FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Kitchen equipment… can you believe it?" Baker scoffs, tossing the notice aside. He replaces his toque with a cap and his jacket with a simple shirt. "I'll show them I'm legally a person. All I need is to get my construction details, and then they'll see!"

"You want to have some help with that?" Libi asks. "I… I don't think I'm quite helpful in that regard, but I'm sure someone here knows someone who--"

"That shall not be necessary, Libi," says Baker, opening his traveling case and draping his finger over the assortment of tools and other items. He pulls out a whisk and whisks it over toward Libi. "This is a tool. I mean, really, do I look like this to you? It's ridiculous!"

Libi's eyes trail over toward the mannequin's body, lying lifeless on the bed. "I have a… complicated relationship with the law, so I could kinda see where they're getting at."

Scoffing, Baker tosses the whisk back into the case and slams it shut. "Libi, you're in charge while I'm gone. I trust the Bakery won't explode while the… equipment is away."

He pats his hand on her shoulder, a wistful smile on his strawberry lips, but waits a moment before rushing out to the carriage.

Tossing his case in its compartment, he sighs, sits back, rubs his fingers over his eyes, and groans.

"Someone seems upset today," comes the voice across from him.

Baker jumps. "Oh, I didn't know I'd share this ride."

Across from Baker sits an older gentleman, turtle-like, dressed in a fine suit that covers his broad body. There's a bluish tint to his reptilian form with larger spikey plates on his half-gloved hands.

"The luxury of taking less-than-private transportation," says the older gentleman," is that you get to share your trips with exciting people for no additional cost."

Baker smirks softly, shrugging. "Well, I'm afraid I won't be as sweet of company as I would normally be, sir, but I assure you I am usually a more amicable treat."

"You are Baker, are you not?" the turtle asks. "I am Caravaggio, and I must apologize for not patronizing your establishment for catering my parties or for more private situations."

Baker quirks an eyebrow, turning to look the turtle in the eye. "Oh, signore, you don't have to apologize to me. I'll gladly offer you my card if you wish."

"I'm wondering," says the gentleman turtle, stretching his neck slightly, adjusting his tie, "If you'd be willing to offer part of your services right now."

Baker frowns, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but If you want the special, there's a waitlist, and I must know your food allergies. I don't want anyone choking while they have this delicious dish."

"I wasn't thinking about being the one choking, good sir."

Baker bites his lip, leans back, and spreads his arms and legs. "My trip shouldn't take longer than twenty minutes, good sir."

"Plenty of time. You look tense. Don't you wish to relax?"

Baker chuckles, taps his finger, and looks out the window. "This will cost you, of course."

"Of course," the gentleman says, pulling a few shining coins from his jacket pocket. And I'm willing to offer you extra for your time and effort. You need only use your mouth."

Baker scratches the seat, gulping. He then scoots off from his seat and to his knees in front of the larger male. "Very well, then," he says, throwing off his hat and putting it on his seat. He reaches down, crossing his arms over each other and gripping the bottom of his shirt. Lifting it, he reveals the soft, chocolatey body underneath.

"Baked simply to perfection," says Caravaggio. What a delight you are." The turtle man's massive hand reaches down, unbuttoning his pants. He lifts his hips, holding onto the back of his seat for support.

Baker lifts his hands over the man's thighs, looking up at him with fluttering uncovered eyes and gripping that outfit, pulling it down.

From beneath the outfit blooms the older gentleman's cock, large and swollen.

"Oh my, Mr. Caravaggio," the baker says, placing his dainty hand at the side and gently stroking along the length. What a great length this is. You must have many stories of your conquests throughout the years."

He doesn't wait for the turtle to respond before he tilts in, kissing up and down the side. His once-stress-filled gaze now sparkles with delight, which he had lacked before.

The gentleman sits back, pressing his head against the wall. "Ah… now that is service with a smile," he sighs. "Please, enjoy me as much as you like."

"Oh, I intend to," Baker says, licking his lips. He kisses right at the head, which bulbs out and flutters, giggling the femboy beneath him. "Someone seems quite surprised."

"Oh, indeed," says Caravaggio, placing a large hand on Baker's head. He presses Baker forward, smushing the femboy's lips up against that cock.

Baker turns his gaze, letting the pre-cum stained thing draw a mark along his cheek. The femboy gets back into the groove by licking down along the shaft, pulling his head free. "Now, Mr. Caravaggio, there's no need to be so rough. Sit back and relax, and I'll take care of everything."

As he speaks, he kisses up along the bottom of that shaft, those soft lips smacking against the throbbing meat, ending with an arrival to the head, where Baker flicks out his tongue and dances along the glans, just at the tip of the head.

"Oh, would I have much more from you"? The turtle groans, gripping his jacket and his hand on his stomach.

Wrapping his hand around the base, Baker opens his mouth wide and envelopes the head within him, staring up as he flicks his tongue up and down that head, watching for the older gentleman's reaction.

The smile that spreads across the turtle man's face is enough to make the Baker's heart flutter…

…if he had one, that is.

That may be the problem he now faces.