FSE

Furry search engine

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"So, I was thinking of going to visit my cousin, up in British Columbia..."

Virgil was bored. He and his husband, Gord, hadn't been having a great time recently. One might even say their marriage was in trouble. Their once-lively date nights had settled into cold, quiet, and increasingly-rare evenings of eating out, paying separately, and heading home. In fact, judging by Gord's words, this may be the last time.

And Virgil couldn't bring himself to care. Not even married for a whole year, what a fucking joke. He should've known better than to rush into things, but they were both young and stupid, and now, they were paying the price. They'd both grown quickly, their tastes and personalities had changed immeasurably over that time, and they simply didn't click anymore.

Virgil had to admit, the young horse was cute, with lean muscle and curly horns, but that wasn't what the bodybuilder bull really wanted in a relationship, or had ever wanted, for that matter. He needed someone he could look in the eye, someone who could match strength with him rather than simply submit and accept whatever came.

Same thing for Gord, though the stallion's troubles focused more on his own body image. Short and sleek, he'd always dreamed of being big. Maybe, Virgil mused, that was why he was attracted to him in the first place. Living vicariously through another. And maybe, well... Maybe he wanted a partner with more than five inches. Around them, diners, mainly couples, talked, laughed, and munched on their meals, while he suppressed a snort and glanced down at his phone.

He was just browsing the app store, scrolling through lists of boring and pointless programs, when something caught his eye. 'Life Warp 2.0', it was called, the icon a silhouetted male figure with a question mark over his body. For no reason in particular, he tapped it, and began reading through the description.

"Change friends, family, coworkers, even yourself, with just the press of a button!"

One of those shitty body changing apps? They usually sucked, but at least it was a break from Angry Birds. Virgil's eye was drawn to the ratings - 10 out of 10, with over 10,000 reviews. He shrugged, and clicked 'download'. He could always delete it later. He glanced at the time and swore lightly. They'd been waiting how long for their orders already?

A few seconds later, the app was installed. Clicking it open, he was presented with a page covered in various sliders, each with strange labels. 'Muscle mass' was one, 'Body fat' another. He scrolled down through several pages, noticing sliders marked with everything from 'Intelligence' to 'Flatulence'.

At the top of the page was a photograph. He recognized it instantly - A picture of himself and Gord, taken during their honeymoon! In the picture, they had an arm wrapped around one another's waist, smiling as they stood in front of a beach somewhere in California. Happier times, Virgil mused. But how had the app gotten a hold of it? Virgil groaned. Of course, it was one of those apps. His entire personal life was now in the hands of some corporate marketing department now, for sure. Fucking app. Glaring daggers at the screen, he swore lightly, and jammed his thumb down on the screen..

"Your order, sirs," The waitress's voice broke Virgil from his frustration, and he fumbled to stuff his phone inside his pocket as she placed a cup of black coffee in front of each of them, followed by a plastic carafe. Immediately, Gord's expression changed from disinterest to confusion, and he looked questioningly up at the waitress.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, she grabbed the single dish on her tray and set it down in the center of the table. The two of them leaned over to look at it - This wasn't Gord's caprese sandwich, nor was it Virgil's cubano. Instead, the waitress had delivered a long, trench-like dish, filled to the brim with french fries, a thick layer of brown gravy and white cheese poured on top.

Both of them looked up, questioningly, but the waitress was long gone.

"Uh, excuse me?" Gord poked out of their booth, waving, just in time to see the mare's tail disappearing behind the swinging kitchen door.

"Great," He sighed, slumping back in his seat, "Do you want to share, or should we just go?"

Virgil grabbed his mug and took a long, deep sip. It was a pleasant surprise - It tasted like the real deal, not the usual cheap stuff most places like this used. It was rich and smooth, tingling his throat on the way down. He hummed for a moment, before setting it down and answering.

"Fuck it," He said, grabbing a fry and biting it in half, "I don't know about you, but I happen to like poutine."

"Yeah, well," Gord grabbed two fries at once, "So do I."

