FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1.

Trent, Data Entry Clerk. I couldn't wait to get some fucking business cards, I thought to myself as I sprinted from the bus stop. I had no idea if entry level drones even got business cards, but the point would be moot if I didn't move my furry ass.

The steel and glass phallic substitute for CEO and cofounder, Vernon Velski of Velski Investments, loomed ahead of me as I ran towards it. Towering in its sixty story glory, I'm sure when the sun hits it just right, it can blind pilots, pedestrians and motorists for miles around. Impressive, I thought as I hopped on a railing, sliding into the ornately tiled plaza for the final lap of my race to employment.

I hit the spinning doors like a bat out of hell, nearly taking out two executive types that I hoped weren't the ones that would be signing my paychecks. I shouted my apologies as I pulled out my clip on tie and tucked in my white button up shirt. I admit I may not be the most prepared wolf, but as my phone's alarm started to tweet, you could say I was reasonably punctual within a half hour either way.

The lobby was huge, but I knew my way to the waiting room I was supposed to be at three seconds and counting ago. Last week I came in to drop off a couple papers to put me in the system and just couldn't resist a little wandering.

I stopped my run just as I opened the door. The waiting room was not nearly as nice as the ones I'd seen on the higher floors, but it was a little nicer than what I was used to at the unemployment office. The only other fur in there was an olive-green dragon, a scalie, so I guess you could say I was the only fur in the waiting room. Not as many starting today as I'd thought there would be. Hope I didn't miss everyone.

I smoothed my hair back, wondering if I should have tied it in a ponytail. I was still catching my breath when I walked over to the dragon. He avoided staring, but I could see his eyes shift every now and then. His horns were still small, so I guessed he had to be around my age, but I'm no expert in scalie physiology. From his clothes, I got the impression he was the fastidious sort, a real tie with a perfect knot, slightly more costly versions of the drone attire I wore, only with ironed creases instead of wrinkles. And the shoes, big and shiny. And you know what they say about a dragon with big feet.

"'Sup," I stuck my hand out. "Name's Trent. You starting today too, or am I late?"

He pretended to just notice me, taking the opportunity to eye me up. Good, I thought, take it all in and there might be some office sex in your cards. I stared right back. He was a little on the chubby side, but dragons always carried it well. Yeah, I could see fucking him, but he was not what I normally go for.

"Yes," his voice was clipped but soft and velvety as fresh hot fudge. "You are late, but so is our supervisor." He reluctantly took my hand, not so much squeezing it as hovering just near enough to count as contact. "My name is Valmick Fosttorn."

"Trent. Nice to meet you."

I took out my phone. Only three minutes late. Hell, I'd count this as early. I took a seat one away from him, about to ask him what he would be doing around here when an inner door opened. A cheetah in a brown suit popped out, looking just a little frazzled.

"Hey, guys," his voice filled the room with its practiced projection. "Trent Adlin and Valnick Fosttorn, I presume?"

"Mick," the dragon said. "It's Val_mick_." It wasn't contempt I heard in his voice, but there was something that didn't fit with the image I had painted of him.

The cheetah looked lost for a second. "Valmick. Right," then to both of us, "sorry we're running late. Mondays are always a little hectic," he chuckled to himself. "Let's get you both situated."

***

We were taken to an elevator bank. Instead of heading up, like I'd assumed, we were headed down to a sub-basement. Valmick wasn't as tall as I'd thought he'd be for a dragon. If I stood on my toes, I could look him right it the eyes. Not that I felt the urge to do that... much.

The elevator doors dinged open and the cheetah, who told us to address him as mister Hal, our immediate supervisor, took us down a dank hallway that, while the ceiling was paneled and the walls painted white, was undeniably in a basement. You could just smell it in the air.

"In here, boys," he ushered us into an improvised office.

Fuckin' A, I thought. Getting an office on my first day. I figured I'd be tossed into a cubical labyrinth, left to wander in an existential hell for the rest of my life. This was comparatively not as bad. Then I noticed there were two desks, not one. They faced each other, creating a square island in the center of the room.

"I'm sure they covered the job specifics in your orientation," said Hal.

And he was right. And it wasn't rocket science. Go through the boxes and boxes and boxes of pre-computerized records, and type their information onto a digital copy of the forms. Any idiot could do it, and hiring me, they got the best idiot out there.

***

After the cheetah left, me and Valmick were on our own. We both stared at the stack of boxes containing our work. They smelled as if they'd been down in the basement for decades, and I wondered how often anyone need to check these antiquated records.

Valmick hoisted one of the boxes with a grunt and took it to one of the two desks.

