FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sky above was a brilliant blue and below he watched as the Net generated a cluster of clouds that floated along.

The bus lurched forward, drawing his attention back inside. The passengers sat motionless, their eyes distant and half-open, all of them on some sort of stim. In his world, they were called slaves and one of the corporate city-states their masters. They got their token pay and blew it on drugs or world-rides or prostitutes and then they went back to work. He adjusted his hidden Mark I's holster and looked at the street as it steadily changed to a dark and worn neighborhood.

Nick wasn't one of the slaves. When the Net was born and every mind jacked in, there were millions trained to add to the mountain of code that ran both worlds; there were also a few who learned to abuse their mistakes. The bus rolled to a stop and the passengers looked to one another in confusion. He stood and reassured them: "Routine maintenance and debug. Sorry folks. You'll be back on the programmed route shortly." As if he'd be some lap-dog coder.

He stepped out on the empty streets. It used to be the place, a nameless section of nowhere that everyone who was a freeman stayed. Nowadays, the buzzing neon lights were dead silent, the windows shuttered or boarded. He moved along the sidewalks, jagged cracks running through them like veins, and a few street-workers winked and flirted as he passed. This was the neighborhood he grew up in, over there he first learned to hack - the old drink machine dead and empty; and there were the stairs to Sydney's, a dying neon sign displaying a beer, a guy, and a girl disappearing under the bar. Mac ran that place and if he was anywhere, he'd be there. Hell, that's how they met the first time.

The deafening thud of the music rattled his brains, and the people churned and grinded against one another in a drug-filled haze. Neons flashed above and danced like frenzied fire-flies while he waded through the pulsing sea of fur, scales, and skin. A single paw grasped his and he saw the other Doberman.

His whole body swung with the bass in black pants that hug so tight they were like a second skin. Nick smirked as that ass came in his direction, a single glow-stick swung from his stub, bouncing off each cheek. Knowing he had Nick's attention, he took his held paw and licked the black pads, looking over his shoulder with blown pupils.

He should've been looking for Mac but this slut was too good to resist, and he yanked him closer. The Doberman gasped as he felt Nick's packed sheathe, and his long tongue darted out and ran along his maw, glistening in the neon. Reaching behind, he pushed down on his pants enough to show the red thong and started to grind.

Nick grabbed his hips and he was rewarded with a near air-tight rub along that ass crack. Fuck, he was good. He reeked of a horny dobie, a strong acidic scent, and he needed to be dominated by an alpha dog; he knew it, too.

He threw his whole back against his chest, his maw coming just under Nick's. "Blow you in the bathroom?" He offered with a pant and a hot lick.

Nick couldn't help it. If he tailed that Dobie into the bathroom any closer, he'd be fuckin' him through his pants. A German Shepard and a male lizard left the large stall, the Shepard walked out while the lizard snorted a hit from a small container. An addict paying off his dealer, he could tell, because he still had Shepard cum on his maw. He left, the thud outside growing louder until the door shut.

"So, how you wanna do this...?

"Nick."

"Nick," he repeated, licking his lips. "How about you lean against the wall and give me a treat?"

Nick's towering body stepped into the stall. "Your name?" he unzipped.

He fell to his knees, not even hearing him. His paws grasped the side of Nick's jockstrap, pulling it up and went nose first for his balls.

Nick gasped at the cold, then again at the wet heat as he was lapped. The air around his balls shifted with each gasping breath the Doberman took in his jock. The door slapped open, "The fuck you lookin at?" Nick growled as a guy and his bitch came in, and they left.

"That was kinda hot." Even from the floor he could smell his scent on the Doberman's maw and breath. Nick rolled his eyes, pulled back his jock and shoved the Doberman back in. "You're the bitch. Don't talk."

The Doberman's ears went back, his eyes closed in rapture, and he sucked his balls into his maw. Nick had to push the jock down as his pink tip pressed against the hem, and the below he could see the Dobie's stub wagging. He watched him, saying nothing, and enjoyed the sensation. Even when he was throbbing hard and dripping, he didn't pull it out for him to suck. He wanted to remember the sensations.

"Cock's too good to just blow." The Doberman stood, pushing the waistline of his pants down to his thighs and revealing his thong. "Fuck me." He panted thrusting his ass in Nick's direction.

That invitation was too much to ignore. Nick grabbed his thong on either side and yanked it down. That ass was damn amazing in the raw. A tight line of tan that flared out underneath his stub, and his lower back hinted at the muscular body underneath. He pushed his jock down to his balls and sandwiched his cock in his asscrack. The Dobie curved his back bringing his asshole up a little into Nick's view, and Nick made sure to let his cock drip clear pre across the pink, wrinkling flesh.

Grabbing the glow stick, he pushed his slick pre into the Dobie's asshole, and then directed it to his prostate.

"Oh, fuck. Yes."

Pumping him a few times, he pulled it out and tricked his cum over the hole and fed it more. It wasn't until the glow stick slid in easy on its own that he stopped. "Do you mind if I treat you rough?"

"You practically have me whimpering for it," he grinned deviously.

Nick's paw grabbed his scruff, his forearm pinning him against the tile, and the other paw locking around his cock. The well prepared hole spread around his tapered cock-tip and he went in just enough to keep it there, and his paw went to his thigh.

He leaned in and the pink ridges began to spread more, stretching around his veiny cock. His bitch just groaned into the tiles, growing louder as his hole got bigger. To Nick he was just getting tighter and at halfway around his dick, he couldn't hold the bad boy attitude. He started to pant wildly as those velvet insides caressed around his head and urged him to go deeper. He gave them the rest of his length.

"Do you need it, bitch," he snarled pulling back to the tip before feeding it back into his gaping hole, "tell me?"