The two of them munched on their fries, with Virgil taking the odd sip of coffee. The bull was really enjoying it; He finished off his mug in a couple sips, then refilled it from the carafe. As he did so, he absentmindedly scratched his chin. Strange, he was sure he'd just shaved that morning, yet the scruffy feeling beneath his fingertips felt as though it hadn't seen a razor in a week.

"God, this stuff is gonna ruin my figure," Gord moaned, popping a half-melted bit of cheese in his mouth. His other hand slipped below the table, surreptitiously unstallionling and loosening his belt. For some reason, he felt extremely full, as if he'd just eaten a whole meal instead of a few fries.

He gave his belly a quick rub with the tips of his fingers and glanced down. Was it a little bit squishier than usual, or was it just his imagination? Nah, that was crazy. He reached over and took a sip from his coffee - Piping hot and acidic tasting. Black coffee had never been his thing, always preferring lattes with soy milk and non-GMO sugar, but for some reason, this stuff tasted incredibly good, and he took another, longer sip, enjoying the heat as it went down.

The stallion reached for the carafe, picking it up with a grunt. It was heavy! He knew he shouldn't have quit that weightlifting class - The plastic vessel trembled, and he was forced to hold it in both hands just to avoid dropping it, let alone pour with any sort of accuracy, as coffee spilled over the sides of the mug and across the table. The stallion swore, set the carafe down with shaky hands, and grabbed his napkin to mop it up.

"So, uh," Virgil tried to strike up a little conversation, fiddling with a half-broken fry in his hands, "Seen any good movies lately?"

"Mmh," Gord nodded, tossing the damp napkin into the corner before continuing, "Nah, not a whole lot of good stuff out lately. Saw a nature documentary the other day. Fascinating stuff..."

Virgil found himself humming in agreement despite himself. His usual disinterest in Gord's activities was... Well, not gone, but certainly lessened. In fact, he found himself listening with rapt attention as his husband launched into a tangent on ecology and tree conservation. He grabbed a handful of fries and began munching on them, while Gord rambled on about the differences between Sequoia and Douglas Fir trees.

As he sat, he couldn't help but notice his husband's shirt. The red flannel, still shiny from the store, seemed oddly tight, squeezing his body as if it were half a size too small. But hadn't he just bought it a week ago? They argued over it, or so he seemed to recall. Why? He wasn't quite sure.

Virgil blinked, and the next second, everything seemed absolutely normal. The shirt was a little bit tight, especially around the stallion's bowling ball sized biceps, but that was just what happened when you rarely bought new clothes. Indeed, the torn and stained shirt barely contained his husband's huge, meaty pecs, while below, his belly hung over his waist, the brown fur of his treasure trail poking in between the strained buttons.

As he spoke, Gord's thick fingers undid the first few buttons at his neck, letting his pecs air out. On the surface, they seemed flabby, but as Gord reached to grab his coffee cup, they flexed, revealing the muscle hidden underneath. The brown fur of his body was contrasted by a shock of black hair growing within his chest cleavage.

"Y'know," The stallion said, his voice dropping an octave and taking on a slight twang, "I'm not usually one for coffee, but this is some good stuff. Not as good as pine needle tea, of course, but it's certainly a nice change of pace."

Virgil nodded in assent, bringing his own cup to his lips. The whiskers of his mustache dipped into the liquid as he sipped, which he wiped off with a chuckle. He really needed to remember to shave sometime. In fact, rubbing the thick, wiry hair of his chin, he tried to remember the last time he had. He couldn't quite seem to recall.

He was broken from his musings by a sharp pain in his bladder. He hissed, setting the cup down and glancing at the carafe. According to the fill meter on the side, together, they'd managed to drink more than half. That had to be... A bit more than half a litre.

"Bathroom," He said simply, scooting out of the booth. It took him a second to reach the edge, his belly pressing slightly against the table and making it harder to move, but thanks to his muscular arms pulling him through, it wasn't that big a delay. Rising up, he stretched his back out with a grunt, and headed toward the door marked 'Men'.

None of the other diners paid him any notice as he made his way down, staggering slightly with the discomfort in his gut. Every passing second seemed to add to the pressure, not just in his bladder, but in his stomach. It was clearly larger than before, outlined against the fabric of his white tee shirt.

