FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The soft tapping of cheetah claws on laptop keys was the only sound that filled the living room, lights dimmed while Frosty focused on his task. His work computer was balanced on his thighs as he curled up on the sofa, a blanket serving as insulation against the heat it produced, while also keeping his feet cozy. On the screen was the beginnings of a mission report, long-overdue given how many weeks it had been since his initial encounter with Fomo. Considering how eventful things had been since that day, nobody could fault him for it, especially given the recent incident on campus.

Due to the fire at the facility, Frosty was unable to live in his private suite, which was located in the same building as CATS. As a result, Forest had generously offered to allow him to stay at his house from time to time, which was significantly closer to work than his own apartment. Although fire crews had managed to contain the fire to the areas immediately surrounding the main transmission chamber, it would be some time before power would be restored to the building.

Unfortunately for Fomo, and field agents who were effectively stuck in other timelines, it would be even longer for CATS to be brought back online. The system had been completely destroyed during the fire, and power systems were severely damaged by a surge that had caused the initial explosion. Between extensive repairs to the building that would be required, and the need to rebuild CATS itself, they estimated it would be several months, likely even a year or more before CATS would be operational again.

Though Fomo was initially less than enthusiastic about Frosty spending the night with them, being "stuck" meant they eventually reached a truce of sorts. With Frosty currently unable to return Fomo back to his proper timeline, he saw no point in harassing the mouse and making things any more difficult for either of them. He'd see to it that his associates saw things from his perspective as well.

Their agreement was a bit lopsided, however. Fomo was growing rather accustomed to his predatory role, and was discovering new, interesting ways to make the cheetah blush on a regular basis. With the teasing came increased urges. Sometimes outright cravings, when Fomo thought back on how good it had felt to get that curvy cat down his throat. And much to his enjoyment, a well-timed growl of the stomach while he was teasing had turned Frosty's face rather hot.

For the moment, Frosty had managed to avoid another trip into the mouse's belly. But the more time they spent around one another, the more compelled Fomo felt to satisfy that growing urge. And to the mouse's surprise, Frosty wasn't the only cat that he found himself daydreaming about squeezing into his diet, but the cheetah's frequent presence made him the most convenient target.

Thankfully, the house was quiet tonight, allowing Frosty a bit of uninterrupted time to work. Both Fomo and Forest had retired to their rooms for the evening. Frosty paused to look over what he'd already added to the report, which contained a description of his initial encounter with Fomo, after he'd appeared in their world.

...Unlike previous iterations which have typically been fairly reserved and shy, this version of Fomo was initially somewhat confrontational with me. Additionally, while other versions of Fomo were easily subdued or otherwise restrained, when I attempted to catch him by surprise, he had little trouble overpowering me after being pinned. Attempts to break free were unsuccessful, and ultimately resulted in being devoured...

Frosty could feel his cheeks getting warm as he proceeded to describe the rest of the scene, noting the failure of his collar to respond to input after he'd been eaten. Having to describe the situation filled his head with vivid memories of his encounter with the mouse's digestive tract, making Frosty fidget on the sofa. Once he'd completed the entry up to the point that he'd passed out in Fomo's gut while being digested alive, Frosty peeled his eyes away from the screen and took a deep breath to calm his nerves a bit.

Why does he get to me like this? Frosty wondered. It was becoming a struggle to contain himself when Fomo laid on the teasing. There was something about the mouse's confidence, his boldness as he spoke. Being teased by a mouse that he had always viewed as timid prey made him especially conflicted. Frosty was rarely this reserved with Forest, however, who thoroughly enjoyed making him squirm while he growled about what he planned to do to him. About how good it felt to work Frosty down, to make him melt.

Then it dawned on him. Because Fomo teases like the Wuff does. It became suddenly clear why his words were so effective at making Frosty flustered, and coming from a cheeky mouse made them especially potent.

"This mouse is going to be the end of me," Frosty muttered. He drew in another slow breath, then turned his attention back to the computer, hoping that continuing the report would provide some distraction from those thoughts, though he knew it would likely make them even more intrusive.

The next segment of the report segued into his second encounter with Fomo in the park, which had quickly gone sour due to a poor choice of words on Frosty's part.

