FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Written by Cimmaron Spirit

Commissioned for Bahamut6sic6

**WARNING: Contains macros, gay sex, hyper, excessive cum, anal, spooge, facials, and some other stuff. Like plot development. Like, a LOT of plot development. So if you don't like any of that or not old enough to read it legally, please close this file, delete it from your downloads folder, and carry on with your life. Otherwise, enjoy!**

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"Do you have any idea how much my phone has been ringing today? And all because of your fucking antics? God fucking hell, you don't even realize everyone has a camera in their pocket now, do you? Across the front page, every cable news network, all over social media. And now I have everyone screaming for me to do something."

"Sir, I can explain..."

"No, I've had enough of your fucking excuses. Every single time, it results in lawsuits and the police force getting into more and more trouble for even having you here. Los Angeles can't afford to keep dealing with the BS you keep getting into.

"However, we can't fire you. Hell knows what you will do if we were to just let you go. And you do get results, and, frankly, you have been a pretty good police officer, even if you won't follow the fucking rules. So I talked it over with the mayor, and he agreed. You are getting suspended for three months without pay."

"What the... three months?"

"Be thankful it's that short."

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Stan grumbled to himself as the small raccoon in the black suit droned on and on about numbers and things that the German shepherd really didn't care about. Yes, it was most likely important, but the flat monotone voice just made Stan's mind completely turn off. And it wasn't in the good way, like when he was in the middle of a good workout and the actions just become automatic... man, he could go for a workout right now. Switch out of the white t-shirt and shorts he was wearing into just a pair of speedos, and start working out, something to flaunt his massive size to other guys, show how puny they were compared to him...

"STAN!" the raccoon in the suit shouted through a megaphone, making the muscular German shepherd nearly jump out of his fur. "Pay attention, will you?"

"Sorry, just... tired," Stan rumbled, which was partially true. Being a police officer was a tough job, and the long hours he was required to work didn't help matters. Well, he was a police officer. He still might be a police officer, even though he had to turn in the badge for a while...

"Fine, I'll finish up here," the raccoon said. But then he started droning on again.

This time Stan did his best to pay attention, but once again the technical mumbo-jumbo went over his head. He idly scratched his ear, his canine instincts momentarily taking over as he used a back leg. Stan was pretty impressed at how flexible he could be, no matter that he was a massive mountain of muscle and fur, and he knew it.

Sitting back down, Stan continued to watch the raccoon as he talked on and on and on. Muscles in his back twitched from sitting for so long, making Stan shift from where he was sitting. He really needed to stretch, take a walk, get out of this place. But he couldn't. Not till the little accountant was done with him. Stan was starting to think that was going to be forever... and then an hour after that. Stan shuffled again, trying to work kinks out of his back from sitting so long. Man, he wished he could still go to the police gym that was set up for him. But it's only been two weeks... 13 days. Seventy seven more to go... Fuck that brown horse that did this to him...

The raccoon barely noticed as he continued flipping through papers and talking, absent-mindedly shifting his balance as the catwalk he was standing on swayed back and forth from the chains that held it to the roof. It was very sturdy, as was the rest of the building, an old warehouse turned into a home.

"So do you got all that?" The raccoon asked as he closed up the black leather folder in his hands.

Stan blinked. "Uhh... yes. Yes. Totally got it."

The raccoon looked up at Stan. "You didn't hear a single thing I said, did you." The raccoon rolled his eyes before Stan could reply. "Okay, well here's the short version: you need five thousand dollars by next Friday."

"Five thousand?" Stan exclaimed. "Why?"

"I just told you! You have been spending more than you bring in. Food, alcohol, clothes, customized computers, video games, the docked wages, and a dozen other things... it all adds up. Your line of credit is stretched as far as it can go, and you need to make a payment to start paying some of it off. We know you can't pay the full debt of $250,000 right now, so once we get he first $5000, we can work on a plan to start paying it back. Okay?"

Stan stared at the raccoon. He could feel his arm twitch this time, though not because of soreness. No, he wanted to wrap his fingers around the raccoon and...

"Look, I bet it's tough to be a Titan," the raccoon said. "And I'm aware that you were just suspended. We are just trying to help you out now so it's not worse later, okay?"

