FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sounds of the city at night pulsed and throbbed all around him. Cars shot by on the road, the soft shushing of tires on asphalt still wet from rain underpinning the occasional honk and the sound of music from the various clubs fighting each other for dominance in the night air. The smell of a dozen cuisines was overlaid on the smell of rain on concrete, clean and warm. Neon lights and streetlights blazed a dozen colors as bright as daylight, illuminating the furs and humans going about their various business. The crowds ebbed and flowed as people of all stripes moved from club to pub to bar to restaurant,

Walking along with the crowd was a blue cat, nose in the air as he followed the smells, looking for some place to have dinner. He was dressed in skinny jeans and a t-shirt, showing off his muscular form, and his tail lashed with every step as he "hunted" his dinner, in this case probably a tasty hamburger, if his mood was anything to judge by. The wet asphalt felt nice on his footpads, and he hummed softly in time with one of the songs floating on the night air. It was a bright, lively Saturday night, the tips he'd picked up from waiting tables had given him a little spare cash to splurge tonight, and he was looking forward to dancing and having a few drinks.

"Hello, little cat."

He blinked, pulled from the smell he was following, to look up at the tall wolfess who'd spoken to him. "Uh, hi?"

"Out looking for a good time tonight?"

The cat blushed under his fur. "Um, look, I'm...I'm not looking for companionship-"

She laughed, a low throaty sound that warmed him inside. "No, little cat, I'm not a whore. I own this restaurant," she said, waving back at the building she stood in front of. She had a soft accent of some kind that he couldn't quite place, but it made her voice sound exotic, enchanting. He looked up at the flagstone facade, with a looping neon sign spelling out Kleine Freude.

She extended her hand to him. "I'm Vera."

He took it, blushing harder. "Makuta. Uh, sorry for assuming."

She shook her head, grinning. "No problem, Makuta. I can understand how you would make that mistake. Here," she said softly, reaching behind her and picking up a little tumblr of liquid. "You can make it up to me by trying my latest concoction."

He took it curiously. It was amber gold, like whiskey, but when he lifted it up to sniff it, it smelled floral and sweet. He took a cautious sip and grinned at the flavor. It was little like lilac smelled, and it warmed his tongue and throat. Veras looked at him carefully as he tossed it back, shivering as he felt warmth race out from his core to his fingertips and toes.

"It's good!" He said, rolling the flavor around in his mouth. "What do you call it?"

"Schlaf," she said with a little grin.

He nodded. "I like it a lot. What's it made of?"

"Oh, this and that."

He stared down at the little tumbler, licking his lips. "Can I have another?"

She shook her head, chuckling. "One is usually enough."

He licked his lips again, faintly disappointed. It really was delicious. "Well, if all your food tastes this good here, I think I've found where I'd like to eat. What do you serve?"

"Our menu changes from night to night. We focus on locally sourced ingredients."

He grinned. "Sounds a little pricey, but I think I can splurge a little."

She smiled. "Oh, I think you'll find that once it you get inside, you'll have the dining experience of a lifetime."

"That shoundsh-" he blinked as his eyes started to droop. She reached out and took the tumbler from him a second before he would have dropped it. He stared at her blearily as it clicked in his head.

"You drugged me!" he slurred. He turned unsteadily and took a couple of stumbling steps away from her, intent on escaping. Strong arms encircled him, and he was pulled back into a hug, soft breast pressing into his back.

Vera's voice tickled his ear as she whispered, "Einfach entspannen und schlafen gehen."

He sagged back into her arms, his legs no longer able to support him. He tried to call out to passers-by for help, but his tongue felt heavy and thick in his mouth, and he was having trouble thinking clearly. He felt his eyes drift close as the sounds of the street grew distant and echoing, then faded away entirely.

Makuta felt himself start to wake up, his head still full of cotton and spinning gently. The sounds around him were different, there was a lot of clanging and thunking. He sat up, opening his eyes warily. The light stabbed into them making him flinch and whimper. He heard someone crying softly nearby, his sensitive ears twitching at the sound. He clutched his head and tRied to focus enough to see clearly.

He was in some kind of glass room, surrounded by other furs. Some were standing by one window, looking out, some were curled up in balls or laying down prone. A few were sobbing softly, and more than a few were hugging each other. He took a deep breath, waiting for his head to clear, for the world to stop spinning.