"So, you call that one?" I asked.

"Is that going to be a problem?" he took it more serious than he should have.

I made a show of examining both desks, squatting to the level I'd be at sitting. Valmick sighed in annoyance. Just the reaction I was waiting for. "Nope. No problems."

The dragon grumbled as he set down the heavy box of files. Methodically, he unpacked the work while waiting for the ancient computer to boot up. It was oddly satisfying to watch his determined and organized setting up. Soon he was sitting before three neat stacks of manila folders, the empty box tucked away under his desk.

He looked around his monitor so he could see my empty desk. "Shouldn't you be getting to work, also?"

My God, did I want to push his buttons. With a shrug of indifference I lugged one of the big boxes over to my desk across from Valmick. A careless tipping spilled the folders across my workspace. Across from me I could hear the clacking of keys. He was already working while I waited for my computer to start.

"Hey, Valmick?"

"What?" he grunted at me.

"You see the game last night?"

"I did not. Now please let me concentrate." His soft tones made him hard to take seriously. But I was sure I was going to like hearing him talk.

***

The week passed at the speed of a snail on valium. Every attempt I made to be sociable was rebuffed. I would have given up, I'm kind of surprised I didn't, but there was something about that dragon. I was drawn to him, like a stupid level on one of those stupid mobile games where you know it's rigged just to get you to spend the money for a power up but you're determined to pop those bubbles without giving the manipulative bastards that made the game the satisfaction of you buying the exploding-monkey powershot, even if it takes weeks and you have every intention of deleting the fucker as soon as you get past that one stubborn level.

That was sort of how I was feeling about Valmick. Frustrated, but determined to crack that hard scaly exterior. He wasn't particularly attractive, and he wasn't at all the personality type I was drawn to, but here I was, Monday, the start of a new week, staring around the monitor, watching Valmick. The way the florescent light made his dull green scales look so warm and supple. His thin lips turned down in a faint frown as he reorganized his stacks of paperwork. Shut in this room for most of our work days has even given the place a slight hint of his smell.

A cinnamon scent, I decided. Dragon musk had a slight cinnamon edge to it. I doubted he noticed it. Most furs and scalies lacked the finely tuned senses we canines were blessed with. I wondered... what would he taste like...

Valmick snapped his fingers. "Hello?"

I must have zoned out. "What?"

"I said, you need to get to work. Mister Hal said he wants his entire department to up its output, and I don't want to be associated with the team slacker."

Slacker? Accurate, but still... Well, it was at this point I decided if friendly banter wouldn't get through to him, I'd have to try bringing him out through anger. He brought it on himself.

"I dunno, pal. I'm just not feelin' it today. Feel like chatting?"

The look on his face was priceless. Like he'd never considered just not working. "No, Trent. We really need to work. I'm getting twice as many files uploaded as you are."

"So?" I hid a smirk.

"So you're making me look bad."

"How?"

Valmick snorted. Obviously he didn't have an answer.

"I'll tell you what," I offered. "You and I talk for a while,_ _team-building, if you will, and I promise to work extra hard for the rest of the day."

Valmick's eyes narrowed. "Or, I could report you to mister Hal, and tell him I cannot work with you."

"Ooooh," I mocked. "You sure you want to get labeled as a troublemaker? A boat-rocker? Just imagine when your review comes up and they add that little note, 'doesn't work well with others.' The shame!"

Valmick opened his mouth, that anger I was looking for was flickering in his blue eyes. His jaws snapped shut and he went back to his work. Pointedly ignoring me. I could wait him out I decided and leaned back on my desk chair, locking my fingers behind my head.

Valmick lasted less than two minutes. "You're seriously not going to do any work?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

He clenched his jaw. He looked at the clock. "If we talk for ten minutes, do you promise you'll work the rest of the day?"

Ten minutes? It was a start at least. "Ok." I leaned forward, gazing into those soft blue eyes. "Valmick. That's kinda unwieldy, mind if I call ya Val?"

"Yes. I do mind."

"Well, what do your friends call you?" From the look on his face I could see that wasn't something that came up very often.

"Mick." He glanced away from my stare.

Progress! "What do you do for fun, Mick?"

His face twisted again. These were not difficult questions, I wanted to tell him.

"I play computer games. And I do some programming," he settled on.

Both topics were out of my area's of expertise. "Ok. Now it's your turn," I told him. Mick had the sort of face that just looked so cute when it scrunched in annoyance or confusion. "This is where you ask me a question," I said in an exaggerated whispered.

"Fine," he huffed. "What... do you do for fun?"

Not very original. "I watch pornography." I nearly fell out of my chair with laughter at the shocked expression that exploded across his face.

