FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A trio of silhouettes darts past an exoglass window, the gradual swell and decline of red lights casting on them as they hurry along. Their lead-lined bags clink softly, packed full with swiped artifacts. Getting here to steal them shouldn't have been as easy as it was, but Emir's stealth ship is state-of-the-art, so much so that even the Archivist's sensors didn't pick up on it before it dropped them off to infiltrate. They were breaking back out ahead of schedule, it wouldn't come back around for them soon enough but if they played this right, they might even make off with an antique Alefsef model from the hangar.

Although, playing it right wasn't nearly as feasible as it was before the alarms came on, still blasting in a distant sector. It was a Dominion Archives installation, the layers upon layers of security systems were to be expected, but it only took fumbling once in a moment of greed-driven haste to force even more urgency into their already sensitive schedule.

The thieves come to a sealed door, and the deer is the first of the three to press against it, unfastening the panel and beginning to rewire it.

"Emir, how long will this take?" the vixen asks him, rifling through a bag for what she presumes to be a weapon. Polished stone and preserved bone from pre-god fashioned into a blaster of sorts; she can feel a creeping numbness even through her layered glove.

"Not long," the deer assures. "I guess being all the way out here in space, they thought these cheap locks would be enough." He chuckles to himself at that.

"Are you sure you want to be using that, Shaar?" the third, a hognose snake, asks the vixen, pointing at her new weapon. "We have guns and ARC batteries of our own, you know."

"Yeah, but I'd love an excuse to use this early on," she says. "I know I'm the only one of us who can use it, but it's potent; I can feel it trying to fry my nerves already though so someone had better come around that corner right the fuck now if they're gonna."

"Nope." Emir steps back as the door slides open. He looks back over his shoulder with a flick of his head that flips the single row of tight curls on his head. "They won't get the chance."

"Shame," Shaar sighs, wrapping the weapon back up in an insulated sheet before tucking it away. Just at the very top of the bag, in case she did eventually need it. "Though now you don't have to worry about me so much, Mikh."

The snake rolls his eyes at that, turning to follow them through. The red carpet muffles their footsteps that would otherwise ring out on black marble and gold trim; they'd steal the ritzy façade right off this place if it was worth anywhere near as much as the reassembled, refurbished devices from Ages lost. Nothing catches thieves so well as their own avarice, however, and they know this. All that matters now is finding their way to a hangar.

In the pulsing red light of the stairwell ahead, the shadows of several ascending figures cast themselves against the far wall. Emir signals with his free hand to detour, and the three of them shift off to the right, away from the windows and deeper into the station. Not ideal, staying as far away from the center as possible would have been best.

Another door to hack stands in their way, Emir is already on it, taking extra care with this one to hide any signs of tampering once he's done. Mikh reaches into the vest hidden under yet another larger coat, and from it slides a small, disk-shaped robot across the floor, which deploys legs and immediately begins bounding up the stairs, hopefully a diversion that will distract at least a few of the security personnel.

Shaar is already reaching to unzip that bag again; Mikh shakes his head vigorously, his expression dire. It's the fox's turn to roll her eyes now. She heeds his concern but still draws her pistol, loading a tiny scroll into its scanner. She's antsy to fry something, but once again, Emir proves too efficient. The door slides open, and the trio is gone.

Anticipating a trek through the guts of the station, they instead spend little time in these interstitial corridors before breaching an unlocked door into... well, it's an artificial forest, by the looks of it. A vast, reinforced skylight lets moonlight in over the canopies of an impressive arboretum, taking up the center of the upper levels.

The deer, taking his chances on a moment to breathe, fishes a rod-shaped device out of a pocket, giving it a flick and projecting a holographic screen from the side.

"Alright, map says..." he begins, scrutinizing it, "... areas behind us have a ton of activity. Mostly undead. I don't want to deal with that, so if we just cut through here..."

"Yeah, if they're already dead it takes all the fun out of it," Shaar chuckles, already moving ahead. The other two exchange a glance, but waste no more time than that before following.

"Shaar, wait up," Mikh calls; he dares not raise his voice above a loud whisper but tries to make himself heard.

The vixen is not listening, however, continuing to skip through the artificial woods with pistol in hand, bounding along in reduced gravity. It's a simulation of an ecosystem not native to the nearby planet, but rather one supporting the pale vegetation of the distant world of Paliputra. Its climate normally wouldn't allow them to flourish like this, but the controlled environment of the arboretum has given them reign to form an impressive canopy that almost entirely blocks view of the sunlit surface of Yalashtei below. Or above, perhaps? Hard to tell in space, and Shaar doesn't really care much about that. For a moment, she gets to feel like the ruler of this place, out under the light radiating off that colossal planet.

That moment is cut short as a gloved hand grips her shoulder, grounding her suddenly.

"Not very smart to split up, is it?"

Mikh and Emir skid to a stop as they hear the sound of Shaar's gun discharging, a distant roar as tree branches bow away from the shot, a cylindrical field of crackling ozone left in the wake of the shot. Silence follows ominously, and then comes the sound of struggle. Another glance exchanged, this one of concern, before continuing their race through the arboretum.

"Fucking hell, where did you come from?" the vixen snarls. She skids on her heels to one side of the path, winding the scanner for another shot.

On the opposite side of the path stands a sleepy looking jackal, unkempt red hair hanging around her shoulders, and a loose-fitting white tee draped around her figure. If she's wearing anything else, it's hidden by that.

"You came to me, actually," she responds with a lazy stretch, seemingly undaunted by the brandished weapon. "You could have hurried it up, though."

"Stay out of my way," Shaar snaps, turning on her heel to continue on her way, but upon doing so, the jackal is in her face again.

"Well that's not very nice, is it?" she says in a mocking tone. "Don't you recognize me?"

