FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Miss, may I ask something?" Clank's metallic voice pierced through the roar of the engine and the cacophonous beeping of the flight simulator's instrument panel.

"Go for it," said Rivet, the HUD going out of focus as her eyes watered, her clit inching her closer to orgasm.

There was an awkward silence that lasted a couple of seconds, a couple of seconds that Rivet took advantage of to grind her crotch into the thrumming strap that went from the small of her back, down her ass, up her taint and pussy, and all the way to her navel--because of a miscalculation, the simulator's cockpit chair vibrated in resonance with the powerful surround sound system, and the frequency was just right for a girl to have a li'l bit of fun.

"Why are you blushing? Are you comfortable? You seem to be fidgeting a lot, miss." The robot's voice was, as always, neutral and diplomatic; his electronic brain couldn't comprehend what was happening. "If you are not fully aware of your surroundings, the simulator ship will crash, miss, and that will not be good at all, will it?"

Rivet, with a throbbing forehead vein, sighed and pulled on the X212's polycarbonate yoke. "OK. All right, I-I think I just managed to avoid clipping my wings in that canyon," she said, closing her eyes and biting her lip as the rush of new air around her virtual fighter spacecraft coaxed more vibrations out of the sound system and, in turn, coaxed more pleasure out of her knob.

"Very well, miss," said Clank. "Now that you are out of the canyon, try and roll to the right and then pull up on the yoke as hard as you can. I need to see if you black out."

The lombax scowled and stomped her foot to focus. The gloved palm of her left hand went numb from clutching the yoke as hard she could. "OK, Clank," she said, swallowing hard, ears pinned back. "If I go out, lemme out of this heap of junk."

"That goes without saying, miss. Though I would like to point out that the X212 simulator is not a heap of junk," said Clank, frowning. "It is, in essence, a marvel of engineering."

"Yeah, yeah," said Rivet as the plane banked till it was at a ninety-degree angle. "Just keep an eye out." She tugged hard on the yoke and shivered--the virtual turbulent air outside kicked up a deafening storm, and the jittering against her pussy reached a crescendo. Rivet gasped and moaned. "Oh, fuck!"

"Everything all right, miss?"

"Yes, yes!" she rasped, both in pleasure and to placate Clank. "I-I . . . Oh, God . . . It's just a rush, you know?" Her tummy heaved, g-forces and the impending climax competing.

"Excellent, miss. Hold it for a few more seconds."

The virtual Aural canyon, the red-orange simulated sky and the computer-generated desert hills all morphed into one rust-colored blob as Rivet's ship cut through the dry air at breakneck speed. Not that she'd notice; the lombax, on the very verge of cumming from the vigorous pussy lip, taint, and clit vibrations, had her eyes clamped shut, a tear threatening to break free to stream down her left cheek.

"You have astonishingly good resilience to inertial forces, miss."

Clank's computerized voice, the infernal beeping, the anti-gravity core's nauseating pulsing--every single sound faded as Rivet's ears relaxed, her hips grinding against the vibrating belt. "Almost there," she thought, her toes curling up in her black boots. "Ah, I'm gonna c--"

"I do believe you are certified for the real McCoy now," said Clank as the g-force countdown timer in the control room in front of him reached zero. "I am cutting the power to the simulator, miss. We should not keep it on unless absolutely necessary. The CPU cores consume too much power."

"No, wait!" Rivet's voice came over the intercom distorted and staticky.

"I did not get that, miss. You can tell me in person right after I switch the simulator off." Clank's tubular fingers wrapped around a red lever, and he pulled it down to the OFF position. "All done, miss."

The wonderful vibrations stopped just before that first wave of gratifying release--her entire body went stiff, every muscle rigid. "NO! DAMN YOU, CLANK!" she rasped through gritted teeth. "JUST A FEW MORE SECONDS!" The artificial g-force field generator had come to a halt along with the rest of the simulation; the tugging on her innards had stopped, amplifying the excruciating frustration. Rivet tried to thrust her round ass to get even the tiniest bit of friction against her clit, but she was denied even that, for the straps securing her thighs to the cockpit were, of course, made of yet another Clank machination: a comfortable yet rigid composite material. As a last-ditch effort, she grabbed her crotch area with her cybernetic arm and rubbed. That's when she realized, to her horror, that she'd grabbed Ratchet's flight suit by mistake. And his flight suit had a reinforced groin to protect his "assets," so the bulge blocked out any and all feeling.

