FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Milk, check. Eggs, check. Pre-grated cheese (sharp cheddar), check. Nu-meat (beef analog, ground), check. Shampoo (tingly scalp refill), check.

I looked over my cart and double-checked. The slim touch-screen on the side of the rickety wire mesh had already connected to my phone and had triple and quadruple checked, but it somehow felt better to have done a check myself. There were some rituals that assured me that my meaty, biological brain still had purpose, and double-checking my shopping list was one of them.

The reward was worth it, anyway. Having quintuple-checked the list and confirmed that I should be set for the next week or so, I allowed myself to walk down the aisle for an indulgence. It was part of the ritual--the treat for having left the house to do a simple task like grocery shopping. It would have been so easy to order food in, but Sally would have been disappointed in me. She wouldn't have told me so, but I would have to the surreptitious addition of last month's take-out budget overflow being added dutifully to my end-of-month budget, and she would be correct. She always was.

So instead, I'd ventured out into the cold February air with canvas bags in pocket to do some shopping. I could have asked Tom to do it. He would have, if I'd asked. But he'd told me that it wasn't healthy to be a shut-in like me, and just like Sally, he was always right. I could spend all night jacked in socializing with my friends, but it really did me some good to get a little sunshine and fresh air occasionally. Really, even though I was only buying food for one, I was doing this chore for three.

Since it was so important to get outside once in a while, it was worth the little treat I'd promised myself. An hour and a half of being responsible and tolerating public transit and the crowded city deserved something. A little something, to be sure, but something. I walked down the well-stocked aisle of home-goods, waiting for the first thing to catch my fancy. I didn't know what it would be, and that was part of the thrill of the treat. Along with everything I needed to survive the next week, I'd go home with a surprise.

Most of the general home goods were things that either didn't apply to me, or were something my house already had covered. Did I need a Rug Rat to keep my floors clean? Nah. Timmy the Mouse-Mop had that covered, and my little apartment wasn't big enough to need a Rat. I ignored their advertising squeaks as I walked past. How about a Laundry Stork? It was good for households of three to six. The two they had on the shelf clacked their beaks at me, and while they were awfully cute, I wasn't a household of three to six. It was just me, and there were some small jobs I just didn't need anthropomorphic assistance with.

The Kitchen Skink wiggled its tail enticingly at me, but I already had one from a previous treat to myself. It was useful--my dishes were always sparkling clean--but I didn't need two. A pair of bedroom vixens flashed eyes at me enticingly, but even though their sultry charms filled me with ideas, I wasn't needing in that department, either. I had a fulfilling and satisfying sex life online and all the equipment necessary for virtual pleasure. As cute as the little house helpers were, I rarely went to bed in a state that would need their assistance.

I almost passed by the water weasels--I already had one of those as well--when an additional advertisement caught my attention. While the water weasels wiggled in their packaging, the newly released flavour Marten offered something that, now that I thought about it, I craved. While freshly filtered weasel water was a nice refresher whenever and wherever I needed it in the house, the idea that I could ask instead for any range of tasty additives was suddenly the inspiration I needed. Yup. That was it: my treat.

I scanned the shelf to see if any of them were clearly flawed or defective, but to my eyes all the martens were identical. I picked up one from the shelf, and it put translucent paws against the plastic film. It was sizeable--not far different than the size of the water weasel I already had at home. Just like she was, the marten was a translucent, except for a soft safety glow that I'm sure would have been more visible in a dark room. But where my water weasel was functionally female, the product I held in his packaging was very obviously male. That made sense. The two products were supposed to work together, weren't they?

Checkout was automated. I didn't even stop on my way through the store's exit. The charge beeped through on my mobile as I stepped through the scanner at speed. I was about done with crowds today, and I still had a ten-minute wait for the next train, and a twenty minute ride to the station closest to my home. There were closer food stores, of course. I could walk five minutes from my house to a more convenient one, but that's just not how the weekly trip went. If I was going to take the effort to put on clothes and venture out of my door, I was going to make it worth it. My local bodega was missing my treat, and my treat is what made it worth getting out of the house. It was worth the extra time to take a trip into the city to a store with what I desired. A full range of products from the Anthropomorphic House.

Some people were happy with Automated houses--though mostly they were luddites who prefered things to do things themselves. Most of the time, they had to. Automated houses were the past. The distant past. While it's useful, automation lacks the smarts to do the right jobs at the right time, and usually they end up just fucking everything up. You might as well have a fully manual house, where you did all your work yourself. Bleh. Maybe that worked for some people, but not for me.

Most people were happy with the step up from Automated houses, the Intelligent house. An unobtrusive artificial intelligence would study your schedule and perform all the little chores that, all together, used to take up so much time. That little spark of wisdom is what separates an Automated house from an Intelligent house--not just knowing when you needed a job done, but why. For most people, that was enough.