...while attempting to determine the best approach to the conversation with Fomo, he revealed that he'd experienced a vivid dream about being devoured by myself earlier that week, which is consistent with the timing of field activities, and the paradox event that resulted in Fomo's presence in our current timeline. After future discussion regarding his memories (to be detailed later in this report), this appears to be his only intact memory from the original timeline.

After offering to prove my claim that Fomo's dream was a memory instead, the situation escalated, and I was unable to regain control. When he made it clear that he intended to devour me, Tess intervened and was able to subdue Fomo via a choke hold, having been instructed to shadow me should any situations arise. Unfortunately, while discussing the outcome with Tess, Fomo regained consciousness and was able to exploit our distraction to devour her. Due to my position I was unable to assist Tess...

Frosty had to chuckle in spite of himself. He was careful in the way he chose his words, not wanting to put negative light on Tess's involvement in the situation, or throw himself under the bus by admitting that he'd let Fomo eat and digest her. He'd conveniently omitted certain details from the report, given that he was the only person besides Fomo that knew what had actually taken place.

As Frosty had predicted, the data storage unit in Tess's belt had been damaged beyond repair. As a result, her memory of the incident had been entirely lost when she was reformed, since they had to rely on the information already stored in the reforming lab's database. Additionally, due to a bad data transfer from Tess's previous mission to rescue the cheetah's collar, her memory of that evening was patchy at best.

Drake, on the other hand, had managed to make it through with a full recollection of what had taken place after breaking in to Fomo's house. The usefulness of his data was limited, however, given that he'd ended up in the mouse's belly shortly after entering his bedroom. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he'd ended up becoming part of Fomo's diet. And like Frosty, he was rather conflicted about the fact.

During a candid conversation with Frosty, who visited him in the infirmary, Drake had made the cheetah swear secrecy after he confessed that as he was beginning to fade, he could distinctly remember beginning to _enjoy_the knowledge that a mouse was digesting him. Frosty could see the blush in his friend's cheeks when Drake admitted that he could've continued struggling, but instead gave in and let Fomo claim him. It was a sentiment Frosty understood well, though he didn't express it.

With the events in the park fully documented, Frosty wrapped up the section with a mention that he had turned Tess and Drake's personal effects over to Felix, who was responsible for delivering them to the reforming lab. Again, he'd carefully tailored his words to leave out the fact that he'd essentially dumped the task in Felix's lap.

The next section in the report would be the most verbose. Frosty had to detail the conversation he'd had with Fomo the day of the fire, and given the sensitive nature of his job, it was necessary to be specific about what the mouse did and didn't know. He pondered how to best proceed for a long while, but eventually resumed typing.

...at this time, Fomo has been fully informed and understands the unusual circumstances of his existence in this timeline, including my involvement in removing him from his originating timeline. Although he is aware of my role as a field agent, and our ability to travel between known timelines, he has no knowledge of the technology used to accomplish this. Additionally, he has no knowledge of the technology available to field agents. He is aware of our ability to reform agents, but does not have details on how this is accomplished...

Frosty had been careful to avoid the mouse's probing on those matters, despite several attempts to glean information about the cheetah's job. Though Fomo knew that the cheetah's collar had something to do with him reforming, that was the extent of his knowledge. After expertly avoiding the questions each time, Fomo eventually relented, suspecting that Frosty wouldn't divulge any more about his job than he needed to.

While reviewing what he'd already typed, the cheetah's ears perked at the sound of gentle footfalls on the stairs. They rotated toward the source and Frosty sat up enough to peer over the top of the sofa. Fomo appeared at the bottom of the stairs a moment later, and smirked when he noticed the cheetah's blue eyes watching him. As he turned the corner around the bottom of the stairs, Fomo wiggled in Frosty's direction. He was currently without a shirt, wearing only a pair of black shorts that hugged close to his perky hips.

"Don't mind me, chee, just grabbing a snack from the fridge. But I might be back for you later," he suggested with a squeaky giggle.

Frosty's ears flattened as his cheeks warmed. He didn't say a word as he sank back into the sofa to break eye contact, turning back to his laptop and muttering to himself. As if he wasn't already having enough trouble focusing without the mouse actively tormenting him. He listened to quiet rattling from the kitchen as the fridge was opened and closed, allowing himself to relax a bit in the knowledge that a bite to eat would at least curb the mouse's appetite.

