FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

You huff and puff as you carry your groceries up. Just two more floors and you'll be home...

Why had you ever let your current roommate, your good friend, convince you to move into the top floor of the building, especially when the elevator was either always occupied or broken? At least it keeps the rent down, or so your roommate claimed.

You wipe some sweat from your forehead. One more floor. Perhaps you'd best get back into running again, or something. Then again, going higher and higher never gets easier. Stairs are always a pain in the ass and unlike mountains, you're not climbing them just because they're there.

There! Here! You're home. You awkwardly cradle your groceries in one arm while you fumble for the keys with the other. A few moments pass before you get the key in, turn it, and then you're truly home. You let out a sigh of relief and hurry into the kitchen where you drop off the bags.

Phew. You're hot, a little sweaty, and still regretting living so high up, but at least you're home where there's AC, unlike the stairwell. You take a moment to catch your breath, but then get back to work. You don't have much time, not really before your roommate and some pals come over for some tabletop roleplaying. It's not your thing, but you decided to help your friend with his little get together in your own way. Hence the late afternoon grocery run for snacks, drinks, and the crucial ingredient necessary to make some cookies. You're not much of a baker, but everyone appreciates a chocolate chip cookie or two, especially the warm, fresh out of the oven type. You have just enough time to ensure your friend's buddies are able to enjoy that. You're such a good friend, aren't you?

Well, can't go congratulating yourself yet. You start to unpack the groceries, placing the chips and soda on the dining room table before separating your cookie components on the kitchen counter. Sugar, butter, flour, chocolate chips, some vanilla extract and, of course, eggs, even if they're a different variety than usual and not exactly one you've seen before. Oh well. Ah, you're forgetting something! What goes best with cookies but milk? You have a slight smile on your face as you pull the last component out of the bag, a carton of milk, but then that smile fastly fades.

What is this?

It's not milk. Well, at least not the milk you intended to buy. It's Superior Banana Milk, except they misspelled superior and there's an odd creature on the carton, a serpent with an oddly arrogant air and whose curiously pointed head seems to be peeking out of a...is that a banana peel? No, it seems to be a leafy body that suggests a serpentine shape, but you can't help but see it as a banana, especially thanks to the two yellow extensions that peek behind the smug serpent's head.

Huh. Banana milk. There's no way you would have picked that out, even by accident. You dig a hand into your pockets to look for the receipt, before you snort. Who keeps receipts anymore?

You stare at the carton quizzically for a moment more before sighing and putting it down. Oh well. Guess there won't be any milk with cookies, unless someone likes banana milk. You could at least offer it...or try some yourself.

You glance at the carton and then shrug, procuring a glass from the kitchen cabinets. Before you know it, you've poured yourself a glass. The milk is yellow because of course it is, but otherwise it looks like normal milk. Without further ado, you take a sip, it's sweet and creamy and - like most banana related products - it doesn't taste like any banana you've had before. Mmm. You can't help yourself and soon you down the whole glass. It's delicious and a little cold, causing you to shiver. Good stuff. Just what you need after that harried trek up the stairs. Maybe your mistake was more of a happy accident.

You smile as you place the milk in the fridge. No reason to let it get too warm or spoil. You certainly think others will enjoy it, the thought of sharing and caring causing that cold in your stomach to blossom into a calming warmth. You turn towards the oven and set it to preheat. Your smile falters as you suddenly feel a little hot, even though you know the AC is running at full blast. You wipe some sweat away from your forehead and immediately begin to feel a little cooler, though this has little to do with your motion. Rather, smooth light green scales begin to spread down your head and to your neck, the prickling heat nestled in your skin soon subsumed by those cool scales.

Already feeling a little relieved from the heat, you turn towards the sink. Cooking starts with basic hygiene and so you lather your hands with soap before turning the faucet on, humming idly to yourself as you look out the kitchen window. You rub your hands together, cleansing them of sweat and grime but also your skin, hair, and more masculine proportions. Simultaneously, your fingers shrink slightly, becoming thinner, daintier, while smooth white scales spread over your skin. It's beautiful outside today, sunny and warm, not quite the perfect day to be in a kitchen with a hot oven but...no. Today is a fine day to be making cookies for friends, to provide nourishment and care to them like you're their mom and it's summer vacation.

You blink and then shake your head, the nails on your hand extending into light green claws as you turn off the water. Mom? No, you're no mom. What a silly thought. You're just a friend, a good one.

Still, a rosy blush comes to your increasingly scaly cheeks as you think of how excited your guests will be to have fresh cookies. That smile of yours deepens, your nose shrinking and flattening on your face into two small slits while your jaws begin to press forward into the start of a serpentine snout. Absent-mindedly, you dry your hands and wrists too, those smooth white scales transitioning to a lighter green as they hit your elbows and move up to your slimming shoulders. You shiver, hot and then cool again as those same leaf-green scales spread down from your collarbone to your chest, your nipples stiffening slightly. The teasing brush of fabric against your increasingly sensitive peaks causes you to blink and then shake your head.

