though the rope was uncomfortably tight around his throat. He was held like that for a minute, or maybe a little more. It was hard to focus in this situation. But as suddenly as the noose tightened, it loosened again. Well, that wasn't so bad.

Mike was still getting used to breathing comfortably again when a quoit hit the tall pink post, started to bounce off, then ended up leaning against it.

The squirrel rose into the air. Her legs kicked as she danced at the end of the rope.

Mike's eyes lingered on the thrashing body; he was so mesmerized that he didn't even notice that his dick was getting even harder. But all too soon the squirrel was slowly lowered back on her feet. Mike was a bit disappointed: part of him wanted to see the squirrel get hanged for real. Or... is there part of me that wants to hang like that?

"I suggest you get used to having an erection in public," the booth operator said, "There's a good chance you'll be wearing it for the rest of your life. And an even better chance that you'll be using it-- depending on the customers' preferences, of course."

The operator repeated his "Come one, come all" pitch

The mole reached into her pocket, gave the operator a fifty, and got five quoits. The first two missed. The third one leaned against a blue post, and the rope around Mike's neck retracted until the noose was uncomfortable. After a minute it loosened again.

The mole threw again. This one dropped neatly over a pink peg. The rope around the squirrel's neck moved up a few inches, and she had to stand on her toes to breathe.

The last throw leaned against the pink post at the back. There was a humming sound and the squirrel was lifted into the air. Her feet started kicking immediately, but there was something about her face: she was enjoying this. She hanged like that for a minute, then the rope let her down onto the ground again.

Nothing happened for several minutes. Then a weasel in faded blue jeans and a tan polo shirt stepped up to the booth and laid two twenties on the counter. The operator gave him four quoits.

The first throw went around a blue post. Mike's rope moved up a few inches as before, but this time it stayed that way.

The second throw missed.

The third throw leaned against a pink post. The squirrel was raised until her toes barely touched the ground. Her face, fairly calm until now, got a panicked look as she tried to breathe, without success.

The fourth throw went around a blue post, and Mike's noose tightened until he could barely breathe. He now had a choice: going up on the balls of his feet or rasping, barely adequate breaths.

The weasel asked the booth operator a question, then counted the money in his wallet and jogged off toward the center of the fair.

This time the rope stayed tight, and Mike was forced to make a difficult choice between the demands of his leg muscles and his lungs. He balanced on the balls of his feet for a couple of breaths, then let himself down to rest his leg muscles for a few seconds. I wonder what that weasel was talking about with the booth owner. He wanted some more quoits and didn't have money? Or maybe he wanted to volunteer for the attraction. That would be good: my 'testing' this device would be over and I could get out of this insane asylum.. Well at least I'm not as bad off as that guy. Even without looking Mike could hear the squirrel fighting and gurgling.

The weasel returned and laid four fifties on the counter. The counterman handed him a large cardboard box. The weasel took his clothes off and put them in the box; when he pulled his briefs down, his erection sprang up. The counterman handed him a small squeeze tube.

He walked over to Mike. "Hi, my name is Blake. Please turn around and face the wall. And don't worry: I'll be gentle."

Mike was horrified: I'm no more than a sex object. I'm a naked attraction -- and cheap fuckmeat -- in the middle of a snuff fair! Mike tried to protest, but the weasel pushed him gently but firmly against the booth's wall. The noose tightened, and Mike realized he couldn't talk. The air he was getting was just enough to keep him from panicking. The only sound he managed to get out was a low gurgling in between raspy breaths.

Damn it! I'm a top, not a bottom! But nobody gives a shit!

Mike just wished all this would end. The lubricant felt cold as it was spread on his rear entrance. Mike brought his heels together and clenched his buttocks, trying to at least delay the inevitable. Blake pressed up against Mike's asshole, then stopped.

"This is going to hurt like the devil if you clench up tight like that. But if you relax, it will be painless at worst and who knows, you might even enjoy it. You wouldn't be the first virgin I've introduced to the joys of anal." Blake's words and soothing tone of voice did nothing to alleviate Mike's outrage.

There was no escape. Blake waited a couple of seconds, then started slowly pushing himself into Mike's ass. Mike gave up and relaxed. He a little pressure on his sphincter at first, then the slow movement as Blake slid slowly worked his way into his ass. It feels good! Why...? How...?

