FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

You sigh. You knew putting her in charge of the stove was a risky move.

"Babbs, if you keep eating the bacon, we won't have any to mix in!"

The bear ignores you and pops another piece in her mouth. You're glad you got a 24-pack. She stills when you pause your tomato chopping to give her a smack on the rear, the slap audible over the chiptunes playing from in the sitting room. You don't look up to watch it jiggle, nor do you look up when she leans against you, the heavy curves of her stomach and chest threatening to knock you off the accessibility steps by the counter.

"They're going to burn if you don't flip them," you tease, pretending to not feel her breath in your hair. After a second or two, she huffs. You go to relax when a paw cups your entire rear and squeezes -- her fingers slip between your legs to lift you a little.

"Hey, I'm using a knife!" You say, trying to control your blush as you regain your footing. Babbs ignores you again as she flips the bacon, but she can't hide the grin on her snout. "How many of those do we have left, anyway?"

"Seven or eight, I think," she says. "The potatoes look done."

You hum as you put the last of the grape tomatoes into a bowl and move on to the green onions. "Okay, great! You can take them off the heat when you've got a minute, I'll drain them."

The bear's furry hips brushed against you again as she walked around you to the sink. It wasn't purposeful this time, though you certainly aren't unhappy about it. The kitchen feels small even with just the two of you. Babbs sets the pot down in the sink with a resounding clunk, steam wafting up to the little viewing window. There's plenty of room for you to hop up onto the counter and walk over to the sink.

You and Babbs have been spending a lot more time together here. Clearing off the counter space quickly became necessary for you to contribute to any of the work going on. It's been worth it, you think. Leftovers, box meals, and fast food were quickly becoming stale, and learning a new skill has been fun for the both of you. Getting up onto the counter and moving the bear's oversized cooking equipment -- like the big pot full of potatoes and hot water -- has made you stronger too.

Though the giant bear can still squash you like a plaything.

Her touches have been more gentle, though, her paw on your back a reminder. You appreciate it as you drain the water and skins out, hefting the pot up on to the counter. Babbs picks you up one handed and sets you back down on your platform, giving you a teasing pat on the head. She smiles when you scowl.

"You're welcome," she says.

You're tempted to give her another smack, but the sizzling of the bacon reminds you of your time limit. Babbs will probably snack on the stuff before it can get in the dressing if you don't have it ready fast enough. You get back to chopping. A subtle wave of awe washes over you as you do. Everything seems bright, even if things got a little tough. The bear that had to drag herself down the stairs to answer the door a month ago is gone; she's smiled and laughed more in the last few days than you think she did in the first few weeks. She talks more often, and she's the one to initiate a lot now. Even with the backlog of work from the slump she fell into when you left, she's chipper.

And the spice certainly hasn't died down between you.

You find yourself leaning against her when she shifts her hips towards you, humming along quietly with the music. It's all benefited you, too. Weeks ago you'd have been terrified of the silence. You'd try to fill it with something, anything. But just standing here with her is more than enough. It's a while before you finally break the silence and set down the knife, rolling your wrist.

"Okay, I think it's ready to mix," you say. "Do you want to do that while I get the finger tray ready?"

"Sure."

You slide the platform over to let her take your place at the counter, mayo plopping in with lewd sounds. Adjusting the portion sizes for ingredients to fit Babbs has made the cooking interesting and even the healthiest dishes seem questionable. The snack tray you pull from the cabinet is no exception. Even when getting ready for a big Christmas party, you'd only ever put out a small sampling of various dishes; now, you were emptying half a box of crackers on the daily just to fill up one slot. Charcuterie, cheeses, and the bear's favorite berries fill others. Given the two of you are on your lunch breaks, there wasn't much time for decoration, but you don't think Babbs minds.

"I think it's mixed!" the bear says. She holds up a serving spoon of potato salad, flecks of bacon and tomato the only things distinguishable in the dressing.

"I think so," you say with a smile. "Let's get it served up."

Babbs pulls open the cabinets while you wheel yourself over, leaving the finger tray off to the side. Your bowl is filled in one scoop of the giant spoon, but hers is the size of a mixing bowl. You get yours and the finger tray out of the way for her while she finishes. You're folding up the counter access stairs while she seals up the monster-sized mixing bowl she actually used. You catch her pulling something from the fridge when she puts it away; a bit of the leftover sponge pudding the two of you made last night.

"We're going to have to make more of that, aren't we?" you say. Babbs nods, holding the little bowl in one hand and her serving of potato salad in the other.

