FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The bathroom was, in one word, opulent; a big change from the original, more cookie-cutter-esque room. Reminiscent of a Greek bathing hall, it was also stately: White marble veined thickly in lapis lazuli covered most surfaces; Gold and brass covered everything else. Billy was already luxuriating in the Jacuzzi on the other wall, mid-chest deep in swirling bubbles.

"Alright, son," Moose said, unbuttoning his shirt and motioning me to do the same, "first off, I take it whatever happened wasn't supposed to?"

"I don't think so," I said, slipping off my shirt and hanging it alongside Moose's. "I think it would be a glitch." My mental filing cabinet threw up a memory. "Wait a minute..." I addressed the air around me. "Uhm, Carlos? Can you hear me?"

The wolf appeared next to us, appearing just like I remember him from the first meeting at the office. "Hello. What can I do with you?" He nodded to Moose, who was shocked at the appearance of a tall, muscle bound wolf. "Hello, Joseph Moose."

"In the way of things," I said, "what is your relationship between you and the other Carlos in the main office?"

"Uhm..." he looked flustered for a moment. If I had any guess, I would say he would be ready to run. "He and I communicate about things."

"You and the servers," I corrected, remembering the previous conversation.

"Yessir," he said, looking down.

"So you would have already reported the glitch I had with the game I was playing a few minutes ago?"

His head lifted, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What glitch?"

"Don't play dumb, son," Moose said. "We were playing that scenario you made, and there was a mix-up. One of the high-level bosses attacked Joe here, and I had to rescue him."

Carlos' eyes narrowed. "There was no report made," he said. "Let me investigate." He turned and went to a wall near the door. He swiped an area of it with his hand, making a wall of scrolling wall of symbols and text appear.

"Scroll back...," he apparently said to the wall, and then turning his head to us. "What was about the time it happened?"

"Try fifteen minutes," Moose said. Carlos nodded and began looking at the symbols.

A soft moan made Moose and me turn to the hot tub. Billy was leaning back, his hand moving up and down at something thick and meaty that was jutting out of the water. The other hand was pinching a thick nub.

"Damn," Moose said, summing up the scene nicely. He turned to me, smirking. "Y'know, he still hasn't fucked me yet."

"But you sucked him dry already, right?" I asked, smiling slightly.

The smirk grew into a toothy grin. "Oh yeah. Before the lunch. I noticed you standing there looking at me chewing those nubs he has." He licked his chops as his memory winded back. "And his cock, that tasty slab of meat. I wanted it in me, fucking me hard, so damn hard..." He reached down and groped me. "I take it you liked the show?"

I nodded slightly, feeling myself grow hard with his expert touch.

"Just say the word, son," he growled out, reaching into my shorts and rubbing me roughly. "And he'll give you fucking backstage passes. He'll fuck you so deep and so hard, you'll want more." The other hand snaked behind to cup my rump.

I leaned in, breathing in that heavy musk of his. My hand climbed up, caressing the various bumps he had, pinching and prodding, rubbing and groping. Moose moaned deeply, rubbing and groping my own body.

"Just say the word, boy."

I looked to my side at Billy, who was gloriously naked. His cock was huge, easily ten inches and thick as a beercan, and it was heavily engorged, already spitting thick rivers of pre. I reached over and gave it a few heavy strokes, causing the stud to growl deeply. Hands cupped my head and led it to the drooling monster, where my mouth greedily licked and swallowed his thick river of sweet, sweet lube. I tried to put the entire thing in my mouth, to no avail. Billy only grunted.

I felt a draft as my shorts were pulled down, and I groaned when a thick, wet tongue slicked up between my rumpcheecks.

"Say the word, son," Moose said, digging deep with his tongue to tease my hole.

"Say it, boy," Billy growled, pushing down to force that heavy helmet into my over-stretched mouth.

"Say it now!"

"Ah, here we are!" Carlos said brightly.

"What?" I blinked, and I was back to where I was before. Moose stood a bit away from me, and Billy was still rubbing himself in the tub. My clothes were back on, and I felt once again refreshed.

Carlos motioned the both of us to the wall, oblivious to what just happened...what did happen anyway? I turned to Billy, who was still leaning back in the tub as if nothing happened.

"See," the wolf said, pointing to a red line of code. "This was a glitch that caused your little snafu with the game."

"I take it that this also prevented the report from being received?" I said, turning back to look at Carlos.

He nodded. "Yeppers. I already tagged it, and cataloged it." His forehead furrowed with puzzlement. "One thing bothers me, though."

"What?"

"The error was caused by an outside source. Something tried to get you caught in the game."

"You mean that it was intentional?" Moose asked.

"Yeah."

***

"You failed."

He stood in front of a man dressed in a green plaid suit. It slightly sparkled as he walked up and down the empty room.

"You were supposed to make sure that he was supposed to be killed. Make it seem like an accident, I said."

"I am terribly sorry, sir," he said, hanging his head low. "One more chance, that's all I ask, sir."

"You had a chance already!" the other man roared, waving his hands about. "What will the others say when they find that he is still alive?"

"They already know."

The man turned to find the five seated sedately in front of the two. They were already looking through the folders in front of them. The secretary was typing quietly into her laptop.

"Sire," said the other man, "I can explain-"

"My, it seems that someone did not succeed," Three interrupted, turning over the pages as if they were something best handled with gloves and a pair of tongs. "What did we say about this, Number 0392?"

"Look, I tried," Phil said plaintively, taking a step forward in supplication. "It is not my fault his creation saved his ass!"

"Yes," Two said. "We'll have to look into that. The program is not supposed to do that."

"Surely you jest," the other man said, glaring at the five. "The damned game has failsafes! It-" He choked off the rest as one of them looked at him.

"We all know your stance on this, Number 0183," Four said, "and because of that, I make the motion to forward the situation to you."

"Now wait-"

"I second it," Three said.

"I never volu-"

"All in favor?" Everyone raised their hands.

The man sagged his shoulders in defeat.

"All of the paperwork is already on your desk," One said, fiddling with his cuff links. "I am sure you will do a better job than this misfit."

"But-"

"Now, I know you have other things to look into," Five said, closing his folder. "We shall not keep you from them."

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it audibly. He bowed stiffly, and with a resigned glance at Phil, he vanished.

"We did say that you were to be given disciplinary action if you were to fail," Three said.

Phil tried to get another word out, but instead started to cough, softly at first, but soon to body-racking affairs. He then coughed out something thick and red that glooped over the table; it was a piece of a lung. He felt dizzy at the sight, drooling a thick flow of blood that dripped to the floor, and then he started to cough again.

"We showed you the price of failure once," the man continued, looking down to his papers. "I make the motion to make the action more permanent."

No one said anything.

"I make the motion again," he said as Phil kept on coughing up thick, bloody globs of flesh on the table. "Is there a second?"

Silence ruled.

"Very well then," he said, closing the folder, "motion dies due to lack of second." He looked up at Phil, or what was left of him. Blood stained his clothes and smeared on his face, hands, and arms. Various organs were scattered on the table and the floor. He waved a hand. "Have someone to clean up the mess, and have him sent back to Central to be reformatted."

Immediately, there were several men in white Hazmat suits picking up the gore, gently placing them in plastic bags. One of them went up to Phil, grabbed his hand, and vanished with him in tow. The rest soon left with their cargo, leaving behind swaths of gently drying blood clots.