"No, wait! Please!"

Makuta looked up and let out a shout of shock as he scrambled back. A giant hand was reaching into the room! It fished around, chasing a cowgirl, who was stumbling to get away, her hooves slipping and sliding on the glass floor. The hand was as tall as the girl, and as he stared in horror it scooped her up. He pushed himself to his feet and tottered over to the glass to look out.

He was staring at an enormous kitchen, a rabbit in chef whites moving about quickly and purposefully. His stomach dropped out as he focused on the food he was preparing, realizing that shrunken furs were the main ingredients!

"What the fuck," he whispered, starting to shake all over. A fox boy standing next to him put a gentle arm around his shoulder, comforting him silently.

He looked around until he found the cowgirl that had been taken. She was glistening all over, as if she'd been dipped in some kind of oil, and they were wrapping her in some kind of twine to keep her from moving. Within moments, she was tied up in a ball. As he watched, the rabbit packed some mixture of beans and grains around her. Once the ball was formed around her, the chef dropped her into a little basket the size of the ball she was encased in, and then to Makuta's horror, he dipped it into a fryer! Her head and neck were above the oil, and Makuta could see her screaming in panic even though he couldn't hear her.

"What are they doing!?" the cat asked, feeling panic rising in him to match the cowgirl's.

The fox squeezed him with the arm around his shoulders. "They're preparing her to be eaten," he replied. Though his tone was gentle, there was an implied "duh" in it, as though it should be obvious.

Makuta's stomach lurched as he imagined what she must be going through, being cooked alive. Then it turned to an even deeper horror when she was pulled out, and he could see she was still alive somehow, even though the outside of her ball was crispy and golden. Not only had she been cooked, but she was going to be served alive!

The ball of cowgirl was placed on a plate of black noodles, and a creamy white sauce was drizzled over it artfully, careful not to obscure the cowgirl centerpiece. A little sprig of basil was added to one side of the plate and a slice of toasted artisan bread. The plate was put on a counter in front of a window, and a second later, the unlucky cowgirl was whisked away, presumably to the dining room.

The blue cat took a step backward, still shaking. "W-Why are th-they eating f-furs?" he stammered out.

The fox boy turned around and hugged him. "You've never heard of a vorestaurant?"

Makuta stared at the boy. "Those are...those don't really exist! That's just something the tabloids say!"

There was a snort, and he turned to look at a caiman, the lizard's short snout curled up in annoyance. "Look, cat-"

"Makuta. My name is Makuta."

"Yeah, whatever. Vorestaurants obviously exist, since you're in one and on the menu."

Makuta stared at him, beginning to hyperventilate. He sank down against the glass wall of the room...well, the tank, he supposed. The fox boy sank down with him, letting go of him to look at him calmly.

"Just breathe," he murmured, stroking the shaking cat's biceps. "Come on, in and out. You can do it. That's it."

Makuta stared at thim, breathing along with him until his breathing evened out. "How are you so calm?" he whispered.

The fox smiled. "I was training to be a priest. I came out with my friends for one last night on the town before we got ordained. I'm Alex," he said, holding out a hand.

Makuta took it and gave it a weak shake. "Makuta."

"Yeah, I heard," Alex said, his muzzle wrinkling in a smile. "Do you have faith, Makuta?"

The cat shrugged.

"Well, I do. I'm scared, just like you are, but I think everything will be ok in the end."

The cat opened his mouth to reply, when a hand came down out of nowhere and grabbed Alex.

"No!" Makuta shouted, watching as his new friend was pulled away. He rolled to his knees, spinning around to watch the fox, terrified of what he would see, but unable to abandon the fox in what might be his final moments. Alex had calmed him down, the least he could do was be with him in spirit through whatever horrors awaited him.

The fox was carried over to a counter. As Makuta watched, he was dunked in a bowl of oil. The chef rolled him around a few times, and then pulled him out, using a brush to work the oil into his fur.

"They're n-not gonna fry him too, are they?" Makuta asked under his breath, not really expecting an answer.

"Maybe."

He jumped at hearing the caiman's voice again. The stocky lizard glanced at him and shrugged. "Maybe not."