"Probably something in the poutine," He mumbled, patting his bloated belly. It trembled slightly under his hand, but otherwise, remained firm and taut.

Finally, after what seemed like far too long, he reached the men's room. As he reached out, the door swung open, and a well-dressed patron quickly stepped past him. Squeezing past before the door could shut, he made his way over to the single urinal against the far wall. The bathroom was surprisingly small for such a nice restaurant. With a single urinal, two stalls, and one sink, it looked like it was fit for a place half the size, though if nothing else, it was fairly clean.

Unzipping his jeans, his cock flopped right out. He blinked in surprise - He didn't remember going commando today, but whatever. Grabbing his dick, he took aim, and fired.

As he did so, he rolled his shoulders, feeling a strange tightness around them. The sleeves of his shirt seemed to have shrunk a little, only going partway up his bulging biceps. Around his neck, for that matter, the collar was beginning to dig into his throat. As the stream trickled out, he reached up and gave the collar a good yank, hearing seams pop as it stretched out.

"Grh," He grunted, "Stupid tiny clothes."

As he stuffed his cock back into his pants, something didn't feel right in his hand. Glancing down, he didn't notice anything amiss; A bit more than a foot of cock, as long and thick as a summer sausage, just as usual. He flopped it back in and zipped up the fly, then headed for the sink.

Squirting some foamy soap onto his hands, he turned on the sink and began to scrub. The water came pouring out freezing cold, but no matter how far he turned the hot knob, it refused to warm up. He grimaced, staring at his reflection in the mirror to take his mind away from his freezing hands.

The bull was absolutely right about his jawline, completely hidden beneath an overgrown beard. It wasn't exactly unkempt, but it was far from the slick, well-trimmed beards in all the style magazines. Though, why did he care about that? He looked down at himself; 300 pounds of muscle and fat, squeezed into a pair of torn old blue jeans and a tee shirt.

Tee shirt? He snorted; Where had he gotten that one from? The heavily stained, off-white wifebeater wasn't pretty, but it showed off his heavyset, muscular shoulders, with a collar low enough to show a bit of cleavage. Nothing fancy, but his husband sure liked it. He washed the last of the soap off of his hands, then wiped his hands off on his pants.

Just as he turned around, the door swung open, and Gord stepped in. Virgil gazed dumbly at him for a moment, as if not recognizing the massive equine, before laughing.

"Gotta go too?" He asked, leaning against the sink.

"You could say that," Gord replied, closing the distance between them in a couple long strides. He rested a huge hand on the bull's equally big arm, tracing slowly down his bicep, before leaning in and whispering, "Let's just fuck, okay? It'll be a while before we can do this again."

Virgil smirked and gave his horny husband a peck on the lips.

"After you," He said, preemptively unzipping his pants. His cock flopped out, and the stallion licked his lips hungrily.

"Of course," He purred, wiggling his hips as he stepped inside the stall. Virgil followed, sliding the lock shut behind him.

The stall wasn't an ideal location, but at least it was clean. The two huge beastmen were crammed in like sardines, but the proximity only made things hotter. Gord sat astride the toilet, his long, muscular legs squeezed between the divider walls, giving his equally-huge husband little room to maneuver, but a perfect view of his package.

The bullman's cock was impressive, and his husband was no different. Even in jeans, the stallion's endowment was visible, outlined by the fabric of his leg. Virgil gulped as it twitched slightly, a little stain spreading across the fabric from the tip. It was a little longer than Virgil's, at about 15 inches compared to his 13, with similar girth and an equine shape. The tip flared visibly beneath the fabric, and Gord reached down to unzip his fly.

Slowly, his cock began to slide out, pulled by gravity inch-by-inch. Thick, mottled pink and black flesh oozed out, until the whole thing hung between his legs, the flared tip dangling just above the floor. A drop of pre slid out of the tip, hitting the floor with a quiet plop. Gord's thick hand wrapped around the base, giving it a squeeze, and it immediately began to grow.