By the time Clank opened the hatch to the simulator from the outside, Rivet had cruelly slipped away from the edge. "Is everything all right, miss? You seem a little flustered," he asked, finger still on the hatch button.

All the exasperated lombax could do was stare at him, her jaw aching from clenching her jaws so hard.

---

Rivet's hands trembled along with the real X212's yoke--the simulator, in comparison, was a joke. The real deal was hard as balls to maneuver. "Nice and steady," said Ratchet over the intercom, his voice grainy and peppered with static noise.

She jerked the yoke to the right; outside, the tip of the spacecraft grazed the slate-gray canyon stratum, and its starboard side dipped. "Yeah, yeah," said Rivet. "This shit is nothing like that box with springs." Her earrings clinked in synch with the clear-air turbulence.

Clank spoke up. "Excuse me, miss, but that is not a box with springs. It is an advanced simulator; the springs are actually hydraulic actua--"

"You know, Clank, you're real cute, except when you talk."

"I keep telling him that, Rivet," said Ratchet, "but he never listens."

The two lombaxes laughed heartily as the spacecraft hurtled through the Aural canyon, the multicolored strata speeding past the X212 like colorful slicks of flowing oil.

"I never could understand mammalian humor," said Clank matter-of-factly.

"Hold that thought." Rivet narrowed her eyes at an object in the distance. "OK, so there's this weird spinning thing coming up ahead right at the end of the canyon." She glanced down at the radar. "But I can't see it on radar for some reason?"

"Not on radar? Hm, that doesn't make sense," said Ratchet, rubbing his chin.

"That is only possible if it is an object that either does not emit electromagnetic radiation or does not reflect it. There is only one such object in the universe that also happens to spin."

"What are you talking about, Clank?"

"Miss, I want you to listen to me very carefully. It is of utmost importance that you avoid that thing. It is a miniature black hole."

"A black hole?!" shouted Ratchet through the intercom, his voice clipping. "Clank, why wasn't that built into the simulator?"

"A black hole is virtually impossible to simulate accurately, sir. It would take all the computational power, combined, of two whole solar systems to do so."

"Save the physics lecture for later," said Rivet curtly. "Clank, I need you to tell me what to do. Do I pull up? Get out of this stinking canyon?"

"Yes, miss," said Clank, keeping an eye on the ship's location beacon on his own screen. "Raise the nose to an angle of sixty degrees and maintain that angle till I say so."

"OK. Here it goes." Rivet wrapped her fingers around the yoke and tugged with all her might. In her haste, however, she forgot that her cybernetic prosthesis was orders of magnitude stronger than her other arm--the control stick slammed into its rightmost position with a clunk.

"Fuck!" she yelled as the spacecraft went into a spin, both wings scraping against the canyon wall with an ear-piercing shriek of metal on ancient limestone.

Red lights and buzzers filled the cockpit as Ratchet's frantic voice came over the intercom. "Oh, crap! She's lost control! Rivet, your only hope now is to go into Excavator mode--push the button with the conical drill on it!"

"That is an excellent idea," interjected Clank. "The X212 will drill into the ground, preventing further wing damage. We will also avoid the black hole's tidal forces."

"OK! I-I think I found it," she stammered, her stomach lurching as the X212 spiraled towards the ground, its ailerons totaled, frayed wires surrounding gnarled metal. Rivet punched the button and, just before the careening spacecraft slammed into the bedrock beneath the soft black shale plates, a huge conical drill bit shot out of the spacecraft's nose and burrowed a hole a foot deep, impaling the X212 into the granite.

Rivet sat there, strapped into the cockpit chair, mouth open, blinking rapidly and trying to process what the hell had just happened. Ratchet's distorted voice and the emergency beepers eventually penetrated past the roaring rush of blood in her head. "Rivet! I'm still picking up a heartbeat and oxygen usage. Are you OK? Rivet!"

"Yeah. I'm f-fine," she whispered, suddenly taking deep breaths.

"That is certainly good news," said Clank. "But there seems to be a minor setback, so to speak. The craft is stuck, and I am not sure how we are to free it."

"All right, the important thing is that Rivet is fine. We could just try and cut her out and worry about the plane later."

"I am afraid the presence of the black hole would make that a treacherous rescue mission. Perhaps we can use the low-frequency generator? It was devised for excavation so that the drill does not adhere to anything, and I think we can repurpose it here to try and shake the X212 out of the granite."