"Maybe we can try a different sauce with it this time."

You climb onto the couch while she gets herself situated, your bowl and finger tray already on the board you put on the cushions to keep things relatively steady. Babbs' width shifts the cushions beneath it even across the couch. You grab them out of habit, just to make sure nothing spills. The dressing seems like it'd be hell to get out. Babbs picks up a controller and backs out of the retro music playlist while you move the board into her lap. Leaning sideways on her hip is like reclining on a couch on top of the couch. She hums in contentment, and shifts her arm back to squeeze you into her side.

"How does Light Ryder sound?" she asks, navigating to the video app. "We were in the middle of season 3, right?"

"Yeah. Right in the middle of the bike replacement arc," you reply. The bear starts the episode and sets the controller back on the table. Her arm encircles you properly now, holding you in a sideways half-hug. The two of you get comfortable against each other while the show's intro plays, recapping the last few episodes of faux-retro motorbike action. You remember some of the scenes, since the two of you have both watched it before, but it's a nice touch. It means you can half pay attention while you dig into your food; the potato salad is good. The thick dressing coats your mouth a little, but the variety of mix-ins are thoroughly dispersed. There's a little less bacon than you think the recipe called for, but there's not much you can do about it.

"I'm not sure about the celery," you muse through a mouthful. "It adds crunch, I guess, but it's kind of jarring."

"It doesn't taste like anything either," Babbs adds; she smacks her tongue. "Is it meant to be this... sticky?"

"The tomatoes might have been a little juicy," you say, "maybe that mixed with the dressing? It kind of does taste like them."

The bear rumbles. She goes back to eating, as do you. Imperfect or not, it still tastes alright.

"How is the database going?" she asks as the screen bursts with neon light from a light-cycle crash.

"It's going," you sigh. "The base code I wanted to use doesn't work with the data they're expecting to store, so I've got to redo some stuff. The search and storage parts are easy, it's the transforms that are hard." You make a cracker sandwich from the finger plate. "You getting caught up?"

"Almost!" Babbs says; the brightness in the bear's voice makes you smile. "I'm going through quality now. I should be done at the end of the week."

"He-ey, that's great!" you say, turning to look up at her. You set the bowl on the fingerplate to bury your face in her fur, giving her a squeeze around the midsection. After you'd returned from your trip and reassured the bear you weren't leaving, the joy and excitement was cut short by the work she'd been unable to do. Her handler and the client were fortunately understanding, and gave her time to catch up, but you know it's weighed on her. You hold your breath as you ask, "and you've got something lined up next?"

"Mmhm," she replies. "I think it's a smaller project, but that's alright.

Relief washes over you, then joy. "Well, we'll have to celebrate," you say. "Maybe a walk to the shops?"

"That would be nice," she muses. "I saw on the news site that there's a sauna place opening up in town... I've always wanted to try one."

You look up at her a little quizzically. "Really?" You're met with a smile.

"Yes. Why, is that surprising?"

"Well, a little. What with getting wet being a pain with your fur, and, uh..." you gesture to her shorts and skimpy crop top, the former already half-eaten by her thighs and rear. "...I thought you dressed like that to avoid getting hot."

"I mean, it's not the only reason I dress like this..." Babbs' breasts threaten to spill out from the shirt at her husky chuckles. Being held tight makes the sounds resonate even deeper; the heat isn't the only thing turning your face red. She lightens her hold after a few moments with a sigh. "I don't know. It's always looked relaxing. There's something nice about being cozy and warm -- maybe if the benches are big, I can lay down."

You can't blame her there. Cuddling up with the bear certainly is warm and cozy, and you've got plenty of experience with it now. Not was much with both of you being wet...

"Did they say what kind of set up it was?" you ask.

"No. It just said they had a sauna," she replies. "The ad was for an entire spa, the sauna was just a part of it." She sighs. "It's good to try new things, I suppose."

You nod into her fur, giving her back a few more rubs before shifting back to her thigh. "We could go to one of the museums or parks, as well," you say. "Our last outing was nice."

Babbs nods. The gentle circles she rubs on your thigh tell you she's slipping into the past as well. The bear's reclusive nature meant she hadn't explored town much, even having lived here for two years. Exploring it turned out to be a wonderful activity to do together as she started coming out of her shell. History and interesting oddities were all over, like everywhere in this country. Plenty within walking distance. It turned out there weren't many taxi services that could accommodate an anthro that was 4 meters tall and a little over half that in width.

It's somewhat easier arranging long distance rides, though.