The erection that had embarrassed Mike earlier was now the least of his problems. He was starting to see black spots appear before his eyes. Mike moved closer to Blake, just a few inches to loosen the pressure from the noose -- but also pushing Blake's cock even deeper into his ass. At this point Mike didn't care: he needed air. He was rewarded with shallow breaths, air again filling his lungs.

Blake reached around and wrapped his hand around Mike's cock. It was warm. And slippery.

Mike became aware of three things. First, every time Blake pushed all the way in, his hips pushed Mike up, making it easier to breathe. Second, there was a pulse of extra pleasure every time the tip of Blake's cock rubbed a certain spot inside him. And third, Blake's hand felt really good!

Blake was right. I'm starting to enjoy it. Well, if I survive this I'll have to experiment, I guess. Maybe getting fucked is as good as some guys say it is.

"Enjoy it while you can, bub," Blake whispered. His hand stroked Mike a little bit faster.

Blake thrust a little faster, then faster still. And then quick, short strokes, his cockhead just barely inside Mike's sphincter.

Mike felt Blake come, and a few seconds later felt wave after wave of pleasure as his cock squirted sperm onto his belly and Blake's hand. Mike couldn't remember ever cumming so hard. And here he was... spread and taken, driven to a humiliating orgasm in front of dozens of strangers. But it feels so good.

"Wow. You're a good lay, kid. If you weren't already this guy's property-- he pointed to the tanuki -- I'd take you home and let you find out what my mouth can do."

Blake went back to the counter and laid three more twenties on the counter. His first quoit ringed a pink post, and the squirrel's rope retracted a few inches more. Her face contorted as she tried to breathe, but even standing on her toes she couldn't breathe. She struggled and twisted around, to no avail.

The squirrel let herself down until her feet were flat on the floor, then she jumped into the air, breathed once, and fell back down. About 15 seconds later she did it again. And again.

Blake threw, but missed. The next quoit went around a blue post, and Mike was pulled up onto his toes.

"Don't leave her like that," the counterman said, pointing to the squirrel. "Do the merciful thing." Blake threw again. The quoit leaned on the tall pink post, and the squirrel rose up in the air again, kicking and writhing.

The weasel threw a ringer on that post just as the Autohang started to lower the squirrel again. Her toes barely touched the ground, then she went up in the air again, spinning slowly clockwise, then counterclockwise, her feet kicking wildly,. And, slowly, a smile formed on her face.

The weasel threw his last quoit. It hit the tall blue post, but bounced off the top and came to rest, flat on the cork surface, just touching the post -- barely. Mike was lifted into the air, the noose strangling him.

As soon as his feet left the ground, Mike panicked. He started kicking frantically, trying to find some kind of support -- anything to relieve the strangling pressure around his neck. He felt the rope digging deep into his neck -- he was going to end up with a ropeburn, even if he somehow survived. Mike kicked a few more times, using up even more of his dwindling strength. But... my cock is tingling again. Is it...getting even harder... How much more...? He couldn't hear anything over the blood pounding in his ears. I just can't stand it anymore... Please let me down... Mike couldn't get any sound out, he mouthed his plea silently. Mike was desperate for air, but no air got past the constricting noose. Mike's chest muscles strained, trying to breathe, but no air came. Mike was running out of strength and dangled limply, swinging slowly back and forth and silently praying for the rope to let him down. But his dick... seemed... to be enjoying this. Was this what Woody felt when whatever happened to him?

And just as Mike thought he was going to die up there, the rope lowered him until he was once more standing flat-footed on the ground, the noose slack around his neck.

Blake gave Mike a cheery wave, and walked away, whistling.

What a relief to be able to breathe again! Mike's legs were shaking, his muscles almost unbearably sore, but his cock stayed hard. He greedily sucked air into his lungs. The breeze felt cold on his sweat-covered skin. Mike was so happy to be alive that he didn't care about the stuff that had happened to him. Even his raging public erection no longer bothered him, nor did the cum splattered on his stomach. As his breath steadied, Mike looked to his left.

The squirrel was still kicking up a storm, struggling in the noose as she swayed back and forth. But she was starting to weaken; her foot movements were getting smaller. And there was a familiar look on her face: a femme on the brink of orgasm.