But then there were people like me. People who were very particular about their other people. People who looked at all that outside world and said "no thanks." Mostly, we were happy to stay in and do our little rituals when we needed to get out, but even though I had friends and lovers, there's something about a physical touch that virtual reality and pleasure equipment can't quite mimic. Luckily for me, the Anthropomorphic house is ready to deliver the personality that I need--the kind of personality that can give me my space when I need it, but is there when I need it.

Sally, the personality of my house as a whole, welcomed me home with a warm chirp as I opened my front door and thankfully shut it behind me. The lights dimmed and brightened in a subtle acknowledgment of my presence. Tom was at the door too, my anthropomorphic general assistance. He was ostensibly a dog, but under the silky soft fur and pleasant demeanor, he was another artificial intelligence with all the tools necessary to help me lead a happy and fulfilling life, both manually and emotionally. He took the bags of groceries from me, then stopped to sit in front of me and wait for me to lean down and rub his ears before he took them to the kitchen to put the food away.

Meanwhile, my Deer Rack took my winter coat from my hands while I disrobed. That was another one of my previous treats. It really didn't do much, and given how little I really ended up using it, I guess maybe it hadn't been the best choice. But it did amuse me, and sometimes that's all a product needs to do. The deer rack was a slim, stylized deer, standing on its hind legs. Its one and only purpose was to take my jackets and coats and hang them from its antlers.

"Sally, I've got a new toy. Could you connect to this one, please?" I showed the flavour marten to one of Sally's cameras. I knew the marten would be running on dregs from its prior connection to the store intelligence. Like every helper in my house, it'd need Sally's assistance to really bring it to life.

"Oh, good choice Andy." Sally didn't have a 'face', but her voice was smiling at me. "I'll let Samantha know that she's got a new playmate."

Samantha waddled in from the kitchen. She was ungainly and amusingly clumsy. The water weasel hadn't been equipped with a voice box, so instead she let out a cute little chirp as she reached up for the packaging in my hands. Inside, the marten had regained his previous animated adorableness.

Tom followed Samantha in from the kitchen. Apparently the food was put away already. In his mouth he held a pair of scissors for my new appliance's packaging. Inside, though, the marten seemed to have been informed that it'd been purchased, and before I could brandish the scissors at its plastic jail, the creature found a seam in the plastic and pushed the lid open from inside.

I held the box down so he could crawl out onto my living room carpet. He chirped. Samantha chirped. The two long weasely bodies circled each other as they introduced themselves to each other. The marten reached his face out, and Samantha met him halfway with a bonk of her own rubbery nose. Their faces met and deformed against each other for a moment. Squeak-squeak. That seemed to sort things, because after a moment of romping around on the rug together, they stood and faced me, clearly waiting for my first order.

In a lot of ways, they were quite similar. Both of them were long in body and white around the fringes, where the light of my living room shined through their translucent bodies. They had short limbs in relation to their long bodies and tails, though the new marten--I really did need to check to see if he had a name--had noticeably longer legs than Samantha. But there were quite noticeable differences too. Where Samantha was modestly female, the new marten was obtrusively male. Pendulous testicles hung between his legs as he stood on his hinds, eager for instruction. It was perhaps a bit less overtly obvious than his balls, but I could see a detailed sheath adorning his crotch, too. If for no other reason, I'd never have an excuse to mistake them for each other.

"Do you have a name?" I asked the marten, and his head bobbed in response. His stubby forelimbs reached up for the packaging I was still holding and inverted the lid. On the inside rim was printed the name, "Nathan."

Beside me, Tom cleared his throat. Absentmindedly I reached over and rubbed his neck. "Are you feeling up to interaction right now, Clancy? I know how crowds get to you. If you'd like, I can get everyone into cabinets to give you space." He asked.

"Actually, I'm feeling quite well, Tom. Thank you for asking." He smiled so wide that his eyes squinted when I scratched over his ears. "And I'm actually quite eager for a drink."

In front of me, Samantha quivered, and next to her, Nathan stood again at attention. Tom anticipated my interest and wandered into the kitchan ahead of me. "Okay, you two. I think I've got lemons in the fridge, so how about some lemon-flavored water?"

Chirp-chirp! The two bandy-legged weasels raced for the kitchen ahead of me. I sat at my kitchen table to watch, Tom sitting attentively at my side. Samantha climbed to the kitchen counter top, then ducked down into my sink. Liz, my kitchen skink, hopped out of the sink with a aggrieved little hiss. Samantha ignored her and reached up for the knob. Her lips latched around the faucet, and I watched watcher start to cascade down into her translucent body. Moment by moment, she grew thicker and bloated as she filled with my drink of water.

But I'd seen Sam's tricks before. My eyes were on Nathan now--this I wanted to see. The marten put a paw on the refrigerator door, which opened for him. There were inlaid hand-holds on the near side, which allowed anthropomorphic house assitants to climb as they needed. He dug around in the crisper drawer and emerged a moment later with a lemon. He jumped to the nearby counter-top, and the fridge door closed behind him automatically. He grabbed a slim filleting knife and quartered the lemon. All but one of the quarters were zipped up into a little baggie and replaced back into the drawer.

