FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There are either functional relationships or dysfunctional ones. Relationships filled with affection, love, mutual respect are the ones Fannar, a white fox, could only wish for. Since childhood, the lithe little vulpine was shy, timid, and couldn't even hurt a fly if that insect would shit on his food. His smile was contagious. His laughter even more. With his light blue eyes, he'd brighten the sky when it was cloudy. Rarely did he become annoyed at his peers let alone his family. Of course, throughout his adolescence, Fannar did experience some hardship like most of us do at that age. But nevertheless, his joyful and enthusiastic attitude towards life and love never faded away. Caring and lovable, Fannar makes a great mate/boyfriend/husband. Like the saying goes "Otters are water foxes and foxes are land otters", the white fox obtained a lean body type like most water foxes have.

At the age of 27, Fannar was very sociable, meeting with his friends, attending social gatherings. He even went to clubs to party for the night despite his obvious discomfort towards crowds. He didn't stick out like most other flamboyant gay vulpines. No fishnet tank tops, no flashy earrings or necklaces, no skin tight jeans that surely would cut off some form of blood circulation. Yet, even with plain and simple attire, Fannar would always be the centre of attention whether he liked it or not. After graduating from university with a degree in Modern Arts, the white fox found himself falling for a bull that would soon put Fannar through living hell. At first, Bret seemed like an adorable guy. Muscular, strong, yet possessing a big heart, Fannar quickly became his lover, boyfriend, and then long term mate.

However, their relationship slowly replaced Bret's affection with physical and verbal abuse. The times increased when Fannar showed faded patches of blue and purple underneath his fur. He wasn't allowed to exit their, no, Bret's apartment without the bull's consent. Gradually, the fox's personality changed. His smile, like snow on dirty pavement, melted into a constant state of sadness. His laughter was a mere memory, like an echo in a deep dark cave. The once bright and happy blue eyes seemed to be bleached to a grey colour by the bull's fists. The longer their relationship went, the more Fannar started to stutter, which would anger Bret. Nights, which used to be filled with kisses and hugs, were instead packed with beatings, shouting, and even rape.

Shivering and trembling, Fannar would be locked in the kitchen during the day while the bull went out. Empty beer cans and whiskey bottles dotted the floor and the kitchen counter. Sighing, the fox looked around at what seems to be the residue of a party with at least two dozen of furs, was truly one night of the bull's own doing. Fannar picked himself up, lifted his body from the metal chair. His arms and paws covered with dried blood. The night before was one of his worst. Drunk, violent, and sexually aroused, the bull waited, even searched for excuses to get his adrenaline kick. The fox was just cooking, doing nothing wrong, before Bret began his nightly ritual of physical abuse.

Fannar cleaned the kitchen that day as thoroughly as he could. He wore the bull's dirty, stained tank top which was as black as Bret's fur. Legs quivered in a pair of ripped shorts, blood stains covering mostly the rear area.

"O-ouch..." Fannar muttered as he bent over to pick up several shards of glass. Grinding his teeth until he heard a crack, the fox slowly stood upright again before clenching down on his thigh with his spare paw. Small tear drops fell as frequent as sweat for him. Fannar was used to it, but the pain was always surprising. After he had finished with collecting the beer cans and bottles, Fannar found himself in front of the sink. With some of his claws broken off, the fox tried to scratch the dried left-overs from the plates. It was afternoon and Bret wouldn't be back until that evening. Appreciating his spare time and with nowhere to go, Fannar sat back down on his metal chair.

No phone was to be seen. Not after the fox had phoned the police. Two months ago, Fannar was sure he would be escaping and waking up from his nightmare. When two German shepherds arrived, Bret somehow convinced them that it was a prank call from one of the neighbour's cubs. That night was Fannar's worst night of all.

Sleep deprived, Fannar's eyes were heavy. But he was too scared to be found asleep when the bull arrived. It surely meant more beating than he would usually get. Suddenly, he heard the front door unlock. Faint as the sound might be, any type of audible disturbances caused Fannar to jump and get startled.

"H-hello?" he announced and slowly moved towards the door. The steps sounded less of hooves which made the fox uneasy. Chuckling was coming from the hallway before someone unlocked the kitchen door.