"Then why cover him with oil?" Makuta asked him. "Is it, like, seasoning?"

The caiman laughed. "No, cat, that's the worst part about all this. That oil keeps you safe and cool no matter how they cook you. They want to be absolutely sure they can serve you alive."

Makuta stared at him in horror. "That's...you have to be wrong! No one's that cruel!"

The caiman jerked his muzzle up, directing Makuta's attention back to Alex. He looked back in time to see the fox being bound with twine, hands to ankles. Makuta could see the fox's lips moving and he thought he must be praying. He was laid on a sheet of dough, and a scoop of ricotta was dropped onto him. Makuta watched, eyes wide, as the dough was folded over him and then a metal round with fluted edges was pressed down, creating a fox and cheese ravioli.

"Believe me," the caiman said with a sigh. "They are."

The chef lifted the ravioli up and slipped it into a pot of water, set a timer for eight minutes, and then turned and walked back towards them.

Makuta felt a surge of dread as the chef, a tall, handsome rabbit, stared down into the tank, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He reached in and began chasing another rabbit around the tank, finally pinning him down when the shrunken rabbit tried to dive under his hand. The rabbit sobbed softly as he was lifted out of the tank and carried over to the counter. Makuta realized he couldn't look away, morbid curiosity driving him to watch.

As with Alex, the rabbit was coated in the oil and bound, though he was bound hand and foot, his wrists and ankles not tied together. The chef pulled over a ramekin lined with pie crust and dropped the rabbit into it, reaching in to poke and prod at him, forcing him to curl up on his side in the ceramic dish. He took a little metal tube and inserted it, fiddling around.

"What's-"

"So he can breathe," the caiman said quietly.

Makuta's eye bulged as the chef dumped chopped vegetables in on top of the rabbit, then filled the rest of the pie with a creamy sauce. He picked up another piece of pie dough and topped the rabbit pot pie, sealing the edges.

"Everything is pre cooked except the top crust," the caiman explained. "They'll put him in the oven under a broiler to get the crust crispy, and then send him out."

The pie was indeed carried over to a small oven and placed in. Makuta realized he was shaking again. The only thing worse than being cooked alive that he could think of was being eaten alive. "He...he won't really survive that, will he?"

The caiman snorted. "He won't even get hot. He'll go out to the table flavored like pot pie, and then someone will eat him."

Makuta shuddered as he watched the chef pull out the Alex ravioli. "How do you know all this?"

The caiman watched silently for a moment the chef made a little swoosh of pesto on the plate, and set the ravioli off to the side a little, so the swoosh was still visible. He topped it with a little more pesto and a sprinkling of shaved almonds.

"Because," the caiman said quietly as Makuta watched his friend taken out to the dining room to be eaten, "I'm in here because I tried to dine and dash."

Makuta heard the words, and then the meaning hit him. His head whipped around to stare at the caiman in disgust. "You ate a fur? Alive!?"

The camain nodded. "Yep. Had a manicotti stuffed with mouse. Best thing I've ever eaten."

The cat backed away from him, stumbling slightly on the glass floor. The caiman turned to look at him with a toothy grin. "Oh, relax, cat. I'm not exactly going to jump on you and eat you."

Makuta backed away some more, and the caiman let him go with a roll of his eyes and a snort. The cat turned to watch out the glass. He was just in time to see a horse girl being brushed to get the oil into her fur. He watched as she was locked into a circular mould that captured her at the wrists and ankles, holding her spread eagled. The mould was placed on a press of some kind and a scoop of the stuff the cowgirl was covered in was placed on top of her. They squeezed the press together, and when they opened it back up, there was a perfect little horsegirl burger in the mould. The chef carried the burger over to the flat top and dropped it on. Even from inside the tank, Makuta could hear the hiss as the burger started to cook.

The chef left the burger to grill and turned in place, looking around at the various tanks of furs. He walked over and checked the little spinner that held the orders placed, and it looked like he was laughing a little. Makuta's heart leapt into his throat when the chef walked over toward the tank he was in. The cat tried to make himself look small and unnoticeable, hoping he could stay safe a little longer.