"This really isn't appropriate discussion for the workplace!" he sputtered. "We're through." He pulled a file from one of his neat stacks and clacked away at his keys.

I watched him for a moment. He was definitely not my type, but there was something about him that made me want to broaden my horizons. "Not curious what naughty I'm into?" He flashed me a scowl that was pretty intimidating. I might have been pushing too much. With a quick smile, I went back to my pile of scattered files, plucking one at random to start entering.

I got about a third of the sheet typed in when I thought I heard something from Mick, too quiet to be sure. "You say something?"

Holy shit, he was blushing.

"I said, what are you into? If you're so eager to tell me."

That's not a question a scalie like Mick would ask if he wasn't at least a little interested in me. I wasn't usually lucky enough to find mutual attraction outside of the club scene. I needed to play this right if didn't want to scare him off. "Shh. I'm working."

I bent my head down, pretending to study the form in front of me, but really just letting some of my long hair give me cover to peek at him. Yup, flustered. He sighed in annoyance and went back to his work.

For the rest of the day I kept a tally of how many times Mick would glance around his computer at me. It came to an average of about once every eight minutes.

***

That night I had a dream about Valmick. We were at work. I can rarely remember my dreams, and this one was no exception, with only fragments of it sticking with me. His smooth green scales, his expressive face, something about my tie. Fuck. I couldn't remember.

But apparently my cock had a better memory than the rest of me. I stuck my hand under the sheet and wrapped it around my tent pole. I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It would start buzzing in twenty minutes.

I laid still. Listening. The house was big, many even would call it an estate given the size of the yard, but I did share it with eight family members, unfortunately. All I would need to make my temporary living arrangements even more humiliating would be for someone to walk in on me. Fuck, I needed to get my downtown loft back.

It was silent.

I grabbed my phone and thumbed through my bookmarks with a practiced ease and let the Yiffhub page load. I wasn't lying when I told Valmick watching porn was something I did for fun. Don't get me wrong, it's not my only hobby, but I just don't think going biking or tending my herb garden would be as helpful in this situation.

With only a little guilt, I typed in the keywords dragon, and gay. So what? I wanted to fuck my coworker, doesn't everyone get the urge now and then? I scrolled through the videos, looking at the thumbnails for a dragon that looked like Mick. But these were all chiseled, buff as hell dragons, with mature full sets of horns and moves that could make you jizz from across the room. Yeah, I could get into that, but that wasn't what I was in the mood for.

I added amateur, green, and chubby to the list of keywords with growing guilt. Why don't I just type in Mick and hope the straight laced scalie led a double life that just so happened to coincide with my mastabatory needs. I would have given myself a light smack to the head out of shame, but both my hands were occupied.

After sifting through the vids where the uploaders apparently did not have access to a dictionary where they could learn the difference between chubby and morbidly obese, I found one that looked promising.

Pretty vanilla, considering what I was into, but any port in a storm. My cock twitched in anticipation. There was no preamble to the clip. Just a rabbit's face, backing away from a camera that he started recording. They were in a bedroom, like me. A green dragon, close to Mick's build, and almost a good stand in if you covered his head, sat on the bed, he was watching the rabbit, not the camera, with eyes that even through the grainy quality showed a love that I envied more than I knew.

I imagined myself in the rabbit's place, Mick sitting on the edge of my bed. I'm pretty sure he'd be nervous, constantly looking into the camera. I smiled at the thought of his expressive maw and eyes. My hand started to pump, sweat and precum gave me a smooth glide. The rabbit leaned in and kissed the naked dragon, his hand pushing the scalie's legs apart giving the camera a look at what he was packing.

"Nice," I muttered. Thick, if not exceptionally long, and uncut. It was common with dragons to keep their dicks as nature intended. Personally, I thought it gave them a hint of the primeval savage, maybe even feral. A natural aura of power that most of them could exude so effortlessly. I shivered at the thought of seeing Mick's. The rabbit knelt between the dragon's meaty legs, putting his mouth to use.

My hand moved faster. I bit my lip to keep from moaning, seeing the dragon doing the same as his rabbit's slurping noises grew in intensity. The dragon gave in, his sounds of pleasure pushing me to the edge. I dropped the phone, my eyes rolling back. I pictured Mick with me, our naked scales and fur grinding against each other.

"Fuck!" I grunted out in a hissing breath. The electric sensation of my spurting orgasm tickled my nerves in a wave of pleasure that receded all too quickly. I breathed deep, flinging off the messy sheets. This was no substitute for the real thing, I thought glumly.

Enough screwing around. I needed to fuck Mick.