It's hard in the minimal light, but up so close, the eyepatch gives it away. Shaar staggers back, realizing who she's encountered. Yhana Iyalesh, once a Warden in control of land on Paliputra, now an Archivist in control of operations around Yalashtei, and, in either stage of her life, one of the few people with less of a conscience than Shaar.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asks, aiming her gun.

"What wouldn't I be doing here? This is part of my whole... gig. Too sleepy to make words good, you get it," Yhana says with a yawn, unfazed by the weapon pointed at her. "You made quite a scene during your heist planetside. Hurt a few people. I'm not too happy about it."

Shaar keeps her aim trained on the jackal, jaw tight. Not a lot of options if one of the higher-ups has taken specific notice in her and her cohorts. Fortunately, her favorite option remains just as viable as it ever was.

Her finger tightens on the trigger, and the gun whirrs. That's all. Her heart sinks as she checks it, eyes darting to its empty scanner, and then back up to Yhana, holding the scroll lengthwise between a finger and thumb.

"You really oughta take better care of your things," she scolds.

There's another moment of silent inactivity between them. Shaar's pulse escalates to the point that it becomes unbearable to her when she recognizes it, but it's music to the weird fancy senses that Yhana's exotic biology affords her. The fox reaches for another scroll in her bandolier, but before she can even make contact, her assailant tenses up and lunges, hands aglow with green light.

The sounds of conflict did not go unnoticed. Emir skids around the bend, dropping his bags and casting in a single motion. Lightning flickers in his antlers, following into his hands with their downwards movement.

Mikh follows his lead, shutting his eyes for a moment to focus. Color drains from the surrounding area, and Emir steps through stopped time. From his perspective, he has several seconds to close the gap; from Yhana's, he suddenly appears too close up for comfort by the time Mikh can no longer hold stasis. As much as he'd love to go for the eyes, she's a good head or so taller than him. As he moves for a strike to the neck, her hands flank his, breezing past to grip the bases of his antlers, twisting to throw him aside. Emir winces, feeling a hot fizzing against his scalp as he falls.He rolls on impact, he's not unused to roughhousing. He flips onto his back to upright himself, he manages it more quickly than anticipated; it feels like his head is lighter than-- Oh.

Yhana tosses aside his impressive antlers, their stumps liquefied by her grasp.

His eyes dart from them back up as he scrambles to his feet; where is Shaar?

Though her whereabouts are uncertain to him, much to the jackal's chagrin, the same can be said for her; she lost track of the vixen as she was rushed, something she's far from thrilled about.

It would be so satisfying, so theatrical, to advance on this deer right now, but she has another distraction to deal with first.

Her single, almost-luminous green eye shifts to Mikh, who had begun to tiptoe closer. His eyes shut instinctively but before any effect can follow, Yhana fades into thin air. He was too late to interrupt the teleport, and too panicked to collect himself enough for a rewind. Undoing the straps of the numerous Geiger counters under his oversized jacket, he casts them out on their lines, their momentum dying as they freeze in place in stopped time as well. Slowly, he adjusts his focus again, stretching the following second into several, and simply listens.

Eventually, there comes a telltale crackling off to his left. She'll emerge soon. Moving from his centered position in the fan of cables, he turns, concentrating aether in his hand. The color that had collected around the mote in his hand spills back into the environment as time begins to flow again. The bolt of aether flies as she appears from thin air, and yet she... catches it? Palming the mote of energy, she ravels it up on itself before simply snuffing it out in her grip, all before the Geiger counters even have a chance to clatter to the ground.

"Clever," she praises, the genuine admiration clear in her voice. "Almost feels like I'm squandering you."

Mikh begins to stammer a comeback, but doesn't get much further than that before Yhana's maw drops open, tongue unfurling like a tapestry, markings glowing on what could have once been mistaken for a bare surface. There is a bright flash; Mikh's own spell, absorbed and unleashed over a wide area. Nonlethal, but still quite unpleasant to be on the receiving end of.

He staggers back with a howl, clutching his eyes as his retinas must now take on the slow, painful task of unlearning how to be kaleidoscopes.

"I'm sorry, we were in the middle of something, weren't we?" she says, hurrying back to the deer, her gait betraying a great eagerness. He's back on his feet now, hands up defensively, but without even a trace of a spell visible.

"Over here, freak!"

Yhana turns her head quickly; the light catches Shaar's white fur just enough to outline her newly-tiny form, perched atop a stone and fully exposed to the elements. She braces one of the stolen items with her entire body; that same Serene-implement she had hoped to have a chance to test out, an intricate, blooming bone twisted and braced into focusing arrays and murk condensers, set seamlessly into exotic wood. She hikes a leg to find the trigger with the pad of her foot, and shoves with all the might her adrenaline will lend her.

Harsh un-light whirls out from the barrel with a howl so deep and chilling that it could have been made by something sentient. Amid the scorched, foreign earth and petrified flakes of what had once been vegetation, bright cinders burn like magnesium flames in the semi-color one might see as thumbs are pressed into their eyes; in similar sentiment, they still hurt to look at directly.

Shaar slowly picks herself up from the foot of the stone, recovering from the heavy recoil of the now-splintered instrument; a shame to abandon it but she's got more pressing things to worry about.

"Emir!" she calls out, bounding onto the rock again; it should be no more than a place to take a seat under normal circumstances, but the moment that jackal touched her, she felt most of herself evaporate. What remained was this, a body with only a fraction of its original size. Equal parts embarrassing and dangerous. The jackal, if she hadn't been unmade by the blast, had a reputation to her that the particularly tiny had come to fear.

The deer doesn't hear his companion at first, his head pounding from proximity to... surely something they had no word for, but whatever it was, his body didn't like it. By the third or fourth calling of his name, he almost responds, but for the gloved grip that stops the words in his throat, and in the same motion pulls him into the foliage.

