FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Something about the Camero felt out of place. The whole thing did, really.

Michael stared at the rough-and-tumble body, the dried mud-spatter on it like concrete. Some of it had to be structural at this point. The age of the car and its separate parts could be determined by the amount of rust on the individual parts, old pieces a dull brown, the newer ones a brighter orange, and the ones from last year a dying chrome sheen. The racing team was only ever active four or five months out of the year, and they weren't good ones. Finals hit them hard, other plans and internships interfered with the summer, and the experienced seniors left after just getting the hang of things; the focus entirely on the functional parts of the vehicle was practically a part of it.

It would've fit in the slapdash garage at the track, but it was at odds with its new home at his parents' place. Clean concrete and bright lights highlighted the dinge and wear. The tools had more shimmer than the car. Having plenty of space to maneuver around was a treat that the cinder block box couldn't match, even if it was only because his parents weren't there.

There or not, it was a better place to work. Mike went to the workbench and powered on his laptop. He started his final check of the space while waiting for it to boot. Even if he'd been gone for the better part of three years, he was still more familiar with the space than the racetrack shop. Taking inventory and laying out the tools and parts he'd need was almost nostalgic. The fact there was proper AC was also nice; temperature control and industrial lighting made the whole experience much more comfortable. Working long hours would be much more bearable because of it.

Eliminating the two hours of drive-time each day was also a bonus. His professor and the team had left him with very little oversight, so he didn't have set hours he had to work. But getting out to the track to do so was an hour trip each way. He wasn't worried about putting miles on the Crown Vic; it was the time. 10 hours a week quickly added up -- and that didn't include driving to the races themselves on the weekend. Bringing the car home on Sunday and putting it back Saturday was a much better choice, even if that meant avoiding the bigger highways.

A shiver of worry ran through Mike as he passed by the Camero's hood. It was road-ready, but it wasn't exactly road-legal. Gutting the car was likely one of the first things the club did when they first got it. Removing all the extra weight had left the interior practically bare. While the whole thing was safe -- probably even more than a normal car -- Mike had a feeling it'd get him in trouble. Aside from the big number 36 and the couple of sponsor decals, the outside looked almost normal. The absence of lights was a problem. Besides the practical problems, it would attract attention. And one careful look would probably put him in a lot of trouble.

He'd managed to get it back home without running into any cops, but it would only be a matter of time. A bright chime from the computer helped raise his spirits. Mike looked over at the light bars while he pulled up their data sheets. He'd gotten lucky and found them at a big box store in Portland, not far away. The signaling feature was extra, but it was the easiest way for him to get the right kind of lights. Certainly easier than trying to finagle an orange covering for normal bulbs himself. The big badge proudly proclaiming the 'road legal brightness setting' was also compelling.

It wasn't the wiring or the light bars himself that continued to worry him, or necessitated Nora coming over. It was attaching them in the right way. He stared at the Camero's hollowed-out shell again after going over the connection and mounting points on the data sheet for the hundredth time. These were supposed to be 'versatile,' but the mounting options were rather limited. Everything involved drilling holes into the frame or securing onto things that weren't there anymore. Mike wasn't sure how well the team would react to his new home for the car to begin with; making a permanent modification like that was way out of the question. He had to come up with some way to attach the lights so they could be removed without a trace. The battery was easy enough to access, and he'd probably just tape the wiring down since the system would only be in use for a few hours a week, but drilled holes would be a lot harder to hide.

Getting some spare parts to mess around with would've been easy... if his road-legal ride wasn't an hour away.

Michael sighed, and headed inside. Another benefit to having the car right in his garage; breaks were easy to take. He went to the living room and sank into one of the over-stuffed leather easy chairs. He let his head loll back and tried to relax. He'd figure it out. Worst came to worst, he could probably rent a trailer truck for the weekends. He checked his phone again, finding no new messages. The last one in his conversation with Nora was still a smiling whale emoji after they confirmed the time. It was generic and gray, and probably would've worked for any of the whale anthros out there besides an orca.

...How many whale anthros were there, anyway?

The human pondered the point as he switched over to his alarms. He hadn't met any at AMES; he'd seen maybe one or two out in the city the three years he'd been there. That was as many as he remembered at least. The hour and change on the timer for the steaks marinating in the kitchen led him to ponder further. Could Nora eat them raw? Like, really raw, not even descaled? He couldn't recall a whole fish being slapped on his plate when he went over to her place as a kid, nor did he remember her popping the catch from their idle fishing trips to the docks straight into her mouth. She never complained about any of the more human-oriented food she'd been fed at his house.

In fact, he'd never seen her complain about food. There was a reason she had the nickname 'Munch...' Mike hoped he'd gotten enough steaks for her. She was a big girl. Finding enough bowls and pans to marinate all the cuts in was a bit of a challenge. Fitting everything on the grill at once would be too. If they didn't go through everything today, well, at least he'd have fresh leftovers for later in the week.

...That was another weird thing to ponder. Could leftovers be 'fresh?'

A sudden ring of the doorbell shook Mike from his head. He wormed his way out of the chair with some difficulty and went to answer it. The locks clacked, the knob turned, and he opened the door to find Nora filling the entire entryway. The sight stunned him for a second; it was something he hadn't seen since high school. With some of the creeps he'd encountered in the big city, it actually sent a spike of dread through him -- but only for a moment. He knew the orca was soft. The feeling of comfort her looming presence gave off returned to him instantly.

"...C-can I come in, Mike?"

...Almost instantly.

"Yeah! Yeah, sorry," he said, backing up. "Just -- it's just been a while, you know?"

Nora chuckled quietly, the sound cutting off when her flukes bumped across the doorway. "Y-yeah."