Stan continued staring at the much, much smaller raccoon not much over five and a half feet tall. The German shepherd, on the other hand, was 90 feet tall, a literal mountain of a Goliath next to the raccoon David. Over sixteen times bigger than the accountant, his paws alone were close to three times bigger than the raccoon. He was a Titan, a genetically altered individual for the US Army in the 1980s, before being decommissioned after the end of the Cold War. And so here he was, working as a cop. Well, suspended from working as a cop.

And he was seriously about to just grab and squish this little twerp? Yes, he brought bad news, yes he represented the power the tiny people had over his life, the tiny guys that kicked him out of the army and now suspended from his job for three months, all because of numbers and that.

But Stan knew the punishment when a Titan kills an ordinary person. He should, because being a police officer and all. He even had to help take down a friend of his when he went on a rampage through San Francisco after he was laid off. It was not a pretty thing. Those images still haunted him sometimes. The sight of what the Gatling gun on an A-10 Warthog could do to a macro that would normally shrug off bullets and possibly artillery shells was one that he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

Stan sighed. "So how do I do that?"

"I can't help you there," the raccoon said, packing up his suitcase. "I'm sorry, but all I can do is help you after we get that payment."

The raccoon walked along the catwalk, his shoes making the metal clash and clang. The catwalk ran around the room, which was really just a big warehouse that had been adapted for the home of a Titan. Even though it was five stories tall, one of those big old red brick warehouses that are mostly abandoned now, though it was still only half as tall as Stan, so he forced to sit or crawl to get anywhere in his own house. However long it could remain his house for. The mortgage still wasn't paid for, so that was most likely one of the debts. And, well, a homeless Titan isn't a new thing, but one no one likes to deal with.

The raccoon finally made it to the door. He turned around and pulled out the megaphone again. "Don't worry, I'm sure something will come up."

The raccoon slipped through the normal sized door beside the massive sliding doors Stan had to use, leaving Stan alone in his home. In one corner was his special entertainment system, though really a wall that would have fit better in a drive in movie theatre, with a projector and a special keyboard he could use for his handmade computer. In another corner was a massive steel door that housed his refrigerator, though it looked more like a freezer in a meat factory. Which made sense, since as with a Titan's appetite, it sometimes took an entire steer or two to even make a light lunch.

And right behind him was his bed, though really just a pillow and a huge, thick and somewhat warm blanket, and a massive mirror he had put in. Stan sighed, and flopped down where the slept, making the entire building shake, and stared at the mirror. He couldn't really pose in front of it to show off his muscularity and strength to himself, like he would have (and did) way back when he was only 5'9', but it was big enough to give Stan an idea of how he looked, at least when he was laying down. His 90 foot tall body was mostly light brown fur, though with a cream-tan front that covered his chest, abs and down around his crotch, with a darker fur on his shoulders and upper arms, rising up to cover the back of his head and ears. His tail was all three colors, in equal proportions. He was muscular, though maybe not as well developed as professional bodybuilders, and without a trace of fat anywhere on his body. Working out and his job ensured that...

"Fuck," Stan growled, his mind going back to being a police officer, though he couldn't do that. Not for over two months.

He was huge, ripped, and sexy... but also broke, virtually unemployed, and confused.

"What the hell do I do?" He asked himself

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"What the fucking hell do I do, Joe?" Stan growled as he stepped on another car, feeling the metal bend, the plastic snap, the last bit of oil and gas ooze out between his massive toes, his claws digging into the hard packed dirt on either side. This was the seventh vehicle he flattened today, all while retelling his woes. Scrapyards were delighted to let macro's take their anger out on vehicles, as it was less expensive in the long run.

A black stallion, as dark as the night sky all around them, marred only by white fur that covered his legs down and his elbows out and over his snout before tapering at his forehead, followed every word of Stan's, giving a considerate smile and sympathetic ear to the angry, venting Stan. Joe was also a police officer, younger, and more sociable and calm than Stan was. Where Stan would uproot a building to get to a criminal, Joe would try to talk the suspect out, and only when he absolutely have to, he would reach an arm in to grab the perp, causing as little damage as possible. Joe was the quintessential Titan, the one that, had they still made propaganda posters, would be plastered on every one. Los Angeles, though wary of Titans after the end of the Cold War, was proud to have a gentle giant amongst them, even when stories of rouge Titans rampaging filled the news.