You wait until there's a lull in the episode to take your shot. You slip an arm into one of her back folds and rub gently as you begin.

"You know, I told my parents about you when I went to visit them," you say; Babbs' chewing stops. "I told them about how we have the same jobs, like the same games -- even that we've been playing them together. They -- they were really happy."

You feel her relax against you, and you work in a few more circles. "They'd been a little hesitant about the matchmaking program since they'd never done it themselves, but they were glad it worked out so well." You pause, framing your next few words. "They... they got a bit teary when they realized I was leaving them. The stuff they'd been teasing me about being clutter was finally going, and a whole day's journey away..."

You get lost in it yourself, their faces coming to mind. Mom cried when you went away to college; dad did this time. It was more permanent, even if it was more happy. You find Babbs is looking down at you with a little concern. Her arm is tight around you, and she lets out a low rumble to soothe you. It helps -- more than you expect.

"I -- well, I was thinking we could go and see them sometime," you manage. "They said they'd love to meet you, and -- and it would be nice to see them again."

"Sure, Cameron," the bear says, voice as soft as the form you're pressed against, "we can do that sometime." She looks off at the flashing lights of the screen for a moment. "We could both get smaller projects and spend a few days there, maybe a week. That way we can work just off of laptops."

"I--I think they'd like to spend time with us, Babbs..."

"I know that!" the bear says, giving you a squeeze and turning back down to you. "If we get the projects done early, we could, you know... 'wait on the client.'"

Ahh, getting paid for doing nothing. You nod, a little soothed. "It would depend on the client, but yeah, that could work... Or we could take a few days off."

The bear grumbles with discontent. You look at her curiously, surprised with how her gaze is mostly staying on you..

"What's wrong?" you ask, "Don't you have some days saved up?"

She forces her flicking eyes back to you. A nervous smile graces her lips and a subtle blush spreads under her fur. "I do... but I was saving them up for something... else..."

You pause your strokes on her back and look expectantly. She squirms a little more, then leans in as if there were anyone else to hear.

"I wanted to save them up so I'd have extra maternity leave."

You push back against her arm in surprise. Your body feels strange as you look at her smile. "W-wait, Babbs -- you're --?"

"No, I don't think so, she chuckles with a husky tenor. "But I plan to be," she says, drawing a digit down the bridge of your nose, leaving shivers in its wake.

You're the one to squirm now, the bear's husky breaths rattling through you as she holds you close. "I -- well, uh," you finally manage to start, "that's a valid reason, I-I guess. We can -- we can probably work around that."

Babbs hums, squeezing you one more time before loosening her grip. "I'm glad," she says. "Maybe your parents could come and stay in your office for a while after its over, to see their grandkids." She turns back to the screen. "It would probably be easier than moving us there for a while."

You let the show take you as well, providing background noise as you imagine what it'd be like. "Probably," you agree. "It might be a bit of a squeeze for you already." Images of the enormous bear's form squeezing against the walls sends a spike of arousal through you. You doubt your tiny old twin bed could handle her, but if it could...

"Both human?" she asks; you nod.

"As human as me. I don't think they'd ever expected to host someone your size," you say. Then, more cautiously, you ask, "Did your folks expect you to be so... big?"

Babbs stiffens at the mention of her parents. For a few seconds, she goes back to her old self. "Probably," she says, the emotion drained from her voice. "They're both bears. Both big."

You shift in your seat to face her again, bodily. You're finished with your food anyway. You give her midsection another hug, this one tighter than before. Your arms sink into her plush belly, and you knead and rub, but the bear still is stiff below all her padding. You feel her grunt quietly, a paw going to your back, but she's still put-off.

"I feel like I should meet them... Maybe we could see them sometime," you coax, "Or... or they could come here."

Babbs really doesn't like that idea.

Her reaction gives you some strange sort of hope. Instead of shutting down or just leaving, the bear shoves the food off her lap. She's a little more delicate than that, really, keeping it all mostly in place as she sets the board on the coffee table, but 'shove' accurately describes how quick and jerky the motion is. It certainly describes the way you're scooped up by the butt and pulled into its place between her thighs. Before you can blink -- before you can breathe -- your head is shoved underneath her stretchy crop top. A huge, heavy paw presses you into place, stuffing your face into a tiny air pocket between cloud-like furry curves.

"I -- I don't think they would," she says, ignoring your gentle pushing at her belly and breasts. "They're probably too busy."

You try to speak, but it goes as well as every other time you've tried to talk into her tremendous tits.

"And if we went there, it would be the same problem as working at yours -- o-only they'd be the ones working and not spending time with us."