Tapping out a few final thoughts about his conversations with Fomo, Frosty was content that he'd provided enough information in his report to satisfy his supervisor. There would always be more questions about the events, additions to the report based on those discussions. For now, though, the only thing left was to provide his final thoughts and recommendations. It wouldn't be difficult to sell his coworkers on the next steps, since there wasn't another option available. Though CATS was inoperable, Frosty was the most experienced field agent when it came to Fomo, which all-but guaranteed him a job for the foreseeable future.

A job which had proved just as dangerous, if not more so, than his past missions in other timelines dealing with the mouse, Frosty realized. Maybe he could talk them into providing hazard pay for what he was about to propose.

...given the state of CATS, it will not be possible to return Fomo to his own timeline for the foreseeable future. However, anomaly detection systems have not been impacted by the fire, and should be fully operational once building power is restored. With this in mind, the best option is to monitor the local timeline for anomalies and investigate the cause should any occur. Given Fomo's circumstances, we should consider him the first point of contact in the event of unusual activity, but real-time monitoring activities should not be necessary at this time...

In this case, "real-time monitoring" meant having agents shadowing Fomo at all times, something that felt unnecessarily intrusive. Frosty was doing his best to keep operations at a minimum so Fomo could live a relatively-normal life. And the less they were doing, the lower the risk of incidents such as those involving Drake and Tess. It was a win for both sides, something that Frosty had convinced Fomo of after reminding him how quickly things had escalated once before.

That same conversation had also resulted in Frosty's next recommendation.

...Fomo has agreed to the same arrangements that were previously made with Forest, in regard to his cooperation in returning personal items belonging to field agents should any incidents occur. Although he has committed to providing any belongings when prompted, based on observed behaviors and mannerisms, most notably past incidents involving field agents, all personnel should exercise extreme caution when directly interacting with and engaging Fomo.

Fomo has subdued and devoured three field agents, proved himself adept at self-defense on multiple occasions, as well as numerous methods of subversion. Finally, he appears to be developing an affinity (more accurately, an appetite) for felines, based on recent interactions, reinforcing the need for a cautious approach. Escalation of force should be avoided when possible, as this has historically led to poor results as noted previously in this report.

No sooner than he'd finished the passage, a voice from behind crooned into Frosty's ears, whiskers tickling them lightly and making the fur on the cheetah's neck stand up.

"Not a very flattering description of me, chee, but I suppose you captured me well enough." Fomo's voice softened as his arms came around Frosty's chest, pinning the cheetah's arms to his sides as he leaned over the armrest of the sofa. "That being said, I think we should amend that to four agents."

"F-Fomo! I'm working," Frosty whined and squirmed in the mouse's embrace, trying to wiggle his arms free enough that he could lock his laptop, which prompted Fomo to further tighten the hold. The laptop slid down Frosty's legs due to his struggle, well beyond his reach as it settled onto the sofa.

"You've been working long enough, chee. I think you could use a break," Fomo offered, pulling the cat backwards until he was pressed to the armrest. Nuzzling through the white fluff between Frosty's ears, he crooned as his stomach made an audible growl. "And I could use something more substantial to eat than a snack."

"W-we could go somewhere," Frosty nervously suggested, cheeks getting hotter when he felt the mouse's belly rumbling against his back. "It's not too late, there's still plenty of options."

Grinning, the mouse shook his head and turned to nibble one of Frosty's ears, eliciting an involuntary shudder. "Nah. I've got exactly what I'm craving right here. C'mere, spottycat."

Before Frosty could object again, his ear vanished completely between Fomo's lips. He groaned softly and slumped in the mouse's snug grip, briefly disarmed by the attention. Wet slurping filled his ear as it was suckled, and a warm tongue rolling up the back of it made his toes curl. Whining softly as he blushed, Frosty couldn't help enjoying the sensation. He loved the shivering pleasure generated when someone touched his ears. Scratching, rubbing, nibbling...it was an effective way to get the cheetah to lower his defenses, something that Fomo was all-too-happy to exploit to his advantage.

It was nearly enough to make Frosty forget what Fomo intended to do, but he was quickly reminded when the mouse's jaws began to spread past the base of his ear. Fomo's distinct incisors scraped the top of Frosty's head as a warm breath rustled his white hair, tongue curling around his round ear and giving a squeeze that made the cheetah squirm again and let out another shaky whine. His tail lashed and thumped against the sofa as he was pulled backwards, vision swiftly darkened as Fomo yawned over him. It was happening again.

