FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I had a love/hate relationship with the Internet.

It all came down to my profession. Back in college, my mentors and professors taught me important lessons about having very few online footprints. Particularly for those who wished to either work as lawyers or private investigators. Nothing truly ever disappeared on the World Wide Web. More often than not, it had the possibility of returning to haunt somebody with a vengeance. Not only could such secretive things harm your reputation online, but also how you operated offline. Plus, the lack of embarrassing digital footprints helped with keeping a façade of professionalism. That tended to help those on a serious career path.

On the other paw, those with brazen digital footprints made my job so much easier.

I got reminded of those facts one very late November morning. Utah had grown chillier with winter on its way, with Crossroads City trapped somewhere between late autumn and early winter. Danny still served pumpkin spice in his coffee and lattes as the café was filled to the brim. Unfortunately, one of his baristas managed to catch the flu, requiring the grumpy Saint Bernard to work the register and sometimes make orders while muttering repeatedly about needing to hire more backup workers.

In all seriousness, I’d assist the poor lug. I would’ve helped my roommate out if it weren’t for my own customer that showed up minutes after his business opened. Dressed in dark sunglasses despite the cloudy weather outside, but wearing an appropriate yet incredibly magenta winter jacket that reached his trembling knees, the odd and lisping cheetah no older than twenty. He looked like a regular college student but sounded too young to even drink a beer.

I offered him a seat after inviting him inside my office, The sounds of busy and chattering customers immediately silenced once I closed the door behind us.

“Thank you for coming in,” I said, sitting behind my desk as the cheetah meekly nodded. “Take a seat. It’s free.”

He did so, then loosened his jacket and pocketed his sunglasses. They revealed a heterochromic pair of blue and green, and when he blinked at the harsh electric light over our ears, he formed a smile.

“Nice to see another mammal with heterochromia,” he said, motioning to both of his blinking orbs. “It’s rare I find someone like me.”

“Same,” I chuckled with twitching whiskers. “It’s actually common in cats like us. Heck, I often joke that it is the only hetero thing about me.”

My words seemed to make him relax even further. “So, your website wasn’t just adding the ‘no discrimination based on orientation or identity’ thing for brownie points,” the cheetah exhaled in visible relief. He motioned to the demisexual flag pin on my jacket, which I’d just hung on a coat. “I was also wondering about your pin. Anyway, it’s great that you’re a fellow queer, because I need your help. There’s this creepy fiend who’s—”

“Hold it.” I held up a paw, using my other to flip my fingers forward. “Before we continue, I need proof that you’re eighteen or older.”

Paused midway through his rant, the cheetah pouted without resistance. He fished for his wallet in the winter coat, giving me his driver’s license. I examine it closely. My hunch was correct: Austin Eden Floyd, aged twenty years old as of February 14th, living just outside of Crossroads City, and a certified organ donor.

“Looks good,” I handed back his license, nodding as I sat straight in my chair. “So, why do you require my services, Mr. Floyd?”

“Austin is fine, Mr. Leander,” he clarified.

I shrugged. “In that case, call me Zack. Everyone does.”

“Thank you for taking me on such short notice,” he sighed heavily. “I have some shit that is going on and…I need your help with it. See, I…I’m a cam boy. And there’s somebody that’s trying to ruin my personal life.”

“Go on,” I requested, resting my arms on the desk and listening attentively without any judgment. I didn’t even change my expression when Austin went into dirtier details regarding his story.

Austin Floyd had been using ‘Eden Deflower’ as his porn name just days after turning eighteen. He had grown up in an emotionally and financially abusive foster home in southern Utah, leaving for Crossroads City with nothing but his birth certificate and his meager life savings in a secure bank account. Austin wasn’t ignorant about his luxe and his lisp being appealing to the kinks of some casual perverts online, immediately deciding to nix a soulless retail job for an OnlyFollowers account, which made a surprising amount of money within the first few months. More than well enough to keep him financially afloat while having a decent apartment in his name.

While studying for his GED, Austin would post sexy pictures and videos of himself for thousands of subscribers. Further and further down the line, he indulged in requests to be more ‘feminine’ and ‘wear highlights’ in his headfur. He didn’t mind dressing up in miniskirts or wearing panties that would inevitably come off later in a video. However, things gradually spiraled out of control. The comments and vibes from certain subscribers started to make Austin uncomfortable when a significant few started to focus more on critiquing Eden Deflower’s appearance.

“They freaked out if I did anything masculine,” he continued. “I dress like a sexy farmer with no makeup? They complain. I decide not to wear stockings or lipstick? They complain! Don’t even get me started on my live stream from last month! That’s when things really got fucking out of control!”