But it wasn't him that the chef had in mind. He reached in and went straight for the caiman. The stocky lizard closed his eyes as he was picked up, but unlike the others, he didn't fight or run, despite the fact that with his sharp teeth, he might have had the best chance of all of them. He was dipped in the oil and brushed to even out the coating, then tied hand and foot, his muscular tail tied to his ankles.

As Makuta watched, he was rolled in seasoned corn meal, then dipped in milk, then rolled in the cornmeal again. The chef took the vaguely fur shaped caiman tender and dropped it into a basket in the fryer. Shoestring chopped potatoes went in the second basket of the fryer, and the chef set a timer.

Then he turned and walked over to the griddle and flipped the horse girl burger. He laid a slice of cheese on it and put a little metal lid over the top to help the cheese melt. He squirted some oil on the griddle and laid a brioche bun on the flat top to toast. Then he pulled on oven mitts and pulled the rabbit pot pie out of the oven, setting it on a small chopping block. He put down a metal ring mold next to it and filled it with a microgreen salad lightly dressed with oil and sherry vinegar. He lifted the ring mold away, leaving a circular pile of green next to the steaming ramekin with it's crispy golden crust. He carried the artfully presented meal over to the counter where the finished food went out, and a moment later the unfortunate rabbit was off to meet his fate.

Makuta could hear the chef singing softly under his breath as he walked over and flipped the bottom of the bun over onto a plate. He put an avocado aioli on the bottom of the bun, and then the prepared horse burger went on top of that. He carried it over to a metal tray lined with butcher paper and set the burger on it, then topped it with romaine lettuce, a slice of tomato, a bit of stone ground mustard, and a couple of rounds of red onion. He laid the top bun on and then turned back to the fryer.

The chef lifted the baskets of french fries and fried caiman and let them drain for a minute as he prepared something else on the counter, laying out a huge flour tortilla and sprinkling it with cheese.in the center. He turned back and salted the fries and caiman tender, then laid the tender on another one of the metal trays, also lined with butcher paper. He reached under the counter and pulled out two miniature metal buckets, laid a square of butcher paper over each, and then dumped half the fries into each one. He laid a pickle on each tray, and then carried them over to the pass.

Makuta felt mixed emotions as he watched the caiman be scooped up and carried off to the dining room. On the one hand, the lizard fur was a murderer. On the other, he didn't think anyone deserved to die that way. He watched at the chef dropped another batch of fries, these ones thick cut, into the fryer and then turned around, still singing softly under his breath.

The chef walked over to another tank and considered the furs within before pulling out cocker spaniel. The dog was quickly oiled, wrapped in twine,and then dropped into a small sauce pot along with a ladleful of gravy. A lid went on top and the chef stepped back over to Makuta's tank. He fished around as Makuta squeezed himself into a corner and tried to be invisible, until he grabbed a mouse girl. Makuta noted distantly that chef was singing one of the latest bubblegum pop songs, the fact that this rabbit could prepare and cook furs while singing inane feel good music chilling to Makuta.

He watched as the mouse girl and after preparing and tying her up, laid her in the center of the tortilla he'd prepared. He sprinkled some more cheese on her and then rapidly folded and rolled up the tortilla, making a tight little burrito. He dropped it into the second basket of the fryer. He walked over and checked a couple of pots on the stove and then dropped some lasagna noodles into a pot of boiling water. Then he went back over to the little spinner of tickets, reading them over.

The chef nodded and lined a small pie pan with pie crust, then shoved it into the oven to blind bake. He quickly made a mixture of eggs, milk, and cream, then seasoned it. He chopped some greens and set both aside to pull the lasagna noodles out of the water and set them over the sink to drain. A timer dinged and he pulled out the mouse chimichanga and the fries. He laid the chimichanga on a plate, added a scoop of rice and a scoop of beans, sprinkled the whole plate liberally with cheese, and then carried it over to the pass.

He turned around and seasoned the fries, then dumped them into a basket lined with butcher paper. The chef sprinkled it with cheese crumbles, and then walked over and retrieved the pot of fur and gravy. He poured both over the fries, and Makuta shivered at seeing the fur moving the bed of fries before the chef used a spoon to push him down and drizzled the rest of the gravy over him. More cheese crumbles went over it, and then the dog poutine went to the pass to go out.