A tall, buff Doberman stood like a statue as the door slammed opened. Surprised and nervous, Fannar took some steps back. With a pair of tight jeans, which showed every definition of leg muscle that dog had, the Dobie licked the sides of his muzzle. His black T-shirt showed a large axe while it tightly gripped onto his pecs and abs. His piercing yellow eyes bore into the weak vulpine like a drill.

"So this is the little toy Bret's been talking about!" the Dobie grinned and snarled to see if the smaller canine reacted. Surely, Fannar folded his ears back and bumped into the table, causing a surge of pain from this rear to the rest of his body. Bearing his toothy grin, the Dobie fondled his bulge and scratched his balls before slowly approaching the fox.

"W-who are y-you?" the fox with pleading eyes asked. Soon, the smell of fear reached the larger dog's nose. Quivering in both pain and anxiety, Fannar tried to calm himself down. The more you struggle the more it'll hurt he thought, reminding what Bret taught him every night. Soon, the Dobie was inches away from the little vulpine.

"A friend! Bret said since my girlfriend broke up with me, I can use you whenever and however I want." He explained before reaching out and grabbing Fannar's neck with one strong paw. Quickly, the fox's weak and hurt paws reached out to grab hold of the Dobie's grip. He brought Fannar's head closer to his, leaned in and whispered in his ears: "I'm going to make you wish it was Bret who would be fucking the living shit out of you, you little piece of rotten cunt!"

With that statement, the Dobie quickly lifted the fox off his hind paws, severely choking him. Tears of fear and pain rolled down Fannar's cheeks as the dog's fingers gripped tightly against the bruises on his neck.

"P-please, let m-me *cough*..." Struggling with his speech, the fox desperately tried to talk himself out of this horrid situation. But it was too late. Already, the Dobie had brought them to Bret's bedroom. Littered with filthy underwear and trash, the room made the Dobie's nose wrinkle.

"Fuck..." he muttered "Can't fucking believe this shit hole is where he actually fucks you." With one swift swing, he threw the fox to the ground where he landed on his rear onto mud covered trainers, plastic containers and empty glass bottles. With a loud yelp followed by a succession of whimpers, Fannar quickly turned to his side, bit down onto his lower lip until it bled a bit, and clenched onto his severely bruised rear. Closing his eyes to seal away the tear, the fox hoped to hold onto the bit of dignity he had left. Sadly, his tears did escape from the corner of his eyes. His lip trembling and Fannar's tail hid itself in-between his legs. The blood coated the underside of his tail. The Dobie did not bother acknowledging the pain Fannar was currently under. His eyes looked around the room and the musk and scent of bull cum made his stomach turn. His gaze fell upon the bed sheets which were dotted with skid marks, cum and blood stains.

Meanwhile, blood oozed out of the fox's tailhole and covered the already patchy shorts with a new layer of red paint. His bare hind paws pushed away whatever was in its way while Fannar squirmed on his side. The Dobie finally looked down and sighed.

"I ain't gonna fuck you in this fucking room!" he huffed before bending down and grabbing the fox, this time by his tank top. Making Fannar sit upright, the Dobie leaned in until his forehead touched the fox's. Their eyes were an inch away from each other. One pair filled with pent up anger and sexual frustration while the other pair show nothing but sadness and utter fear.

"Listen up, dipshit! Imma take you to my van! Got a nice mattress there. If you dare scream or run away, not only will I find you, but also your dirty ass boyfriend! Got it?" he snarled loudly at Fannar who instinctively tried to back away but remained in the same position due to the Dobie's tugging.

"Y-yes..." His eyes, filled with tears, looked into the glowing orbs of the large canine. Grinning, the Doberman brought Fannar to his hind paws and grabbed his wrist.

"Come!" He ordered before pulling him towards the front door. Stumbling behind Dobie, he tried his best not to cry out of pain or to cry at all for that matter. The stairs were the worst part until he reached the van of the dog. Opening the back doors, the Dobie pulled Fannar in. Behind them a trail of blood dotted the ground.

"Shit!" the dog exclaimed and before he knew it a large fist hit the side of his face. Bret was back. And he wasn't in a good mood!

"THE FUCK MAN!" the large canine shouted, rubbing his cheek while on the ground.

"The fuck?" Bret growled, bending down and pulling the Dobie up again before punching him in the stomach. "This is MY bitch! I tell him when and when not to leave my place! NO ONE ELSE BUT ME! You think because I let you fuck him that it is an excuse to bring him out?" Another swift kick and the Dobie groaned in pain. Bret was obviously larger and bigger built than the already muscular Doberman. Fannar was scared, for both him and the Dobie. It was obvious to him that the bull was already drunk.