So silly. So strange. Where were these thoughts coming from? You're just going to make some cookies. It's just what a good friend would do.

Right?

Right. Your smile deepens a little more while your skull reshapes and your snout stretches forward into a prominent point, still serpentine yet unlike any snake you've ever seen. Your exposed teeth shrink away, no longer needed, leaving you with two fangs you don't think you'll ever show anyone. The thought of exposing your fangs causes you to laugh, the sound distorted momentarily as your ears wiggle and then retreat inward much like your nose, leaving behind two indiscernible holes for hearing. Then that smile stretches even further as if on its own, leaving you looking just as smug and superior as the snake on the carton. Your arrogant expression lasts only a moment before you shake your head, your hair falling off your serpentine head and vanishing into dust while your expression softens.

There's no need to be smug about this. You're doing a good thing, a caring thing. Well, you would be if you weren't just standing around thinking about it. You look at the timer on the oven. Oh! You don't have long if you want these cookies to be warm and ready by the time your company arrives.

You hurriedly retrieve a mixing bowl and mixer from the lower cabinets and start to gather your ingredients together. Butter, brown sugar, white sugar...as you mix them together, those scales continue to spread up and down your still altering form. You hum as you mix, the pitch of your voice rising higher and higher as the scales smooth away your Adam's apple and leave you with a smoother, longer, more slender neck. You shiver while the scales spread downwards, a few slight gasps escaping your serpentine snout as their advance tucks in your waist, lending you a thinner and thinner shape that is soon contrasted yet complemented when the scales settle around your hips. You gasp and pant, shifting your hips from side to side as they pull apart with pleasant pops and creaks, becoming wider and wider, at first just slightly more than your smoothing shoulders before growing wider still. Your jeans struggle to stay on your wide, certainly child-bearing hips and then simply give up, falling to the floor with a whumpf.

You blink as you realize now you're just standing in the kitchen in your t-shirt and boxers and that's...ok? You step out of your jeans and start to kick them away before changing your mind. No, no, you should take off your shoes too. They're beginning to feel a little tight and you shouldn't be wearing them in the kitchen anyways.

You bend over and begin to untie your shoes with your clawed hands just as the scales spread down to your thighs. You squirm and can't help but let out a hissing moan as your thighs thicken, smoothly scaled surfaces pressing against each other and your dick as they expand. You can't help but rub them together as they thicken with a layer of gentle fat, your cock throbbing as it's pressed between them. A similar layer of pudge gathers on your stomach. You pant, wondering when baking had ever felt so good. Well, you are doing a good thing and people do derive pleasure from good things, so why can't you?

Your cock is soon erect and pressing tightly against your boxers, but then its presence simply seems to...lessen as the scales spread down thinner and yet longer legs. Despite your member getting smaller, the pleasure is no less for it. In fact, it only intensifies as your cock shrinks between the confines of your thicker and thicker thighs. It shrinks smaller and smaller while your thrust out rear end begins to become bigger and bigger, filling out into a plump, pert butt that jiggles a little as you shiver from the mounting pleasure. You hiss, your lengthening, forking tongue hanging out of your serpentine maw as your testicles tuck in against your crotch and then begin to pull in. Shivering, you stumble back, your thickening cheeks jiggling more than a little this time as your shrunken shaft decides it's time to withdraw as well, pulling into already warm, already wet lips while something presses out above your round rump.

You wiggle your hips, your clawed hands pulling no longer at laces but thin air, shoes momentarily forgotten as a thin, ropy appendage presses out from the base of your spine. It wiggles this way and that over your thickening rear before it too thickens and presses out and out, dark green on top and light green on its surprisingly sensitive underside. The tail, your tail, continues to stretch and grow while what remains of your manhood nestles itself near the top of your feminine cleft, a sensitive clit to complete the arrangement of your feminine flower.

Your crotch is smooth now, no bulge evident at all in your boxers. Your new lips pulse, already wet from that growing pleasure and your clawed hands soon find themselves on your knees before traveling slowly and sensually up your smooth, thick thighs while the scales slide past them down to your feet. All at once your feet throb, your pussy pulses, your tail lashes and shivers as three leafy shapes grace it starting from its tapered end and a little back, and your nipples tingle.

It's all a little much, especially when one of your hands tucks into your boxers unbidden and comes into contact with your sensitive slit. Before you know it, you're digging into yourself, two fingers easily slipping inside your lubricated lips while another presses at your clit, your inner passage eagerly accepting these agreeable intruders.

You lean forward, one hand on the counter while the other plunges in and out of you, moving with practiced ease as you explore your dripping pussy for the first time.

...is it the first time? No, no, you've done this before, you know how to enjoy yourself, but never in the kitchen! You blush at the thought of someone finding you like this, a big breasted sultry snake bent over and showing everything you've got.