Mike slipped behind her to close the door while she shifted into the living room, where she wouldn't have to stoop. It took him until then to actually get a look at what she was wearing. What she'd been wearing at the racetrack -- overalls and a work sweatshirt -- were just how he remembered her all throughout high school, since she worked with her parents at the docks almost every day. In blue jeans and a spaghetti strap top made her look practically civilian.

Micheal realized he was staring again. He coughed and stepped in to join her, ready to make some comment about how the garage hasn't changed; Nora scooped him up with the same ease she did at the racetrack. She didn't appear to hear his startled yelp or ignored it -- he was quickly stifled anyhow. The orca's embrace was firm, barely giving him any leeway to return it. Mike wasn't sure he was supposed to.

With the low-cut top slipped even lower and Nora's orbs in his face, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do at all besides not get a stiffie.

"G-good to see you too, Munch," he managed, the words slightly muffled. The nickname earned him an even tighter squeeze and a soft groan. Nora swayed with him for a few more moments, then gently let him down. Her chest didn't leave his face for a while and nearly fell out the top of her shirt, a fact the orca seemed very aware of. The white parts of her face were pink with blush when she stood up straight again.

"S-sorry," she muttered, adjusting her shirt, "I-I couldn't help myself -- a-and this outfit is, uh, not what I'm used to..."

Mike took a breath, clenched a fist, and thought about how much he had to piss.

"It's alright," he said. "I missed you too."

Nora smiled. She swung her tail up in front of her, holding the flukes in her nervous habit. "I bet your parents did, too."

"I'm sure they do -- they're not here right now. Off on vacation."

"O-oh. You have the place all to yourself?"

"Yep," he said, stretching. "They won't be back for a while. They're doing a low-tech retreat."

Nora made a noise of agreement, hugging her tail a little tighter. "How are you settling in?"

"Okay. It's... a little weird, being here after so long. Especially alone. But I got used to that in New York."

"Mmm... a little party might make it more homey," she replied, chuckling a little nervously. "Maybe we could sneak in some beer -- a-after all, your parents aren't around!"

Michael laughed with her, jokingly at first, but the more he thought about it, the nicer the idea sounded. "Maybe, Nora," he said. "That sounds like fun. Once I've got a better handle on the car, maybe."

The orca looked a little surprised, but nodded. "S-sure! Of course," she said. She let her tail go with a breath, and angled herself back towards the door. "Sorry, we could've been doing this in the truck -- it's all ready to go."

Mike paused. "What?"

The doubt practically made Nora freeze. "My truck. To -- to go to the track?"

"Why would we need -- oh." Mike nodded, then started walking toward the garage. "Come with me -- we don't need to leave."

The orca looked fairly confused, but did hesitate to follow him. Only at the doorway did she pause, trying to decide if she would fit. She stooped down and looked through instead when Mike motioned for her. Her eyes went wide when she saw the car inside.

"I just kind of... brought it here," he said. "It makes more sense than going out there."

"I... see," she replied.

"I don't have to drive an hour to see it every day, there's no track noise or obnoxious neighbors, and my dad's got better tools."

Nora nodded with a hum. "Did you borrow the team trailer for it?"

"...no."

She looked at him curiously.

"I, uh, drove it here," he said. "Made sure it was running and stuck to the back roads."

The orca's wide eyes said everything her simple "oh" didn't. "Is that why your car isn't out front?"

"Yeah... it's a little awkward, but it should be alright."

The doubt was clear on the cetacean's face. "I-if you need a ride or something, I can help."

Michael nodded. "Thanks, Nora. I'll let you know if I need it." He crossed the threshold into the garage and hit the door button, a warm breeze washing through. "If it'd be easier for you, uh, you could go through the car doors if you want."

The nine-foot orca nodded and laughed nervously. Her tail bumped into a side table as she backed up, and she quickly whipped the offending appendage into her arms once more.

Mike closed the door gently behind her, not wanting to fray her nerves any further. He stepped down into the garage and shielded his eyes at the sun. Extra light was nice, he supposed. The heat he wasn't so sure about. It wasn't hot yet, but even with his parents gone, he wasn't about to let the house's AC drain out through the garage. It'd quickly get warm even with the slight breeze. He looked around for the box fan he knew was somewhere, but had no luck before Nora rounded the corner.

"So, did you take anything from the track garage?" she asked, looking around the space. "I remember your dad having a lot of tools here..."

"Mainly just the car," Mike said. He walked over to a small pile of tools laid out on one of the benches and tapped it. "There were a couple of specialty ones there that I took, but that was it."

Nora looked over the sockets and probes with a slight nod, noting their orangey-black sheen. "What are they for?"

"I'm... not actually sure," the human said with a hint of embarrassment, picking one up and studying the end. "The old-heads at track night weren't the main mechanics. The ones from last summer graduated in winter, so no one's been able to pass everything down." He held the rough, machined steel up for Nora to look at closer, running his finger along a weld. "But they're bespoke, that's for sure. Probably because the specialty tools for these cars cost as much as a class now."

The orca hummed and looked back at the Camero. "It's an older model, right? Don't they have less proprietary tools?"

"Less, but still some," he said, shaking his head. "Cutting out most of the electrical and removing a lot of the excess probably helped, but there's still some there. I had to download an emulator for some diagnostic software just for it." Mike nodded over to the laptop, the screen now dark.

"Oh... I can't say I'm too good with those."

"Don't worry, I don't think we'll use it much. It's mainly for running codes and tweaking the ECM stuff."

Nora looked even more bewildered than before.

"Engine Control Module," he clarified. "It controls the little bits about engine operation. Fuel injection, timing, air intake -- all that. Changes them in real-time to make sure performance is good"

"Ohh," the orca hummed, looking at the exposed engine block. "That sounds a lot more complicated than what I do."