Mike was mesmerized by the squirrel's dance. He watched her face and wondered how it felt. Did she regret coming to the fair or was this her ultimate fantasy fulfilled? Mike would have bet on the latter. Mike's dick was getting even harder, throbbing painfully as squirrel kicked, turning slowly in her noose, first to the left, then to the right. Mike really wished he wasn't tied up so he could jerk it. Mike looked at the operator and asked, "Could you untie me? Just for a minute or two so I can...?" He thrust his hips a couple of times to get the idea across.

"Sorry, kid. But don't worry, you'll cum all the harder when it's your turn to dance. But... tell you what. If you're still with us in an hour, I'll find another volunteer and tell her to give you a blowjob. How's that sound?"

Mike nodded enthusiastically. By now he was so horny that he'd agree to anything just to get his dick sucked. "Deal!"

The squirrel's kicking got weaker and weaker until her feet barely twitched. Then she dangled, limp. After another ten minutes the counterman picked up his phone, tapped an icon, and said something that Mike couldn't hear. A few minutes later, two brawny snow leopards with "Hill's Fine Meats" stenciled on their workshirts showed up. The counterman pushed a button and the squirrel was lowered to the floor. The two removed the noose and carried the body away.

Nothing much happened for the next half-hour or so. A couple of furs came up, paid $10 or $20, threw one or two quoits and missed. One peccary managed a leaner against a blue post; the rope retracted enough to make Mike uncomfortable again.

Mike stood there, trying to breathe past the noose around his neck. His muscles were sore, his neck hurt and his asshole itched. At least I'm still alive. Mike looked at the empty noose on the other side of the booth. Since the "Hill's Fine Meats" guys showed up and took away the dead squirrel, I'm the sole... sole what... condemned? "volunteer"? What should I call myself? Test subject maybe? The staffer said that I'd be only testing the attraction. Testing... I've been here for less than an hour and I've been raped -- at least it started as a rape, even if I did end up enjoying it -- and almost strangled to death... I'm cold. There are goosebumps on my arms.

The cum on Mike's belly was getting itchy as it started to dry.

If the operator at least had the decency to wash it off of me... He got a bunch of money from Blake for what?, It was me. I should be getting that money. The furs who came by in the last, like half an hour all missed the posts. Good for me... I wonder if the operator is going fulfill his side of the deal. "A volunteer"... Maybe I'll get to be her last. Or maybe she will be m...

Mike's daydream was rudely interrupted when the rope tightened again. He hadn't been paying attention to what was happening and now he was taking short raspy breaths and looking around in panic. He saw a quoit around a blue post. At least the guy doesn't have any more quoits. Mike did his best to steady his breath again.

After a minute that felt more like ten, the rope loosened and Mike was able to breathe freely again.

A few minutes later a skunk walked up to the booth and counted off ten Jacksons. The operator put them in his till and nodded. She unhooked her bra and tossed it behind her -- and it somehow ended up draped over the operator's head. He looked bemused, grabbed it in one hand, put it in front of his nose and inhaled, then smiled.

Mike looked at her. Her skin was slightly browned with no tan lines. Her boobs were at least 38-DD, maybe even larger. Just a tiny bit plump. Hair nearly straight and down to her left hip. A perfect ten, at least by my standards. And she just paid two cees. I wonder...

This time Mike didn't mind being whored out. Not at all. But that remark about my last blowjob. That sounds... permanent.

Mike looked hungrily at the skunk's tits. His dick started getting harder is that even possible? before she even touched it.

The skunk kissed her way down one side of Mike's cock, then the other side. Then she licked the underside and kissed her way down to the root and back up again.

She did this several times, then wrapped her lips around the head and sucked gently. She slid her lips down about a quarter inch, then back up again. She looked at Mike's face and smiled, then wrapped one hand around the shaft and did the down-and-up slide again, and again, going a little bit farther each time.

Then she used her hand to twist Mike's dick as his mouth slid halfway down, then twisted it back the other way as she slid back up, creating a corkscrew motion of her tongue along Mike's organ.

She sped up a little. And a little more.

And just when Mike was almost ready to cum, she backed off, barely nibbling the tip with her lips.

She repeated all this several times.