It was dark outside. Stormy clouds hindered the sunlight. From afar, the faint sound of thunder echoed while louder thumping noises came from Bret's fists. Shivering, Fannar watched as the drunkard hit, kicked, punched the Dobie. It had been months since the fox breathed in air from without the walls. Slowly, he pulled himself out of the van. Bret was blinded by his rage and the alcohol.

Q-quick... Run a-away... Fannar thought. His hind paws seemed to be nailed to the ground. His breath intensified. Tugging his tail tightly against his sore bum, Fannar tried to stop the blood dripping onto the pavement. Then he was off.

Panting and stumbling, Fannar escaped into the woods. He could not believe that the bull didn't even notice as no one was chasing him. The fox knew he had to run. Run as far as possible. The woods would bid him good cover from the bull. Suddenly, a flash of light blinded Fannar. Tripping over a thick tree root, the fox's ears were bombarded by a series of thunder. He landed on his stomach, a stinging pain exploded. Panting and groaning, Fannar tried to crawl further and further into the deep forest. However, his strength was quickly fading away but his will to escape persisted.

"P-please..." the fox looked up into the red and brown leaves covered sky. Some rain drops fell, matted his fur, and blended in with Fannar's tears. His vision slowly faded away into the dark abyss.

"You think he's dead?"

"No, of course he isn't, silly!"

"I don't know about you, but what will Dad say?"

Fannar groaned and wiggled against what felt like a mattress. His breaths slow. His vision was blurry as he half opened his eyes. Silhouettes surrounded what seemed to be a simple wooden bed. The fox hear voices, voices from little cubs?

"Yay! See! I told you guys he'd make it!"

"We have to tell Dad... I don't like having strangers in our home..."

"Ha! Don't be so grumpy!"

"Ehm... W-we should t-tell D-daddy though."

Feeling uneasy, Fannar quickly sat up. Looking around him after rubbing his eyes, he noticed that the pain in his chest was still present. The windows in this room showed a bright blue sky hiding behind autumn leaves. Did he sleep for a whole day? He panted and was taken aback. Around the bed stood seven little wolf pups. Some were girls, some were boys. All looked differently. Some had grey fur while others were provided with pitch black attire.

"Are you okay, mister?" a white furred pup kindly asked. "My name is April! What is your name?" She stood closest to the fox and leaned in out of curiosity. Her tail wagged happily. April seemed to be the oldest out of this litter of wolves. Still trying to understand the situation, the fox tried to answer the cute little girl. Slut? No... Whore? No... Slave? No...

"F-fannar. My n-name *cough* is F-fannar." He finally replied. She giggled and her ears perked up. Looking over to one of her brothers who stood shyly behind a slightly broader little puppy, April smiled at him.

"August does the same thing with his words as well!" April exclaimed and everyone giggled a bit. August, the smallest of pups, just hugged his brothers black furred arm. The shy puppy had light grey fur with big green eyes which looked up to his brother. The largest of the boys kindly looked down at his little brother and gave him a comforting smile. August quickly returned a blush and a smile before giggling a little bit with the rest.

"So," another pup announced. "The city is really far away! Why were you out here?" That particular pup seemed suspicious about strangers. Standing next to April, he leaned on the edge of the bed and took a sniff at Fannar's direction. "Are you sick? You seem sick! Are we getting sick as well now? Why were you bleeding? Are there any other furs following you?" Other furs following me? Fannar's eyes widened and he started to breath faster with an irregular pace.

"Stop!" the black furred pup barked, which made August jump a little bit. Looking down at the pup hugging his arm, the older brother gave August another reassuring smile. "Dad will be back soon anyway! You don't need to play Alpha here, January!" Even at his young age, his voice was firm and direct.

"July is right!" April added. "You don't need to be the Alpha here because..." She jumped onto the bed next to where Fannar laid. "Because I'm the oldest, so I'm the Alpha!" April exclaimed, placing her paw against her chest. Wincing at the sudden tug of the blanket, Fannar bit down on his lower lip again.

"Oh!" Quickly the white furred pup jumped down again. "I'm so sorry, mister Fannar!" She seemed truly sorry and worried about the fox's condition. Giving a forced smile, Fannar showed that it was okay. With a concerned look, April grinned. "Well, the boys and I will go out hunting for rabbits! You need to eat something, mister. The girls are going to take August out into the garden to pick up some flowers for you! So you have something nice to look at."

