FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A muffled whine broke the silence of the bedroom, which was promptly followed by a burst of fitful struggling. The snowy cheetah's white belly distorted and stretched as his passenger moved and pushed with his hands and feet. Grinning, Frosty cradled his enormous belly in both arms, rubbing over the wiggling shapes and kneading with increasing pressure to help it work. He laid back on the mattress in the nude and arched, tightening his gut with a satisfied growl. Several articles of clothing were haphazardly scattered around the bed, evidence of his shameless act.

"Shh, just relax, mousie. Kitty's got 'ya. You'll be where you belong soon enough."

His words offered little reassurance to Fomo, who was currently being liberally massaged in the cheetah's gastric fluids. The grey and white mouse could already feel bits of fur sloughing away and gathering in the pooling warmth in wet clumps. He shoved his hands outward again, but strength was quickly leaving him, and the predatory cat's gut was relentless.

"F-Frosty! C'mon," he whined again. The way Frosty was kneading over him, hugging his belly, growling in satisfaction...Fomo knew he didn't stand a chance, but he'd struggle to the bitter end.

A wet gurgle rose from Frosty's gut, which elicited a crass belch that brought up tufts of grey fur. Blushing, a pink tongue swiped over his lips to clean them before swallowing lightly, grinning to himself at the hints of mouse lingering on his breath. His hips lifted from the bed as he hunched forward to place a kiss on the top of his gut, partially curling around it and making it uncomfortably tight for Fomo.

"Oooh, you feel really good in there, and my belly seems to really like you...as usual."

Fomo missed the implication in Frosty's comment. He was too concerned with his own situation to put much thought in anything but the fact that he was going to be digested.

H_e was being digested._

Stripped of his clothing as the cheetah greedily shoveled him down, his bare frame was now roughly squeezed and massaged as slimy strands dripped over him. Although his head was swimming with dizziness by this point, he was still aware of the growing discomfort on his skin. Thankfully, he couldn't see the acids beginning to soften his figure. But he could certainly hear it, given the distinct squelches of digestion and strained pops from his joints threatening to give.

As minutes passed, Frosty could feel the mouse winding down. He continued to dote on his gut while he sprawled on the bed, eventually rolling to one side so he could better relax. The outward-pressing shapes were becoming less frequent, until finally his meal reluctantly surrendered to the hostile environment.

Another soft belch escaped, further tightening the cheetah's gut as it lost a bit of definition. Grinning to himself, Frosty pushed firmly against the side of his rounded gut with one hand. Fomo was already feeling somewhat softened, but there was still a lot of mouse to work with. Maybe he'd take a nap before reporting back...

Frosty was barely dozing when he heard a chirping tone in his ear. It snapped him fully awake and he looked around briefly in confusion before realizing the source. Someone was trying to contact him through his commlink. Reaching up, Frosty tapped a finger to the side of his collar, briefly illuminating a button that seemed to appear and fade as if the leather band was a touchscreen. One of the many secrets that Frosty carried.

A series of chirps could be heard in rapid succession as the secure connection was established. The voice that came into Frosty's earpiece, cleverly disguised in a gold loop earring, was already somewhat agitated at having to check in on him.

"Status report. We're getting some unusual readings, what's going on?"

Frosty's ears perked. "Uh...I secured the objective? In a manner of speaking." He couldn't help smirking while he pat his belly, despite the alarmed tone of his associate. His belly gurgled agreeably.

"That's not possible. We're showing no change in the target objective, but your timeline is..." There was a brief pause. "Frosty, confirm your current location, please." It was standard procedure, in a situation like this.

"Fomo's room." Frosty giggled quietly.

There was a heavy sigh in his ear. Frosty knew what they wanted, but enjoyed dancing around it to rile up his handler. "Ha, ha. Cut the crap. Confirm location."

One hand remained on the cheetah's gut as he rolled his eyes, the other reaching for his collar. No sense of humor whatsoever. It wasn't true, but it certainly felt that way at times.

A computerized voice could be heard in his earpiece, simultaneously broadcasting data to his handler as it automatically read out the full details of his current location, including the date, time, exact coordinates, as well as a unique code known only by his employer. Everything sounded fine to Frosty.

The code represented the exact timeline that Frosty was currently occupying, from a seemingly-limitless pool. It was the anchor that kept him safely linked to his home office, in an assignment where "infinite possibilities" was a literal part of his job description. Although friends in-the-know jokingly called Frosty the space police, the cheetah's duty was less enforcement and more to do with correction. In his case, tracking down individuals that had somehow fallen away from their intended timeline, regardless of how it happened.