"How different can the engines you work on be?" Mike asked, setting the tool down. He looked up at her with genuine interest. Nora smiled, slightly nervous when she caught his eye.

"W-well, they're mostly diesel, for one," she said. "They're a lot simpler. Adjusting the injection and timing is down to the parts, not a computer, and it's set and forget most of the time." She chuckled, looking at the engine bay again. "But at least this doesn't have a bunch of o-rings and seals over everything to keep the seawater out..."

"Is it all boats?" he asked; the whale shook her head. "Boats and what else?"

"Powered lifts and cranes. When we have something out of the water, they're useful. And with how big and heavy even some of the engine parts are, it's good to have multiple."

"Too big for an engine hoist, huh?"

Nora laughed. "Usually. And most of the time it's a lot higher up, too."

"Not that that'd be a problem for you," Mike chuckled. The orca didn't get it at first, but shrank down with a slight blush when she did. "I'm just teasing," he said, motioning for her to straighten up. Nora sighed as she did, arching her back and closing her eyes.

"It's nice to be able to stand up straight at someone else's place for a change..." she muttered.

Mike managed a half-conscious reply. He was a little captivated by the stretch -- the anthro's back wasn't the only thing getting some. The orca's form was much more visible without layers of canvas and thick cotton, the folds of her slight chub no longer hidden by fabric. There was still a bit of definition to her beneath it. Though the pair of pale moons straining the spaghetti straps to their limit were more eye-catching, even from below. Mike blinked, giving one last look before turning away as the whale straightened up. He thought he saw something strange on the dark navy shirt.

"So what's special about this engine?" she asked, leaning down and looming over the Camero. "It doesn't look like stock."

"It's not," Mike said. He slipped next to her, trying to bring his focus back on work. "'Hobby-stock' is kind of a misnomer. It started out as cars straight off the factory line, but there have been a lot of changes since. Older cars just aren't as fast as newer ones. Giving people some room to tune up older vehicles made things more interesting and got more people into it." He chuckled, patting the chassis. "Most people in the category wouldn't have the money for a brand new car, that's for sure."

He paused for a beat, gathering the last of the stats in his head.

"So as far as I can tell, it was a 2010 SS model originally. V8, independent suspension, brakes on all four wheels, the works. I can tell they did an engine swap and a transmission swap at some point from the marks on the frame, so now it's a manual. But the rest of it's been changed to fit within the rules of the league. A roll cage, better seat belts, weight cut to stay just above the minimum..."

Mike could tell that he was losing her, her eyes glazing over from the overload. He pulled it back some to pull her back in.

"It might look intimidating, but it's really not too different from a normal street car at its core," he said. "That's the point of hobby-stock. Beneath all the weight-reduction and extra safety, the drive train is still the same. Still uses the same fuel, and the performance parts could all be put onto a street car."

Nora seemed a little more relaxed. She straightened up and nodded, showing more of an interest. Mike's speech didn't explain much, but it put her at ease. She took a breath and put her hands on her hips. "Right. So, where are we starting?" she asked, looking at him rather than the car."You mentioned that they wanted some body modifications?"

His eyes only darted down at her shirt for a moment this time. "Yeah, yeah," he said, tearing himself away to wake up the laptop."The first two things they wanted were to make the suspension a little more cushy and to tweak with the turbo a bit. It's got a large capacity but the lag is pretty bad."

The orca hummed behind him, a hint of nerves still present.

"But the main thing right now are these," Mike said, pointing to the light bars. He glanced up at Nora's thudding footsteps; she came close and crouched down, studying the lights and their packaging like she hadn't noticed them in all the clutter.

"What for?" She asked. "Aren't light bars meant for off-roading?"

"Mostly, yeah," he replied. "But check out the headlights."

Nora stood and took a few steps to lean over the front of the car; smooth metal sat where the light clusters should've been.

"The track doesn't require them, and it saves a little weight with no real risk," Michael explained, pulling out the bracket set. "No risk unless you're driving it on the road."

"Ahh..." the orca hummed. She straightened up and looked back at the light bars again with interest. "So you want them to be removable, so you can take them off before the races?"

"Exactly. The only thing I'm running into is how to mount them." Mike set the bag of parts on the hood and opened up one of the doors. "The battery and everything is in the cab since it's easier to access, so that's fine, but the problem is mounting the actual bars without making it permanent. Don't want to drill any holes to begin with, and most of the mounting hardware is designed around there being a firewall and other stuff between the headliner and frame--" he tapped on the bare steel interior with a knuckle -- "which I don't have."

Nora's tail swayed in the empty bay behind her, the tips of her wide flukes sometimes swishing outside. She bent down to grab the parts, then moved to sit in order to have a better view of the frame. The pony car barely came up to the bottom of her hips. Mike gave her some space, thinking about offering her something to sit on -- but there wasn't anything big enough for her. He could feel the thud of her hips through the concrete.

The curves spreading out and straining against her jeans looked soft enough.

"Well, what about using this roll-cage?" The orca asked. "We could use some extended bolts to make up for the space. How are it, the frame, and the body panels connected?"

"Welded to the frame, and the body panels are fitted to that with recessed bolts," Mike replied. "They're in the tiny space between the two of them, that's why you don't see them up top. I don't think it'd work."

He backed up when Nora shifted toward him after a pause, sticking her head through the open door. Mike had done a few refits to accommodate larger anthros to smaller, human-sized cars, but he had no idea how he'd manage her. The whale's head was nearly as big as the seat.

"It doesn't look like there's enough dashboard left to just set it on there, and there's nothing in back," she mused, pulling out with a huff. "What about mounting it to the roll bars on the inside?"

