FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Lysander perked as he was looking over his slate. The enchanted chalk upon the dark surface had updated, indicating that the latest issue of his voxscription had arrived. The hart stowed his wand in his belt and headed to the stairs. Rain loudly pattered against his bedroom window as he passed, as it had been all morning.

The deer's curvaceous hips swayed as he casually strode down the staircase, leaf-shaped tail flitting atop the round mounds of softness that graced his backside. Each light impact of hoof on riser sent a soft wobble through the adipose that was otherwise held in place by his tight trousers, the fabric straining so much around his pelvis that he hardly ever used his pockets. His fingers on his free hand glided along the bannister while he looked over the description of the issue on his slate.

As he arrived on the ground floor of his house, Lysander swayed his way over to a muggle music stand that he had repurposed to hold his slate. Setting the enchanted stone onto the metal rack, he drew his wand again. The deer paused, sighed, and reached out to grasp the small gramophone funnel by the square stand it was jutting out of. He glared at the glyph on the underside, before perfectly tracing the marking onto the slate with the tip of his wand. Enchanted chalk formed up in the wake of the magic-laced wood, before glowing.

The sigil faded and glowed brighter repeatedly for the moment.

The hart set the funnel down and casually moved into the kitchen. He had spent such a long time cultivating the sway of his hips to lure in potential playmates that he did it without thinking now, alone with no one to show off for. Lysander tapped the tip of his wand to his chin thoughtfully, placing his free hand on his hip.

With a few spoken words and pointed flicks of the wooden wand, cabinets flew open and utensils, bags of various baking ingredients and mixing bowls floated out onto the counter. Behind him, the gramophone funnel chimed, indicating that the sigil synchronization had completed.

Another flick of his wrist and a popover pan levitated out of the cabinet above his oven. He paused, and the hand on his hip slid up under the hem of his taut button-up shirt, feeling over his trim midsection. "You know... just a mug will do." He muttered to himself. A twist of the wand and the pan returned to its resting place. The next flick brought a large ceramic mug out of its cabinet and set on the counter besides the other gathered items.

Swishing his way over, Lysander traced the tip of his wand along the inner rim of the mug. "Eleum." The gloss of the ceramic grew brighter as magically conjured oil coated it. He flicked his wand at the various sized spoons, thinking about the recipe he was using. The spoons began to scoop and measure from the various bags on their own, bringing them together into the bowl.

That started, the young stag turned to the oven. He opened it up, bending at the hip and keeping his back straight. His ample rear nearly bumped into the counter behind him as he reached forward and lit the burner within with another word. He closed the oven, standing up, and tucked his wand back into his belt. Lysander hummed idly to himself as he waited for the spoons to finish their task.

When the last had flung itself into the sink and stopped moving, the hart knew that the batter had been completed. Lysander lifted the bowl and carefully poured it into the mug, careful to not let any drip where he hadn't lubricated. The amount of chocolate cake batter he had produced was just enough to fill the lower half of the mug and leave plenty of room for it to rise while baking. With a plastic bowl scraper he'd found in a muggle market, he was able to get every last bit out of the bowl and into the mug. He set both the bowl and scraper into the sink, before picking up the mug.

Lysander opened the oven to a billowing of heated air and set the mug directly on the rack. The stag closed the door again and grasped the egg timer he kept behind the range. He twisted it to set the clockwork mechanism and set it back down. Scratching just behind his broken-off antler with one hand, he turned towards the rest of his kitchen.

"Ah." He remembered the next step, moving to the second bowl on the counter. Within this bowl the ingredients had already been piled up. Drawing his wand, Lysander summoned a whisk from its storage space and set it to spinning and beating within the bowl, combining the ingredients while fluffing it up with air. He sniffed the air as the scent of vanilla buttercream arose from the mixing bowl.

Staring down at the frosting he had to resist the urge to just sit down with a spoon and eat it straight. He felt his midsection again and huffed, before shaking the whisk to get as much frosting off as he could.

The egg timer went off.

Twisting around, Lysander opened the oven again. He levitated the mug out and set it on the range atop the oven. Twirling the tip of the wand around the opening an icy mist poured forth, cooling the ceramic and the cup cake inside to a safe temperature. He stowed his wand again and picked up the bowl of frosting. A spatula was all he needed to plop the buttercream atop the chocolate cake, filling up most of the headroom left in the mug. Bowl and spatula dropped in the sink, something for future Lysander to deal with, he retrieved the last utensil he'd gathered, a fork.

Mug and fork in hand, the stag swayed his way back to the music stand. He passed the fork to be held against the handle of the mug to free up his wand hand, withdrew his wand, and tapped the voxscription where it had appeared on the slate. He continued on to an armchair, settling into it and sighing. The sound of the rain on the window was joined by a short bit of music, before the hosts of the voxscription introduced themselves.

Lysander delved his fork into the mug, getting himself a good mound of both cake and frosting, and eased it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and let out a soft, indulgent mmm as he flit his tail. He settled back into his seat with a sigh, and set to enjoying the playful banter of the voices from his gramophone and his self-made pastry.