It's dark amid the leaves, unnaturally so. For a moment, the tightness around his neck subsides, replaced with cold black steam, and as he emerges on the other side, that hand is still very much on him, but it's wrapped tight around a stretch of his body from shoulder to thigh as vapors rise from between each finger.

"Let's have another go at this, before we get interrupted again."

As Emir's senses begin to organize themselves again, his vision clears on Yhana's eye, before traveling down that arm that grips him. After exposure to the full force of the weapon, she's not wearing anything now, so her upper body is completely- Oh, gone.

A curved diagonal cutoff runs from mid-chest and down as she floats freely. A sparkling green distortion flows from her, transparent and glittering. It generally configures itself to the shapes of everything missing, and the rest slowly fills in as waves, her patterned golden-brown fur showing first; it's a very clean process.

Emir himself is just as bare as she is now, clothing ragged and left amid the tangling branches. The moment the numbness that comes with being downsized begins to wear off, he starts to struggle in her grip.

"Come on, what good is that going to do you?" the jackal taunts, leaning in with a grin. Her tongue glides ominously across her muzzle, out from between those sharp, perfect teeth. Even if they had not been subject to numerous regenerations before, she used them so infrequently that their pristine condition could easily be taken as natural.

"Fuck you!" Emir snarls. He attempts to spit, but it falls short.

"Now what can I do with you?" Yhana muses, allowing his ire to go completely unaddressed. "What if I just reformed around you?"

She passes her arm into the field beneath her torso. The view outside is distorted, and above is a textureless glow that creeps ever closer to the unfortunate intruder. "I guess it could be interesting... but not very fun for me."

The sound of nearby rustling catches her attention, and she hastily floats backwards, up into the boughs of a tree. She doesn't plan on being interrupted again.

"I guess we'll just do this the old-fashioned way," she says with an overdrawn sigh. As she starts to open wide, Emir's eyes start to glow, his body begins to heat, and she simply flicks his snout with her newly-regenerated other hand, disrupting his concentration. "No. Bad. You're ruining the moment."

If his head wasn't swimming from being thwacked, he still wouldn't have been given a chance to retort before being released to slip into that yawning pink maw. Her breath rolls out as a just-visible cloud, smelling of ozone and already overwhelmingly warm, but it's nothing at all compared to what awaits him inside.

Immediately, she begins to play with him, her broad tongue forcing him against the ridged roof of her mouth, dragging him backwards. Her voice reverberates through him as she lets out another sigh, this time it's a blissful one, before releasing the pressure and letting him slide.

"No no wait!" the deer pleads, trying to find anything to grip onto, completely distracted from what might be his final view of anything outside framed between her teeth, but her tongue is too smooth, and the raised sides keep her molars out of range. The wide gullet behind him grips at his thighs, tugging him down with ease and easily muffling his attempt to scream.

His trip down her esophagus isn't nearly as long as one might expect; he passes through that glow and out into the regeneration field again, floating helplessly. As he inhales to call out again, Yhana's hand squeezes around him once more, forcing the breath right back out of him.

"So sorry, I just couldn't help myself," she giggles. The extent to which she's enjoying herself would have been almost disgusting to him if fear wasn't taking priority. "Let's try this again, I should have my stomach back next time."

Opening her hand, she presses the flat of her tongue against Emir, lapping him right out of her palm and reeling him in, but not without gently nibbling against his back just to get him really thrashing. The light from outside, pale and scarce, imparts a sheen to the glistening surfaces of the back of her throat for just a moment, until a simple curl of the supple surface beneath him blocks it out to leave him with nothing but her hot breath.

This time, she's savoring the moment, and with it, Emir. The soft tongue beneath him shifts in the direction of his body, touching every surface and stealing an indulgent gasp from him. It didn't escape her notice; she chuckles gently through her nose before opening wide again, letting the light come through for just another moment, long enough for him to remember his perilous surroundings, just as she tilts her head to the side to throw him into a cheek. Pressing his hands and knees into the soft muscle, he tries to push himself back into a centered position, but her teeth bear down on him at an angle, from right shoulder to left hip, and they squeeze enough to ignite fear anew in his already-racing heart.

"Mm-mh," Yhana emanates in a discouraging tone. There's no other motion inside that tight maw, nothing left but that narrow bit of clearance between a rested tongue and those washboard ridges, but for Emir's struggling, which gradually dies down, leaving nothing but what breath he can even manage to draw with his chest constrained like this.

Eventually, after what was probably no more than fifteen seconds in reality, she relaxes her jaw again. Emir doesn't move for a couple more seconds, but when he finally does again, it's slow and cautious, nestling back into that cheek obediently.

"Smart," the jackal croons, before quickly resuming her enjoyment of him. The flesh around him contracts like shrink wrap against the outsides of her teeth, and saliva sifts through his fur, like he's a piece of candy that she's trying to suck the flavor out of. More than that, he can feel his strength going, too.

Every breath he draws is too hot, steamed from a greedy body so many times larger than his own. And it all bears that ozone smell that makes him so light headed, but over time, it becomes milder. A sign that Yhana's body is nearly finished regenerating, not that he'd know that, so it comes as jarring when her teeth part again to suck him back into the center of her mouth.

Her tongue gives him another caress, rising into a slope starting in the middle, and she tips her head back, starting to slide him. He's nowhere near as frantic as he approaches the drop-off into her throat, this time. He should be, there's an endpoint waiting for him this time, but he's not. He's so tired, and it's so warm, he can hardly imagine resisting now.

At least, until her throat ensnares him once again. Survival instinct kicks back in right when she hoped it would. With a couple of fingers, she pushes up against the nondescript lump in her throat, stalling his descent just long enough to give him a good squeeze, before in one sense releasing him, and in another, claiming him.

All he can do is thrash as that guided dive pulls him closer to the sound of a flustered heartbeat. He tries to cast, but runes long-since tattooed into and hard-coded into the flesh around him light up in response, fizzling his every attempt.