Unlike his first run-in with the mouse's appetite, Fomo had little trouble working his jaws over Frosty's head. With two more cats under his belt - figurative and literal - he was showing more confidence in his ability to swallow them. The cheetah's collar jingled noisily as he twisted in place, worming about in an attempt to break himself loose, but he knew what the end-result was going to be. And though Frosty wouldn't admit it, he wasn't struggling nearly as much as he could have been.

The golden bell hanging from the front of Frosty's leather collar clinked against Fomo's front teeth when his lips reached the cheetah's neck. A soft groan filled his ears as the mouse's tongue mopped over the top of his head and down his neck, smearing drool that was flowing freely due to the enticing, subtle vanilla flavor in Frosty's fur. Slick cheeks pulled taut against Frosty's head when Fomo swallowed a mouthful of cheetah-flavored drool, ears suckled by the mouse's throat but not gaining enough traction to pull them in.

It wasn't until Fomo hunched forward that Frosty felt familiar sliminess parting over him, a sensation that made his heart jump. Fomo's jaws gaped wider and began to work themselves around his shoulders, nibbling down Frosty's chest as he began to spread the mouse's throat open. The slick passage rippled in anticipation as he was inched down, followed by impossible tightness as the muscles grabbed hold of Fomo's meal and dragged it down his neck with a mighty gulp.

After initially being pulled backwards, Frosty was now being pushed down into the cushions by the mouse's advancing jaws. Fomo was using the couch as leverage to cram him in, another heavy swallow bringing the mouse's lips down to Frosty's elbows and midriff and further restricting his arms. He shuddered when a wet lick traveled directly up his spine, making him arch and whimper muffledly in Fomo's throat.

Hungry growls beckoned Frosty closer, the mouse's belly rumbling eagerly at the anticipation of being filled with a wiggling cheetah again. Confident that he wouldn't be escaping, Fomo relaxed his tight embrace on Frosty's torso, then kneaded down his waist until he reached the growing curve of the cheetah's hips. He paused at the widest part and groped firmly, making Frosty shimmy in his palms and shift against the cushion, feeling rather guilty at how much he _enjoyed_having the mouse grabbing him by the hips. Even more so, considering that he was doing so while working Frosty down his throat.

Fomo's hands retreated to his waist and rubbed tenderly as he swallowed again, throat claiming another few inches of cheetah as he bent lower over the armrest. When his hands rolled down Frosty's sides again, his fingers slipped beneath the cheetah's blue lounging shorts and rubbed directly across his spotted, feminine curves. The direct contact earned a distinct shudder from Frosty as Fomo curled his fingers around those delightful hips, then lifted them into his jaws.

As Fomo began to work his mouth over what was arguably the most delicious part of his feline "snack," he peeled the cheetah's shorts away and proceeded to gulp him out of the silky blue fabric, making Frosty blush hotly. There wasn't anything he could do to stop Fomo, however. The mouse's tongue pressed and dragged across every grey spot that he could reach, matting Frosty's butt in drool and fighting back the urge to swallow so he could indulge for a moment. The cheetah's head was pressed against the entrance of his gut, however, and the desire to feel that cat stretching it was too great to ignore for long.

With drool pooling around Frosty's hips, Fomo eventually hefted the cheetah's legs up from the couch and angled his head back. A deep, audible glrrrrrrrk filled the room when he swallowed heavily, tipping Frosty's hips over the back of his tongue and snugly fitting them beneath Fomo's neck, making a distinct outline of the cheetah's butt beneath his white fur. As spotted thighs vanished between his jaws, he continued working Frosty's shorts down until he was able to tug them free and toss them aside.

In the same moment, Frosty's head was swiftly shoved down into the mouse's belly, slimy folds spreading to make room for the incoming meal. The interior was expectedly hot and damp, but to Frosty's surprise, only the sour bite of stomach acids greeted his nose. There were no other signs of previous snacks. Though he'd gone to the kitchen not long ago, it was clear that Fomo had saved his appetite for Frosty. As a result, the mouse's gut was ravenous, already clenching around Frosty's head to smear it in tingling fluids that had gathered. It would only be a matter of time before the fluids would begin digesting him alive.