The marten returned to the counter top, and what happened next was lemon carnage. He grasped it by the rind, and his mouth clamped down on the juicy innards. He curled around it like a cat with a toy as he chomped and masticulated. I could see the yellow juices sliding down into his body, giving his translucent white color as his well-designed mouth drained the fruit and left behind the drained rind. The whole process took less than a minute, and left the counter-top with an emptied lemon-quarter skin, a few yellow spots on the chopping board that Liz would have to clean up later, and a very satisfied-looking yellow marten.

While he was busy with the fruit, Samantha had waddled up out of the sink and leaped onto the kitchen table. Her body wobbled and shook as she moved, with her hips pear-shaped from the water she was retaining. She was even more adorable than normal when she was ready to give me a drink--with the way her stubby little legs struggled to drag her bulbous body across the kitchen table to me.

But as delicious as her water was, it wasn't what I'd ordered. Nathan was a yellow thunder bolt, leaping from the cutting board to the kitchen table and intercepting Samantha halfway to me. His translucent teeth bit at her neck, where her rubbery skin dimpled inwards. The marten's forelegs grasped around her midsection, and water bulged to her head and hips in response.

The two of them collapsed to the table top, and after a few moments of their bodies tumbling about, I caught sight of how they functioned together. With the extra juices churning about inside him, Nathan was sporting an adorable latex stiffy that was hunting around Samantha's bulging hips. Penetration was visible--not because the marten's impressive penis disappeared, but because I could actually see it sliding up into Samantha's body through her translucent skin. Both of the weasels gave a squeak, and Nathan gave a very believable act of fucking my water weasel.

For her part, Samantha was giving every evidence of enjoying it. She squirmed about on the table top, pushing her waterlogged hips back at the marten as that rigid faux-cock pushed a few visible inches up into her reservoir. After a few moments of vigorous thrusting, the two settled against each other, and Nathan started to flavour the water.

Sometimes I wonder just how much thought was put into the anthropomorphic house assitants. To my eyes, I was watching the eager marten pissing lemon up into the oh-so-agreeable water weasel girl. Did the developers mean for it to look so accurate to a yellowish stream up into the pristinely weasel-filtered water? Or perhaps this was all projection. I'd chosen yellow, hadn't I? And perhaps part of it was a bit of Sally's intelligence. It was her purpose to know my interests, so the way Samantha spread her hind legs to let me admire that thick cock pushing up through her entrance, and letting just a dribble of the now-yellowish water drip down over Nathan's impressive nut sack can't have been an accident.

Maybe for a less specific customer, Nathan would be squirting like he was cumming while he continued thrusting. Or for an even more discerning customer they'd do it where they wouldn't have to be seen. But that would be a shame, wouldn't it? It was all pointless to guess, anyway. Here was me, content with my purchase, and if it'd been tailored to my tastes by an intelligent house, who was I to complain?

I reached out for Samantha as Nathan finished, and the two disengaged. While I lifted her to my lips, Nathan bent double to clean his dripping rubber cock. He paused while I watched him, with the obvious question of whether he should continue unspoken. "Oh, don't stop on my account." I encouraged him, and the little anthropomorphic helper fellated himself while he watched me with his new weasel beau.

Samantha squeaked again as I held her over my mouth. The first dribble of lemon-flavored water dripped onto my tongue. I felt the comforting touch of her rubbery backside to my lips, and I extended my tongue to find that soft little slit where Nathan had just been humping. When she felt me tickling her port, Samantha let out an audible sigh and let go.

Cold lemon-water filled my mouth, gushing from her slit down around my tongue. It was cool and refreshing, and the taste was well-mixed and tasty. Her body shrunk and slimmed in my hand as she fed me my drink. She was chirping with pleasure as she pissed my requested drink directly down my throat. She'd brought me a couple of gulping mouth-fulls, enough to pleasantly refresh me. I stuck my tongue up against her slit for any wayward drips and dribbles, while she shivered in my grip in release. She even lifted her stubby little legs, making sure any remnants left in them drained down into my mouth, too.

Both of us were interrupted by a chirping from the table-top. He was busy humping his own muzzle. Remnants of lemon-juice squirted up through his twitching faux-cock. Then it slid down his fake throat, and returned to where it'd been just seconds before. Presumably, he could keep this up indefinitely.

I had pity on him. I lowered the now-empty Samantha back to the table-top. Nathan let himself flop out and opened his fore-arms to receive her. In just moments, she was bitten and plugged again, and this time the lemon juice he squirted up into her stayed there.

A second later, I heard two plaintive chirps from the table-top. Was I still thirsty? Should they make more? Please? Please?

"Oh, alright. I guess I could do with another. How about cherry flavour--" I stalled for a moment, picturing that. "Actually, forget that. How about some orange?"

Chirp-chirp! Samantha stood and waddled stickily towards the sink, while Nathan headed for the fridge. Well, I hadn't intended it this morning, but I was suddenly noticed that I was probably going to be much thirstier for fruit-flavored water in the near future. I wouldn't want to disappoint the weasels, would I?

Delicious.