She hums a bit, keeping you stuffed in her shirt a while longer and rubbing the back of your head. It takes a bit more firm pushing and muffled protests to coax her into letting you out. You stay in her lap and her paw stays around your back when she does; you're still pressed against her form, her stomach filling your arms and your head just cresting the surface of her cleavage, but at least you're outside the stretchy fabric of her top now. Babbs stays locked on the screen as she kneads your back.

"I guess that's true," you say slowly. "I'm sorry, Babbs."

She mumbles some sort of acknowledgment. The anxiety in her voice brings you a strange sense of happiness; she's feeling something instead of pushing it all down.

"...Have you talked with them at all? About... about us? About what's been going on?"

The bear manages to draw herself together. Her chin rests atop her cleavage as she looks down at you, shaking her head with tired eyes. "No, I haven't," she says quietly. "They know I graduated college, and that I found some plays to stay and a job, but that -- that's it."

You hum, moving your hands to the crease between her chest and stomach. "If you called, would they answer?"

"M-maybe."

You hold your breath, then sigh. You nod into her to try and calm her more. "Then we should at some point. You said there were things there that you wanted, right? Stuff you miss?"

You discern her rumble as a 'yes.'

"Then we'll go get them sometime. Together," you say. "...when you're ready."

Babbs' whole form seems to expand before she sighs, holding you even tighter as she relaxes. "Thank you, Cameron," she says. "Maybe... maybe sometime, we will."

You say nothing, just offering another comforting nuzzle. The sound of light-cycles from the TV fill the air for a few moments before the bear shifts again. The couch creaks and fur rubs on fabric while you're held against her, your head going back into the valley of her chest. Your protests are just as muffled, but you hold her rather than push as she lays down on top of you with a groan. You let out one of your own as she settles, her weight and heat sinking you into the couch. Both saturate your form.

"In a minute," she mumbles when you manage to get out the words 'break' and 'work.' "We have some time."

You're wracked with another groan when she rocks side to side; this time it's a more needy sound, your dick straining against her soft stomach. Babbs responds with a husky chuckle that fills your head.

"That will have to wait too," she hums. "I've got work to make up..."

...

"Maybe after work..."

...

You stretch with a satisfied sigh. Another leg of the project finished early.

After Babbs let you up from the couch, she went upstairs to get back to work like she said. You didn't mind cleaning up the living room; if she's taking extra hours, you may as well too. You have been for the past few days, and today is no exception. You still give it your all during normal working hours, but you're able to take things slow during these extra ones while you wait for her to finish. A little dish washing here, some dinner prep there, cleaning up the office space -- you got what you needed done earlier, so there's nothing wrong with some multitasking while you wait for bug tests to run or sections to compile.

You look at the tiny human-sized bed, a little tempted to lay down. You haven't spent the night on it in a long time. It's staying here for the time being, partially because it'd be a pain to move. The frame is solid metal and raised, likely to be anthro-rated. You imagine it was one of the many things Babbs received while she was working her way through the matchmaking program. It's big enough that you could conceivably use it for a small guest bedroom when your folks come, or if the two of you invited someone else to stay.

That, and it makes for a good spot to spend your smaller breaks.

You eye the room again from your chair. Aside from the ceiling, it's smaller than most in the house. You're not sure what it was meant to be originally, but you've turned it into a combination of an office and storage space. There wasn't much room for the things you brought from your parents' place, so a lot has remained here in boxes. The clutter has been relegated to the sides and corners, but you'd still like to do something about it. You bring one of the boxes to your desk and start sorting through it between lines of code.

Above, there's a thump. Babbs must be on the move. Being right below her office lets you hear her habits -- you think you've figured out what she's doing most of the time. From the way her footfalls are going, it sounds like she's going to the bathroom. You continue your sifting and sorting until there's a different noise. It's heavier and singular, somewhat irregular. Not like her usual gait. You feel it more than hear it, making it harder to place. You save your work and slowly pack up the box, trying to preserve your progress on sorting it out.

The familiar sound of the bear's hips against the wall fill you with worry at first. The regular, slow pattern of rubbing thumps soothes you somewhat -- she didn't hurt herself and come rushing down the stairs, at least. But you are a little curious; she didn't send you an ICE message saying she was done like usual. There's no knocking on your door, so you assume she's come down for a snack. You go back to sorting through the box and trying to make the office a little more clean. Turning on a little music helps. Presumably it covers the bear's trek back upstairs too, since you don't hear her go back up. Still no new messages on ICE.