With his weight now pushing him down into Fomo's stomach, the mouse had to put little effort into finishing the gluttonous act. Frosty's shapely figure was gliding in smoothly between gulps, torso forced to hunch forward as he settled into the pit of the mouse's belly. It gurgled noisily as the muscular walls stretched to fit him, contracting tightly and making Frosty groan, only to relax and permit more of his body inside.

Languid gulps were all it took to squeeze down the cheetah's calves, lips sealing around Frosty's ankles and slurping wetly, then Fomo yawned again and let gravity do the rest of the work for him. White cheetah paws vanished into the dark abyss behind the mouse's tongue, trailed by the end of Frosty's swishing tail. The subtle shapes slid down Fomo's neck as he closed his mouth, licking his lips before groaning blissfully as his hands followed the squirming cat down, enjoying the way Frosty filled out his middle. It was an intoxicating feeling to be this full, something he could easily grow addicted to.

Fomo's bloated gut was now sagging onto the armrest, wrapping his arms tightly around it and squeezing the curled shape against himself as he used the couch to prop Frosty up. Standing on his toes, he rolled the cheetah lightly while he listened to the deep gurgling of a sated gut.

"Ooooh, there we are...you really hit the spot, chee," the mouse crooned with a squeaky giggle at his pun. Moments later a deep belch erupted, echoing in the living room. "Mmmh, much better..."

Fomo watched the shapes moving beneath his white fur, following them with his palms and rubbing firmly as they went to help his gut work over his late-night snack. Bending down, he tenderly nuzzled and kissed the top of his gut while his arms reached down to cradle it. While doing so, however, the cheetah's squirming weight shifted forward over the armrest, lifting Fomo's feet off the carpet and sending him toppling headfirst onto the sofa with a startled squeak.

The mouse bounced heavily against the cushions, drawing a muffled grunt from below as his gurgling passenger was pinned beneath him. His rump was propped up over his stomach, leaving Fomo in a rather undignified position on the couch, but the gratification of resting atop a wiggling belly made up for it.

"Ooof, sorry, chee," Fomo giggled, kneading reassuringly over his gut and using the armrest for leverage to rock back and forth against the cheetah inside. Sighing deeply, Fomo closed his eyes for a moment to bask in the predatory afterglow, listening to the wet noises his belly made when it clenched down on Frosty.

When the mouse opened his eyes again, his attention was caught by the laptop that had been pushed to the other end of the sofa, the screen still displaying Frosty's mission report. Curious, Fomo reached for the computer and pulled it closer, eyes scanning the passage that he'd already eavesdropped on. He then proceeded to scroll back and reviewed the rest of the report while one hand continued rubbing his gut, which was sounding steadily wetter as more fluids leaked in to help digest the heavy meal. Frosty was still squirming and pushing about, but was quickly wearing himself down.

To Fomo's disappointment, there wasn't anything particularly useful to him in the report. Nothing that Frosty hadn't already informed him of, anyway. A lot of it sounded overly technical, but the most important detail that stood out to him was the fact that there didn't appear to be a way for him to get home. Wherever "home" actually was. The only option for Fomo was to take Frosty's advice and make the best of his current situation.

And if that included eating a few cats, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Sighing, Fomo's tail flicked in mild annoyance as he pushed the laptop away, focusing his attention back on Frosty. He noticed that the cheetah was beginning to relax, and was even lightly purring now. It gave the inside of his belly a soft thrum, and sent a shiver up Fomo's back.

"Ooooh, are you enjoying this, spottycat?" Fomo murmured. Both hands pushed down on the sides of his belly and kneaded firmly over it, feeling out Frosty's hips and earning a faint wiggle.

"I know how much you love feeding wuffie, chee. Why not a mouse? Just relax...make yourself at home," he continued, sharing the same thing that Frosty had told him after the fire. "I'll take good care of 'ya." He grinned smugly at the distinct shudder that he felt inside after those teasing words.

And anyone else that comes snooping around after you, Fomo thought to himself, looking back to the laptop a second time. Despite Frosty's reassurances that he'd make arrangements to keep his coworkers out of Fomo's hair, the cheetah's report suggested he might still be paid unwanted visits. Maybe he could take advantage of that. Fomo certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of introducing more cats to his diet, given how things had been going for him lately.

Smirking at an idea that struck him, Fomo reached for the keyboard and made his own addition to the end of Frosty's mission report, then submit it for review on the cheetah's behalf.

P.S. Send more kitties <3

~Fomo