FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

--1

The owner found Desmond shirtless and still damp. Given that he lived on the premises and used his own on-site shower, the boss never questioned him when he was caught in a state of undress. Being found knuckle-deep in one of the animatronics or vice-versa would have been more difficult to explain.

"Set it right here," the owner said, directing a pair of stallions in smart brown uniforms to set a shipping crate before Desmond's workbench. He just as quickly dismissed them then turned his stony face on Desmond. "Get this open and get your ass to work installing these parts. All of the robots need to be outfitted with 'em."

Desmond self-consciously slipped on a clean, tacky uniform shirt and buttoned it up. "What's inside?" he asked in careful tones, hoping not to sound sassy. The owner was not terribly old, 35 according to rumor, but his was a terrible attitude and a worse ego. Desmond dared not correct him on the terminology of animatronic over robot. And besides that, knowing what he did, Desmond likened the machines more to androids: creatures of fiction. mechanical life forms.

As Desmond pried the crate open with a crowbar, the owner said with crossed arms and an upturned, craggy snout, "GPS locators."

Humble roboticist Desmond briefly froze then resumed prying open the crate. "Why would we need to put locators on the animatronics, sir? They're programmed not to leave the premises, and I doubt anybody could steal them."

"Those aren't the issues. See, I've caught glimpses of them on the security cameras, wandering around, but the damn cameras usually fail for some reason. If the robots move around during off-hours, I wanna know why." He nodded smartly at the crate. "These are precise to within a few feet. My son said he can track their movement remotely, so we'll get right to the bottom of this."

The foxcoon hurriedly dug through the packing peanuts, taking care not to knock too many onto the floor. He pulled out the plain brown packages inside, opened one, and took out the unfamiliar transmitter it contained. "Ah, one of these, hm."

"You're familiar?" the owner asked, nodding hopefully. His crocodilian face softened but his arms stayed put.

"Of course I'm familiar," Desmond lied, cribbing a sleazy smile from Freddy himself. "But I'm afraid these won't work on the animatronics as-is. I can jury-rig them if you want. It's probably gonna void the warranty, though."

The crocodile's face screwed up into an angry scowl. Desmond had noted, however, that the owner was remarkable in how well he steered his fury: Desmond would face no repercussions and neither would the animatronics. If he blamed anyone, it would be his know-it-all son, an unpleasant 17-year-old whom Desmond had had the misfortune to meet and whose presence at the club at all had been a painfully awkward occasion.

"Fuck it," the crocodile said. He snapped his teeth, an angry tic of his. "Put it all away and I'll have it shipped back... Maybe the truck hasn't left the block yet."

Desmond smiled apologetically. "You don't want me to try and fudge it?"

"No," he sighed, waving off the idea. Already he turned to leave Desmond's workshop. "If they don't leave the place, then I guess that's good enough for me."

The fox took another look at the locator. It was unfamiliar to him, but the operation was foolproof and simple. Feeling a sense of satisfaction and a pang of affectionate loyalty, Desmond put the packages back and hammered the crate shut.

Desmond sat on his cot and ate his breakfast. Though the hour was late, his day was just beginning. Freddy Pimpbear's Pussy was now open for the night.

--2

"Oh, miss Foxy, how are you such a babe?"

"Yarr-har!" Foxy cackled. "The lad thinks I be a babe! If'n ye only knew better!"

The clique of needful men around Foxy laughed raucously. Her so-called lad, lain back upon her lap, laughed too - but nervously.

Foxy slid her good paw down the lad's chest. He was young and slim, a wolf of some kind. In theory, Foxy was impartial; in reality, she had her preference when it came to clients and this wolf pressed all of her buttons. For the evening, she had adopted him as a boytoy of sorts. She groped his crotch when the time was right and deflected his grabby paws and licking tongue from her full bosom only half-heartedly.

"And why ye be speakin' in such a guddamn wordy way fer, lad? If it's a poet's club ye be lookin' fer, ye came to the wrong place!" she laughed. Her clique laughed too. "Yar, Foxy be thirsty, lads," she said in a tone more sultry but no less scurvy. "Nip o' the grog earns ye a free squeeze on th' tit o' yer choosin'," she grinned around to her clique.