Simply put, after deciding to ban and refund most of those significant subscribers that did nothing but complain about him ‘resisting’ being a ‘femboy’, Austin put his foot down. He did a public live stream calling out toxic comments and reiterating that he wouldn’t tolerate such behavior in the future. Most of his subscribers supported the cheetah. A small number of them unsubscribed and bitched about him online. One banned subscriber decided to retaliate by doxxing Austin’s address to the rest of the Internet.

The fallout had been swift. On top of receiving hateful and disgusting letters that filled up his mailbox, Austin needed to change phone numbers and switch out email address is linked to his OnlyFollowers account. Plus, A few creepy men would often linger around his apartment lobby and sometimes ask the receptionist if he was home. The police did a little more than open up an investigation.

Meanwhile, the bastard that had doxxed him continued posting his address online to forums, using various usernames with a similar theme. Austin only found out about his address being posted to forums after concerned subscribers sent him links, each posting involving the same former subscriber’s lexicon and unique username. Every time he got banned, he would just create a different username and continue doing it. The police could once again do very little and the moderators on forums and social media were unable to do much besides banning him.

“I’m already talking to a lawyer about possibly suing, but she needs someone to send a cease-and-desist letter to first,” Austin reached into his pocket, pulling out a smart phone. “I’ll pay the deposit. I will then send you an email attached with every screenshot, email, and archived message I’ve gotten from this fiend who’s obsessed with me. I’m already planning to change addresses as we speak, and I’m taking a sabbatical of sorts while this is going on. But if you can find out who’s stalking and initiating this harassment, I’ll be grateful, Mr. Leander. I can start doing cam work again without looking over my shoulders from now on…

“I will do the best that I can, Austin, and help you keep doing what you love.” I offered a paw, and he happily shook it. A warm smile crested behind my whiskers. “And I told you, call me Zack.”

Honestly, how could I not accept the case?

***

So, began the search for my client’s tormentor. Without going too much into boring schematics, it all took some time. Much to Daniel’s chagrin, I slept through the day after spending the entire night pooling through everything Austin emailed me. Another day was spent trying to dig through the forums listed and trying to find traces of conversation threads Austin had managed to get screenshots of but were long since deleted. A few days later, a dozen hours of piecing together random email handles with OF usernames and forum threads with time zones, my thin spiderweb of evidence eventually led me to determining a location. Austin’s stalker lived somewhere in New Jersey.

Specifically, somewhere along the Jersey Shore, and somewhere that involved being in close proximity to a beach near the famous boardwalk. I only knew that part because they’re in the same forum where Austin’s address was first posted, the username that doxxed him first opened a few older threads that mentioned having public sex on the Peninsula City beach. Another thread had the username mention being a retired plant worker who was deep in the closet. One conversation in a separate thread mentioned him being a ‘chubby raccoon DILF’, and when sexually discussing with other users where he liked to eat, mentioned having a weekly tradition of driving to Peninsula City nearby to order his favorite meal at his favorite Italian restaurant. A long shot, but a viable shot, nevertheless.

To make things even better? Not long before being banned from that forum, the stalker had posted a selfie of his ‘raccoon bod’ on a separate thread where everyone shared pictures. Not only did the selfie reveal that he was indeed an older raccoon in his late fifties, but the background revealed a critical detail he missed: the man forgot to crop out the lower half of his bearded face.

My sore tail demanded apologies for sitting in that chair for hours. It was all worth it though. For the most part, at least. Gathering all of the evidence was a headache, and at the same time was also a victory, but I wasn’t done yet. The older raccoon had been smart enough to use a VPN for his Internet provider. None of it gave me a name or a address in which Austin’s lawyer could coordinate with the police or anybody in New Jersey. I felt I was at a dead end. I only had a partial face and an address where he claimed to make it a tradition to eat at a certain Italian restaurant in a certain city.

Luckily, I happened to have a couple of old clients living in Peninsula City.

***

After some hesitation, I clicked on the phone number buried in my private contacts. A part of me wondered if it would have been better to call a little earlier, given the difference in time zones. Not wanting to delay any longer though, let it ring for several moments before finally, the owner picked up on the other end.

“Zack Leander!” the younger mammal laughed happily—no, joyously. “It’s been too long! You called at the right time too. I’ve got Jasper cooking dinner.”

“Shit, Zack’s on the line?” another similar-sounding voice spoke up on the other end. His voice got louder. “It’s about time you gave us a call, Sherlock!”

“Nice to hear you too, Jasper.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I then leaned back on the couch of the quiet apartment, thankful that my roommate was out on another date. “How’re you doing, Jackson? How about your…other half?”

“You mean my brother?” Jackson casually asked, and I heard him mutter, “God, that feels so good to say, ha!” The Dalmatian cleared his throat. “Hm, we’re good. We’re really good. We both got jobs and are keeping the new apartment for the time being. We’ve also been making new friends who don’t care about…well, us. Me and my bro. Heh, how about you? Did you have a good Thanksgiving? We had a very pleasant Thanksgiving the week before, and I was actually thinking about messaging you.”