Yhana's tongue droops out along with a humid huff as she reclines against the nothingness in midair, still afloat.

"You really shouldn't object," Yhana chides in between gulps, deflating any attempt Emir makes to slow his descent. "People beg for this, sometimes. Consider yourself lucky, won't you?"

He's too out of breath to respond, and his arms are too weak to resist any longer. Shoulders scrunching together, the short remainder of his misadventure into Yhana's body goes much more quickly. A tight squeeze through the valve at the end rewards him with more room to stretch his tired limbs, but not without passively emphasizing just how trapped he really is.

The curvature of the jackal's belly makes it difficult to keep upright, even on all fours, and it takes little effort on its part to close in around him, pressing him prone against the slope. The thick pool around him is heavy enough to feel like a blanket, pulling him deeper and deeper into itself. With all the exertion he can even muster anymore, he brings his arms up against the wall and they sink right into shallow imprints. It's so soft. It's all contoured and shaped for him like it's made for him.

His surroundings rumble as they contract again, just a bit smaller than before, fluids just a bit higher as it all gets compacted. Maybe it was made for him... Regenerated to his specifications, a cushioned alcove to rest his weary body... just for a bit.

As his eyes close, he doesn't even notice the soft green light begin to trace its way through the runes imprinted into every surface. They siphon his radiance, the spells he would never be able to cast in here, before doing it for him. A soft, healing glow. Not to save him, by any stretch; if he was inside Yhana, he belonged to her now, but it would at least get some extra mileage out of him as his body continues to rock so, so nicely against the deepest point in her belly.

Yhana's breathing is deep despite the little shudder applied to the end of every exhalation. As much as she would love to see the entire process through in silence, she still has the other two to address.

Smart prey would have run. They would have abandoned Emir and made a break for the other side of the arboretum... and would have inevitably found themselves somewhere inside the jackal anyway. But these two can't help but make it easy for her, she knows. Shaar is bloodthirsty, and Mikh is too weak-willed to leave on his own. If they are still looking for their companion, and by extension her, or maybe the other way around not that it matters, the polite thing to do is to come out of hiding and meet them.

The vixen perches on her cohort's shoulder as they tread further into the artificial forest with no small amount of trepidation. Calling out seems unwise, not that either one has the courage to do so. As soon as the warped air cleared, the foreboding absence of Emir was enough to make them assume the worst, but maybe it wasn't too late.

They might be naive to stay on his behalf but they aren't stupid, they know that Yhana is still lurking, and that she has the advantage. What do they have? Not even a plan, really. The weapon that almost did the trick lies ruined too far back to bother with, and Mikh's energy is nearly tapped. Shaar, however, is still brimming with it. Small or not, void lightning is void lightning.

Yhana doesn't know for sure what the little fox is packing, but hasn't forgotten that she's been conservative with her direct spellcasting. Mindful to keep her distance, she floats overhead, flipped upside down and as of yet undetected, still salivating as the deer carries on deep inside her. The canopy helps to disguise her from them and they have no reason to look straight up yet, as far as they know. No doubt the security cameras that observe aerial drone traffic during active hours are all getting a good look at her out in the open, but the other staff here knows better than to bring it up, lest they find themselves in a private meeting.

Eventually, her prospective prey will wander to the other side of this place, intentionally or not, and they'll be much harder to deal with without making more of a scene. How to deal with these two, though? The fox is already so small from their earlier scuffle, she'll be simple to tuck away if she can just exhaust her...

Her thighs rub together in anticipation as an idea formulates. She knows exactly how. As for the snake, there's really only one good way to use him. But, she'll take her time with him.

Mikh whips around suddenly to look behind himself as the branches around him shake, as if moved by a sudden gust. Shaar clings to his coat, static electricity rippling out from her hands as she tries not to slip, but as soon as her momentum is under control, she's upright again, palms out and ready to blast.

It was all they needed to confirm that she's nearby now, but they have yet to lay eyes on her. That foul energy that seeps from the eldritch scrimshaw grown into her skeleton would ordinarily serve as an easy means of detecting her, sending out feelers of channeled aura, but the relic's discharge from earlier saturated the area with it, camouflaging her. This entire operation had been a series of mistakes after all, the interval between each one shortening with every occurrence.

That said, the consequences of their most recent mistake, that being wandering off the path, came right on schedule.

Yhana's guts tense up around a gradually-softening catch; the experience is quite euphoric for him as long as he's kept in this state, so he hardly notices as a large volume of his radiance is stolen at once.

It culminates in the jackal's palm, conveyed to it through invisible aura like a vesicle through an amoeboid ghost, sifted down a gradient that translates it from exotic radiation into a palpable effect. With a flash so brief it might well have been imagined, a wave of wind and force explodes from the space just beyond her fingertips.

Mikh staggers the sudden storm sweeps in from the side, bowling him over and lifting Shaar from her perch. With comparable speed, Yhana herself rushes through the air, deftly catching Shaar before she even has a chance to land and disappearing into the brush with her again.

The hognose snake lies there for a moment, still reeling after an impromptu embrace from the dirt. Sheer force of necessity tugs him out of his brief stupor, shaking it off and starting to shakily get up again.

"Shit... Shaar?" His vision darts frantically around the area, from the underbrush nearby into the darkness beyond the stand of trees he finds himself in the midst of, but she's long gone. "Shaar!"

The vixen is hardly within earshot anymore as Yhana flies low with her to another secluded place.

"Alright then, what to do with you?" Yhana says with a soft chuckle. She already knows, of course, but everything between now and then is for dramatic effect. Just to work Shaar up a little more.

From her grip around her calves, she tosses her up into the air, intending to flip and catch her again, but Shaar is a bit more focused than she thought. Turning her glare squarely onto the jackal, she blinks away from the space in an instant, disappearing with the soft crackle of numerous, tiny arcane reactions as the void leaks in where she vanished.