He leaned against a mountain of flattened and crushed cars, but they only came up to his hips. Like Stan, he was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, though white to Stan's blue ensemble, and on both frames those clothes were almost too small. Looking at them, they could have almost been brothers, with the horse being the bigger and stronger one by a little bit, had they not been different species.

They both sported massive biceps and thighs, pecs and shoulders, a firm round bubble butt and a six pack that all stretched the material, one of the strongest cloth like materials ever developed, and all to help clothe those that were a few dozen feet taller than everyone else. Around in the crotch, where the material had to work the hardest, was one of the side effects of those that had been transformed by the Titan Program: a massive bulge that could only begin to hint at what lay trapped beneath. But even though Stan was massive, Joe was ten feet taller, and his muscles were just a bit bigger, a bit more defined.

But there was no denying it; they were massive, no matter how you looked at it. They looked like Japanese kaiju monsters missing the backdrop of Tokyo, and the powerful spotlights around the scrapyard that illuminated the Titan's playpen cast shadows that were so many times too big to be real... except they were.

"Well," Joe started, as he picked up one of the flattened SUVs, and toyed with it in his hoof-tipped hands. "You are a damn good cop. No one can deny that. You've done everything from bust bank robbers to saving people from a burning skyscraper to stop a train crash. I should know, I saw you do all of that." The stallion set the car between two fingers and began pushing, the aluminum and steel of the chassis screeching in agony as it was compressed. "But you are a loose cannon. You don't follow the rules; you don't do what you're supposed to. You've demolished an entire city block because you wanted a short cut. You stepped on a suspect, broke every bone in his body, to get him to confess to a crime, that, yes, he did commit. But there is a thing called 'due process of law,' Stan. Even the most heinous criminals need to be tried in court, as much as it would be nice to leave them as a red smear on the street." The horse shook his head, mane flapping in the still, muggy night, as if trying to erase that thought from his head. He crushed the rest of the car into a tiny ball, and set it on the pile of cars.

"I fucking get that!" Stan shouted, jumping on two cars at once, both instantly compressed and pancaked under 500 tons of German shepherd. "Everyone's constantly going on and on and on about how I need to follow the fucking rules!" Stan lifted a paw and punted one of the flattened cars, making it fly up into the air. Joe jumped up and caught the car Frisbee before it left the wreckers yard.

Stan panted heavily, his eyes flashing in anger. "It isn't right. I'm big. I'm massive. I'm a fucking giant. I'm one the biggest beings on this planet! Why the hell should I take orders from... bugs?"

Before Stan knew what hit him, Joe's fist smashed into his snout, making the German shepherd reel and fall backwards, crushing hundreds of wrecked vehicles under his broad back in one massive crunch. He blinked, unable to tell which stars above him were real or the ones swirling around his head.

Joe's face, the calm demeanor instantly changed to a cold, unforgiving glare. "Don't you ever fucking say that again," the horse snarled, his low voice making cold shivers run down Stan's back. "They are people. PEOPLE! You even used to be one of them, remember? Way back before you volunteered for that military project? You better fucking remember that!"

Stan's vision was clearing up from the surprise punch to the face, his entire body, from his nose to his back, in some form of pain from hit and the fall. But the sight of the slightly bigger but stronger and heavier stallion above him made Stan whimper, a puppy like response to being scolded... no, disciplined.

Stan had never gone through anything like this before. Sure, he had been shouted and yelled at when in the army, especially when he was turned into a Titan, and the dressing down by superiors was almost a daily occurrence, both in military and police service. It was nothing to him, because moment's later they would be praising him, or at the very least giving him respect, with a twinge of fear. That never really scared Stan.

But Joe... Joe was bigger and stronger, but he was always the calm one, the collected one. But this time Stan stepped over the line. He threatened someone that Joe cared for very much: humanity.

Joe looked down at the German shepherd, before sighing. "I... I'm sorry," he said. The stallion took a deep breath, before reaching out and offering a hand to Stan, who carefully took it. The bigger horse pulled Stan up onto his feet, and began to brush some of the dust off of Stan.