***

I got to work early, thinking I could have a few minutes to formulate some sort of a plan. Of course that wasn't going to happen as I walked into our office to find Mick already there, typing away. Did he even go home? Come to think of it, I'd never seen him outside of work.

That would be a start. "Hey, Mick, can I ask you a question?" I asked while dropping my satchel next to my desk.

Without looking up, the dragon quipped, "you just did."

"Ok. Can I ask another one?" He looked up for the first time and I quickly added, "not counting asking if I can ask."

"Do some work first."

I wonder if this was how annoying he found me most of the time. "What are you doing for lunch today?"

"Eating." More typing.

This could be a bigger challenge than I thought. I flopped onto the chair, spun around once, and picked up a folder. Naturally, it was way too early to actually do any work - I wasn't paid that well - so I clicked open a solitaire game and pretended to read off the open folder of files every now and then. Upon losing my fifth consecutive game, I closed the manila folder with a theatrical sigh.

"There. Now, what are you doing for lunch?" I asked him again.

Mick didn't take his eyes off the screen, but it didn't go unnoticed that he stopped typing. The coy bastard.

"The same thing I always do. Eating my packed lunch in the employee cafeteria."

So that's where he'd been hiding. "Come with me today. There's a cafe, two blocks south, best panini's you've ever had."

Fleeting eye contact. "No. I already have a lunch. It would be wrong to let it go to waste."

"Put in the fridge." Was he starting to blush?

"I didn't bring any money with me today."

"I'll treat." He wasn't getting out of this that easily.

Now he looked right at me, eyes narrowed. "No! I mean, thank you for the offer, but I can't accept you paying for it. Maybe next time?"

His tone softened by the end, but that forcefulness! That delicious forcefulness. Not now, I scolded my cock.

Mick was too proud to take a hand out. That was good to know. A lot of promising relationships sank once they found out my family was rich. Not that I was getting much of an allowance these days...

I let the matter drop and did some real work for awhile. It wasn't exactly mentally taxing so I was able to take that time and ponder Mick. What attracted me to him? I usually went for the bad-furs. Tattoos, muscles and cigs, not sedentary, introverted and internet-y. It had to be more than just seeing him every weekday, and I was determined to figure out what it was.

When the clock struck noon, I did what I normally did, said goodbye and made a run for my hour of midday freedom. But this time time I rode the elevator past the lobby up to the second floor. I promptly found the employee cafeteria.

"Not bad," I said to myself. Muted earth-tones, plastic potted plants and impressionist art. The floor was carpeted. A daring move, I thought, given how coked up middle managers were so jittery they could spill a glass of jello.

I took a seat in the corner, with a view along the wall with the door so I could get a look at who was coming in. Yeah, a little creepy, but jerking off to a dragon I barely knew kind of had the normality-boat setting sail without me already.

And there he was. A brown bag and a yellow legal pad in hand. I stood up, using my lupine stealth to follow after him unnoticed as he picked out a table that I swear he calculated to put him as far away from the next nearest fur as he could get. I resisted tugging that long green tail. Finally he put his things down and turned to see me.

"Gah!" he shouted.

"Hey," I smiled.

"Don't do that!" He ran a hand over his spiky head. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He was even cute when startled. "Mind if I join you?"

He looked at me suspiciously. "I thought you were going out?"

"Meh," I shrugged. "Too hot to leave the air conditioning." I glanced at the empty chairs as the silence drifted a little too long.

He looked at the empty table like he just remembered why he was here. "Oh, uh, yeah. If you want."

"Cool," not that I would have let his objections stop me. "I'm gonna grab something to eat. I'll be right back." Maybe it was my wishful imagination, but I swear I thought I could feel his eyes on my ass as I swished my tail, strutting over to the vending machines.

Checking my wallet I came to realize it was probably for the best that he didn't take up my offer to buy him lunch at the cafe. Despite my family's wealth, they had basically cut me off until I learned "responsibility," or some shit. Hence, the latest job. So annoying.

The employee cafeteria offered an assortment of vending machines, a microwave, a coffee machine and what looked like an automat set up, with cash operated compartments housing light lunch fare. I took out a five note and bought a cold sub from the wall and spent another three on an energy drink and chips. I spun to start back to the table. Mick's head dipped down. So he was watching me.

He waited for me, I noticed. Just now taking out a sandwich and small water bottle from his bag. Damn, I was not used to good manners. Looks like I'll need to behave myself.

I looked at his lunch. A sad looking peanut butter thing. I looked at my sub, overflowing with cold cuts and lettuce. "Hey, Mick. I thought this was smaller, I can't eat all of it." I picked up half the sub and held it out to him.