"How abou--" Shaar begins, and only begins, before the plantigrade footpaw of her opponent smashes against her, grinding her against the papery bark of the tree she clings to. The spell that started to weave itself about her forearms untangles itself, geometric black lines of nothingness once again subsumed by the disappointing somethingness of ordinary space.

"You know," Yhana sighs, retracting her foot and rolling over in the air to face the fox, who slowly slides off the coarse bark, "you could have gotten me both times if you had just kept your mouth shut."

She grabs a significantly more scuffed-up Shaar, with significantly more care. Hard to know just how much damage she did just now.

"But you didn't," she continues, "and you let me eat your buddy. I'm going to eat you, too."

Their faces are almost touching now, though one clearly overshadows the other, wearing a smug smile while its opposite pants with a slack jaw, fighting off the nausea that comes with utter breathlessness. Even so, the owner of that face never stops even trying to struggle, and even cast, though the void interference culminating around her comes as little more than the mildest of static shocks.

"But you're special, aren't you? Since using that weapon back there didn't irradiate you to death. Absolutely full of Serene magic... you're going to be tougher than the deer was," the jackal speculates. Not likely, but it's all part of setting the stage. "You'll need a little more prep work."

Flipping onto her back over a surface that is not there, she angles towards the ground, licking the vixen in that same, indulgent way she did to Emir, leaving a considerable varnishing of saliva before moving her far, far away from her face, past her chest and belly until her destination was absolutely indisputable.

"Not... a chance..." Shaar snarls, even as she's already pressed back up against Yhana's body. All her fingers together bear into her, and those thighs, enormous to her, close in tightly to hold her in place.

"Alright, struggle now if you absolutely have to," Yhana says with a soft huff.

It wasn't like Shaar was simply going to stop putting up a fight either. Focusing to cast again, she emits more static, but it's still weak; she can feel the energy simply being drawn away from her, conducted into the needy flesh that opened up in the middle of the black fur that patterned Yhana's lower abdomen.

In what little room she has to thrash about in, she plants her hands into the surface angled below her, trying to move thighward away from Yhana's body. It doesn't win her much extra room at all, and only causes those shiny petals to open just a little more.

"We could keep this up, just like this, but I'm impatient..." the jackal says, fingers pressing harder and bringing Shaar in. "I think we've already established I'm a better version of you, anyway."

"You're-" Once more she's interrupted, this time as her face and more is engulfed; once Yhana's insides have even the slightest grip around her, a simple clench is all it takes to pull her in all the way to the midriff. "Oh, come on!!" she blusters, elbows out, fighting pointlessly for space to breathe.

She can hardly be heard; whatever Yhana's willful inattentiveness could not filter out, the physical dampening of her body takes care of. But she can absolutely be felt, every single thrash and prod; the roughness of it is an acquired taste, to be sure, but the jackal has had more time to develop it than she would care to admit. Every movement, from slight adjustment to an outburst of force, causes her nethers to tremor and squeeze. It's a real delight for her, settling onto the flat stone terrain at the edge of the pond just to writhe a bit as the sensation takes her, but to Shaar, it's still a fight.

The fox presses hard in either direction, arms trembling already, and buckling at the next contraction, being squeezed into the most compact configuration possible and drawn further into the jackal's snatch. Only the tip of her tail touches the air outside now, clasped in the divide and flicking juices in all directions as it fails to articulate anything more than a frantic energy in the last moment before it's swallowed with the rest of her, not a trace of her to be found but a bit of extra moisture. Any sort of bump she might make, while perceptible, is mostly hidden by Yhana's soft figure. Shaar's head bumps against something firmer than the rest of her new enclosure; she's already at the cervix.

"Now... let's see if we can't haaahhh..." Yhana's back arches as Shaar arrives as deep as she can presently go, then drops back into a resting position, clenching especially tightly as she lands. "...do something about that fighting spirit..."

Not releasing the pressure for even a moment, Yhana focuses on what little energy Shaar still possesses. Inside, the vixen can feel her soaked fur start to separate again as if electrified, a comparison which becomes especially apt as a much stronger sensation suddenly jolts through her entire body, magical energy being siphoned off into the surrounding flesh along with her stamina. All that potential for spellcasting, converted into nothing more than a force of pure gratification like an especially-risky, but especially-rewarding sex toy.

It doesn't even matter how good it feels; Yhana's arms remain locked in a hug around herself, like she's challenging herself to get off on Shaar's contributions alone. Pelvic muscle drives those soft walls into a form-fitting configuration around her, pulsing peristalsis hungrily trying to suck her deeper into a passage that is simply out of room. So the vixen hoped, anyway. Much to her dismay, she feels an erratic triplet of twitches in the valve ahead of her, but she hardly has the strength to move away. Not that she could.

If she moves at all, it just pushes her captor towards climax that much more, but it's all reflex now, spurred on by that constant, unrelenting squish that robs her of any breath that isn't fully imbued with heat.

"Ooohhhhhh come on, you can do it..." Yhana coaxes, though her breathless words, if they could even be heard, would almost certainly go unappreciated. Shaar's chest heaves in quick waves, desperate for a proper breath of air but there's almost none to be had.

And then, what little she didn't even know still settled in her lungs until then is forced out in time with an inarticulate whine of pleasure from Yhana. The jackal's legs intertwine with each other and extend rigidly, her heart races, her back arches again, her snatch very nearly crushes Shaar as it invites her deeper, into that dilating ring just beyond... and then it shuts, effectively collaring her.

It's Yhana's turn to be out of breath, chest rising and falling in time with her deep panting, tongue hanging well off to the side of her splayed jaws. Shaar's hands wildly search for a grip on her new collar as they gradually have more room to do so, save for the odd clench brought on by overstimulation, but they can't find purchase. The cervix is too smooth, and any attempt to use her claws doesn't even begin to leave a mark or evoke discomfort.