"Well, assuming that even works, what then? The anti-gravity engine's completely screwed up and Rivet lost her ailerons," said Ratchet. "And we can't use outer space propulsion, either. That causes the atmosphere around the ship to burn up."

"Based on my calculations, if the frequency of the generator is just right, the X212 will be pulled out by the black hole and, because of a gravitational slingshot, it will exceed the escape velocity and leave the planet's gravitational field. Rescue should be easy after that."

"And are you sure I won't be . . . sucked into that thing?" said Rivet, focusing past the HUD of her goggles to look out the cockpit window--the miniature black hole's event horizon was just a hundred or so meters away from the downed spacecraft.

"An inferential analysis yields a 0.9993894553 probability of successful gravitational slingshot, miss."

"You'll be fine, Rivet. Just hold tight," reassured Ratchet, his tongue sticking out as he hacked into the X212's low-frequency generator array. "I also kinda forget to tell you; the sonic waves are pretty strong, so you'll more than likely be pressed hard into your seat, and you won't be able to move. It won't be long, and it's not gonna hurt."

"Sir, set the frequency to 33 Hz."

Rivet poked her tongue lightly into her cheek and inhaled a long breath. "Uh, a little heads up next time? Am I going to be like a zom--"

The low-frequency motors kicked in, filling the cockpit with a subtle roar. Rivet found her legs stuck sonically to the diamond-plated floor; her arms, likewise, were pinned to the backrest. "Uhhh . . ." Her pupils dilated as her eyes swiveled down. The soundwaves shook her ribcage, rattled her tummy . . . and teased and vibrated her sex. "Ah, guys . . . ah, fuck!" she squealed, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

"Miss," said Clank with a noticeable pause; while he didn't use profanity himself, he was well aware that when Rivet did, something was wrong. "I can assure you: everything will be OK."

Ratchet, sitting right next to the robot in the control room, smirked. "Oh, from the sound of it, things are more than just OK." He crossed his legs to spare Clank the sight of his growing bulge.

The acoustic rumble penetrated her flight suit, her skin, her muscles and vibrated the inner structure of her clit--the frequency was just right for resonance. Rivet moaned loud and long, arching her back as much as she could into the sudden internal stimulation. The red-faced lombax's eyes shot open, midmoan, when she remembered, to her horror, that Ratchet and Clank were still privy to her pleasure.

"I am extremely confused," said Clank. "The pitch and cadence of such vocalizations only indicates . . . one thing." He stared at Ratchet.

"Never mind that, Clank." Ratchet clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms, the corner of his mouth twisting into a half-grin. "I'm going to turn the intensity of the vibrations up and keep the same frequency."

Rivet's eyes, now small pinpricks, shifted left and right. "No, no, I-I don't, uh, think we need more power--WOW!" She sucked in a quick breath. Her heart seemed to freeze and then start pounding again.

Outside, little multicolored rocks shot out of the edge of the crater that enveloped the conical drill bit--the X212 was freeing itself. "What's the matter, Rivet?" said Ratchet in a voice higher than usual. "Are the vibrations a li'l too much in some places?" There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Shu-Shut up, asshole," said Rivet, a flush creeping across her face. "Just keep this going a little longer."

"And why is that?" Ratchet turned to face the robot but realized that Clank was, of course, helplessly oblivious.

Rivet bared her teeth. "You know why," she said in a quaky voice. "Fuck!" Sexual fire stewed in her lower tummy, for the lombax was going to orgasm. She laid her head back, waiting for the waves of much-needed pleasure to engulf her.

Right before the soundwaves tipped her over the edge, the entire spacecraft jerked, and Rivet found herself pressed against straps of her five-point harness. "NO, GODDAMMIT!" The X212, a trail of rocky debris trailing from the tip of its conical drill bit, hurtled through the planet's atmosphere, just grazing the black hole's event horizon. She tugged on her restraints with all her might--the acoustic thrumming had stopped, and she desperately tried to wedge her hand past her crotch seatbelt.

"Aw, what's wrong, Rivet? Stopped before you could have your fun, huh?" asked Ratchet, legs kicked up and resting on the control panel. He tossed a crumpled up ball of paper from hand to hand, his bulge throbbing as Rivet's spacecraft rushed past the tenuous final layers of the planet's atmosphere.