A bottle was presented. Foxy took it in her single paw and chugged from it as two groping paws descended on her tits. They squeezed and kneaded her convincing yet cold flesh and thumbed her pierced nipples. She waited three seconds before she swatted at the paws with the back of her hook. "Arr! Th' offer be a nip o' drink and a' one squeezin'! Yer can't be goin' in two-fisted now!" She passed back the liquor (rum, as Foxy demanded of her coterie) and played up the buzz, but she felt no such thing. It was simply impossible for any of the Pimpbear animatronics to be inebriated, but Foxy's admirers were none the wiser.

Foxy leaned now over the wolf. He pulled up eagerly and met her halfway for a smooch. Foxy smiled with brief tenderness, but then what could be described as a wince flashed across her face. A faulty connection came loose. It was something she hadn't cared to pester Desmond with, and now she regretted it.

"Hey, what's the matter?" the wolf asked. He had not missed the expression.

"Yer, it only be an ache in me back, sweet laddie," she gently fibbed, brushing his chest with her paw.

The other boys in her clique leaned in with thoughtful queries. "You okay, Foxy?" "Need us to call someone for you?" "Not getting scurvy, are you?"

"Ah, I be fine, lads," Foxy laughed, "but ye all be so darlin' to this ol' fleabag!" She rubbed up under her boytoy's chin then beckoned the others around. "A smooch fer all me boys, then Foxy's gotta sleep off the grog fer a bit," she laughed.

Like eager children but with a respectfulness beyond playful elbowing and a couple of attempts to get second helpings, Foxy's fans closed in for smooches and quick hugs, all as her lad sat close by with a small smile on his face. As the other men left, Foxy turned her eyes on the wolf and smiled thoughtfully. "Ah, and yer still here, me laddie," she chuckled as she tickled up beneath his chin. "Ye be expectin' somethin', ol' Foxy can see it 'n yer eyes."

"Oh, perhaps," he said with nearly a giggle. The mere proximity to Foxy made him blush. It was terribly obvious what a crush he had on her.

Foxy stood and towered above the wolf. She licked her lips then twisted around, putting her great, thick ass close to his snout. It was bared often by her high-swishing tail. "I hope ye be comin' back sometime," Foxy said over her shoulder as the wolf hugged her rear and nuzzled a cheek broadside. He did so with a gentle moan and the utmost reverence.

"I definitely will." He let go of her and sat back. Foxy left for the private rooms. The wolf sighed with a big, amorous smile and a flutter in his chest.

--3

Each of the animatronics had his or her own room in which to entertain guests and ostensibly to stay in during off-hours. It was testament to Foxy's status as the crowd favorite that her room was the most lavish with all the trappings of a pirate's life. The lair was replete with fake treasures. A chest in one corner of the room overflowed with gold coins and colorful gems, all plastic. Another chest, generally closed unless needed, held more erotic items for eclectic clients. Crossed sabers hung above the bed. Dominating one wall was a commissioned portrait of Foxy on the bridge of her schooner, dressed down in leggings and a pilfered naval coat with a tricorner hat and a saber sheathed at her waist. Foxy rather liked the portrait. That the gift shop sold framed reproductions of it underlined her status.

Foxy sat upon her bed and performed a self-diagnostic, during which she seemed to go dormant. In what felt like an hour to her but in reality took just a few seconds, Foxy checked every pathway and connection in her brain and body. And what she found was a lack of control over her ejaculation: she could not squirt. She thought with an impish chuckle how amusing it would have been had she done so involuntarily when the wire broke off.

The pirate vixen flipped up her phony eyepatch out of preference and pressed the service button hidden behind the portrait. "Best come fix me, prettyboy," she murmured to herself in tones free of pirate mannerisms. She sat at the head of her bed with her butt on the pillows, and she watched the door patiently. Desmond was always very punctual for her.

--4

Desmond hated walking through the club with a toolbox. Ideally, he was supposed to be invisible to the patrons. To appear in uniform with tools meant something was amiss and that the animatronics could malfunction at any given moment. Despite all their failsafes and sympathetic personalities, people could be easily convinced that the machines were dangerous.

The lovely white vixen Mangle was putting on quite a show on one of the poles. Freddy loitered around tapping his cane in time with the music and entertaining enamored female patrons with canned one-liners and sleazeball compliments. The other animatronics were entertaining guests in their own rooms, but Mangle and Freddy proved distracting enough for Desmond to slip by easily.

Desmond reached Foxy's door which was of course locked. He opened it with his master key and stepped inside. When he saw Foxy reclining on her bed with plump thighs crossed and a smile most sultry, he frowned sharply. "Did you booty call me again?"