"Ehh -- the glare on the glass would probably --"

"Mmm. Right."

The orca sat, leaning on one hand while the other fiddled with her tail. She looked over the mounting kits and the car again. She picked up one of the light bars and compared it with a piece of mounting hardware, then felt around the top of the cab.

"You said the roll cage was welded to the frame -- are they solid welds all the way around?" She asked.

"I'm not sure. Here, let me look," Mike said, coming alongside her. He slipped into the cab underneath her arm and sat upright, a flashlight in hand as he felt around. "It looks like it for the most part. What were you thinking?"

"If we can get something around the roll cage bars, we could do it that way," Nora said. She scooted even lower, practically laying down to meet his eye in the car. "We could put hose-clamps around them, thread a connector to them, and then mount something off of that. Scrap wood, scrap metal -- something that can go up and out the window, maybe across the top."

Mike scratched his chin and looked at the roll cage. The orca grunted and shifted closer; the whole car rocked with a soft sound as she pressed against the side panels.

"Right around any of these," she said, running her hand across the thick bars near the door, "and up and out like this." The steel panels amplified her slight sound of exertion as she mimed the path of the proposed bracket, awkwardly close and tight for her big frame.

"Sure, sure -- let me check the welds," Mike said. He shifted in his seat and looked at the roll cage more closely. Nora flopped on her back just outside with a huff. He could see her chest rise and fall from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were closed as she rested. Mike grunted, moving on to one of the side-bars since the top was completely solid. The idea didn't sound bad -- he just needed a space to mount on.

His eyes drifted back to the orca when he decided to go by feel. The sunlight filtering in through the garage doors did little to soften the harsh shop lights; the blacks and whites of her skin were bright and distinct, the blues of her outfit equally striking. The shadows were strange. Something didn't seem right, was that just a fold, or --

Mike realized what the dark spots were when they began to spread. Sweat made the whale's shirt cling to her breasts, spreading dark stains around their bulk. Two particularly large spots hovered at the underside.

Christ, she wasn't wearing a bra.

The human scrambled to look busy when she started to move, banging his head on the bar protecting the windshield. "Any luck?" Nora asked, shifting to her side. "Are you okay?" she added when she saw him cringing.

"Yeah, yeah -- just bumped my head," Mike said. "Uh, I think there are some spots that would work."

He got out of the car and went to the parts bins, being very careful to face away from the orca. The small metal parts rattled against plastic as he searched. He should've familiarized himself with it more -- it'd been a while since he'd dealt with his father's organization system. Nora was sitting sideways when he returned with a variety of hose clamps to test.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

"Sure -- uh, hold the light bar up on top for me, about in place. We need to see how wide it is and how much we're gonna have to stretch things."

Nora rumbled a hum. He could feel her moving behind him as he continued prodding metal with metal and attempting the strangest needle-thead he'd ever done. A dull thump above him and a warm sensation at his back signaled the orca was ready.

"It's a bit short," Nora mused, shifting slightly to let Mike peek out from the cab. "You'll need height and some width..."

"Well, good news is the wide hose clamps will work," he said, looking up at her. "Only problem is they're probably wider than most fasteners."

Nora grunted. She took the one Michael offered her and picked up the bag of fasteners from the light bar kit and set them on the roof, pushing the light bar aside. Her chest thumped onto the metal as she leaned down, looking through them for something that would fit; Mike walked around to the other side of the car.

"Nothing much, right?" he asked.

"Not really," the orca sighed, still focused on the comparatively tiny parts. Despite her size, she manipulated them with surprising ease. "Do you have any spare wood planks? Something long enough to go all the way across?"

"Let me check."

Mike wracked his brain as he turned back to the workbenches and parts bins. This wasn't something he'd considered. He knew there was some spare sheet metal at the track garage but he hadn't bothered to bring it. His father probably wouldn't have anything big enough, but wood he might. He did the occasional summer project. After some scrounging, Mike managed to find a section of lattice hiding behind some shelves. It was thin, but it'd be long enough.

He could just stack it.

"Nora, I think I've got it!" he called as he lugged the hunk of wood out.

The orca looked up, a small grin creeping across her stubby snout. "Are you sure you can use that?"

"It'll be temporary," Mike said, waving her off. He maneuvered the thing over his head, swinging it flat. "Tell me which of these are long enough to cover the cab -- we'll probably need a few!"

Nora giggled softly; Mike froze when one of her huge legs arced over the hood of the car as she straddled it. She took the lattice from him with ease and held it right over the cab, pinching a few of the strips of wood before turning to him with the most normal expression.

"Could you grab me a sharpie?" she asked.

Michael managed to spit out some affirmative and rushed over to the desk. He could hear the gentle creak of the springs and the soft sound of cloth on metal -- Nora was far enough back that her tail wasn't squeaking against the body. She took the sharpie and marked out a few strips for him before handing the lattice back over. The human watched from the slats as she carefully backed herself off the hood, only stumbling a little, the sharpie still in hand.

"I had an idea on how you could attach it, actually," she said when she'd recovered. "D-do you have a notebook, or...?"

"Sure, sure." Michael motioned for her to follow as he brought her over to the workbench. He stepped aside as the orca leaned down once more -- then found himself pulled in closer when her hands went to either side of the bench.

"So, what if instead of trying to use the loops of the car-side fasteners they gave us," she said, doodling a crude roll bar and hose clamp, "We use a spring? Or some heavy wire?"

A rectangle with an oversized circle around the hose clamp appeared on the paper, little hashes suggesting a spring or shading.

"Then we just loop the other end onto the slats -- or we put a hook or eyelet onto it," she said, adding the lattice strips and her proposed connector to the drawing. "And then you can just mount the bars right to the wood, as if it were the roof?"