"I... sorry," Stan said. "I just..."

"I know," Joe said, picking up a broken axle that pierced Stan's shirt and pulling it off, like a piece of straw or a sliver of wood, before carefully dropping it on a pile of other wreckage. "We can talk some more later." The horse yawned. "Besides, I have to go to bed so I can go to work tomorrow."

"But aren't the next few days your days off?" Stan asked.

"Well, from policing, yes." Joe chuckled. "But I need to keep myself busy. Can't just sit around, play video games like you can."

Stan rolled his eyes, but Joe had already turned around, and took a few steps, his hooves crushing a couple cars not in their proper place. Stan thought for a minute, then it hit him.

"Wait... where are you working?"

Joe stopped, and looked over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"Where is this secondary job of yours?" Stan asked again. "And... would they be looking for help?"

Joe paused, then smirked. "Oh, I know they are always looking for fresh meat." The horse chuckled, a deep baritone rumble that shook a few wrecked SUV's from their resting place. "Why don't you come with me tomorrow afternoon, and you can see for yourself? You'll be free, right?"

"Not like I got much else to do," Stan grumbled, digging his toe claws into the hardened ground, easily tearing up the dirt and clay. "But yeah, I'll come."

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The directions Joe gave lead Stan north of Los Angeles along Interstate 5, into the mountains that surrounded the sprawling metropolitan area. There weren't many people that lived out here, and of those people, eight were Titans that worked in Los Angeles. Stan and Joe both lived in Los Angeles themselves, but often spent a lot of their free time out of the city, much to the relief of insurance agencies and the city's road repair department.

Having followed the freeway most of the way out here, (and providing a show to the commuters and tourists on the highway, the German shepherd was sure) Stan turned left when he saw a smaller road snaking off to the west, and with a wide area along one side that was cleared just for the Titans to walk down.

Stan chuckled to himself. There weren't many places like this in the city, mostly because it was built for normal sized people, their cars, and their egos. Then again, before he had gone through the Titan Project back in the 1980s, and all the needles, conditioning, exercises and pain that entailed, there were a grand total of two massive people, and only one of them was American, the other was Soviet.

But that was a long time ago now. He was lucky to be a Military Titan for a grand total of ten years before he was demobilized, the Cold War over. After a couple of years of odd jobs and basically being on welfare, he got the police job he was now suspended from. He was one of the lucky ones. Most of the Titans that lived outside Los Angeles had no permanent job, and after the situation in San Francisco, the government kept a much closer eye on the Titans, ensuring they at least had food and housing, even if finding jobs for them was hard.

Stan kept following the road, until he reached a valley, with tall hills that were twice as high as Stan, making it the perfect place for a bunch of Titans to live in something resembling privacy, if they were ready to do away with modern comforts like heating, artificial light and a roof.

However, no one lived here, as far as Stan knew. He hadn't been out this way in years, more often spending free time at home or at the special gym set up for Titans. He had no idea why Joe told him to come out here.

"Okay, really funny Joe," Stan called out, his voice echoing through the canyon as he continued walking. "Where are ya? Why did you drag me out here?"

Stan turned a corner, and he stopped in his tracks. A huge area, the size of two football fields beside each other, was barren and clearly marked out with a thick white line and massive spotlights. Behind it, a huge, nearly 150-foot tall corrugated steel wall was set up, and what looked like the machinery needed to make it slide open. All around it a seemingly precarious scaffolding was set up, with dozens, if not a couple hundred, normal sized men and women seated around tables, drinking and chatting. A few turned toward Stan, and a few catcalls and whistles reached the German shepherd's ears.

A massive hand grabbed Stan's arm, and pulled him away, behind a different hill and away from the gathered people. "Damnit Stan, I told you turn before you got to the billboard on the hill! That's how you get to the backstage!" Joe's voice was a hushed whisper, though most likely loud enough for those on the other side of the hill to hear.

"What billboard? What backstage?" Stan asked, before turning around. Where before he was surprised to see a stage and people, he was absolutely stunned to see Joe, and his mouth dropped open, his eyes went wide.

