FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(THE SWEETIE PIE. HEADQUATERS AND CAPITAL WARSHIP OF THE REBEL FORCES)

"FUCK! OH! FUCK! YES! YES!" Zoltan roared forcibly. The words barely registered in Gunther's brain. Impaled on the huge bodybuilder's exploding cock, Gunther knew he was lost. Zoltan owned him, owned him with a super-fucking-muscular body as he fucked him against a solid wall.

Gunther knew he was moaning like an animal in heat. There was so much pain, so much pleasure. Zoltan's cock kept on cumming, harder and harder with each roaring climax. Gunther screamed, feeling Zoltan's cock throbbing, growing, swelling inside him like the powerful muscle god that he was. Each violent thrust, each explosion of cum was strong enough to send him sliding up and down Zoltan's meaty cock, he didn't even have to use his hands!

"YEAH GUNTHER! I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING BAD! YOU'RE SO FUCKING TIGHT! OH FUCK! YOU. ARE. TIGHT!!"

Gunther fought valiantly against the pain. He wanted more! MORE! He wanted Zoltan, all of him! He could almost feel the stims raging within Zoltan as his cock plunged into his ass. He could feel Zoltan's cock growing bigger, stronger, thicker within him. He had never felt anything like this before. Zoltan's cock, that big fucking muscle cock was getting larger, stronger, [I]harder[/I] with each pounding stroke.

"Oh fuck man... Zoltan... so [I]big[/I]... so [I]strong[/I]... ughh!" Gunther gasped, he had been stretched to his limits, Zoltan's muscle cock was just too big, too hard, too strong! With this Zoltan only intensified his relentless pounding, lifting Gunther's entire body up with each mighty slam. Gunther's brain was overloading, the only thing keeping him from flying off the growling, grunting god was Zoltan's swollen cockhead, it had grown too big.

Gunther cried out. It was too much, too much for him to take. Zoltan knew it was coming, and Gunther could only moan as a pair of massive, [I]massive[/I] fists swallowed more than half his waist and wrenched his cum soaked ass from that hard, wet monster cock. Screams of joy erupted from his mouth as that monstrous cockhead split him apart on its way out.

Oh my fuck Zoltan was a fucking beast! He had turned into a fucking, raging sex god. His huge sweaty body glistened like polished marble as thick, rope-like veins bulged from the monstrous muscles that bulged [I]everywhere[/I]! It was fucking insane! Oh sweet Jesus those arms! They had to be at least thirty inches across and bulging with power. Zoltan's pecs were two veritable mountains of heaving, swelling mass supported by a tiny waist. And those quads, oh shit they were thicker than most trees!

Then Gunther's felt Zoltan's hot lips engulf his raging hardon. The heat, the wetness, that long, sinful tongue intensified his orgasm, tenfold.

"OH FUCK! FUCK!" Gunther roared, seizing Zoltan's ears for support, "UUNNNRRAAAGGGGHH!!! AAAAAHHHHWWWWWWWW!!!!!!"

Gunther felt the wind knocked out of him as his cock exploded inside Zoltan's hungry lips. His hips bucked uncontrollably his orgasm exploded from his throbbing meat, filling Zoltan with volley after volley of thick, salty man juice. The pain, intense. The pleasure, all consuming! Gunther thought he would dehydrate. There was just so much cum. Zoltan simply pressed him against the wall with his face, milking Gunther's orgasm from his heavy, swollen balls. He began to moan with Gunther's cock still in his mouth, Gunther could feel his lips getting stronger as his stim-charged orgasm intensified. The thick ropes of cum transformed into powerful blasts, painting the walls and ceiling with Zoltan's sweet juices.

Five minutes. Five long minutes of roaring and screaming before Zoltan's orgasm subsided. Gunther had softened completely, unable to fight any longer; he gasped and panted as he slid back into Zoltan's massive arms. But the moment Gunther felt that heavy body. The moment Zoltan's awesome muscles graced his painful member. The moment that cannonball cockhead pressed against his suddenly-wanting ass. Gunther felt his cock burning from his newest erection, overloading his head with pleasurable signals. He opened his eyes.

Zoltan was bestial. He was massive and powerful and horny as fuck. His breaths came in strong, moist waves that tickled Gunther's cheeks. How he was managing to control his raging heat was an enigma. Gunther felt himself locked into that strong, chiselled, manly face. Zoltan's eyes were dilated from the stims, but otherwise retained an intense, steely gaze.