“Congrats to you both,” I replied earnestly. “Thanksgiving was okay for the most part, but thankfully, the roommate and I managed to make the most of it later.”

Jackson and Jasper Alnwick. My favorite pair of incestuous Dalmatian twins. Then again, the only pair of incestuous Dalmatian twins I knew, as far as things were concerned. It seemed like only several months ago that I assisted the brothers in finding each other. The twins’ father had been surprisingly quiet since the day I helped his adult sons fully cut him from their lives, and not even threatening to sue me again like he did on that same night.

As much as I loved it to reminisce with old clients though, I needed to focus on the task at hand. After a few more minutes of small talk, I briefly explained to the Dalmatians how I was working on a case that led me to their neck of the woods. I didn’t mention anybody by name, but I did emphasize how the nameless raccoon had been cruelly stalking my client. I had a location, a possible time, and day of the week where and when the raccoon would likely be. I needed their help in figuring out the mammal’s identity. Then, I could give the information to my client who would then inform his lawyer and eventually the police.

“Could either of you please do this as a favor for me?” I ultimately asked. “If I can get a name or even a license plate number, I can make sure this bastard doesn’t keep harassing my client. I would only need you to do surveillance.”

“Do you…want us to play private eye?” Jackson asked in amused disbelief.

“‘Play private eye’?” Jackson cackled on the other end. His other half likely handed him the phone to hold onto. “What? Are there any kinda specific requirements we should know? Do we need to go buy a fuckin’ magnifying glass or trench coat? Or get obsessed with old films?”

“Oh, haha. That is very funny,” I answered dryly. “No, you just need to follow certain laws when tailing a suspect, and not do anything that’s illegal. You two have experience with doing the opposite, at least with—”

“Oh, fuck you, Zack!” Jasper snickered on the other end, failing to sound offended.

“I’m pretty sure your ‘bro’ does that already, no?”

“Pfff, touché,” Jasper replied on speaker, laughing. “We’ll do it. It’s my day off on that day anyway, and I’ve always wanted to try the Italian food in Peninsula City. It’ll cost you though. My bro and I aren’t filthy rich like we used to be…”

I rolled my eyes, and likely so did his twin. “I’ll transfer the money to you to pay for the lunch,” I droned. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Great!” Jasper probably grinned. “I’ll be sure to buy the most expensive meals on the menu.”

“Jasper!” his brother chastised him, laughing as well.

I groaned, “Why do I have a feeling that I’m gonna feel a pinch in my wallet?”

“That’s what you get for calling us back,” Jackson chuckled, then exhaled. “In all seriousness though, it’s good to hear from you. As much as we love our new friends and lives on the East Coast, it’s good to hear familiar voices.”

My tail swished happily behind me. “Me too, kiddos. Me too.”

***

A couple of days later, Jackson called back with two things: a bill and an update.

The Italian restaurant didn’t cost as much as I feared, but at the same time, it made me extraordinarily thankful I didn’t live on the East Coast with its expensive prices. The good news though? Jackson and Jasper Alnwick did an excellent job of the older raccoon at his favorite restaurant. Not only did they manage to confirm that the lower half of his face matched the forum’s cropped photograph I had provided for them, but they also ended up following him to his car in the parking lot.

The license plate number immediately guided me to a name, which in turn led me to a slew of evidence that confirmed my suspicions. The evidence was iron solid. Mitchell Garvin, aged fifty-nine, and a former electrical plant worker, matched everything in regard to being Austin ‘Eden Deflower’ Floyd’s online stalker.

I forwarded everything that I found to Austin. A day later, we sat together at a cafe while discussing payment. Unfazed, the cheerful cheetah was so grateful for what I did in the span of a week that he offered to give me a 90% discount for an exclusive subscription. I politely declined, but did wish him luck in returning to his profession of passion.

“I cannot thank you enough for doing this,” Austin reiterated, offering a coy smile while filling out a check and handing it to me across the table. “It’s a real shame this had to happen in the first place, but I’m happy I got to meet you. If you ever want to hang out or need a favor from me, just give me a call, dear. We can even go out for dinner?”

I nodded. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” came my reply. “I make it a policy not to date former clients, sadly.

“Aww, a real shame, but still, you’re too sweet, Zack!” he chirped. “Are you sure you’re not interested in a discount for my website though? I feel like the check isn’t enough.” Once again, I politely shook my whiskers. “Hm. Do you know anybody else who would be interested in the discount, at least?”

“Well…” I easily grinned. “Maybe two of them. I’ll ask if they’re interested in that discount.”