She gasps for breath in Yhana's womb, juices forming a shallow pool around her head. They'd be cause for alarm, she's sure, if she wasn't already being choked out by that heavy valve.

"Settle down in there, you already did it..." Yhana exhales amid uneven breaths. Collecting herself for a deep inhalation, she squeezes around Shaar sharply, reminding her that all that newfound slack inside can still just as easily be tensed again to crush obedience into her.

On shaky legs, she orients herself into kneeling upright, before easing herself to float in the air again, though the prey pawing ceaselessly from the prison between her hips lends an unstable wavering to her trajectory.

"Now... what about you?" she asks, casting a glance out of the small clearing. "You couldn't help but stand by and watch, could you?"

Mikh gulps nervously and steps back. She really knew he was there? How long did she know? In truth, he hadn't actually seen her stuff Shaar in... but he saw all the rest. The way she squirmed all the way to the finish without the use of her hands, and how she talked at nobody in view during, was all the indication he needed to conclude that his other comrade had been the fuel for her little fire. Not counting anyone who was packed into the Archivist's abdomen somewhere, he was all alone.

He's suddenly very aware of his own excited heartbeat. It seems so loud to him now that he's under scrutiny. But her eyes aren't quite on him, they're just aimed in his general direction. Maybe there's a chance she doesn't actually know where he is?

That theory doesn't last long at all. She touches down with a foot for just a moment, kicking off and bounding towards him. Reflexively, his hands go up, and he casts. Everything turns black and white again, and he dares to open his eyes again, assessing the situation.

She was only a split second away from touching him, vaporizing his size like she did to the others. He hastily steps to the side, looking her up and down. It's probably too late for Emir, but could he simply... pull Shaar out? His eyes follow the jackal's curves downwards, to where the black fur starting at the base of her tail wraps back up between her legs, but it feels especially taboo to be looking that way now that he's been caught in the act... but on the other hand, she did just give one of his companions an especially close look of her own volition. Decency is nobody's strong suit, here.

He raises a hand for a moment, but then his fingers curl inwards into not quite a fist which is then brought to his snout pensively. What can he really do? Every attempt to lay a finger on her, even when it seemed like it would be so easy, just like this, went extremely poorly, all things considered.

With a deep sigh, he steps back into her path, and closes his eyes.

The world moves again, and in the moment that it begins, Yhana's palm touches his neck. He does not feel her fingers close, or hear the whoosh of scattering ectoplasmic vapors, his senses completely gone as he shrinks in an instant. His clothing collapses to the ground below, capped by his unreasonable number of coats speckled with black dew that used to be part of him.

What remains, all eight inches of him or thereabouts, comes to in Yhana's grasp. He takes in that predatory grin for as long as it lasts, but his expression changes to one of confusion just as quickly as hers does.

"Wait a moment... You cast, didn't you?" she asks, allowing herself to touch down. Her knees nearly buckle as Shaar gets in a good kick, and she rests against the nearest tree for support, but does nothing to hide her gasp of pleasure from Mikh, watching his gaze turn aside as his cheeks flush.

And all at once, that grin returns. "Ohhh, I see. You like this, don't you?" As she looks on him this time, that lonely eye is truly glowing.

He can hardly look away any more than he already is, it's painfully obvious just how flustered he is. And how inappropriate to feel this way; he's been handily defeated along with his friends-- well, Shaar is sort of a friend, anyway. At any rate she's getting worse than she deserves right now, and so is Emir. So Mikh is next. But his rapid, fluttering heartbeat isn't entirely, or even mostly owed to fear.

His pulse even picks up further as his captor presses him against her belly with an open palm, deep enough to hear it groan as it bubbles and shifts, and firm enough to feel the movement of his companions, searching for the outside and finding him, at least in approximation.

"Yes..." he admits, barely audible, but Yhana's twitching ears unmistakably catch it.

"Yeah you do... You knew you were going to end up here as soon as you saw me, didn't you?"

"Yes..." he says again. Her accomplishments were the stuff of legend, after all. Very, very old legends. Amid all of that, he'll just be a late night snack.

He becomes aware suddenly of the rising distortion around his body; burning radiance, ruined using the energy that had been taken from Shaar. Ordinarily, the process is extraordinarily painful, but Yhana is being intentionally gentle with him. His reward for good behavior, he supposes, but it's still ripping away the last of the illusion that he could escape.

"You don't need to hold so still, you know," Yhana assures. "Just give in and feel me."

He's slow to oblige, but his shaking free arm does eventually graze upwards through the bed of fur he's pinned to. Even at such a scale, it's still so soft. Her hand bears down on him gradually more, urging him to do the same with his own. Her belly is soft in a different way, a way all its own, save for the shape of Emir from above and Shaar from below. Even as it gives the shape of his body a place to sink against, he can go even deeper by actively pushing, a discovery that elevates his practically-glowing blush to a fever hue.

Without warning, he's pulled away, cradled in both hands at face level as she looks him over, which he responds to by trying to cross his trembling thighs and look away again, but his nervous eyes glance back to that single green searchlight as it inspects him up and down, following the yellow scales that cut through the dark gray from jaw to tail.

"I've always really liked reptiles," she says, the warm air of each word washing over him, each one smoother than the last. "You've got such a pleasant texture to you."

The back of her thumb's claw gently grazes upwards against the grain of his belly; it tickles but there's enough adrenaline in his system to weather it.

Still cupping him in her hands, she brings him in, and his eyes go wide in time with her maw, but squeeze shut again as her tongue bears down on him. It's almost ritualistic, the way she has to taste each of her prey before actually devouring them properly. Mikh comes rather close to it, however, as she tips him right in, almost folding that tongue over him before closing up with a dreamy hum.