"I fail to understand, sir," said Clank, staring at Ratchet with his metallic mouth wide open. "Miss just narrowly escaped being sucked into the event horizon of a black hole. She is lucky the tidal forces were not strong enough to spaghettify her. How would that have been fun?"

Rivet grunted. "That's not what he meant, Clank."

"And, sir, one more thing--why is it that you seem to be getting an erection?"

"WHAT! Ratchet, you're fucking hard? You pervert! Just you wait till I get my hands on your stupid face!" yelled Rivet, repeatedly hitting the yoke with her fists like a punching bag as the rescue bot attached itself to the lifeless X212's hatch.

---

"Miss, I would strongly suggest some form of anger management," said the robot, walking into the inspection room, his soles clanking against the metal platform. He stood in front of Rivet's spread legs and scowled. "The flight yoke has to be replaced."

"You haven't seen angry yet," said Rivet, her goggles now pinned to her head. She was still strapped into the chair with the five-point harness wrapped around her--she had to be cut out of the cockpit because her belts malfunctioned and refused to unfasten. Ratchet's fingers were wedged between her straps and her flight suit, teeth comically clenched as he strained to separate the harness from her thigh. "I'm gonna kick your ass the second you let me out of here, Ratchet!" she yelled.

"Oh, keep your hollering down," he grunted. "I don't even know how we're going to get you out. Looks like your suit's glued to the belts."

Clank, now standing next to Ratchet, reached over and held the edge of the strap between two steel fingers. "It seems the pressure from the inertial forces of the gravitational slingshot chemically bonded the flame-resistant layer with the belt's polyester."

Ratchet sighed and wiped his sweaty forehead. "And what does that mean?"

"According to my database, there are only two productive ways to proceed. The first one involves application of copious heat."

"Wait, wait. Hold on. Uh, why can't you guys just, like, cut me out of here?"

"I am afraid that would be too hazardous; the flight suit is designed to mold itself to your body, so any shearing and compressive forces could breach your skin."

Rivet chuckled sardonically and shook her head. "Well, I'd rather not have any third-degree burns either, Clank. What's the other way?"

Clank looked up at Ratchet. "Do we still have that concrete compaction vibrator?"

"Vibrator?" asked Ratchet, his maw twisting into a slow smile that built. "What do we need a vibrator for?"

"We need to break the bonds. Repeated application of percussive forces should do it; however, very strong machinery is required to generate the forces we need."

"Are you for real, Clank? A vibrator? Are you just doing this to mess with me?" asked Rivet, frowning.

Clank opened his mouth in confusion. "No, miss. This is, other than the application of heat, an effective way to free you."

"And, let me guess," said Ratchet, crossing his arms and locking eyes with an irritated Rivet, "that's why need the concrete compaction vibrator specifically?" Ratchet stared at her, a smug smile on his face.

"Yes, sir. I do believe we have the unit in storage facility 72. But before that, sir, I do think we need to prevent miss from hurting herself."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"It would be most useful to strap both her arms to the backrest. That way, miss will not accidentally make contact with the vibrating unit. Is that all right, miss?"

---

Ratchet's gloved hand shook violently for a couple of seconds as the machine revved up to its nominal frequency. He whooped, much to Clank's surprise and Rivet's chagrin. "Man, this thing's brutal. Wanna take it for a spin, Rivet?"

"Oh, you are so going to regret this, you asshole," she said, both of her bound hands balling up into fists.

"I do fail to understand this hostility," said Clank. "Please relax, miss. It should not take more than a few minutes. Based on my calculations, sir, the strap covering the inguinal region is critical. If we can remove it, the rest can be peeled off with minimal force."

"Miss Rivet," said Ratchet coquettishly, a gleam in his eye. "Is our damsel in distress ready to be set free?"

"You're the one who's going to be in distress after I--OH, HOLY FUCK BALLS!" Rivet's body jerked and tensed up, her cybernetic hand creaking at the knuckles.

Ratchet laughed out loud, slapping his thigh with his free hand. "What's wrong? Am I hitting a sensitive spot?" he asked with a shit-eating grin.

Rivet's tail, sticking out of the back of the cockpit chair thanks to lombax furgonomics, swished to the right and swished to the left as Ratchet teased her crotch with the long vibrating end of the concrete compactor. "You bastard," she growled. "You know exactly wha-what you're doing!"

Having come to a conclusion, Clank cocked his head. "Sir," he said as Rivet gasped and groaned. "I think genital stimulation is the cause of this."