The diagram was crude, but Mike could understand what she was getting at. He wracked his brain for where the connective materials might be while Nora finished the drawing with a thick representation of the light bar.

"Yeah, that could work," he said, scratching his chin. "I don't know if I have anything in a high enough gauge, but I could just bungee it on if I really had too. Only needs to hold for a little over an hour at a time."

The dark spots beneath her arms and breasts caught his eye when he looked up, both rather close with how she was bent over.

"Thanks, Nora," he said with a smile. She returned it in earnest.

"Of course!" She said. The workbench shuddered slightly as she pushed off it to stand up straight, a soft sound of exertion escaping her. The orca focused on capping the sharpie, bringing the two halves close to her face with a look of concentration. "So, where should we --"

A shrill beeping interrupted her thoughts and any that Mike had -- both of them jumped. Nora fumbled the sharpie, the cap and pen slipping from her digits, and both fell into the deep, white sea of cleavage they'd been hovering over. Michael hastily went to silence the alarm while the orca let out an embarrassed gasp. She was still pawing at her chest when he slipped the phone away; she'd managed to grab the pen, but the cap had evidently slipped further down. Black dots and lines marked the white part of her breasts from where it'd bounced and was now rubbing, the pen still in her hand as she dug.

"Do you want me to, uh...?" Mike asked, trailing off and offering a hand. Nora's tail thumped against the Camero as it swung up tight to her side, her eyes wide and frantic when she looked between him and her chest.

"Y-yes! Here!"

She nearly dropped the pen again handing it to him, though he couldn't blame her. The orca was blushing so hard it almost showed on the black part of her face -- and the pen was slick with sweat. Mike carefully set it down before turning back to her, unsure if he should look away or not. Nora's breasts jiggled as she parted them before letting them go. She untucked her shirt from her jeans and slipped a hand underneath, pawing around her paunch before pulling out the wily piece of plastic. Her chest heaved one last time with her sigh of relief.

It froze when she handed the cap over to him with a shaking hand. "H-here," she said. "S-sorry."

Mike took it and capped the marker back up with as much charity as he could -- it too was wet. The whale's blush deepened when he turned back to her with a handful of shop towels.

"You know, for the, uh..." Mike trailed off, gesturing to his chest.

"I know, I-I know... I get like this when it's hot..."

"No no, for the marker! I meant for the marker!"

The orca made an embarrassed sound. She grabbed the towels before either of them made any more missteps; the towels soaked up the sweat all the same.

"W-what was that alarm for, anyway?" She asked, squeezing her tail tight in one arm as she continued to wipe the ink away.

"It was for the, uh, steaks," Mike managed. "I've had them marinating since last night, don't want them to get too soggy. C'mon, let's take a break -- I'll grill a few up."

He went to the door before pausing, then turned around awkwardly. "Just, uh, meet me out back, on the deck. I'll be out with them in a sec."

Nora nodded, her boob-scrubbing intensifying as she hustled out under the rolling door with her tail still held tight. Mike went inside and hastily pulled out a pan. He cursed as others crashed loudly onto the floor. He paused, taking a breath. It didn't have to be weird. They were close friends -- had been all their lives. Just not these past three years.

Mike pulled the steaks from their marinade, erring on the side of excess. The pan was a bit hard to hold in one hand while he opened the sliding door to the deck. Nora was waiting for him, a few black marks still on her chest -- and with bigger dark spots on her shirt.

"I-is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, moving carefully out of his way as he approached the grill.

"Sure -- uh, I didn't have the hands to grab plates and stuff. You still remember where they are?"

The orca nodded. Of course she did, she was 'Munch'.

"Okay. There's also a pitcher in the fridge -- you can grab some other sides, too! Should be some chips and dip and stuff."

"Right." She seemed a little calmer with a purpose, ducking through the sliding door. Mike sighed, and lit up the grill. He followed after her to clean up a little while it heated up. The whale's tail took up most of the kitchen with her head in the fridge while she searched for suitable sides.

"Behind you," Mike said, careful not to scare her. She hummed in acknowledgment, tucking her tail just a little to give him room. He still brushed against it as he cleaned up the fallen pans.

"Is there anything off limits in here?" she asked.

"Nothing's off limits for you, Munch."

Her tail curled against him with a sweet sound; it was hard to tell how much was on purpose. He pushed against it gently as he took care of the leftover marinade. He'd put the bowls and pans all over the kitchen with the number of them, since there'd been so many. Nora shifted around him as she pulled out a tub of dip and some cubed fruit from the fridge. She reached over him to get plates and silverware, careful not to press into him too much. Mike was glad -- the feeling of her against him was more powerful than he'd expected.

Their dance continued as they returned outside. Nora murmured a thank-you when he took the glasses from her quickly-filling arms. The tuna steaks sizzled eagerly, and Mike turned them over for an even sear; a slightly sweet, herbal scent filled the air. He was already glad he'd made so much.

"Those smell delicious, Mike," Nora said. She shifted around behind him, laying out the table.

The human hummed in acknowledgment. He was lost in the moment. The worries hanging over his head -- the car, his degree, Assignment -- they all seemed so far away. The warm midday air was like a buffer, the scent of cooking fish taking him away. Watching over it was simple yet satisfying, just as preparing it was easy but an investment. And it wouldn't just be for him, but a friend as well.

If someone were to walk in on them now, they'd probably think he and Nora were married.

Mike realized the orca was hovering behind him now, just close enough. She hardly retreated when he started swapping out the steaks on the grill.

"I think the table is ready," she said. "There's chips, dip, and some cantaloupe and watermelon. Tomatoes, too." She leaned down and picked up the stack of finished steaks. "How many would you like?"

"Two's fine for now," Mike said, slapping the last of the new batch on. "Does that leave enough for you, Munch?"