Like an inflating tube, it began hardening from the base to the tip. Virgil took half a step back to give it enough room; The last thing he wanted was to lose an eye to that thing. Finally standing at full mast, the stallion gave his cock a stroke, sending a thick ooze of pre down the underside of his shaft.

Wasting no time, Virgil crouched until he was eye level with his husband's log, wrapped his hands around it, and planted his lips upon the tip. Precum splattered across his beard as it burbled out of the hole, a musky taste lingering in his mouth. Better than any meal, in his opinion.

"Ah, that's the good stuff," He said, licking his lips, before diving in for another, longer kiss. His thumbs pressed down on his husband's urethra and worked up, squeezing out jizz like gogurt.

Gord groaned, shifting on the seat. His hands tensed and relaxed in tandem with his husband's attentions, his feet scuffing the floor as he squirmed. Pleasure coursed through his veins, his heart pounding, his breath catching in his throat. His husband truly was a master of his craft, having perfected hitting the stallion's buttons over many hours and weeks of lovemaking over the course of their marriage.

"G-God, baby, I'm so close already-" He muttered, grabbing the toiletpaper holder for stability as he struggled to remain seated.

Virgil looked up at him with a smile. His long, bovine tongue slid out of his mouth, wrapping around the horse's meaty shaft, mixing saliva and semen in a sticky mess. Gord, unable to take it, let out a long, deep whinny, his feet kicking against the linoleum floor. If anyone outside heard them, neither of them could bring themselves to care.

Slurping it all down, Virgil was careful not to let his clothing get splashed too badly. He still had to look presentable, even if his presentation was as a gruff lumberjack in jeans and an undershirt. Under his fingertips, he could feel his husband's building orgasm. It wouldn't be long now, if experience was to be believed. Giving it a final lick, he moved his face away and began to stand up.

"A-already?" Gord stammered, his teeth chattering with the stimulation. Virgil nodded, wrapping his hands around the base of his shaft, and giving the tip a final kiss.

Precum gushed out now, splattering and making a mess on the floor between them. Even as Virgil's hands moved up the shaft, below him, his urethra was bulging as the full orgasm followed directly behind. As he neared the stallion's flare, he leaned down and gave the inflated tube a bulge, sending a shiver down his husband's spine.

Gord let out an earsplitting neigh, doubtless alerting the entire restaurant of their deeds, as a rope of cum shot out. Virgil wasn't fast enough to dodge it, as it splashed across the bull's face from the tip of his beard to the points of his horns. The next blast, he was able to duck out of the way in time, letting it splatter across the ceiling, along with the next one.

Finally, the flow died down, turning into a mere trickle of pre as the stallion's boner faded. Gord rested a hand on his crotch, panting, as he leaned back against the toilet tank. Stepping around the mess on the floor, Virgil slipped out of the stall, not bothering to close the door behind him. If anybody come to investigate, they'd know what was up, if or not they saw the sexbeast currently gasping for breath among a puddle of his own cum.

Virgil made his way back over to the sink, not bothering to glance at his reflection as he pounded the paper towel dispenser. Cranking the hot water knob, he held the wadded towels under the flow for a moment, before slapping them on his cum-drenched face, and groaned.

No hot water. He forgot.

Regardless, he couldn't go around looking like glazed beef. He began scrubbing vigorously, every once in a while tossing clumps of stuck-together paper towel in the overflowing trash can. A few minutes later, he looked at himself in the mirror; Spotless, or at least as spotless as he could get without shaving the fur from his face.

As he turned around, he heard the toilet flush, and Gord stepped out of the stall. The stallion looked a little sweaty and flustered, but none the worse for wear. Judging by the wonky smile on his face, there was no need to ask whether he'd enjoyed it. He walked shakily over to Virgil and leaned in, puckering his lips. Before he could get close enough for a kiss, Virgil placed a hand on his husband's scruffy cheek.

A little glob of pearly white cum clung to his whiskers. Virgil wiped it away with his finger, then popped it in his mouth. Gord stifled a chuckle, before leaning in and planting his lips upon his husband's. Their tongues pressed together in their mouths, sharing the salty flavor, before breaking apart.

"Ready to head out?" Virgil asked, straightening his shirt straps.