"I have a lunch," he said in an indignant snap.

Fuck. I offended him. "Sorry," I really didn't want to insult him this time. My ears flattened at the rebuff.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm just hungry. I get short tempered when I'm hungry."

We ate in a less than comfortable silence for a time. Mick took small self conscious bites of his meager lunch.

My ears cautiously perked back up. "I really can't eat all this..."

His brow furrowed and I was worried he was going to snap again. "How much did it cost?"

"Two bucks," I lied.

Mick straightened his already straight tie and dug in his pocket, retrieving a handful of change. He counted out a dollar and gave it to me before accepting the half sub. I'd find a way to give that money back to him, but for now I let him satisfy his moral code.

I searched for a neutral topic. My eyes came to rest on his legal pad. "So, whatcha writing?"

"Nothing," he said instinctively before seeing I wasn't mocking him. "It's just a personal project I'm working on. An app."

"Interesting... Like a game?" He looked suspicious again, but I really was that clueless about geek stuff.

"No," he glanced around like there could be a spy. "It's a predictive map program." My head tilted to the side as I tried to understand. "Like how sites like FurTube can recommend new videos based on what you've seen, my app will recommend similar venues, based on where you go. For instance, if you frequently go for fast food wednesdays' after work, the app will offer suggestion that might appeal to you, while keeping within the general area, price range, quality, et cetera. But you can answer a few more questions and expand its scope. Like it'll ask after a week or so if you're committed to just hamburgers or if you'd be willing to try a place that sells burgers, but maybe they're better know for pizza or even..." He looked at me and stopped talking.

"Sorry. I run on sometimes," he said.

"It sounds cool," what I could understand of it anyways, "I'd buy it."

"Thanks," he mumbled, "but it's along way from finished."

I drummed my fingers on my knee. Should have studied for lunch I guess. Next time. "Um... How about this job? Pretty cushy, eh?"

"If you don't do much work, yeah, I suppose it is."

Ouch. But, thus began our lunch time ritual. I would usually sneak into work a few minutes late so I could stop and snag some take out, but for the rest of the week I ate with Mick in the cafeteria, we'd trade some passive aggressive barbs, and I'd try to understand what the hell he was talking about.

It was a good start, and I didn't want to move too quickly. Mick would spook easily. But by Friday I could feel my patience running thin. So an hour before the weekend started, I made my move.

"Mick," I called over the top of my monitor.

"What?" he asked without stopping his typing.

"You wanna hang out tomorrow?" Well, that stopped the typing.

He hemmed and hawed searching for an answer to what I thought was a pretty straight forward question. "I'm sort of busy tomorrow. And Sunday."

"Oh." I knew it wouldn't be as easy as that, but I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice.

"Maybe next weekend?" he offered.

I knew a pity line when I heard one, hell, I'd given out more than a few of my own to furs in the clubs, but I wasn't going to let this get me down. "Yeah. If you're not busy then." I tore a sheet from a memo pad and started scribbling. Then I folded a damn fine paper airplane. Waiting until I heard the sound of typing until I took aim, I fired.

A startled yell preceded Mick's, "What the heck?"

I leaned over so he could see my disarming smile. "My digits," I winked. "Call me. Or send me a text if you wanna chill, or even just talk." I leaned back so the monitor again hide my face. My digits? A fucking wink? What the hell is wrong with me, my mind screamed out. A few weeks lusting after my dorky coworker and suddenly I had all the smoothness of a dried out grapefruit wrapped in sandpaper. Someone, put me out of my misery!

A ping sounded.

"Ok. Got it," Mick announced holding up his phone.

I retract my plea for death. I still could not be trusted to refrain from making an ass out of myself, so minimal communication for the rest of the hour was the plan. "Awesome." Awesome, awesome, awesome!

***

I left work feeling like my mission was on its way to being accomplished. By Sunday night I was considerably less sure. I kept staring at my phone like some hormonally charged adolescent idiot. Every time it would ring or ding, I would start salivating like dinner was ready. The more pathetic it made me feel, the more I wanted him. Fucked up, I know, but no one ever made me chase them like this. Normally I'd got out clubbing with some friend and within a half hour I could find myself a fur that was ready and willing. Some of the more... niche clubs, the real trick was to not get picked up.

I sighed, looking up at the ceiling of my old room. I needed a better plan. I got the most reaction out of Mick when I annoyed him or when I slacked off. Any kind of interaction with him might be more fruitful than waiting for him to make a move. Dare I chance pissing him off just in hopes of finding an opening?

Yes. I shall dare.