"Well, I'd maybe like some more..." she mused. "B-but it's fine, you don't have to stay at the grill!" She laid a hand on his shoulder and tugged gently. "Let's eat."

Mike pressed down on the steaks one by one. "Let me just finish these ones really quick. They won't cook right if I re-sear them."

Nora's hand left with a soft sound of disappointment. "I-I'm sorry..."

"It's fine, Nora. Believe me, I want to eat them as much as you."

The orca hovered by him as the last of the fish cooked. She offered the plate of previous steaks when the new batch was ready. They were stacked precariously high when all was said and done, the crispy sear marks probably the only things keeping the pile locked in place. It shifted as Nora set the plate down, and glistening juice dripped down the sides of the steak stack. There was a slight groan when the whale sat down in one of the oversized chairs Michael's parents had gotten for his friends -- really, it was an extra-deep bench -- but things held. Mike briefly wondered when they were last used; Nora holding a fork out to him prevented him from wondering too much.

"You pick first," she said, offering the serving fork. "You made them."

"Uh huh," he managed. He picked out two from the top, more concerned with structural stability than the choice of cuts.

"Thank you, by the way. For cooking," Nora said when he gave her the fork. "I-I wasn't expecting this at all."

"It's no problem. You were coming over during a long lunch break, and these were on sale," he replied. "I wanted to do something since you were helping."

Nora smiled. Her tail swept up onto the bench seat next to her, flukes bumping the armrest. She looked like she was going to speak for a moment, then dropped her gaze to the tuna. Michael did the same; marinade glistened in the grain of the fish when he cut into it. It held together well. The taste was a little sweeter than the smell, a citrus note complimenting the natural flavor of the tuna. It was good for how cheap of a cut they'd been.

Nora's quiet hums of satisfaction seemed to confirm his thoughts. Satisfying someone from a fishing family had to be a good sign. The orca plowed through two of the steaks by the time he'd finished his first, though with her size, he wasn't surprised. She made a few comments about how good they were, and Mike shared the broad strokes of the recipe he used, but the table was fairly quiet. There was a strange tension beneath the savoring of flavors. Like there were things left unsaid, now and three years ago.

"So... how long have you been doing shop-work for your dad?" Michael asked, picking at his cubes of cantaloupe.

There was a mixture of nerves and relief on Nora's face. "Well, I was helping with it when I was still in highschool, but he couldn't have me do it as part of work until I was 18," she said.

"Liability?"

"Yep," she nodded. "It was silly. Hauling around heavy gear without tools was okay, but using them to make it easier wasn't." She sighed. "It let me experience more of the job, at least. It's good if I'm going to be in charge some day."

"Is that what you're thinking?" Mike asked, getting another nod in return.

"It's what dad wants, and I don't mind it. It... lets me go out while still staying home, if that makes sense."

"I think so. A balance between staying here like Nima and travelling like Ren?"

"Something like that," the orca said. Her eyes dropped down to her food again, that strange tension ebbing back.

"Did, uh, you guys drift apart?"

Nora paused. She didn't look up when she spoke. "Y-yes, a bit. Rene -- Rena and Cleo both left so quickly after graduation. Like you, they weren't around for the summer. Rena doesn't say when she's back in town, and Cleo wasn't the same after she came back. At first she was all about the work, but when it turned out there wasn't much, well..."

She drifted off on an uncertain note. It was hard for Mike to tell how much the doberman had changed from one little visit at the racetrack.

"What about Nima?" he asked.

"Well, she stayed, and --" Nora blushed slightly, daring to look up now, "--a-and she and I stayed close. Having a reminder of the old days is... nice."

Mike hummed. "I'm sure it's nice having someone else your size, too."

"Y-yes, that too," she giggled. "I'm sorry if I was in the way, earlier."

"Don't be. You've done nothing but help -- I'm just happy for that. Doesn't matter how big you are," he said. "It's nice, especially with the car."

Nora smiled and chuckled a little wistfully. "Would it be nice for other things, if we got together?"

It took a second for Mike to recognize what she was asking -- it seemed like it took Nora moment as well.

"...I don't see why not," he answered, carefully. "Have you, uh, seen anyone since high school?"

The orca shook her head, blush growing by the second. "H-have you?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "Not really. I had something short when I first went to New York, but it -- fell apart pretty quickly." He sighed. "Lots of classes and a really clingy girl don't mix..."

Nora's blushed faded. There was less stutter to her voice when she spoke, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Was it someone from there, o-or...?"

"It was Janice," Mike said. "She went to one of the prep schools to be near me. I don't know if she stayed after I broke things off."

"You haven't heard from her?" Nora asked, her tone as careful as her expression. It turned sympathetic when he shook his head. "W-well, I hope she's alright. She always was a little... different."

Mike poked at the last shred of cantaloupe.

"Yeah."

The air hang heavy between them. The orca's white teeth were bright against her black skin when they caught the light, her jaw hanging partway open as she tried to settle on what to say. A soft beeping decided for her. She closed her mouth and pulled her phone out, not noticing the way Michael's for nearly tumbled from his hand.

"Th-that, uh, that's my alarm," she said, giving him a sheepish look. "I-I'm going to need to get back soon."

A part of Mike was relieved. "Sure," he said, pushing his chair back. "That works out. We're about finished eating, anyway."

Nora's tail pushed her bench out of alignment as she hastily stood and did the same. "D-do you want any more help with the car?" She asked. "I-I have time!"

"Nah, it's alright, Nora. This is something extra for you, outside of your job; it's my entire job for the summer."

The orca didn't look entirely satisfied, but didn't complain. Michael didn't comment when she gathered up the dishes from the table he hadn't taken yet. He paused when he opened the sliding door for her, looking up.