"Just a sec," Gord said, before heading over to the sink himself. He splashed a little water on his face to wash away the stain, then wiped it off with the hem of his shirt. Running his fingers through his beard to straighten it out, he put on his best smile and nodded to his husband. Virgil suppressed a chuckle. Gord always was a prissy one.

Before he could touch the door handle, it swung open, and a large, greasy-looking man in a trucker cap stepped in. Glancing at one another, Gord and Virgil felt a twinge of panic, and quickly stepped out into the main dining area.

For a second, Virgil was struck with a strange feeling of cognitive dissonance. Why? He wasn't sure. The greasy spoon diner was exactly the same as it was a minute ago. Same crowded, noisy atmosphere, same cheap décor, same blue collar patrons. What was he expecting, the Hilton? Virgil shook off the feeling with a laugh; He'd never be seen dead anywhere that fancy.

Gord continued walking without noticing his husband's pause. He headed straight for their booth and sat half-crouching on the edge of the bench seat. Seeing his husband's tight ass squeezed like sausage in undersized jeans, cheeks shifting and bouncing with every step, Virgil snorted, sending what was left of the feeling into the ether, and headed after him.

In the second it took for Virgil to wake from his strange feeling and follow, Gord swallowed the last few of their shared fries, washing it down with the rest of his coffee. No refills now; The carafe was completely empty. He glanced at the clock above the counter, a giant circular sawmill blade fitted with hands and a mechanism. It was a good reminder of their destination - After a nice break down south, they were up north again, heading for a lumber camp near the Yukon border. It would be good, hard work, perfect for a couple of hard and happy workers such as themselves.

They had plenty of time, but still, he preferred to get there sooner rather than later. Cramming a hand into his back pocket, he tried to pull out his wallet. Sadly, his ass had other ideas, filling his jeans so tightly that it was difficult to get anything out standing, let alone sitting. He grunted and leaned over, placing a hand on the table for balance.

"Stupid... Fat ass..." He grunted.

"I dunno, I like it a lot," Virgil replied walking up and nonchalantly pulling out his own wallet, "Don't knock it till you've had it pressed on your face for three hours, eh?"

"Pervert," Gord snorted, sitting up and sliding out of the booth.

His husband gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, their bristly whiskers rubbing together, before starting off toward the counter.

"It's fine, I'll get it," Gord said, finally managing to pull his wallet out of his pocket.

"Nah, I've got this," Virgil said, waggling his own wallet in front of him.

The stallion sighed, but acquiesced, contenting himself with dropping a few leftover quarters into the tip jar. It wasn't like he'd need them, since camp pay included room and board. A moment later, they said farewell to the little diner and headed out.

Outside, the parking lot was hemmed in by dense forest, casting a slightly greenish tint over the trucks parked at the nearby gas station. Their beat up pickup wasn't exactly a smooth ride, but it was reliable and able to cross unpaved, pothole-filled roads with relative ease. The suspension squeaked as they hopped in, buckling up and starting the engine.

Gord reached over and turned on the radio, as a tinny, static-filled rock song began playing from some distant station. Virgil shifted in his seat, which clearly wasn't made with his large ass in mind. Upon finding the most comfortable, or at least, least uncomfortable position, there was a quiet, modulated tune. For a second, he thought it came from the radio, until something in his pocket buzzed. His phone!

Pulling it out, he looked questioningly at the screen.

REALITY CHANGE COMPLETE

ACCEPT UNDO ($0.99 USD)

Reality change? That would explain a few things. He groaned as the now familiar feeling of cognitive dissonance came over him again, reminding him that things weren't as they should be. Half-formed ideas floated in the back of his mind, vague, unpleasant memories lurking just under the surface. He squeezed his eyes shut, and turned to look at Gord, the stallion he'd pledged his life and love to. Leaning contently back in his seat, the gruff stallion had a tranquil expression, as his head nodded up and down to the tune of the music.

"Screw that," Virgil scoffed, tapping 'accept' before stuffing the phone back into his pocket, "I'm no high roller, not with these conversion rates."

Reality shimmered for a moment, and then was still, as Virgil switched the truck into gear and pressed on the gas.