After a while, you check the clock: nearly 6:30. Babbs might be working until 7 or 8, and it'll be another half-hour after that before you can actually dig into the pot pie you two have been planning. Surely, she won't fault you if you sneak out for a snack or two?

You set aside the mostly-finished box and get up. You open the door -- only for it to practically burst off its hinges. A wall of brown fur bursts into the doorway as you jump back with a yelp; you're answered by a deep chuckle.

"Babbs?!" you ask, bewildered as you make sense of the mounds of fur, "What are you doing?"

"I wanted to surprise you," she says, lowering herself further, her massive bare bear breasts spilling into the room. "Did it work?"

"Y-yeah, I guess," you say. "Is there a-a reason you're naked?"

The lower reaches of her smile flash in the doorway. "It would be hard to take care of that little thing from lunch if I wasn't..."

You dodge back again when the massive bear moves against the doorway with a creak, a thigh nearly thick as you are tall coming through.

"B-Babbs, what are you -- are you doing it in here?"

"We've done it in almost every other room," she grunts, knocking her foot against your desk. "It'd be nice to have a complete set."

Ever the achievement hunter, your Babbs...

"There uh, isn't all that much room," you say, backing up more. Then you grab some of your boxes and shove them to the side as the bear's other massive leg comes through the door.

"I'll make do," she huffs. The ground shakes a little as she scoots herself in on her rear, making the boxes you're moving and stacking rattle. The walls do next as she squeezes her gut in, then her bust, then finally her head. She shakes it for a second before fixing her eyes on you. They're filled with lust; the room being so small around her makes her seem bigger, scarier, sexier. You back into the little bed as she crawls towards you, gazes locked the whole time. Babbs sets you on top, her huffs rumbling through the room. She undoes your pants with surprising grace and parts your legs, revealing your hardened member.

"You know, I've always wanted to watch your face when you cum," she says, dragging a finger along your length.

You splutter, still a bit overwhelmed. "Well, I-I, uh --"

She presses a finger to your lips with a shush. "I've got a solution..."

You swear you feel your legs creak when she drops her mountainous breasts into your lap. They weigh you down and sag around your thighs, so big that you feel the soft fur and fat press all the way up to your chest. You groan, torn between grabbing them and leaning back. Babbs seems to like the former as she grabs your hands and begins to rub them in.

"Feel good?" she whispers, her breath ghosting your face.

"Y-yeah..." you manage, eyes fluttering.

The bear chuckles, and begins to squeeze. The fur and pressure sends your dick alight and your head lolling back. This garners another rumble from the bear. You feel it when she kisses you on the throat. You tense, your fingers digging hard into her pliant flesh. The bobbing of her breasts washes over you like waves. They fill your arms, your lap, your entire chest -- Christ, they're big!

Her equally large tongue laps at your lips as she changes the rhythm, rolling her breasts in circles instead of up and down. You moan into it and let her slip inside. She draws you back down against her snout with the force of her muscle, filling your mouth and coating everything in her taste. It's hard to focus past the big, wet nose on your forehead. Muffled sounds of pleasure escape you with every squish of her tits and every throb of your dick.

You're getting close when she moves from tongue to lips. Each one covers half your face, swallowing your lips, your eyes, your nose. You pant into them and return them as best you can. Your thrusts reverberate through her tit flesh, echoing everywhere they touch you. It's a tiny sensation in the sea of pleasure Babbs is giving as she squeezes and shakes. The rumbling hum between each kiss hits you from her lips and her chest.

"B-Babbs, I --" you pant, "I'm gonna --"

She pulls back and blasts your face with a puff from her nose. Her eyes gleam in the light from the window.

"Go on," she hums, "let me see."

You grip her tits tight as they still and thrust with a cry. You feel the warmth spread into her fur, coating your cock with each ebb. The echoing ripples through her breasts only add to the aftershocks. You gasp when she wraps her arms around you and squeezes, squishing you harder into her tits and sticking your face under her chin. She relaxes after the accompanying moan peters out, sighing and sagging against you.

"Only one more spot to go," she says after a moment.

"...where's that?"

"My office."

You hum, still in bliss.

The bear hums in return, then asks, "Do you think this bed can take me?"

"Why?"

"I don't think I'm getting out of this room anytime soon."

You laugh, then groan. "Maybe. But I don't know if it'd be comfortable."

Babbs chuckles and kisses you on the forehead. "Anything's comfortable with you on it, Cameron."

You groan, already feeling the full-body smother. But deep in her fur, you're smiling.

You hope that she never leaves.