"Don't worry. If I need extra help again, I'll let you know," he said.

The words or the tone set the whale at ease, earning a soft hum that he could feel through the door handle. Nora ducked inside with as much grace as she could manage and started cleaning her plate. Her tail swept through the breadth of the kitchen area as it swayed, leaving Mike with little choice but to set his armload on the counter for her. There was a hint of a smile on her face when he turned to get the uncooked steaks. The smell of the marinade and cooked fish was fresh when he went back outside. He took his time, turning off the grill and managing the last of the dishware and food.

He didn't want Nora to leave on a completely awkward note.

The orca seemed happy enough when he came back inside. She looked at home in the kitchen with the sound of running water, the dirty plates and utensils she'd brought in already clean. She took more from Michael with little more than a hum, her form swaying as she cleaned. He let her enjoy the moment. The kitchen was quiet as she cleaned and he put the remaining steaks in the fridge, the only sounds the sink and Nora's humming.

It was strange how cold the silence after the water shut-off's thump was by comparison.

Michael killed it before it had a chance to fester. "Thanks, Nora," he said, slipping next to her to rinse off his hands.

"Of course. You cooked, it's only fair." She tucked her tail under her arm, partially to free up space this time -- but the nerves were plenty visible on her face. "M-maybe we could do this again. It was nice."

"Yeah, it was." Mike stepped back a little. "Now that I don't have classes, I have time to actually cook again. There's a few different dishes I'd like to try."

Her expression eased. "Well, I-I'd be happy to help," she replied. "W-with making them, too! Not just, uh, the eating."

Mike chuckled. "Oh, you can help with that too, Munch," he said, pressing a finger into her stomach. "I don't mind."

The orca stiffened then melted, the touch and nickname overwhelming her for a moment. She stuttered out a few responses that only made his grin widen. She settled on a rumble when Mike walked out of the room, back towards the front.

"H-hey," She said, following after him. He turned with a teasing smile.

"Yes? What is it, Mun--"

The grab took Mike by surprise. Nora palmed the back of his head and pulled his face into the paunch he'd poked seconds before. He froze against her as a second hand draped down to his back and a fluke tapped at the back of his knees, holding him in place. She rubbed him in before sending him stumbling with a push; there was a dark spot on her shirt where he'd just been.

"I can tease you back too, y-you know," she said, her hands on her hips. There was still blush on her face, but Michael found himself believing her just a little. The orca had always been so docile when they'd been together throughout childhood -- though he'd rarely been with her by herself.

"A-are you okay?"

He blinked, realizing again that he'd been staring. "Y-yeah, yeah, sorry. I just..." He trailed off, reassessing the 9' 6" predator in his living room. "I wasn't expecting that."

"R-right." Nora's spunk was gone when she took a large breath. "I-I'm sorry if things got a little weird earlier, with what we talked about and everything. A-and what I just did. It just -- came out. I -- we haven't seen each other in so long, and you invited me over, a-and I --"

"I-it's okay, Nora, really," he said, walking over to her and putting a hand on her tail; it was the closest to putting an arm around her shoulder as he could manage. "You're right, it's been a while. We're different. We're gonna have to reconnect a bit." He gave her a pat and pulled back. "But I think it's worth doing."

The orca's flukes tapped at her calves, her whole tail seeking something to latch onto while she stared down at him with glistening eyes. She nodded; it took her a few moments to get the words out.

"Do you mind if we, uh... hug, before I go?"

Michael sighed, then smiled. "Sure, Nora." He spread his arms. "Just not to --"

The rest cut off into a wheeze as she scooped him up and squeezed him around the trunk. It was hard to breathe, but that was alright.

There was plenty of cushion, after all.

Michael attempted to hug Nora back, but his arms barely went past her pushed-up breasts. She'd pulled him against her before pulling him all the way up; he was lifting her tits like a living push-up bra. They only covered the bottom-half of his face, at least. Though with every second that the orca squeezed tighter, the twin hills of white crept further up his cheeks.

He finally tapped out when his head started going light. "Uhh -- Nora --" he whispered, wiggling slightly in her grip.

"S-sorry," she said, relaxing her grip and setting him down carefully; her breasts swept the sides of his face as she stood. Somehow her top stayed on and didn't get hooked on his chin. Mike stared with an actual excuse for his daze this time. "I'll see you later, Mike."

"S-see you," he said, waving her off as she headed out the door. He stood in the living room for a few moments after it closed. Images and feelings came unbidden: Nora's form, full yet powerful; tight jeans hugging her thighs and rear; the way she still cradled her tail like she had when they were kids.

The crushing, comforting grip of her embrace.

The sweat that smelled like seasalt.

He touched his face, checking if any had rubbed off. It was impossible to tell, probably mixed with his own by now. Michael shook his head and went back to the garage. He shouldn't have been thinking of those things. But the phantom presence of the orca loomed over him as he returned to the diagram on the workbench, the sweat-covered sharpie still laying next to it. He turned away with a sigh and leaned back against the bench. He let himself slip into thought as he stared at the car.

Those mundane moments with Nora -- cooking, setting the table, cleaning -- he hadn't had anything like them in a long time. Life hadn't felt normal and quiet. Mike wondered for a moment what it would be like if he managed to get all his classes online next semester, if he'd be able to stay here. Cliffton couldn't have changed that much. Alex and Randy might be gone, but others were still here. He could make it normal enough.

He just might have to ask someone to marry him, was all.

His phone rang as if on cue; Mike was glad Nora wasn't still around to see him jump. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID: Liana. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He took a few breaths to compose himself before answering.

"Hey Liana," he said, keeping a hand on the workbench, "what's going on?"