She's salivating so much already, appetite stoked by her previous catches, filling but not quite enough, and in not quite as many ways as she needed. She can feel him trying to brace himself, hands and knees sinking deep while his back arches high, as he approaches the drop-off into her throat, but she isn't about to put him through that. There are better ways to use someone like him, after some prep.

When Mikh next sees light, it's followed up by the cold touch of the smooth bark of an enormous root, onto which he's deposited. He starts to stand up, trying to shake the saliva off of himself, but even his best effort is nothing compared to what a single amused breath through Yhana's nose can do, closer than he expected it to still be.

She uprights herself even as he turns, it's almost dizzying to look up at her, the way she effortlessly towers over him, but the view changes quickly. Sultrily, she turns, hands running off her hips as her tail raises, fingers digging into the natural squish of her rump, accentuating the sheer heft of it. The white-outlined black patterns along the sides of her body spike inwards, guiding the view right back in on the soft culmination of so many nights no doubt spent in ways similar to this.

It's not fear that Mikh is paralyzed with, but it's still all his little heart can take and it's a wonder he doesn't simply drop dead as those twin mounds spread apart, a wave of body heat hitting him moments before Yhana's weight does, pressing down on him forcefully and conforming from either side as she shifts her hips from side to side, getting comfortable on top of him.

"Comfortable, I hope?" she asks, still situating herself. He can't really answer of course, every sound he's already making is completely muffled under her hips with no clearance to be found.

Momentarily, his thoughts go to Shaar, mere inches away from where he is now, but even if he could move that way at all, his attention is brought back onto himself with a flex from the jackal atop him, forcing limbs inward and drawing him closer.

"That's more like it," Yhana sighs, finally having gotten comfortable, and focusing now on nothing more than the company of her various playthings, wherever they've wound up. Her restful moment is struck through by a shock of pleasure as she feels something just below the base of her tail. Deep kissing; hard to tell at first, at Mikh's size, but he's certainly trying his best, and he's getting some admirable results, sufficient to make Yhana's quivering insides put the urge to struggle back in her fox toy.

Letting out another moan and curling the toes on either foot in arrhythmic alternation, that muscular ring squeezes tight like it's trying to kiss him right back, though for once tonight, Mikh has an advantage, his flexible tongue adding some extra reach to the ecstasy he imparts.

Risking tipping over, she leans back, gripping the root firmly to hang on while she bears down on her snake. If he doesn't want to get crushed, his only option is to push even deeper upwards.

He can hardly believe he's doing this. An encounter with one of the most dangerous people in the five systems and it's led to him making out with her butt. Kissing, licking, and grinding, he's completely enchanted by his predicament, and she can't get enough of him.

But she can certainly try.

"You're mine now, little thief."

She leans forward again, planting her feet, claws digging into the soil the moment they touch, gaining enough traction to raise herself up, just a little bit, but it's all she needs. Mikh follows on his knees, the need for this kind of touch dominating his mind, until he's just upright enough. Yhana crashes back down, the valve straining against the snake's face, but he slips through with little issue.

The jackal tips back, letting herself float down at a controlled speed until her shoulders touch the bed of leaves that covers the ground; she's in no danger of losing her prey, he's up to mid torso in her rump, having closed heavily around him when she left her seat and every clench just claims more of him. Not that he's even trying to escape; quite the opposite. His long tail whips in circles as he tries to brace with his legs, pushing himself through her hungry tailhole, which is all too eager to receive him.

He truly is all hers; more than anything he wants to keep going, reaching forward into the tightly-squeezing passage and letting it take him. His hips are engulfed in seconds, and everything beyond follows in slow, peristaltic progression until finally his tail is pulled inside with a final contraction.

Mikh presses outwards, making himself as graspable to the pliant flesh around him as he possibly can. In doing so, he pushes into something firm, and it pushes back. It's Shaar, one orifice over, and upon feeling Mikh nearby, she immediately digs in with her feet, trying to find purchase on him and push herself deeper into Yhana's womb. It's counterintuitive but the sheer amount of fluid accumulation at the base of the chamber had long since begun to pour over the corners of her mouth by now, compromising every breath. Now that the jackal has inverted herself, Shaar is determined to wriggle out of this unconventional headlock before the deluge returns.

Between her reinvigorated, frantic motions, and Mikh's lustful surrender as he begins to be carried up and around the bend, the final notes of Yhana's afterglow start to quicken once more, escalating beyond what even she can control with the constant, forceful squeezing of her pelvic muscles. If anything, it's just exacerbating it, bringing on another sensation she has no desire to resist.

"Hhhaaaahh...!!"

In a single, synchronous moment, Shaar's legs press behind herself in just the right place, Mikh slips past the point of retrieval, and Yhana goes rigid again as her entire being is wracked with a second, even more powerful orgasm. Her quaking hands fumble at her own muzzle just to keep herself quiet; the security systems might pick up a lot but there's only so much dignity she's willing to give up, even in the midst of bliss this overwhelming.

Shaar gags as the jackal's squeezes tighter abruptly, cutting off all airflow and working a disproportionate level of dismay into such a short moment, but as it begins to tremble again she wastes no time digging into the supple surface of the clenching walls, forcing the cervix to swallow her. The last bit of adrenaline doesn't carry her far, the steamy, aphrodisiac climate of the womb is more than she can manage and she's up to her neck in fluids anyway, conveying it into her like a bath.

Scrambling back up the slope, she digs her fingers into the valve, but its erratic trembling has nearly ceased; she even tries to put her head back in but it's no use.

"No no no, hey!" she shouts, tugging with everything she had, but the lubricated surfaces provide little to grip, and she falls back into that thick, clear pool, which fills nearly the entire space as the womb tenses up. Much like Emir before her, she gives in to the environment within Yhana's body quickly, her bruised windpipe doing nothing to assist her in the oppressive humidity as she treads the thick bath that causes her whole body to tingle.

