Story – The Ransom Video
The Ransom Video
by FurCreamer
FBI Agent Jenna Towers slid the featureless disc into the Blu-Ray player, watching the large HDTV flicker in response as autoplay activated. She sighed as the logo appeared on screen.
The rather professionally drawn graphic featured a central phallic structure standing proudly from a round wrapping of fur, both drenched with copious amounts of drawn ejaculate.
The logo flashed off, replaced by a sterile looking room. The harsh lighting drove away nearly all hint of shadow. A rack of fur coats stood alone against the far, whitewashed concrete wall.
Jenna’s knowledge of furs, and the reason she’d been assigned to this case, stemmed from own well-stocked, climate controlled closet. The tall, busty blonde agent was independently wealthy from her family’s fur salon, and had joined the FBI to “give something back” to her community. She was very familiar with in the rainbows of fox coloring, and could pick the crystal, blue, arctic, golden isle, blue frost, and lynx-dyed shades all stuffed into the long, gold-plated coat rack.
The number of each representative color, along with the spotted sleeves of another two lynx and the gray-white bars of a chinchilla, matched the list of stolen furs in the insurance file exactly.
The camera zoomed in, tracking from left to right over the hanging furs. “Miss Valenti has 15 hours to deliver the ransom. We will execute one coat every hour until the ransom is delivered.” The voice over was sufficiently digitally altered to be worthless, or so she was told. It could even be a woman’s voice, so that gave the Bureau little to go on.
The figure stepping into view on screen was most certainly not a woman. The rather large erection jutting proudly from his waist appeared first, followed by the rest of him. The video analysts said the man was over six feet, and pegged his erection at a good thirteen inches. Jenna knew that qualified as a “uniquely identifying feature”, one she’d caught herself staring at more often than she’d care to admit.
The man, dubbed the “Furcutioner” by those same analysts, wore a black hood and little else. Though the quality of the HD video was superb, it provided them maddeningly few clues to his identity. Outside of his prodigious phallus, his smooth, chiseled body had no other obvious identifying marks. The man obviously worked out, his body sculpted like an athlete. If the massive sac below the big dick was any indication, he certainly achieved those results without steroids.
Athletic power and endurance were necessary for what would follow. Jenna cringed inwardly, though she tried to keep a neutral face. This was the second time she seen the Furcutioner “in action.” He walked up to the rack, and paced from one end to the other, running his hand along the sleeves of the hanging furs. He paced the length of the rack twice before choosing his victim.
Jenna’s chest tightened. It was the blue frost fox, a very full, fluffy dark gray coat with heavy, round cuffs and a big shawl collar. Most of the coats were like this, as has been the ones from the previous ransom attempt. Jenna’s in depth knowledge of fur fashion knew those large fox coats to be rather rare in this day and age. Her superiors deemed this observation irrelevant, though, as her boss had said, a “fur coat was a fur coat.”
The Furcutioner chose a darker coat the first time, as well, a black fox of even larger size and plush thickness. All the better it seemed, to showcase his other talent, one the FBI analysts had yet to come up with a suitable explanation for.
On screen, the big, chiseled man pulled the blue fox fox coat from the rack, rustling the others. He held it up the camera, where the harsh light of the otherwise anonymous room bathed the rich, dark hairs. The Furcutioner’s hand rubbed down the edge of the shawl collar, fingers momentarily lost in the depth and softness of the coat. Jenna could tell it was a very quality piece, custom work from a master furrier. That beautiful coat doesn’t deserve this, she thought sadly.
Despite his size, the big fox coat covered most of him when held up to the camera. It fell open, and Jenna could see a big tent forming in the silk liner. That was his cock, thrust into the back of the soft fox fur, all thirteen inches of it. He reached around, closing it and folding it over so the camera could see his cock grinding into the back of the coat. Jenna watched, disgusted, but unable to turn away.
On the big display, the head of his uncut cock flapped against the back of the deep, soft fox pelts, grinding into it powerfully and rhythmically. Jenna knew what was she seeing. Despite the fact the fur coat was little more than an inanimate object, this was obviously intended as a brutal rape, and Jenna couldn’t see it any other way.
The Furcutioner’s athletic fucking of the blue frost fox coat’s ass continued for a good five minutes, thrusting up and down in different spots as the steady flow of milky precum from his ragged, uncut foreskin dribbled all over the coat. Jenna’s grip on her chair strengthened in anticipation, watching the man’s thrusts becoming frenzied until finally it happened.
With a practiced motion he held the fur up with one hand while turning to bring the profile of his raging hard-on into view. As he did, his cock lept with a powerful string of white cum that splattered up the back of the coat. Jenna felt her stomach turn, this was far from over.
The big man’s big dick spit line after line of cum. Jenna unconsciously counted them in her head as she watched the sick spectacle play out before her.
One-two-three…
The cum was stark white, and erupted in long, sold strings, leaving neat, wide white lines across the broad back of the fur coat.
Four-five-six…
Lines crossed and stitched together over the well-fucked, dark gray fur, matting the formerly fluffy pelts down with heavy, potent jism.
Seven-eight-nine…
The hood of the foreskin peaked back far enough to allow the streams of spunk an unfettered flow as they rained down again and again, tracing more thick lines into the soft, brutalized fur coat.
Ten-eleven-twelve…
The orgasm continued, pasting more thick globs of sticky white cocksnot across the long drape of the fur as the Furcutioner held it out.
Thirteen-fourteen-Jesus-FIFTHteen!
Jenna couldn’t believe it, but it was an even larger cum this time than the last. The final large spurt looped down the flank of the coat, adding to the maze of white streaks already piled across the back of the blue frost fox fur. The coat’s long hairs sagged under the weight of the voluminous spunk shot.
The Furcutioner jerked the final thick blobs of cum from his dick, which oozed in stringy blobs from his ragged foreskin, and shook them off on top of the other big stains, adding a final insult to the beautiful fur coat.
Jenna felt the bile in her throat rise as the big man held up the coat again, and the camera zoomed into the huge white stains that covered much of the back of the blue frost fox fur. The dark fur set off the thick white spunk perfectly. So disgusting, the blonde agent thought. The mounds of fresh sexual effluent would dry, harden, and ruin the fur completely.
“You have 1 hour before the next fur is executed,” the final voice-over promised, then the video ended with the same logo with which it began.
Jenna, feeling sick as she thought about her own closet stuffed with long, thick, furs, shut it off and vowed to put an end to this before another coat could be destroyed.
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