"Of course not, you silly boy," Foxy teased. "Something is very much wrong with me. Whether or not I'll allow you to fix that without being an unbearable tease," she grinned and stuck her tongue out briefly, "remains to be seen."

Desmond walked closer and set his toolbox on the bed. "Did you run a self-diagnostic?" he asked, bracing his paws on his hips authoritatively

Wearing her most coy of smiles as she was wont to, Foxy moved to her knees and hooked her paw around his thigh. He huffed and tried to swat her off. There was no way he could overpower her, but Foxy let him escape. "Of course I did, just how foolish do you think I am?" she smirked.

"I'm thinking I was foolish," Desmond ruefully sighed. "And what did the diagnostic say?"

"That something is wrong," Foxy smiled. When Desmond glared at her, she sighed and expounded, "My ejaculation pump is offline. It's connected to its reservoir and my power source I presume, but control is severed." She rolled her yellow, incandescent eyes then fixed them on his dour face. "Now are you happy?"

"So you can't cum, what a shame," Desmond said, cracking a sudden smile. He dug into his toolbox and found the items he was after: a very narrow cutter like a carpenter's knife and a pristine screwdriver. As he met her eyes, he asked, "Let me guess, you failed to squirt for some just-eighteen kid getting his cherry popped. Yarr lad, by me hollow pegleg fulla grog, I be sorry! Ol' Foxy's pussy be drier'n the east'rn breeze!"

"I don't sound like that, ye scurvy fookin' dog," Foxy hissed. She rolled over onto her belly then pulled up to her all-fours. Desmond was savvy enough to know what he was being goaded into. "I felt it come loose in the upper-right shoulder blade area," she said coolly. Then wiggling her ass side to side, she added slyly, "Here's a pillow you can rest on while you work. Can't you see how considerate I am?"

Desmond knelt on the bed behind the vixen and pushed his loins up against her hind-end. He huffed. "Yes, very considerate. Hold still, now, so I can cut a straight line."

Desmond parted Foxy's fur and bared her flesh. He carefully pushed in with the edge of the knife, but Foxy registered no pain and no blood appeared. The blade notched then into a groove placed specifically to facilitate clean cuts. Using these grooves, he cut three five-inch sides of a square and peeled it back. Foxy's durable metal skeleton was revealed.

"I feel so indecent," Foxy chuckled, pushing back her thick ass.

A little gasp escaped Desmond. "Cut it out," he snapped like an aggravated older brother.

"Do you really want me to?" Foxy cooed. "You seem to be poking me," she grinned.

It was true. Desmond pushed himself upright and braced his palms on Foxy's hips. "Why do you have to be such a pain in my ass when you need fixing?" he tiredly asked. As though it were a difficult and undesirable part of his duties, he unbuttoned his fly, unclasped his belt and pushed down his briefs. His uncircumcised erection sprung free and catapulted a wad of pre into the teasing fluff of Foxy's tail.

"Because it's fun," Foxy laughed. "You're the only person I can fuck who I don't have to use the accent with." She flipped down her eyepatch and looked back at Desmond rather coyly. "And you're cute."

Desmond glared but ground into the vixen's ass crack just the same. The animatronic flexed her fantastic ass cheeks around his meat. "God," he puffed. "All right... Let's get you fixed, okay?"

"Fine by me," Foxy chirped. She coiled her long tail about his middle and therefore out of the way of his paws. "I won't bother you too much while you're at it... Oh-ho, but when you're done," she snickered.

The foxcoon rolled his eyes but fell over Foxy again. She supported him with ease. He picked up his screwdriver and loosened several screws which he set into a crease in the sheets. Removing these let him pull loose one of the plates of her skeletal structure, and beneath were any number of multicolored leads. The sheer amount of wiring was dizzying. Desmond made good use of his degree.

"I see the problem," Desmond said. He reached over into his toolbox and felt around for the tool he needed. In this lull, Foxy gyrated her fat ass back. Desmond shivered with pleasure. "Foxy!" he puffed.

She let out a playful giggle quite unlike a pirate. "Wha-a-at? Am I being a pain in the ass again?"

"More than usual," Desmond said.

Foxy bucked back against him. "Well, hurry up back there so I can reward you."

Finally Desmond felt the handles of the tool he needed. As he put it to use cutting the end off a frayed wire and stripping its casing, he dryly said, "You don't reward anybody unless it suits you."