The rabbit had switched to humming softly as he walked over and pulled the baked crust out of the oven. He set it on the center counter and went over to a tank. He reached in and pulled out a sobbing hippo boy. The pudgy fur was carried over the the table, oiled and bound, and then laid in the baked crust. He was covered in greens and cheese, and the the egg and milk mixture. His tummy and snout poked out of the top of the quiche, and the chef was careful to avoid covering them as he sprinkled cheese on top. Then the hippo quiche was popped into the oven to bake.

Makuta was beginning to feel a little dull, the horrors of the kitchen wearing on him. When the chef came over to the tank, he stared at the hand with fear, but didn't really register that it was reaching for him until it was too late to run. Once he was in it, he squirmed desperately, trying to bite and claw, but the chef hardly noticed him fighting.

He stared at the pot of oil in fear as he was carried over to it, knowing what was coming and all the more fearful for it. He managed to take a deep breath before he was dumped into the pot, the chef's fingers twisting and rolling him in it to ensure he was properly coated. He was plucked out, dripping with oil, spluttering a bit and gasping for breath.

"Ple-mmph!" His attempts to plead for mercy were cut off as the stiff bristled brush swiped over his face. He was swiftly turned over and over, the brush working against the grain of his fur. He whimpered as he felt the oil settle on his skin. It felt cool, like it had mint in it, although he didn't smell mint. The chef pinned him down to the countertop with a finger as he grabbed a length of cooking twine.

"Please!" Makuta shouted as the rabbit rolled him on his stomach. "Please don't do this! I won't tell anyone!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears as his wrists were captured and bound together. A second later his tail was bound to his ankles. He'd seen enough at this point to know that now the real cooking started, and he shook with terror. He was left on the counter, helpless, as the chef went and grabbed a square ramekin. He twisted his head and dread filled him as the chef added a little red sauce to the bottom, and then laid in lasagna noodles.

"Please don't bake me into lasagna!" he shouted, but if the chef heard him, he gave no sign of it. The rabbit dropped a scoop of ricotta into the ramekin and then picked up the cat. Makuta whimpered as he was laid on his back and pressed into the soft cheese. The chef grabbed one of the little breathing tubes and poked at Makuta's muzzle with it. Makuta had a flash of hope and firmly kept his mouth shut. Maybe the chef would give up and select another fur if he didn't cooperate!

That lasted all of thirty seconds, before the chef pressed a pinky tip to his nose. His eyes widened and he squirmed helplessly in his bed of cheese as he struggled to hold his breath. He lasted almost thirty second before his muzzle opened for a deep gasp, and then quick as thinking the tube was in his mouth. Before he could spit it out, the chef fiddled with the other end of it and the part in his mouth expanded to lock in place behind his teeth. He whimpered softly as he watched the chef lay lasagna noodles on top of him, entombing him in darkness.

Makuta squirmed as best his could, hoping he could work his hands free, but the lasagna above him came together quickly. He was swiftly weighed down under layer after layer until he could barely move. He felt the ramekin lifted and carried and then heard dull metal ringing through the lasagna and ramekin around him. He shuddered and gave up, knowing that he was being baked now.

He lost track of time as he felt the ingredients heat up around him. He expected to feel it burning him, but it never got more than a little uncomfortable. He panted in the warmth, the steam rising from the lasagna making his breaths hot and moist. At some point, distantly through the layers of food, he heard the oven door open. The ramekin was moved three more times, pausing briefly between the first two moves. In the last move, he dimly heard chattering and music. Panic gripped him as he realized he must be in the dining room!

Makuta felt pressure against him, as though something were pressing into the lasagna, and then something hard pressed gently against his leg. It withdrew and then it came again, against the side of his leg this time. Then a weight was lifted. In a flash, he understood. It was a fork, and someone was taking great pains not to hurt him while they enjoyed he lasagna he'd been baked into. The person ate slowly, enjoying a bite every couple of minutes, starting at his legs and working their way up. He was shaking and trembling, as with every bite, he was a little bit closer to his doom.