"Be mine," Zoltan growled softly. Something about the way he said it got to Gunther. It felt... powerful. It was more overpowering than the thick, testosterone laden air wafting from Zoltan's throbbing jackhammer. It was more sensual, more passionate that the dense, heavy pecs pressing against him. His voice was controlled... but barely. Gunther was acutely aware of Zoltan's heavy breathing, of his tensed, bulging muscles, of his sweaty, overpowering manheat. He was visibly shaking from holding down his inner beast long enough to hear Gunther's reply.

The sergeant smiled weakly.

"No. [I]You[/I] be mine."

Gunther knew he had done it. He only remembered Zoltan's hot, hot lips and his gargantuan musclecock before he fell into black, screaming in ecstasy.

***

Zoltan, the Warlord, opened his eyes and the first thing that registered in his post-sleep brain was a wonderful feeling south of his waistline - he was hornier than a bodybuilder overdosing on stims. His blood was pumping waves of intense pleasure to every part of his body, but most of it seemed to be directed to his huge morning wood. The ceiling was still dark, a sign it was still afterhours, and Gunther was out cold, curled up next to Zoltan between his massive torso and his huge right arm. One of Gunther's hands rested on Zoltan's chiselled abs and only inches from his very erect and very hard prick.

He wasn't sure why, but his prostate was fully engorged and the sensation to cum felt unreasonably strong. His cock had grown so big it stood straight up in the dim lights. Zoltan could feel the sticky precum oozing out the cumslit and rolling down the sides of his thick, hot shaft. The Warlord wasn't sure why he was so horny after such a workout last night. Could it have been the stims? Yeah, probably, his muscles had already returned to their normal hugeness but his cock looked to be a foot in length, a couple of inches longer than it should be, probably some residual side effects.

Zoltan was just about to give in to sleep when Gunther's hand moved, sliding across his hard abs to caress his throbbing hardon. The Warlord felt himself twitch as Gunther groped and bit back a moan. If Gunther had noticed Zoltan, he gave no sign of it as he continued to fondle the Warlord's enhanced endowment. Even off the effects of stims it felt sensitive, or was it Gunther's very talented fingers? Zoltan was given no opportunity to think as he continued to feign sleep. It was all he could do as Gunther ran his fingers up the supersized shaft, tracing each throbbing vein as they did, pumping more and more blood into the swollen prick. This sensation, this feeling! It felt so [I]good[/I].

The pleasure became sweet torture as Gunther relentlessly pressed on. Zoltan's mushroom cockhead had swollen inhumanly, almost like a baseball sitting on top of a soda can. Gunther's fingers ran across the head, caressing the soft, sensitive skin, causing Zoltan's cock to bounce in glee, and encouraging the pink-haired sergeant even more. Zoltan thought he would have to bite his lip when Gunther began pumping the shaft up and down, causing precum to ooze out like a leaky faucet. Zoltan's juices coated his entire endowment by now, and created a slick layer of sticky goodness across his furry balls and abs. The lube merely intensified Zoltan's sexual stimulation, causing more and more pre to be produced and compounding the effect Gunther's hand was having on him.

Then Gunther's fingers flowed back to the huge cockhead and Zoltan really bit his lip when two fingers dug into the cumslit and pushed right in. Zoltan felt his hips buck ever so slightly as a jolt tickled his heavy testicles, causing his prostate to contract and his cock to shoot a thick rope of cum from between Gunther's fingers. He had not orgasmed, by the cumshot was powerful enough to reach his furry pec cleavage, moistening the glistening cum that had dried there from last night.

The groping and touching continued unabated for what seemed like hours. And it did not help when Gunther began to speed up, pumping Zoltan's aching cock for all it was worth. Holding down his orgasm went from an uphill battle to impossibility. It was there, on the floor of Gunther's wrecked sleeping quarters, did Zoltan cross the point of no return. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't, Gunther was too good. He could feel it, his fists crushing the floor as he wrestled to hold on to his orgasm for just a moment longer!

Just as Zoltan was about to emit one final roar of ecstasy, Gunther whipped his hand from Zoltan's throbbing meat and his lips around his wanting mouth, his tongue charging Zoltan in a deep throated kiss of fire. For a final moment, Zoltan felt Gunther's passion searing down his throat and pulsing from the rock hard cock pressed between his furry abs. His cock engorged itself in one powerful stroke before erupting all over Gunther's back and head, splattering them both with gobs of spunk.