"Of course, I'm a pirate, laddie," she said, dipping gleefully into her scurvy accent. "Ye know what I mean, boy?"

"I've got a pretty good idea," Desmond remarked. "Hold still, now, or I'll wire you up so you squirt when you ask for grog," he grinned.

The vixen felt complete just as soon as the wire slid home. She sighed in relief which Desmond couldn't have comprehended. It was such a good feeling that she did not reply to his barb. Instead she cooed, "Ah, that's so much better. Thank you."

Desmond reached into his toolbox again. He found his soldering iron and the solder quickly enough. "This being my job aside," he smiled, "it's no problem. I like taking care of my girls."

"We're Freddy's girls, aren't we?" Foxy sardonically asked. "He certainly says it often enough."

The scent of hot solder wafted up from Foxy's back. She waited patiently and quietly for Desmond. "There," he said at last. "That one shouldn't come loose again. Let me know if it gives you trouble."

With the skilled labor completed, Foxy was free to bust Desmond's chops again. She gyrated back against him again, but only slowly as he screwed the plate back in. "Hmm, I think as the on-site, live-in repairman, it's your duty to be sure my systems all function."

Desmond pushed down the flap of synthetic skin. It would mend itself in time. A mild adhesive secreted by the breached edges quickly bonded it to itself and held the flap seamlessly in place. "You know what's cute?" he said.

"Everything about me, of course," Foxy smiled with a swish of her tail.

The foxcoon smacked her hip firmly. Foxy gasped and grinned. "The fact that you won't outright say you want me to screw you. For a pirate, you're awfully coy."

"Now who says I'd like for you to screw me?" Foxy retorted, glancing back at her savior with a jaunty smile. "Maybe I only want to tease you."

Desmond ground intently into Foxy's ass crack. The plushness of her strong cheeks pleasured his member like nothing else but the coldness of her mechanical body added a strange sensation to the grind. He never quite got used to the animatronics being so cold. "As if you don't tease me enough," Desmond wearily said. Foxy laughed. "Maybe I want to plunder the booty for once."

"Ugh, I fucking hate hearing that," Foxy groaned. Then it was Desmond's turn to laugh. "I'll let you fuck me if you promise to never say that again."

"I'll think about it," Desmond mused, holding his shaft then and rubbing it against the vixen's snatch.

"What do you think you're doing there, hm?" Foxy asked. She flicked her tail's tip against Desmond's snout. "I thought you wanted to--, I thought you were going to fuck my ass?"

The foxcoon chuckled. "I was thinking about what you said," he cryptically stated then pushed his uncut meat deep inside of the vixen's cool box. The vaginal flesh within was difficult to discern from the real thing, betrayed only by the temperature. As the moist flesh grappled with his cock, however, Desmond crooned and cared little that he was fucking a cold machine.

Foxy allowed a moan and wriggled her fat ass back. "And what exactly did I say?"

"You mentioned that I have to make sure everything works," he said slyly. "And sure, I know you can consciously control that, but I figure a field test is more interesting."

"That's why they pay you the minimum wage bucks," Foxy sneered. "Repairman Desmond, going above and beyond in the call of duty."

"Shut it," Desmond huffed. He started to grind, having Foxy at a leisurely pace. The vixen pushed back and teased with her broad hindquarters but the true treat was the skilled manner in which her vaginal muscles, for lack of a better term, worked on him. Foxy had dominion over her walls which no flesh and blood creature could boast. It was programmed into her to please, and she did so with great pleasure of her own.

The vixen's long, bushy tail coiled around Desmond's middle. The limb itself was strong like every other part of her, but the manner in which she draped it around him was a loving one. She looked back at him with her one bare eye and flashed him a coquettish look. "Enjoying yourself?" she crooned.

"Yes I am," Desmond sighed. He licked his lips and enjoyed, just briefly, the sight of his penis disappearing into the vixen and reappearing with a slightly thicker sheen of vaginal juices, which also synthetic yet as musky and pleasant as the real thing. He unhanded her hips and draped himself over her on all-fours. Anticipating what Desmond wanted, Foxy turned her head around as far as she could and met his lips in a wet and slobbery kiss.

Foxy loved a messy kiss. Anyone she could lock lips with and slather with her big tongue was a person she wanted to lie with. Desmond was one such fellow. He returned her great, wet laps with much relish and he tried his hardest to tangle his tongue into knots with hers. All this happened as he steadily mashed his hips into her big ass, squishing the cheeks as he savored the pussy. As the kiss broke off, a runner of drool bridged their sticky jowls. "Uhn, gawd," Desmond bleated. "You kiss like nobody else."