He shivered when he felt the fork against his face, moaning in fear as it caressed his cheek, and then his scalp. The frightening sensations were repeated on the other side and at last, his face was uncovered. He winced even in the soft light, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

The woman eating the lasagna was beautiful, a cat like him. She had long blond hair and calico fur. He was directly in front of her, staring up past her chest to her face, and he blushed at seeing just how much chest there was to see. She was wearing a low cut dress that put everything on display. Any lower and it wouldn't have held anything back. She was licking her fork when he first saw her, and smiling at someone he couldn't see. She glanced down at him and smiled even wider.

"I've always wondered," she said softly, so softly that he wasn't sure if she was speaking to whomever she'd been smiling at or to him or to herself, "what it would be like to eat another cat."

She laughed, low and easy. It was an anticipatory, excited sound, and his fur would have stood on end if it hadn't been soaked with oil, cheese, and pasta sauce. She reached down and fiddled with his breathing tube, and he shuddered when he heard and felt it click, releasing from inside his mouth. She pulled it out and set it aside. He coughed and cleared his throat a couple of times.

"Please don't do this," he whispered hoarsely. He had no idea if she'd heard him, but if she had, she ignored him. She slid a fork in between his arms, and another between his legs, using his bonds to lift him out of the lasagna. He caught a glimpse of her dining companion, a bear who looked immensely pleased with the hippo he was also raising to his lips. The cat flipped him over so he was staring up at her face. She smiled at him, licking her lips.

He trembled all over, looking up into her eyes and seeing only hunger and excitement. "Please don't do this," he whispered again.

She responded by licking his foot pads, her tongue rough against him. She shivered and grinned. "Delicious," she whispered.

Makuta whimpered and closed his eyes, resigned to his fate, as she took his feet into her mouth. Makuta heard whimpering from behind him and let his head fall back, opening his eyes,. The bear had half of the hippo in his mouth, and the shrunken fur was shaking visibly. Their eyes met, and Makuta shuddered as, at the same time as the hippo was slurped in up to his chest, he felt the cat eating him suck up his legs and tail. Makuta closed his eyes again as the hippo was pulled in all the way, the bear's jaws closing over him.

His devourer's tongue scraped at his butt, tasting him, and she moaned sensually around him. Then her tongue curled and she pulled him in up to his chest, his legs sliding down her throat. She spent a minute tasting him, and then swallowed, pulling his legs down her throat further and drawing his head inside her mouth. He squirmed helplessly as she licked between his shoulder blades for a moment. Her mouth opened opened and for a half a second, he thought he would be set free. He glanced back and saw the bear's mouth coming toward him, the hippo still inside it. He was pressed skull to skull with the hippo as the lovers kissed for a long second, and then they were jerked apart as the full size furs swallowed them.

Makuta felt her throat squeezing and pulsing around him as he slid down the narrow passage. A few moments later, he plopped down into her stomach. A charnel house smell of bile and half digested food surrounded him, and he curled up in a ball, shaking quietly and waiting for it to end.

~~~~~

Emilia Bennett rolled over in bed, smiling at the slumbering form of her lover, Paul. He'd taken her to that amazing vorestaurant for their one year anniversary after finding out that she'd always been curious about what it felt like to eat a fur. It had been expensive, so they couldn't make a habit of it, but she really hoped they could go again soon. She had a serious taste for it now that she'd tried it.

Her guts grumbled and she grinned as she rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. She opened her robe, tail lashing, and sat down on the toilet. She closed her eyes, purring slightly as she bore down. With a delighted sigh, she began to shit. As she felt it curling out of her, she made a promise to herself that next time, she'd order something spicy so she could be sure to know when she was taking The Shit. Still, she felt odd little bumps and protrusions that rubbed against her and stretched her hole, and she had a good feeling that this was it. That or it was the hardest shit of her life for no reason. She grunted as she hit a snag, working to force past the blockage. Two hard pushes and it popped out. She waited a moment, but she felt empty now. She wiped herself and then stood up, turning to look into the toilet.

There, in her pile of shit, were little white protrusions of bone. And just off to one side, near the top of the pile, she saw a skull peeking out. She giggled and went and grabbed her phone. She took a couple of pictures for her private Instagram, the one only her closest friends could see, and then flushed the toilet.

"Bye, bye little cat," she whispered as she watched the remains of her meal vanish into the sewers. She turned and went to wake up Paul, suddenly incredibly aroused.

They were definitely going to have to eat at Kleine Freude again.