FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Once again, you find yourself in the wee hours of the morning, staring at your phone, eyes so heavy but unable to sleep. You thunk your head into the pillow. You pray the force of the impact will calm the endless chain of thoughts in your brain. Fifteen minutes go by and your mind doesn't stop racing. You should get sleep and stop worrying. However, the concept of worry reminds you of your worries. Work was so stressful today and tomorrow could be even worse. You think of your commute and that weird noise your car has made lately. The mechanic couldn't find hide nor hair of the cause, but you know something is off. The holidays are coming up. How are you going to handle travel? Your family takes a lot of energy to deal with and you don't have much remaining.

You once again thrust your head into the pillow--a forceful physical action to fling the thoughts away. But like ants, they crawl back into your brain bit by bit. Your relaxed shoulders become tense and your brow tightens as all the what-if's and what-could-bes hasten your heartrate.

Giving up on sleep at least for the moment, you reach for your laptop. You know better than to check social media and instead hop into your friends' Discord server to see if there's anyone to talk to. You try not to look at the clock, though you know it's at least 3 am. You scroll through the various meme channels, letting a smile come to your face as they tear away the grim sheen of reality for a moment.

As you scroll, your eyes spy someone alone in the general voice channel. You see the profile picture of a white tiger with black stripes grinning at the camera with sickening, yet charming, smarm. He had a fluffy cloudlike moustache that gave him a distinguished yet playful aura. You had talked to Bruce a few times. He's a lot--very passionate about his hobbies--but altogether sweet. Even if he doesn't understand what you're talking about, he will listen and encourage you as best he can. You reach out into the dark for your ear buds. Slipping them on, you join the call.

"Hello there!" You hear from the other end. His voice is brusque, but not in a dismissive manner. Rather, it breaks the ice right away, leaving a warm friendly avenue for conversation. "And what are you doing up this late, naughty thing?"

You point out the hypocrisy of that statement and he chuckles.

"Well, I don't have to get up in the morning, now do I? I work my own hours. Plus, I'm nocturnal."

You point out that tigers aren't nocturnal.

"It's a good thing I'm not an ordinary tiger, now isn't it? I can do all sorts of things! Stay up until five, touch my nose with my tongue, and I dance a good tango!"

You roll your eyes. He's impossible. You hear a blip and see you've received a DM. You open it to find a crappy, badly lit selfie of the tiger with headphones on, flexing his bicep and pouting at the camera, puffing his moustache outward. Rightfully, you call him a dork.

"Darling, I play D&D three times a week, I'm a writer, and I make video tutorials on moustache grooming. If that's the best you got, I'll gladly take the title of dork."

You try for a couple seconds to find a worse name for him but decide not to waste the effort. Instead, as you go quiet, he tells you about his last tabletop session, some difficult clients he's worked with, and about a new frittata recipe you should totally try. He asks for your opinion every now and again, prompting you to speak up and help you overcome any social barriers. You discuss your own long running campaign as you get more comfortable. You talk about the wacky shenanigans your respective parties started and the metaphorical fires they had to put out as a result. He listens intently as the both of you discuss other games, media, and utter nonsense. His voice becomes just as fluffy and soft in your ears as his fur coat looks to touch. Before you know it, your concerns are long behind you.

"So, feeling better?" he asks. You nod and say yes, as if he can see you. "The weight of the world is pretty heavy right now. Glad I could help you calm down again."

Again? You didn't recall a first time.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was you I helped with insomnia. Do you think I'd mistake you for another cutie?"

It's possible, you argue. There's a lot of people in this server.

"True. You're not the first person I've kept company late at night. But I'm hurt. I would never mistake my 'Snuggly Stupidhead' for another."

Your body tingles. A rush of joy flows through you as you are given permission to remember. Your first meeting with Bruce in the server late at night when you couldn't sleep. His suggestion for you and the others in the call who couldn't sleep to swap over to video. He wanted to show you all the trick he uses to get to sleep on time. How you all stared into the swirling rainbow circles that bloomed in his eyes. How you could see your reflection on your screen and the tight, manic smile that plastered across your face.

He had told you to relax and you did. He commanded you tell him your worries and that with every worry you shared, the thought would vanish into the spiralling colours. The fluffy feeling in your head grew as if your skull was filled with floofy tiger fur.

In the present, the thoughts go away. That tight, happy, squiggly, stupid smile returns. Your head is full of floof.

"Heheh," Big Tig's wonderful voice chortles and you feel your body yearn to feel his laughter and joy resound through you even more. "Feeling good? That's it. Give up those smarts. There's my Snuggly Stupidhead."

Again, the trigger flows through you and you feel your body sink deeper into the bed. The soft, warm, snuggly bed. Pillows feel good. Mattress feels good. Big Tig's voice feels good.

"That's right. No more thoughts for you. Dumb dumbs like you don't worry. You don't stress. You don't have the capacity. You just do what you're told. You're too stupid to have responsibilities."

A vague part of you remembers enjoying something like this before. A deep happiness fills you when you lose brainpower. But even that memory goes slip-sliding down the spiralling rainbow. Bye bye thought. Bye bye brain. Hello stupid!

"Good little dumb dumb. No choice. Free will is for smart guys like me. Sink into that mattress. You could try to resist your trigger, but you don't know how, do you, my adorable dummy?"

You shake your head. No. Resisting is hard. Thinking is hard. You ask Big Tig (You can't remember his name) to say it again.

"Okaaaaaay, but on one condition."

You ask what a 'condition' is and he explains to your empty mind.

"If you sleep nice and deep and sound for me when I say it--I'll say it, okay?" he said. You, dummy that you are, don't register the patronizing tone. If anything, that intonation makes you happier. Knowing big tig is using little words so you don't get all confused makes you feel cared for. You nod. "Now. I need you to reach over--grab your phone. That's it. Good dumb dumb. Now, do you see where it says 'alarm'? Turn that off, okay? That's it. Good dummy, put the phone down and shut your eyes."

"I'm gonna send a little video to your boss and convince him to give you the day off so you can sleep as deep as you need and get your mental health back on track. Maybe I'll even tell him to send me more recordings of him stripping for me~" Big Tig laughs. You don't get what he said, but he sounds happy and that makes you happy. "Alright. Now. Place the laptop down on your bedside table. That's it. Gooooood. Now make sure I can hear your little snores as you sleep for me, Snuggly Stupidhead."

_ _ You hear a snap. You sleep. Out like a light. A feeling of pride registers as the last sensation before you descend into swirling rainbows.