The stallion was virtually naked. Well, he had some clothes: namely a white thong that looked like it was a size or two too small, the bulge of the horse's cock and balls visibly straining the undoubtedly durable fabric, and a ridiculously massive black bowtie and collar around his neck. His fur shone, almost mirror like in the late afternoon sun of Southern California, every abdomen and muscle standing out, his mane and tail groomed and flowing in the soft wind.

"You... you..." Stan stammered.

"Yeah, I'm a stripper," Joe said, with a smirk. "It actually pays as well as a copper, but I don't do this for the money. Frankly, I'm surprised you weren't doing this already. But I talked to my boss, and she's willing to give you a shot." The stallion beckoned Stan to follow, before turning around and walking. "She even said that if you get on stage tonight, she would pay you the $5000 right now."

"Wait, what?" Stan said, taking several steps to keep up with Joe. As he caught sight of Joe again, the German shepherd's eyes drifted over the sculpted and immaculate back muscles and down over a narrowing lowering back, before reaching a perfect rounded ass of the stallion, tail flagged high. For years Stan thought Joe was sexy, but now...

"Of all the people I know, and I know a lot," Joe started, "You are perhaps the one that most loves to show off his body, his strength, and his ego. I'd have thought you love doing that."

"But... naked?" Stan squawked. Sure, he loved to pose and flex, and he had done it many a time when with Joe and others for fun (and when fully clothed), but after a brief attempt at amateur bodybuilding, he gave it up when the thought of posing in a tiny piece of fabric to an audience. Hell, just seeing Joe like this already made his cock twinge in excitement.

Joe grabbed a massive brush, though seeming more like a piece of farm equipment doing double duty as one, and started running it through his hair again. "You have a problem with that?"

"Well, yes!" Stan exclaimed. "I just..."

"Joe! Ten minutes! And... is this the guy you were talking about?" The stallion and the G-shep both turned to a woman standing in the back of a pick-up truck, driving on a dirt road that wrapped it's way around the hill at about half Stan's height. She was a jaguar, a bit heavy set, in a long purple dress, with more bits of gold and silver on her arms, neck and ears than a jewelry store, and hair that was an unnatural red. But she seemed very keen, very businesslike, and was looking over Stan like one would look over a new car they were considering buying to see if it looked all right. A tail swayed behind her, betraying a sense of excitement the rest of her body did her best to hide.

"Yes, Mrs. Jiménez," Joe said. "Told ya he was a looker, didn't I?"

The woman looked up and down over the Titan. "Take your shirt off," she bellowed.

The command got Stan to reach down and pull off the black t-shirt he had been wearing, grabbing the bottom and pulling it over his body, before tugging it off his head and shoulders, before setting it down beside him with a heavy fwump!

"Flex for me," Mrs. Jiménez barked. Stan complied, flexing both arms. The bright flash of a smartphone camera nearly blinded Stan, when he realized the jaguar was taking pictures of him.

"Spin around." Stan followed the instructions. A few more pictures were taken as he did a slow circle around.

"Pants off," the jaguar continued.

Here Stan paused. "What?"

"Need to see the goods," she said. "Pants. Off. Now." Stan hesitated again. "If you don't, you can go back to LA for wasting my time."

Joe took a step forward, his muzzle lined up with Joe's ear. "Remember, $5000 tonight," he whispered.

Stan took a deep breath, and hooked his thumbs into his shorts, and tugged them down, leaving his already semi-hard member constrained in the jockstrap he wore.

Mrs. Jiménez looked over Stan, who could feel his face turning red at having a total stranger look at him. She took a couple more pictures, before putting the device away. "You're not as developed as Joe here, but I don't think I've seen anyone as well built as Joe." She looked over the German Shepherd one last time, before nodding. "You will do. You will go on with Joe here." With that, Mrs. Jiménez shuffled to the front of the truck, hit the cab a couple of times, and grabbed a bar placed there, the truck driving away down the dirt path.

Stan blinked. "W-what just happened there?"

"You got yourself a second job," Joe grinned. "And don't worry, you'll be fine."

Stan gulped, and smiled nervously.