Ratchet smiled wide and chuckled at Clank's naïveté. "Sure took you a while."

"I am afraid my database lacks information on lombax sexuality, sir, since lombaxes are so scarce in the universe."

"Well, I suppose you can consider this a learning experience," said Ratchet, rubbing the compactor up and down the length of Rivet's crotch strap, making her moan and thrust her hips into the belt.

"That does sound like a splendid idea, actually. If you continue stimulation, sir, you will--"

"Make her cum?" Ratchet blushed and gave Clank a knowing look.

"I was going to say induce orgasm, but yes." Clank's head spun to face Rivet, iridescent camera lenses appearing in his eyes. "If you would be so kind as to continue clitoral stimulation, sir, I would like to add an example of female lombax orgasm to my database."

"Ugh, both of you are perverts," she said in an airy voice, tail sticking up. Her nipples were small bumps against the flight suit.

"Hey, I'm not the one rocking their butt back and forth," countered Ratchet, pushing the thrumming tool into the belt, leaning forward to get a closer look at her face.

Rivet's eyes bulged. "Oh, fuck! Ratchet, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

"It would seem that third phase of the sexual response cycle is imminent," said Clank.

"Come on, Rivet. It's the eleventh of June. Time for your big release." The machine's whirring went up and down as Ratchet wiggled it back and forth over her clit.

Rivet inhaled sharply and her body went stiff as a board. All the frustration from the past couple of orgasmless days was about to boil over into one hell of a climax.

"Damn, that's hot," muttered Ratchet, holding the trembling rod still against her pussy.

As soon as Ratchet finished murmuring, Rivet arched her back into the first viciously overwhelming waves of relief. She gnashed her teeth, howled, yowled, groaned, and bucked her hips as her pussy and taint clenched maniacally under her panties and flight suit.

"This will do just fine," said Clank while Rivet's head lolled left and right in pleasure, her light blue eyes rolling back.

Summoning a bit of willpower, the lombax half-opened her eyes and glanced down at the compactor, her lips parted, earrings swinging to and fro. She fought the intense sensations for a couple of seconds as Ratchet pushed the vibrator in even harder. Rivet gave into the nonstop orgasm with a grunt, her eyes closing as her head slammed back into the headrest. Her goggles were knocked off her head, and their strap ended up snagging on her flight suit's neck zipper. From there, they bounced off her breasts each time a surge of pleasure made her body lurch.

"YES! YES! FUCK!" she snarled with each pelvic thrust. Fire and raw electricity coursed through Rivet's body. The sensation was sharp and intense--her pussy lips squeezed with conviction with each explosive eruption of erotic ecstasy. She could even feel her asshole winking in tandem with her sex behind her underwear and flight suit.

Rivet huffed and puffed as the ferocious climax subsided, the brutal, white-hot pleasure tapering off into ticklish tingles in her clit and pussy. Her tits bounced up and down, her goggles rocking back and forth like a swing swaying in a slight zephyr. "Holy shit," she said in a shaky voice as, just then, the belt covering her groin detached, revealing a rather dark stain on her flight suit's crotch.

Ratchet turned the concrete compacting unit off. "You had quite a bit of fun there, didn't you?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear, a ridiculous bulge threatening to burst out of his pants.

"No comment," she said as Clank's eyes went back to normal.

"That was a fascinating sample, miss. Thank you so much for contributing to my database."

Rivet, still red in the face, rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. So, are you going to pull the rest of this crap off me or what?"

"We can do that, but I kinda think I need a break," said Ratchet, smirking at his own erection. "Why don't you two give me five minutes? I got some business to take care of."

Rivet shook her head when Ratchet's footsteps had faded to near silence. "I can't believe he's gonna jerk off. You know what that is, right, Clank? It's when--WHAT THE FUCK!"

Clank's groin assembly was open, and he was fiddling with his robotic five-inch cock. "I do think I am forgetting something," he said. Motor oil shot out of the titanium tip in rhythmic spurts. "Oh, I remember now. I installed the Ejaculation module but not the Orgasm module. Because this is supposed to feel exhilarating. Right, miss?"

An echoey groan of sexual pleasure came from down the hallway that led into the inspection room--Clank, with his hand on his dripping cock, and Rivet, her cheeks still flushed in post-orgasmic euphoria, turned their heads in unison to face the door.