Zoltan knew not how long he came. Gunther's lips were too hot, too passionate for him to care. He just wanted to lie there as Gunther kissed him oh-so-raunchily. Something stirred inside him and put a thought into his head.

[I]You would do anything for him. [/I]

Zoltan knew it was true.

***

"Sergeant Leonard?" said an electronic voice from the hatchway, "We need you to open accommodations."

First Sergeant Darius Leonard, acting company quartermaster assigned to the elite First Commandos Squadron of the Umagon Rebel Forces, swore and buried his face into his pillow. To hell with opening the accommodations store! An all-night card game had just adjourned, and he was sure whoever was at the door had waited until he had lain down before stabbing at the call key. In retrospect, perhaps it had been a bad idea to adjourn said game [I]after[/I] the ships reveille, but then again, this was precisely the reason no one wanted to take over as company quartermaster when the original appointment holder was killed in orbit above the planet Gastradon.

The sergeant let out a deep sigh as he swung his legs over the edge of his bunk and shook the temptation of sleep from his brain. Why couldn't they let him keep his old appointment as the fitness orderly; where the average day was spent drinking in the sights and smells and sounds of the gym? Ah that was real living. The gym always possessed the strong aroma of musk, men working out, and sex. It was the only place where Darius could shamelessly watch huge, muscular men grunting and huffing as they pumped iron into their already massive bodies. Still, the best part was undeniably the part where the average patron would wear nothing but a pair of hot shorts or trunks to highlight their heavy endowments and chiselled gluteus maximuses. Only a rare few would pump with shirts on, and those were usually there to be ripped apart by the horny bodybuilder after a short time.

And speaking of horniness, hot damned the sex! There was almost [I]always[/I] somebody cumming in the gym. Be it in the showers, on the bench press, in the power cages. Be it with another stud, with Darius, or solo. Darius didn't mind mopping the floor every night, just watching those hunky studs shoot their loads all over themselves while they worked out made everything better.

Whoever was disturbing his sleep must have left his finger on the call button, for he seemed to speak to someone else behind the hatchway; great, more unwanted customers.

"I don't think he's at home, we should check the mess, its breakfast time anyway."

Darius had just slipped into a fresh pair of underwear when another voice passed through the intercom.

"He is." Darius felt his meat jolting at that deep, reverberating baritone. Holy shit who [I]was[/I] that? "Step aside."

Step aside? Wait, what?

CRUNNCHH!!!

Oh my fuck were those fingers?! Darius felt blood rushing to all the wrong places as a pair of hands crushed the reinforce paristeel from the outside and grabbed it like a curtain. Sparks flew and wires snapped as ten metal crunching digits tore the hatchway from its sockets. Darius felt his mouth dry up as a HUGE, musclebound monster forced his way into the room.

Big. Very big, with shoulders wide enough for Darius to sit on; thick, rippling pectorals heaving with very visible power. Arms and thighs so thick and powerful Darius would have been content to spend the rest of his life hugging any one. A core of solid, yet impossibly slim muscle held up that awesome torso. Not to mention that massive, semi-hard prick that bounced and dripped and throbbed as it moved.

Darius thought he would cum right there and then as a hand, big and thick and probably made to strangle lions, picked him up by the back of his neck and dangled him helplessly before the monster's fearsome master.

"Ah, Sergeant Leonard," commented Sergeant Gunther Hawke, dressed in smart fatigues and smelling like mountain strawberries, "the accommodations store, if you would so please."

*** (THE CITY OF BRADDOCK. ON THE PLANET UMAGO)

The port-city of Braddock was a picturesque place, with plenty of inns and cafes and no skyscrapers. The city itself tumbled down the northern side of a mountain toward the shore of a magnificent lake where even more structures would balance on stilts upon crystal clear waters. With little to no strategic importance, chances were the city would be one of the last targets should the Republic even manage to push past the Umago blockade, thus this made Braddock one of the best places to set up for the main phase of Lieutenant-Colonel Mitch Michelson's little operation. Everything had to be done quietly of course, the less the esteemed General Pridewater knew the better it was for Mitch.