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The sun sank lower and lower in the sky, and soon spotlights flooded the massive valley behind those large steel doors. There were only a couple Titans before Joe and Stan, a twink fox from Russia that had a spellbinding dance and show that ended with a naked finale to cheers and catcalls, and a lion Stan thought he remembered from the army, but wasn't sure. The lion grinned when he saw Stan, smacking the German shepherd on the ass as he walked by, leaving a remnant of the cumshot he had left on stage as a mark. "Good luck new meat," he smirked, licking his lips. Stan couldn't tell if it was because the lion thought Stan was hot (the lion was pretty well built too) or if there was a predatory aspect at play.

"Don't listen to him," Joe whispered. "He's an ass to all the new guys, but he really has nothing going for him besides being well hung."

"Well that's something we all got," Stan whispered back.

"Exactly," Joe smirked. "Besides, he turns into a little kitty cat around the regular guys." To prove his point, Joe looked over and raised an eyebrow, and the dominant lion shriveled under the glare of the taller, stronger, muscular horse.

"Tonight, I got a special treat for all of you," Mrs. Jiménez said over the speakers set up outside. "Not only do we have everyone's favorite Stallion," she started, only to be drowned out with cheers on the other side of the wall, "But a sexy German Shepherd as well! So give it up for The Big Stud and his new partner, K-9!"

"Here we go," Joe said glancing back with a smirk as machines roared to life to move the sliding steel door, the bright spotlights momentarily blinding Stan hit his face. Clichéd smooth jazz music several decibels too loud was pumped out the speakers, and a huge cheer momentarily drowned out the music.

Stan took a big gulp, put a smile on his face, and followed Joe out on stage.

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"Are you sure this was your first time?" Mrs. Jiménez asked after the show had ended, the people left, and the lights turned off.

"Yes ma'am," Stan replied. He was sweaty, his cock throbbed in the too tight thong given to him, and the bowtie was really uncomfortable. But, just like in his military days, he stood at attention.

"Well you did pretty good. Maybe need a bit more practice, but that will come in time," the jaguar said. "But you earned your $5000, so that will be sent to your account tomorrow morning." Mrs. Jiménez waved her hand before Stan could speak. "Don't worry, it's through a non-descript holding company. They will never trace the money back here."

"Well thank you," Stan said.

"Oh, also, the tips. We count out the money that is thrown into the special jars on the tables of the guests and divide it accordingly. Now, usually when we have a double act, it's split in two. However, Joe told me to send that all to you as well. And that is no small amount either." Mrs. Jiménez mentioned the amount. Stan's eyes went wide, and it was only military discipline that prevented his mouth from dropping to the ground 80 some feet below his jaw line.

Stan looked over at the horse, who was helping in the nightly maintenance of the place, mostly by lifting the things that the normal sized people wouldn't be able to move or serving as a living elevator.

"I will have to thank him later," Stan said.

"I'm sure you will," the jaguar said. While her voice maintained the business persona she gave the entire time, there was a hint of knowledge of what that actually meant in her voice as well. "Just make sure everything is clean after." The truck drove away into the night.

The last of the spotlights up front went out, leaving only a few, dimmer lights in the backstage, along with the moon and stars overhead. The steel door began to close, but not before Joe slipped through it again and walked up to Stan.

"Not bad there for a first timer, eh?" Joe quipped, resting a hand on the shoulder of the shorter, but still beefy Titan.

"No, not bad at all," Stan replied, turning around and facing the horse. The moonlight glimmered over the horse's body, making each muscle and strand of fur stand out. Usually it's said that someone with black fur would blend into the night. However, nighttime is a different shade of darkness than what most people remember, so if anything, Joe's darker black coat made him stand out more, a shadow against the sky, his white markings and feathering not withstanding. The white piece of clothing over the horse's groin seemed to stand out even more, and not just because of the contrast with the one wearing it. Or the fact that by now the massive stallionhood contained inside it was starting to slip out of his sheath and push on the fabric, a semi hard member making it tent out. Stan didn't need to look down to know that his cock was doing the same thing.