"Michael, darling, how are you?" The cougar's rumbling tenor came through the phone as clear as it always had. "I was informed about a rare piece up for auction, and I thought of you while I was looking at it."

"Oh," he said carefully. Their exchanges usually happened over text, where their messages were more secure. "Was it, uh, for you or for me?"

"Well, it would be a project for you, but I'd be going home with it."

It was a car, then.

"Of course, I can find some things for you go to go home with, if you help me out," she purred; her claws tapped idly in the background. "There's always the standard inventory, but I'm sure I could arrange another special shipment for you."

Michael was tempted. He'd never asked the puma where she got the weapons from; it was probably best if he didn't know. But they were genuine, untainted by the State's restrictions on humans like himself -- even somehow untainted by the excessive regulations Sector FNS had placed on anthro-owned ones. Short barrels, autosears, shoulder-thingies that go up -- all of it was there and unneutered.

And all she'd ever had him do was car work.

"Michael? Are you there?"

"Y-yeah, yeah, sorry."

"Good. Now, how does that sound? I can have the car at the usual place as soon as Tuesday."

"Actually Liana, I don't think I'll be able to take it," he said.

"That's alright," she hummed after a moment, just a hint of disappointment in her voice. "I can store it for a while until you're ready. It's finals season, isn't it?"

"Uh, no. Not exactly," Micheal said, scratching his head. "I -- remember how I told you I'd be out for a bit to take care of something?"

"Yes?" She asked. "That was a week ago. Is it not finished?"

"No. I'm going to be away for most of the summer, probably." He paused, then added "Maybe even into fall."

The lazy confidence in the puma's voice was gone when she next spoke. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Mostly," he said. "I went back home for a while. I'm going to be here at least a month or so -- after that, I'm not sure."

"Oh." There was a shifting on the other end of the line. "When will you know?"

"Around then, probably," Michael said. he tried to keep his voice from rising. "I'll try to let you know. I'm sorry, but I have to go. Work."

"Mmm. Ciao, then. Do keep in touch."

Mike let out a puff of air when the screen blinked at the end of the call. He knew he'd been rude, but talking about their illicit activities over the phone left him flustered. Almost as much as another jabbing reminder that his time was limited and that Assignment was coming soon. His hands shook; he pocketed the phone. He needed a cold shower.

The internal fluttering lessened the further from the garage Mike got, but he was going to go through with it. Working without the AC and grilling out in the midday sun had left him as sweaty as his house guest -- and there was her sweat to consider, too. He did his best to push thoughts of her from his mind while he undressed. He thought about Liana instead.

It burned, not being able to take her offer, but he knew he made the right decision. Even if her projects were usually interesting, she was nice enough, and the 'pay' was plenty good, he couldn't handle it right now. Not with how the stock car was. He wasn't sure what project she had in mind, but 'thinking of him' while she was eyeing something screamed 'size-compliance retrofit.' And being a nine-foot tall puma, getting a human-sized car comfortable and drivable for her wasn't an easy task.

A thought crossed his mind as he turned on the water and prepared himself for the plunge; he might be able to handle it if she brought whatever it was here. The home garage was a little less equipped than the ones she had him work out of for past jobs.

Not like that would happen.

...

Liana's claws clicked at the marble desktop, her other hand kneading at a self-healing stress sphere. It was among her favorite purchases. The material gave just enough resistance for satisfaction but never wore out. A useful property for an underworld CEO to have. She ticked through the analogue Rolodex controller to bring up her contact files, scrolling to Michael's. He was a unique case; she'd met him personally by chance when she was touring one of the auto facilities her father had set up for business. Every convincing front needed some legitimate side to it. Michael was considering an internship there, but she turned him away.

He was too valuable for that.

Liana knew that filling her father's shoes would be no easy task. Having connections with no prior loyalties was valuable. Keeping him out of her direct employ not only did that, but left him unconnected to the family's multiple business concerns. When she had questionably legal mod projects, repair jobs that would otherwise raise eyebrows, or simply didn't want to pay tax, it was easier to do with him. When she found out he had an interest in firearms, she had her in.

Much of the information in his file was from that initial history check to make sure he wasn't a fed. With how stand-offish and single minded he was, she'd been suspicious. But her bodyguard -- another new-blood with no old loyalties to worry about -- had eased her fears. He was just a small town kid come here for college. Really, she'd been doing him a favor by putting him under observation.

Liana huffed, scrolling to the end of his file. She knew where his hometown was, but no idea why he'd be there. And even less why he might stay. He had a year of his degree left. There were no reports of health issues -- but perhaps it wasn't his health that was the problem.

The puma swiped the info screen aside and pulled up another contact list, clicking down to Caroline. The cassowary made her wait, like usual.

"Yes?" The bird answered, just enough exasperation there to avoid retribution.

"I need you to do a deep probe. Personal and immediate family," Liana said. "I have an asset that may be in trouble."

"Alright, who?"

"Michael 'Mike' Jones."

There was a pause before Caroline made a grumbling noise. "Didn't your bull do one for you?"

"Two years ago. The problem is now, not then," Liana growled.

"He's not on the payroll. Not our problem if he has problems."

The stress sphere took a set of deep gouges. Liana's chair slid back on well-oiled wheels as she stood tall over the desk mic.

"It is our problem because it's my problem!" The puma rumbled. "He's a private contractor -- *my* private contractor. And I protect what is mine."

She paused, unhooking her claw from the sphere.

"Do I make myself clear?"

On the other side of the line, Caroline simply sighed. "Yes, Liana," she said. "I'll get it arranged."

Slowly, the cougar's fur unbristled. She sat down carefully, arranging herself as if the bird were actually in the room.

"Good. And Caroline?"

"Yes?"

"Call me Donna Russo."