Mitch had informed the General that the partially subterranean warehouse they were occupying would be used to divulge further secrets from the stolen Warlord documents and to work on enhancements that could be used against the Republic itself. That much was all true, with some of the scientists pioneering a new method for delivering stims into a soldier's body, in the form of a patch. What he neglected to mention was that the scientists working there would also be creating a facility that would be capable of transforming him into a ripped-to-shreds, hulking sex god.

The officer strolled over to the large window of his room. Most of the buildings had been built on terraces carved into the mountain, giving them fantastic views of the lake and respectable amounts of privacy from the structures below. There were still two moons hanging in the clear night sky, making it easy enough for Mitch to see the activity near the lake. Most of the rebels should be out and about around this time, the [I]Sweetie Pie[/I] had docked on Umago's orbiting space station for refuelling and resupplies and everyone had been shuttled down to the planet's surface for some much needed R&R. The entire process would take several days, more than Mitch needed to push his operation into overdrive.

A grin graced Mitch's chiselled features as he imagined himself naked and bulging and horny. His frame was already muscular, but what would it be like to be fucking huge and powerful? It shouldn't take too long, but Mitch was already impatient, they were going to push the latest stims- stimpatches- out to the city to keep General Pridewater off-guard, how long more before work on [I]his[/I] project could continue?

Frustration was setting in and at this point the prospect of tasting the city's night life seemed like a good one. And why not? Mitch was already dressed for the part, a silk overshirt with crisscrossing lace buttons deliberately left open in the front to reveal hints of the muscular body below and a pair of custom made black slacks. But what if he added something... extra?

Mitch was a chest man, and he loved his thick, striated pectoral muscles. They were nice and pumped of course, but Mitch desired so much more than that. He craved the mighty, heaving pecs that stuck out from ones torso like an overhanging cliff complete with firm and sensitive nipples, just like the Warlord they had taken from the moon facility. Subjecting himself through the Warlord creation process was out of the question for now, so Mitch reached into his pocket and fished out two pieces of the rebel's newest arsenal.

The stimpatches were little more than square-shaped patches laced with the same stims found in stimpacks. The difference was that the patches would deliver smaller amounts of stims that would target specific muscle groups instead of the whole body, ideal for quick skirmishes that required a little more arm or leg power without having to subject oneself to the potentially devastating consequences of overusing stimpacks.

Good thing the patches worked even through fur, Mitch thought, and slapped one patch onto his left pec. The patch adhered immediately, and Mitch almost yelped as a veritable web of veins burst from the contact, snaking across the muscle and spreading to his other pec. A powerful warmth followed suit, and Mitch found himself so hard at the sensation it was all he could do to start moaning as his pectorals began to expand. It was as though his chest was being filled with molten steel, each heaving grunt left his chest fuller and more muscular than before. His shirt was being pulled to the sides to make room for his growing pecs, pulling the string buttons further and further, tightening their effect on his torso.

A few seconds later, the growth ceased, but Mitch's pleasure did not. Hot damned his chest was so much thicker, so much stronger now! Patches were safer than packs; he could take one more, that wouldn't hurt. But which muscle group to grow?

A sly grin formed around Mitch's lips as he shamelessly groped his new chest. Of course, where else?

Mitch pulled his hardon free of its fabric prisons and slapped the patch onto the fleshy underside.

"OH GOD YES!"

Mitch, hips bucking, crumbled to the floor as pleasure exploded from the patch like an erupting volcano. Veins, thick and throbbing, began bulging out all over his growing member, stretching all the way to encompass his swelling testicles, flooding his nether regions with overwhelming levels of stimulants and testosterone. It was all he could do to wail as his cock swelled past a foot in height with throbbing, soda can thickness. His balls went into overdrive, churning out excessive amounts of pure, testosterone-charged manspunk as they reached the size of tennis balls.

Twenty seconds was all it took for the full effect to set in. Mitch let himself lie there, basking in the glory of his bulging, rippling pecs as fourteen inches of solid steel started to deflate to a more manageable eight. When Mitch finally recovered, he stuffed his newly enhanced meat back into his underwear, admiring the noticeable bulge it left in his pants. Eight inches was nothing new to him of course, except this time he was eight inches [I]soft[/I].

Flexing his pumped chest muscles, Mitch departed his room and shut the door behind him. Braddock tended to have long nights, and Mitch intended to enjoy every moment before his... ascension.