"So..." Joe started, dragging the last vowel out. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down on the slightly shorter German shepherd. Stan was sexy, the horse had to admit. But in a rugged, in a nearly wild and barely contained way, the same reason that he was in the situation he was now. There was something to be said about bad boys, Joe thought to himself. But seeing the more vulnerable side of Stan was also cute. He was nervous. The sound of claws digging into dirt and shuffling that made the ground shudder and shake for any normal person who was nearby. Had the sun been up, Joe was sure that despite the macho man demeanor Stan usually had, his face would be a bright red under his fur.

What happened next took Joe by surprise. Stan reached up and pulled the stallion's muzzle toward his, planting a deep kiss on the broad horse lips, while the other hand reached around to grope the tight, muscular ass of the stallion, his claws digging into flesh, fur and fabric to make his presence really known.

Joe blinked and shuddered, his mind trying to come to terms with the sudden personal contact. But as Stan forced his tongue into his mouth, Joe gave a soft nicker, and returned the kiss. His own hand began to caress Stan's back before trailing lower and lower, his hoof tipped fingers slipping past the waistband of his police and stripper colleague to find the brown furred butt contained within. Between them, the white spandex continued to stretch and strain as the enormous endowments of both Titans began to slip out and grow harder.

Stan at last pulled away from the kiss, taking a deep breath like a man drowning. But the air around them was a heady mixture of canine and equine sweat, sex and musk, which only made the German shepherd's boner spring up even harder.

Joe gave a small chuckle before using his second hand to join the first and slowly pull down Stan's thong, catching the mushroom tip on the elastic waistband. As Joe pulled down, Stan's hard cock was pulled almost straight down, before the elastic slipped and the massive dong sprang out, the pre already starting to bead up on the tip being flung upwards dozens of feet into the air, before landing in a massive puddle over 30 yards away. The pink cock was throbbing angrily, and already more pre was dripping from the tip.

"Well, someone is pent up," Joe smirked, using a single hoofed finger to trace over each pulsing vein of the cock, up and down the 25 foot long pole, with boulder sized nuts to match. Joe briefly grabbed around the head when Stan was nearly about to cum right then and there, stopping the orgasm dead in it's tracks. No, he couldn't let his partner go that quickly.

"Well you... ooohh... you try to... ahhhh... jack off in my place," Stan gasped, nearly falling to his knees as his sensitive flesh being teased by the horse. It had been a long time since he had enough privacy to do anything like this, the last time being somewhere in Montana, visiting a Titan friend. His warehouse home just wasn't big enough, nor was it "private" enough, with all the big glass windows that were still there to let in light. There were always young kids that wanted to see the "big doggie," teenagers who thought trying to sneak into a Titan's home was a cheap thrill, and then the "Titanphiles" who got off at the thought of big guys doing stuff to them. And, well, Stan didn't want to corrupt the children, toy with the teenagers, or give into the perverts. He didn't choose to abstain, it was kind of forced on him. And blue balls wasn't fun for anyone, but it was so much worse for a nearly 100 foot tall creature with genitals that were proportionally bigger than the average normal person, with a libido to match.

Joe chuckled. "Well that's why I love being out here, miles and miles away from anyone." The horse stood up, and quickly pulled off his thong, letting it drop around his hooves, and he carefully stepped out of them. "Lots of privacy, and the time and space to do almost whatever I want." As to punctuate that, over forty feet of horse spilled out, and arched downwards thanks to gravity. Even for a stallion, and a Titan at that, the length and size was vastly disproportionate.

Stan stared at the black horse member, a thick medial ring and flat and flared tip, pulsing and throbbing with every beat of Joe's heart. Stan reached up to grab it, but unlike Joe's more delicate teasing, Stan simply grabbed and began to pump, making Joe nicker and snort as he was forcefully jacked off.

"Easy there," Joe snorted, before pushing Stan off his cock and backwards, landing with a solid, earth shuddering thud. "I have something else in mind than this."

Stan watched as Joe took a few steps to straddle the prone German shepherd, before crouching down over Stan's mid-section, his gigantic cock pointed straight into Stan's face.

"You want me to suck you off?" Stan asked, slightly incredulous. It was pretty damn big, even for the giant canine, and Stan had no idea if he could unhinge his jaw to take all that.

"Not if you don't want to," Joe replied, with a smirk. "Besides, I have something I bet you'd like more than to suck my cock."