On paper, he was allowed to bring his target back by any means necessary to help restore the original timeline's stability, but it was generally understood that this meant "intact and unharmed." That didn't stop Frosty from unnecessarily indulging from time to time, especially in the case of Fomo, who was something of a guilty pleasure for him.

The mouse currently digesting away in his gut was one of several "Fomos" to fall victim to the cheetah's appetite, despite the potential for causing irreparable damage. Although it usually required a small effort to bring anyone back, thanks to a fair bit of advanced tech, there had been instances where Frosty was so "thorough" that a mouse had to be completely erased from a timeline to correct it.

Even if fixing meant carrying on without Fomo, as if he'd never existed in that instance.

That required painstaking work to accomplish. The reprimands for that outcome accompanied a permanent mark on Frosty's record, but something about a curvy Fomo made eating one a worthwhile gamble from time to time. Tonight had been no exception. Hopefully he could dodge another bullet.

The voice in Frosty's earpiece returned after a long pause, sounding increasingly annoyed. "You've gotta be kidding me. Return home and debrief. We have some sweeping up to do."

"Home" meant the office. Frosty made a soft "aww" and rubbed his belly. "Can it wait? I was just settling in for a nap after dinner."

"Don't make me send someone to retrieve you," his handler warned firmly. "You need to get out before the timeline tries to reset, you're in the wrong place."

"Wait, what?" Frosty's gut sloshed when he abruptly sat up in bed and checked his data again, comparing it to his mission brief. It took three passes before he detected the issue, and he mentally kicked himself for the error. He'd get an earful for such a careless mistake, even if he wasn't solely responsible. He and his handler would both be held accountable.

Frosty would have to worry about that later. Being in the wrong place - or more accurately, the wrong timeline - meant the likelihood for unintended consequences was significantly higher. Becoming trapped in a timeline by a corrupted anchor code was now a very real threat. Any number of details in the instance could change at a moment's notice, caused by an anomaly Frosty had introduced. In this case, digesting the wrong Fomo.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, it took a good deal of effort to reach for a silvery, thin body suit, which had been discarded on the floor halfway through ingesting the grey mouse. His stomach gurgled in protest of the pressure, eliciting wet noises deep within as the gurgling meal was further compressed. Working around the sagging gut made it difficult for Frosty to wiggle into the legs, nearly slipping off the bed completely in the process. When he finally succeeded, he hefted himself to his feet with a grunt and pulled the uniform around his hips.

It made Frosty smirk to think that yet another Fomo would be contributing to those curves. Flexible fabric stretched over his grey spots, seeming to hug and conform to him flawlessly as he pulled. With a wiggle, he managed to stretch it up to his waistline. He pushed his arms into the sleeves and began to draw it up, belly pushed through the open front.

It seemed like an impossible task to proceed much farther. Frosty knew better, from past experience. It took some fumbling to find the zipper hidden beneath his heavy gut, but once he began to zip the front of the body suit, the fabric smoothly stretched over his midsection with a bit of effort; one of the many unique features of Frosty's uniform. For all its remarkable properties, however, it still was a struggle to tug the suit over the widest part of his belly.

The cheetah's gut emitted another audible gurgle before the suit was fully secured, zipped right up to the neck and drawing it snug against his body. It was uncomfortably tight around his middle, but he'd manage despite his belly's noisy complaints.

A tone in Frosty's ear let him know the suit had interfaced, which meant it was time to leave. Frosty tapped a sequence into his collar by memory, and the gold bell hanging from the front began to glow faintly blue from within.

Thumbing his earring, Frosty rested one hand on his gut again. "Ready for extraction."

Acknowledged.

The faint light from his bell abruptly became an intense blue flash that illuminated the room, and once the light subsided, Frosty had vanished. The only evidence of his visit was Fomo's scattered garments, and a distinct lack of Fomo.

Barely a minute passed before the mouse's absence was noted by the cosmos, and events were set in motion to attempt to naturally heal what had been damaged. Under normal circumstances, the universe seemed to find a way. The time stream would reset, Fomo would wake up in his bed, and life would go on as if Frosty had never visited. In some cases, manual intervention was needed to help things along, which is where Frosty's employer came in.

But the cheetah had created an unexpected variable: being an outsider, compounded by the fact that Fomo had vanished with him. His act had further complicated an already-complex situation. Nobody could have predicted that Frosty's greedy mishap would take years of work to correct, as a result, much less in their own timeline...