"T-thank you..." Fannar muttered before everyone quickly dispersed. One after the other, each pup left the room through a large wooden door. January was the last to leave, and before he exited the bedroom he turned around and gave the fox a glance.

Sighing, Fannar leaned back and tried to get some rest. His rear was still hurting, while breathing posed a mild difficulty. It didn't matter where he was now. At least, he's not with that evil creature anymore. Closing his eyes, Fannar prayed that Bret wouldn't find him here and harm anyone. He hoped he wouldn't break into this home, torment the pups, and take him away. Back to the city, back to his apartment... back to hell. Suddenly, he jerked himself up and stood from the bed. Panting and shivering at the mere thought, Fannar had to occupy his mind with anything but Bret. All of his movements gave the fox great pain, but enduring his suffering, he inspected the bedroom.

The bed he was one was obviously a master double bed. On each side stood a small drawer on which where oil lamps. Some books littered the floor, so Fannar carefully picked them up and placed it on one of the mahogany nightstands. "Pride and Prejudice", "Hard Times", "About a Boy", "Cry of Freedom", "Going Bovine". It had been so long. The smell, the touch, the feel of pages on his weak paws felt so strange yet so familiar. After slowly reading each title of the books he saw on the nightstand, Fannar turned his attention to the rest of the room. A wooden wardrobe, two large shelves brimmed with old, new, thick, and thin books.

Limping towards one of the shelves, Fannar noticed a framed photograph of the pups; all seven of them along with an adult male wolf standing behind them. In the background were forest covered mountains. The sun glared on the cloudless sky. The adult was tall. His fur dark grey fur seemed to have shimmered under the sunlight. Patches of thicker greyer fur were on his chest, his shoulders. Wearing a light blue tank top and jeans, the wolf was squatting down and hugging his puppies. August sat comfortable on his lap while April sat on his shoulders, waving her cardboard sword and wearing a paper hat.

Feeling safer, Fannar turned around and to his horror, dried blood crumbs were all over the bed sheets and duvet cover. Feeling incredibly guilty, the fox quickly dusted the crumbs into his paw and placed them into his pocket. After, he took the duvet cover and the bed sheets before folding them neatly. As he placed the dirty sheets on the floor, the fox looked around and saw a large patch of blood on his shorts while dried stains dotted his legs and tail.

"So this is the fox everyone has been telling me about." a strange voice suddenly appeared in the room. The surprise took Fannar aback. The fox jumped and whimpers, automatically folding his ears back. "Oh I am sincerely sorry if I scared you!" The deep and calming voice came from no other than the wolf from the picture. He was definitely older than Fannar (who was at that time 32). The wolf with his shimmering blue eyes gave Fannar a concerned look along with a shy smile. "I hope my pups made you feel as comfortable as possible."

"Y-yes! They w-were very n-nice!" Fannar stuttered. "My n-name is slu... F-fannar... F-fannar." The wolf smiled and was relieved. Moving closer to the fox, he reached out with his paw.

"Nice to meet you, Fannar! Name's Damien." The open paw was just in front of Fannar. Shivering, the fox took his paw and they shook. His grip was strong but not enough to cause pain. Damian was so much taller than his vulpine guest. Looking up with folded ears, Fannar forced a smile before apologising for the mess he had made with the bed. He turned around and bent down to grab the covers, but a strong paw grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Fannar...What happened to you?" Damian's voice was filled with worry. By bending down, Fannar accidentally bore his wounds. Embarrassed by the situation, the fox quickly turned around again and slid his tail in-between his legs. Upon further inspection, the wolf noticed bruises along with poorly trimmed claws, and a very poorly kept fur coat (an unhealthy sign for any furred anthro). Fannar saw the similarities between April and Damian's character.

"I-I'm okay, s-sir... ehm..." SIR? You are free now! Stop it! Fannar mentally scolded himself, making him whimpers and lower his gaze. A sudden paw stroked the fox's cheek while the other rubbed against his shoulders. Damian's thumb caressed his cheekbone which made Fannar give out a wince. But his touch was so caring... Why was he doing this to him? Then the paw ran to the underside of his muzzle and lifted the fox's head up so Damian's blue eyes met Fannar's.

"Don't worry! You're safe now!"