C'mon, babe, Mike thought in frustration, I'd even volunteer to be hanged if only you'd finish this.

She'd had seemed pretty cocky earlier, but Mike would be damned if she didn't deliver on his promise. She sucked Mike like a pro. Mike really wanted to feel her hot, wet mouth working its way up and down his dick again. He could still feel the shivers it sent through his body. His shaft was so swollen that it hurt. He humped the air in a desperate attempt to get back into her mouth.

"You'll get what you're wishing for in a few minutes," she said. "But I have a question: when you cum, do you want me to swallow it, or do you want to give me a facial, or on my boobies?" She put her hands under her breasts and pushed them up to make sure Mike understood what she meant."

"You know what they do with volunteers here?"

"Of course."

"Well, if I'm going to be someone's steak, I want you to taste me first."

The skunk licked her lips, then stood up and put a stack of Hamiltons on the counter. "Keep 'em coming until... you'll know when."

Her first throw missed. The second ringed a blue post, and the noose tightened around Mike's neck, making breathing a chore again.

The third just barely missed the tall blue post, but the fourth leaned up against it. And once again Mike found himself dangling in mid-air, the noose squeezing his throat shut.

The skunk waited until the machine lowered Mike back to the ground, then another 20 or 30 seconds while Mike filled his lungs with life-giving air, again and again. Then she threw a ringer on the tall blue post!

The machine lifted Mike into the air again. This time there would be no respite!

The skunk ran back to Mike, grabbed his cock in one hand, wrapped her lips around it, and started sucking for real.

The noose pushed Mike's head to the right and slightly downward, its grip painfully tight around his neck. In this position he could see his swollen dick with the skunk's mouth sliding up and down it. The pleasure... So good... I can't believe this. The noose is strangling me to death and I'm enjoying it. He tried to breathe but could only gurgle in the noose. He did his best to control himself, to keep from kicking -- He didn't want to accidentally hit the beautiful skunk who was giving him such pleasure. Mike tried to get his hands free to grab the rope, but the bonds held tight. His chest felt like it was about to explode, and his head was filled with the sound of his racing heartbeat.

The skunk worked slowly at first, then sped up as Mike's need grew. The closer he got to blacking out, the faster the skunk's lips moved up and down his cock, and the more his pleasure grew. Not very long now, the pain of not being able to breathe is almost gone. and the pleasure...

Mike couldn't stand it any longer. He raised his knees up to his chest and kicked down, getting a tiny sip of air as the noose temporarily loosened a fraction of an inch. He did this several more times as the noose slowly squeezed the life out of him. His vision turned red. Mike's whole existence now was the strangling sensation from the noose and the intense pleasure from his cock.. His vision grew dimmer, with black spots floating in front of his eyes as his brain slowly shut down. The pleasure spreading all over his skin and through his body was all that mattered. The skunk sped up, her head moving faster than Mike would have thought possible.. Just before Mike came, the skunk stopped for a moment and licked her finger. When she sensed that Mike was on the brink of cumming, she wormed her finger into Mike's ass and rubbed his prostate. The explosion hit Mike like a box full of TNT. After the fucking that Blake had given him, Mike didn't think he had much jizz left in his balls. But he spurted and spurted...

The skunk sucked and swallowed and sucked and swallowed until nothing more came out. Mike was barely aware of anything except the pleasure from below and a distant burning sensation in his chest.

A few seconds later his legs pulled up one last time, then slowly relaxed, totally limp.

The skunk stood up and walked back to the counter. "Looks like you don't have anybody to help show off those Autohangs. Do you have a spare pair of sneakers by any chance?

The operator reached under the counter and handed her a pair. "These might be a size too big for you, but I don't think that will make a difference."

"Thanks." She started taking her clothes off, then paused. "Oh, one more thing..."

"Yes?"

"The way that autohang thing is set up, I could get stuck in an in-between state where my feet are still touching the ground, but I can't get enough air to live. I really don't want that. When I go, I want to be up in the air, kicking and swaying."

"Don't worry. I have a control under the counter. I'll let you experience that situation for a couple of minutes, then lower you a little so you can breathe. And the same if you get stuck in the "standing on your toes to breathe" place and your muscles start to cramp. I'll make sure that you'll be up in the air when you snuff it.

"Thanks. You're a real doll!"