FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Masked faces sit around the small auditorium. Half nude bodies pack tightly together with hungry eyes staring towards the main event through identity-concealing masks. A spotlight flashes on the curtains, with the pole at the center of the stage casting a warped shadow upon the violet curtains.

A dark furred leg pokes out from the curtains, causing whistles and cheers to fill the chamber. Soon, the rest of the body slips out, showing off the masked Mia Mittehalle, fingers wrapped delicately around a microphone as she strolls up the stage, casually, despite not wearing a stitch. "Good evening, visitors of Madame Komodo's fine establishment. Take a moment to thank our proprietor for this wonderful night of entertainment." She waves her hand off towards the back of the club, where the large reptile lays back, two felines curled up against her, resting their heads against her bounteous bosom. They bury their faces from the light that shines towards her, but she waves her hand and calls back. "My pleasure. Now, please... I've been waiting all week for this!"

Mia yips back. "Only if the crowd wants it!"

Raised glasses and cheers fill the hall, spilling over to the backstage, where hearts beat fast and pats on the back and tender whispers serve as the best medicine.

Mia squats down in front of one of the front-row customers, smirking. "I'm excited too. Let me have the front-row seat." With that, she hops down, landing on the brief-clad lap of a hare. He thumps his foot in appreciation of his new companion.

Wrapping her arms around his head, she leans in, mouth close to his ear, and then proclaims in her best showman voice. "Ladies, Gentlemen, and everyone in between, I present to you our newest and most prized member, the beautiful, talented Arya!"

The lights focuses back onto the stage. The curtains flutter and then pull back. Standing in the light is the form of a beautiful, strong blond woman. She lifts her head up and opens her eyes, her serpentine slits visible for a moment before she blinks baby blues back into view. Her heeled shoes click across the floor, her red dress glimmers from the light and the swishes of her movement as she strolls up confidently towards the pole. Her fingers brush and down along the fixture, a smirk spreading across her red lips. She walks slowly around it, her hand moving up along the large shaft before she grips it, pressing her back against the fixture and lowering herself down.

Mia snickers and nods to the back. There, another figure emerges, a canine body wearing a face-concealing mask, wearing a lavender skirt clasped with a gold pin at his hip. He approaches the pole, his hands at her sides.

She starts, looking over her shoulder, eyes widening, but she chuckles, standing up slowly as his clawed hands make their way around her body, claws catching on that dress of hers, tiny marks appearing upon it, showing off the white skin underneath.

She pushes her chest up against those strong hands, allowing him to grip at the cups and tearing them apart.

Strips of cloth and flesh fall to the floor, the soft skin replaced with glistening scales in a macabre display. Her legs press together as she sways her hips back and forth in a hypnotic dance.

His hands leave her breasts alone, going to her collar, closing in around her throat. She closes her eyes, exhaling one last breath at the end of her life, closing her eyes, and letting him squeeze.

His masked face looms over hers, nuzzling up against her cheek as she moves one hand down over her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, and where scales meet flesh.

With a remarkable grace, she tears the skin upwards, his hands flying off of her, causing him to stumble back as if in shock.

Arya's true face revealed, she runs her hands over her scaled features, her tongue flickering out, just smelling the scent of excitement in the air and basking in the warmth of the spotlight.

With her hunter's grace, she coils around the pole, the rest of her dress and needless softness discarded, her tail pushing her to new heights over her 'attacker.'

With her viper's grace, she is upon him, biting into his neck. The hound's groans filling the room as her palm presses against his stomach and trails down along his body, grabbing onto his kilt, but not before he grabs on her wrist

The two walk in circles, letting the audience get a good look of their bodies. She tugs at the clothing, letting it fall to the ground, discarded like her dress.

Men whistle and women cheer as both of the performers have finally showed all of their bodies, the statuesque forms locked in a struggle of the body and the mind.

Mauruvius lifts her wrist upwards, rolling his tongue out to lick at the back of her hand, but she grabs at the back of his head, letting her tongue strike his mask before throwing him up against the pole, his whole body on display for everyone in the club. She coils up along the pole, this time, going up it along his body, her torso, her fingers, catching his fur. Her tail crawls up his leg and teases his phallus.

He writhes as if in agony of a prize he cannot have, but keeps himself pinned upon the pole, like the prize he has become. When she reaches the top of the pole, she slithers back down, overlapping herself and wrapping around his shoulder and down to repeat the process, until she lays down at his feet, lifting her head to be just at the height of his length. With a finger, she brushes up along his thigh, tracing his muscles, his scrotum, and then to his shaft. When her tongue flickers out, she tastes, she smells, his desire. It is not imagined. He likes it just as much as she does. The taste to her is as savory as could be, but she still needs to put on a show, so, she coils around his well toned frame, resting her cheek against his wonderful rump as her hands slip around his waist. Her tail brushes up against his neck, roping him up against the pole like the little plaything he has become for her. Her fingers stroke up and down along his hips, getting closer and closer with each teasing motion.