Stan was about to ask what that was when the horse hawked and spit a huge amount of spit onto his hand, and reached back to finger his hole. Joe grunted as he shoved a beefy finger into his anal passage, but when he was satisfied, he lowered himself, his ass brushing against the sensitive tip of Stan's cock. Stan gasped and his hips bucked upwards, thrusting a couple feet of his dick straight up into the horse's tailhole.

Joe whinnied as his ass was speared open. "Oh... Fuck," the horse panted out. "Bigger than... than that lion asshole." Joe took a deep breath and lowered himself.

"You let him," Stan gasped as the horse took more of the canine's dick, "fuck you?"

"Hell no. But the fucker... liked showing off. Thought he was so big." The horse smirked as he went down a bit more. "I showed him his place pretty damn quickly."

Stan groaned, over half his meatstick now stuck into the horse. He had grabbed the hill right next to him, his claws digging into the stone and dirt and grass, ripping out huge clumps of land, all to try to brace himself as he was slowly, tauntingly, having his cock forced up Joe's ass.

"The fox... Demitri, I think his name is... he's bigger than that prick. But not as big as you." Joe grinned. "And he's pretty damn good at it."

Stan panted heavily, his mind nearly completely lost to lust and pleasure and pain as the tight ring around his cock slipped even deeper. His toes curled, his breath grew ragged, his entire body convulsed. He'd never felt like this before: his first time with that kid in High school, whatever his name was; then that time with the hippie while serving in Honolulu; then that soldier, the one that convinced him to become a Titan when it was opened up... how the fuck he hadn't been kicked out for being gay, Stan never knew.

But now... years after that change, years after serving with the army, and even more years after becoming a police officer... here he was, having sex with another man. Not just any man, Joe. The sexy stallion police officer. The secret stripper. His best friend.

Stan gave a growl, one of sexual lust and desire, before grabbing hold of Joe's hips, and forcing the rest of his cock into the horse's backside. Joe whinnied as his prostate was struck by the thick piece of meat in him. "Jesus Fucking CHRIST!" Joe roared out, the sound echoing through the small valley, as Stan pulled out and thrust in again, quickly setting a rhythm for his powerful, earth-shaking thrusts, Joe's massive pole being thrown up and down, slapping against the rock hard pecs of the German shepherd below. Each growl and grunt and whinny and snarl and groan and moan bounced off the stone walls that surrounded them, a deafening cacophony of sex and desire, lust and pleasure.

But as quickly as Stan started, the pent-up German shepherd was on the edge. With a final thrust, his massive, sensitive wrecking balls that hung between his legs slapped Joe's ass and contracted, as if trying to squeeze toothpaste out of a tube. His cock gave one final shudder, and the dam broke. Gallon upon gallon of boiling hot cum rocketed out of the two-story dick, quickly filling Joe's rear. But soon the overload came back, pouring out of the tightly packed horse hole, covering Stan's cock and balls in his own seed.

Joe wasn't far behind, and in the blink of an eye, the black pole pointed at Stan's face flared even wider, the flat tip growing nearly double in size. Joe took one last staggered breath, and threw his head back as he let loose an ear piercing whinny, one that even broke some heavy duty light bulbs in the spotlights that had been used a few hours before to illuminate the copulating giants.

While Stan's orgasm had been huge, easily filling the horse's ass, Joe's was like a tsunami, and directed straight into Joe's face. The force of the eruption nearly drowned the canine in a tidal wave of seed, painting everything from Stan's chest upwards in white cream, creating a massive puddle around Stan's head.

Stan closed his eyes tight, gripping onto the horse's ass even tighter as the last of his orgasm finally ended, as shot after massive shot of horse seed splattered over his muzzle and head. Only when Joe had sighed, and groggily pulled himself off of Stan's cock, did the canine open one eye, and only then after his paw had scooped the gunk out of the way.

Joe flopped down on the ground beside Stan, a sigh of contentment on his face. "Well... that was fun."

Stan chuckled, licking at the horse cum on his face, before wincing at the taste. Way too salty for Stan.

Joe chuckled, and used a hand to turn Stan's head to the side, and gave him another long kiss.

"You'll be fine," Joe said. "You'll do fine."