To her great chagrin, it begins to weigh heavy on her limbs, like the onset of sleep one isn't ready for.

"You damn... glorified librarian, I'm... better than this..."

One last attempt to grip the rim of that prospective way out, and once more, she slips off, before slipping into a deep, powerful stupor.

Mikh has long since given into his own kind of stupor, panting heavily, having repeatedly enjoyed the soft texture of Yhana's intestine around him to completion by now, the rise and fall of it all borne on her heavy breathing pushing and pulling him like an ocean tide; the gentle, bordering-on-loving tug as her depths welcome him over and over again.

How far back would he have to go now to leave? That's irrelevant now, he doesn't want to. And he can't fathom it. The marinade of enzymes that flows around him now has already begun to take effect. With every rippling pull, the boundary between himself and Yhana grows blurrier yet. All there is now is that tight, welcoming, warm darkness, all around him.

His entire existence is defined purely by how good it feels to exist, even as that existence simplifies by the second.

Yhana realizes she's lost track of time spent with her back against the soil, legs still hooked over that thick root, now marked darkly by the still-warm evidence of her foray into indulgence. Rather than exert the physical effort needed to get up onto feet that are surely too unsteady to remain upright upon, she begins to float again, allowing herself to tip upside down.

"Alright... your turn..." she shudders, taking a deep breath. Her core tenses up, and her pelvic floor flexes, submerging the fox in her womb entirely, just for a few moments, before she dilates on command.

Shaar is hardly able to process herself being squeezed back out into that canal that shaped so readily around her, nor the pair of fingers that come digging in for her. After several seconds of prodding, she wraps her arms around them; her hold on them isn't nearly tight enough but they splay to grip her by the waist, drawing her out from the deep vice in the Archivist's hips.

Minutes ago, the fox would have taken an urgent inhalation, but it's more like what would accompany a morning stretch, she's still so sedated. So much so that the quick migration just a few inches further on, like anything she's experiencing, doesn't register immediately.

Yhana's body temperature is almost imperceptible now, having been totally engulfed in it, even as the jackal grips a cheek with an entire hand to pull it aside, lowering Shaar into that slightly-agape ring. It grips her ankles, gradually drawing her attention down, by which time it's already sucking its way around her hips. Almost drunkenly, her head swivels back upwards, and she tries to hold on tighter as the pair of fingers comes back together in front of her, helping to push her in.

It amounts to little of course, and there's no resistance at all as the jackal slips perhaps the least fortunate among her playthings into her butt. The fox struggles weakly, but there's not enough room to even try to climb. The fingers slip out of the best her grasp can offer, retracting with no sign of her.

Fighting one with one shoulder after the other, arms pinned to her chest, she tries to wriggle towards that tailhole, but every time it clenches, that thin wedge of pale light is ever so slightly further away, despite her best efforts, and after so long, being played with by slow, deliberate contractions, the light is gone.

Flipping over with a gratuitous sigh, Yhana lands, expecting herself to stagger and catching herself by the third step. Uprighting herself properly, she presses into her belly with both hands, squeezing deep muscles as she tracks her prey, some more solid than others at this juncture.

The walk to the edge of the arboretum is uneventful; she knows which exit won't have security aberrations clamoring to come in and scan. Entering a code of her own and finishing with a quick flash of radiance uniquely significant of her altered bones, she lifts the lockdown she had placed on the way in, and immediately the sound of multiple other bulkheads can be heard opening all at once, but she's out right as the system drones are in.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd been out in the outer walkways naked as the day she was born. It wasn't uncommon for others aboard to forgo clothes when not in an area that necessitated protective equipment or formality; even Yhana followed those guidelines just to set a good precedent. But not tonight. She'd be in and out, after all.

A couple of elevator rides down to the deeper levels of the station don't take long, interrupted only by a jaunt from the outer ring to the central sectors. The added time is nothing she minds, especially not with her newfound sources of amusement to send around bends with the occasional wider sway as she walks. Traveling into the sections restricted to all but herself and a few special personnel, she enters a black hallway with soft lights just above floor level being the only thing to designate a path. Gates of organically curse-marked bone fused into filigrees buzz softly as she passes, but otherwise have no effect on her, recognizing her as an exception to their discouragement.

She continues through into a large room in which large condensers collect black vapor, funneling into reclamation vessels pumping the glassy black fluid into a great amalgam beneath the glass floor. The ectoplasm vaults of the Archivist station; the single best insurance against accidents. Or intended incidents, in this case. She forgoes seating herself at a terminal, simply putting a knee up on the chair nearby, placing her hand on a luminous orb set into the console.

She closes her eyes, focusing. Emir. Shaar. Mikh. Thieves whose names she doesn't actually even know but she's got their aetheric signatures, and following a trio of careful pulses of energy from her palm so does the system. They're registered in the station's regeneration queue now, but with an indefinite hold time to maybe be lifted at a later time if the mood struck her. Only her clearance or higher can see them in the system anyway, so for now, they're staying with her.

Content with that, she backs away, and makes her way to the elevator, intending to return to her quarters and sleep better than she has in months... maybe after a third round, anyway.

Emir's body has succumbed to her own at this point but his state of mind persists; a rush of heat spreads outward as she rubs her belly, as if he's still blushing at the touch. Just how much warmer will it be when the other two join him as one?

As easy as they were to catch, getting on board undetected was no small feat; they really did almost have a clean break. Once she's had her fun with them, and they've spent a few weeks padding out her curves, it might be worth it to question them, figure out how they did it.

She stares out the windowed exterior of the elevator, at the planet above. Or below? It doesn't matter. If she can bear to part with them, she might just have a job offer for them on the surface.

And if they refuse... well, she can always put them right back where they are now.

Either way, she's sure they'll be a perfect fit.