The vixen licked her lips to clear them of mixed saliva. She winked at Desmond before she realized the eyepatch was still down. "Foxy be right proper glad ye approve, laddie," she grinned. "Smoochin' 'elps the lonely nights along, yar!"

"Ah, god," Desmond laughed. He pushed himself up and clamped his palms down on her ass cheeks. "That accent is just abominable, does that really get guys going?"

Foxy shrugged, and as usual, pushed her ass back. "Many men like the pirate theme. They like a strong woman, I think. I wouldn't judge them for it."

"I wasn't," Desmond said lowly, as though he were ashamed. Picking up the speed, he fucked Foxy more roughly. The constant sucks and smacks of her damp cunt filled the air. "I think we're all a little mad here," he murmured.

A mellow smile crossed the pirate's face. "Down the rabbit hole you've gone, huh?"

Instead of an answer, a pleasurable grunt choked Desmond up. "Ooh, shit," he breathed. Now his motions had become a little jerky and his ears splayed down. "I'm really close now," he said to Foxy, as if to warn her.

"Already? Oh, that's all right, I can fake it," Foxy darkly chuckled. She leered back at Desmond and enjoyed his embarrassed face. "Mmm, well, come on then," she growled, pushing back then harder than ever. "Dump those nuts for me, bust those balls! I'm very close, myself..."

"It's the thought that counts, I guess," Desmond sneered, but his voice sounded labored and lacked the edge he'd hoped for. He felt his balls drawing up and his breathing was heavy and momentarily awkward. "Uhn, god--, shit!" he blurted. Suddenly his face was locked into a grimace and his meat throbbed within the confines of Foxy's snatch.

The cool, loving textures inside had been coaxing him to release, but all at once those walls clamped down snugly. Foxy gasped and arched her back as she abruptly came. She could control the release and the volume of her squirt, but the pleasure had a tendency to overwhelm the pathways in the animatronics' brains. Foxy slopped her tongue out and brayed with pleasure as she erupted around Desmond's meat, coating his loins with her pheromone-scented honey. "Oh, oh fuck me, you definitely fixed it," Foxy said in a lame laugh.

"Fu-u-uck," Desmond groaned. He didn't want to cum inside of the vixen. It had nothing to do with sanitary reasons; it was just preference. He yanked out his soaked meat and ground it broadside into her ass crack again. "God, I love this ass," he grunted, grinding sharply into the cleft with everything he had. Foxy's soft fur tickled him. The pliable flesh of the cheeks crushed pleasantly against his penis from both sides. Suddenly Desmond came. He dug his fingers into her buttocks and shot his mess up along her back and into the fluff of her tail. His tongue hung past his lips and his eyes were glazed in dumb pleasure. As he leaned against Foxy's full ass and painted her with his mess, he moaned a steady drone.

"Hm! You really dirtied me up, didn't you?" Foxy chuckled. "Well... I suppose I'll forgive you, since you fixed me."

Desmond puffed. He sounded very tired. "I owed you anyway. You soaked my pants. Now I've gotta sneak by the whole club looking like I pissed myself."

Foxy eased down onto bed. Desmond did not fall against her. Instead he got up and wearily pulled his pants back up. "Just tell me one little thing, and I'll let you scurry off," said the pirate.

"What's up?" Desmond asked.

The vixen reached back and smacked her fat hind end. It jiggled wonderfully. "That skinny bitch Mangle doesn't compare, right?" Foxy asked, grinning big and wide.

Desmond watched Foxy's butt with a vacant smile. "Well," he mumbled, "you both have merits."

"Oh, sure," Foxy teased, "play both sides for maximum pussy." She rolled off the bed and stood up tall. It was a little jarring to Desmond to be so much smaller than her after their most recent arrangement. "I suppose she's not all bad. But," she flipped her eyepatch up and delivered a proper wink, "you and I both know who the better vixen is, no need to be coy." She kissed Desmond's lips with a firm smooch then thrust his toolbox into his paws. "Go on, now."

"Yeah, yeah," the foxcoon sneered. "Ungrateful fleabag." He walked for the door and grabbed the knob.

"Desmond?" Foxy gently asked.

Desmond turned his head to look at her.

Foxy smiled. "Be good. I'd hate to lose you."

Desmond smiled back. And then he left.