"Mhmp, fuck yes."

He worked that Doberman's ass.They didn't need to fuck around; they didn't need to change positions. It was just a raw breeding in a tight pink hole. His cock hadn't filled a hole in months, and he was gonna milk it. He pounded him until he nearly came and waited. Then again.

He was panting and begging the whole time, and Nick grinned. He fucked him without mercy, that bubble butt jiggling with each slap of his hips, and right as he was about to cum, he yanked out and grasped around his knot, squirting it all over that delicious ass. It ran down his crack and dripped off his balls into the mouth of the pants below. A dick move, he knew, but it looked fucking fantastic. Cum on a nice tan crack.

Stepping away, he heard the Doberman speak: "Now I'm gonna get all those kinky bastards that want sloppy seconds." He couldn't hide his excitement as he yanked up his cum soaked pants, and disappeared on the dance floor. Nick straightened his jacket and headed out to look for Mac.

The hall wasn't marked for V.I.P's but he recognized it by the sheer amount of drugs and half-drunk girls they funneled through it. There was, of course, one problem. The bouncer was a seven foot lizard man and if you didn't have a pair of jiggly, half-drunk tits, he asked for a name and checked it with the scanner next to him. He needed to find a nice entry point to get into the scanner.

His eyes followed the walls and floors as he walked around the crowded floors. He got a drink at the bar, grinning and asking for stims from the bartender, which he denied.

He slid into a booth, the only one where there was a cord that led from the computer controller to the speakers, and beneath the table he pressed on the pulse of his right prosthetic arm. A small slit along the skin appeared and pushed open revealing the tips of two retractable cables, one a clip and the other a direct connect. Sliding under the table, he attached the clip and sat with his hand in his lap. A smile spread across his face.

There were two things in this world worth doing: Code-breaking and Fucking.

He relaxed as his mind shifted gears, the sensation of the cold glass in his paws going first, the sound falling steadily into deafness until he could only feel the vibrations in his chest. The data started to flow as the simulation built up and the sensory deadness intensified. His mind made the connection locking in on the signals of the music, pulsing now; he felt his very heart was beating with the bass. His consciousness, everything that was him, was torn from his flesh and bone; the formless matrix of data, coalescing into a reality all its own. This was The Net. This was freedom.

He could sense the flow of data, and grabbing on to it, he sailed off into the Net. Flying past streams for the out-dated fire alarms, the cameras, the music, the phones; he could feel himself latching onto the scanner. Every single lattice of countermeasure that would fry a novice, he bypassed with a wave of his hand. The best in the world had worked with him and because of that, he became one of them.

He dropped down, out of the stream, and before him his mind showed the world as a stretch of white tiles over a black void of the nullspace. His gut screamed that it had been too easy, it had been rigged for him to get this far. He held out his hand; and at his fingertips, like some god, a shellcode beast was summoned. It was a mash of geometric shapes, triangular prisms for the body and a billion squares clumping together to form its fists, all in wild colors, and they occasionally dripped off dropping and disappearing into the floor.

A second techno-colored beast appeared to his other side. From where he stood, he could see the sphere clusters of data that looked like plasma lamps with their dancing strings of light; if he interfaced there, he'd be free to inject his own data. Too easy.

He flicked his paw towards the orb and a beast rolled over the tiles, and he followed it with the command to destroy the cluster. If he was wrong, the scanner would explode from the massive feedback if he was right...

The beast attacked, it's shellcode was detected, and its form dissolved off the grid into the nullspace. A second gridspace appeared behind it revealing that it was a honeypot meant to lure him in and attempt to eradicate him. His second beast rolled out, the mass of squares swirling and clipping into each other, exploded outwards in a beam of swirling colors, attempting to delete a red Intruder-Detection Program that blocked his attackers face. The code was wiped out, revealing the familiar face of the Bitch.

They both jumped behind their respective shellcode. Nick held up his hand as a large rifle appeared, and he peeked around the corner. A single blast cut through his beast's upper torso, he turned and fired at the IDP, a direct hit sending red data flying into the null. A warning triangle flashed in his face and he executed the debugger. The code flew before his eyes, "Fuck," he muttered. The shellcode had lost a large chunk of its cyberspace navigation, and he started the patch work on one hand while the other started shellcoding.

Turning he could see through the gaps the IDP charging, and the Bitch with his gun ready. He heard the blasts and rolled as the beast was wiped clean, the ground where he sat destroyed, and he turned to see the Bitch's finger pulling back the trigger.

The beast exploded from the ground taking the weak blast, it lifted its arms, and returned fire that utterly corrupted the IDP. It charged up knocking the Doberman to the ground, and pinning him. At that point, Nick had two choices. If he dumped the Doberman into nullspace, it would corrupt him, his rig would re-assimilate his personality wrong if not delete it as junk data outright, obliterating his consciousness in a brief blink of an eye. He was there when Louie fell into a honey pot, like this one, and got fried. At first they thought Good ol' Louie (he was the best actually) had pulled out at the last second, he turned to them. Smiled. His eyes rolled up to the right corner of their lids and they never left that spot.

He stepped across the tiles to the data cluster, accessing the dossier and inserting his ID.

Then he stood there over the Doberman, who kept his composure but never made eye contact, and with a flick of his wrist the other's connection was reset and terminated. Although being nulled was the danger of the Net, he wouldn't do that. Not now, not ever.

The rhythmic pump of the bass came back first, the vibration rattling his chest like a drum skin, and then the needle pricks of the cold drink on his paw. Only a second or two had passed, and he sat with his eyes on the hallway. No armed bodyguards yet, but his hand was ready to jump to his Mark I. He unplugged himself from the line and waited to see what would happen.