You hiss. Mmm, what a thought, what a fantasy...!

The scales finish solidifying their presence, no longer a trace of human skin or hair upon your thick, curvy, smoothly-scaled serpentine shape. Your tail, too, finishes its growth, its thick length wiggling almost wantonly over your thick rump as if wanting to be used...But no, your fingers are already doing the job, and doing it well.

You stumble a little when something shifts in your stance, your heels poking out of your shoes as you transition to standing on your toes, but you stay standing, dedicated to finishing what you started. You pant and hiss, eyes unfocused and hearing a little distorted, only barely able to make out the soft, pleasingly fleshy sounds of your fingers stirring up greater and greater pleasure between those thick thighs of yours.

You're close, so close and yet you can't get quite there, not yet. There's something you've got to do, something you've got to make, and yet what you must do eludes you. You try to think, but all that comes to mind is pleasure, and the odd sensation of something growing out of the back of your head, two pointed yellow protrusions that oddly resemble leaves as much as they do pointed ears - but that's silly because you aren't growing anything, you can't be.

You're a superior serpent, a scaly woman well endowed with big breasts and wide hips and thick thighs, curves that can't be beat, but most importantly you're...

You're...

Your thoughts trail off as the carnal pleasure of your self-service makes it hard to think beyond making yourself feel good at the moment, the stiffness of your nipples only getting worse as they begin to press more prominently against your ill-fitting shirt thanks to the soft flesh that begins to form beneath them. They - your breasts - jiggle a little and then you let out a giggle, your eyes opening wide as you remember what you are, pupils shrinking into serpentine slits as your eyes become narrow and red and yet somehow so warm - aided perhaps by the lashes that frame your narrow serpentine eyes.

You're not just some sultry snake, though you can be when you want. Sure, you're thick and curvy and all too easy on the eyes, but those aren't even your top traits. No, really, you're the best, caring and comforting, best, caring and comforting mot- no, that's not quite it. You're the best...

Er...

Baker!

Your eyes widen at the realization and then widen further still as you finally climax. You let out a hiss and then a shriek as you fall to your knees. You hear something rip and tear, but you pay it little mind, panting and shivering as the pleasure washes over you. You remain on your knees for only a few moments before you fall back on your plump rump, your hand leaving your pleased pussy with a squelch as you rub your juices on your soaked boxers.

You let your clawed feet rest against the lower kitchen cabinets, allowing you to see the tattered remains of your shoes clinging to them. You hiss and wonder vaguely why you were wearing such silly shoes in the first place. With strong talons like yours, you don't need any such footwear! Oh well. You'll clean up the mess later, once the pleasure has left you. Your tail wiggles behind you and you let out a soft sigh, a content smile on your snout as you bask in the afterglow. That was good, so very good and-

Beep beep

You blink, your pleasure muddled mind having difficulty deducing the source of the sound. An alarm? No. You don't remember setting anything but-

Suddenly you stand up straight, your too-big boxers sliding down your hips onto the floor as you realize what the sound was. You hardly care that you're bottomless and a little wet as you rush over to the oven and check it. It's pre-heated and you haven't even finished the batter! The cookies might not be ready in time for your guests!

No, no. You can't think like that. You've still got time - but first, hygiene. You can't just have some fun and not clean up the mess, right? Well...

Actually, you're a little thirsty and not really thirsty for water. You're craving something. You quickly wash your hands and then open the fridge. You take out that milk and pour yourself a tall glass. Best accidental purchase ever! But was it an accident? The snake on the carton sure does look a lot like you, even if you're thicker, curvier, and not so smug. Superior in some ways, sure, but you like to think you're not as arrogant as that smug snake.

You bring the glass to your snout and for some reason drinking the milk feels different this time. Where are your lips? But no, as a serpent you certainly don't have those. You hiss and smile slyly as you drink, the milk tasting just as sweet and good as it did before. Better this time, even, thanks to the additional coolness. As you drink and drink, you can't help feel as if your chest, no, your breasts are getting bigger.

But no. Surely your once below-average breasts can't be softly swelling as you enjoy your drink, your boobs going from insignificant little swellings into firm mounds that press firmly, but not too firmly against your silly, overly large shirt. They rest there for a moment, already weighty breasts before becoming heavier and heftier, true titties that cause the collar of your t-shirt to tug down and show more and more cleavage as they continue to grow. There's just a little milk in your glass left and not much more room for your breasts to grow. You sip at what little is left of your drink as your boobs experience their last bit of growth, becoming just a little a little larger, a little heavier, a little firmer.

When you slam the glass on the counter with a satisfied lick of your forked tongue across your snout and a bounce of your chest, you pause. You look down and stare at the large breasts that threaten to spill out of your shirt if you move the wrong way, your thick, swollen nipples pressing all too obviously against their confines. It's not your big boobs that bother you - after all, you've always been well endowed, another category you're surely superior in - but that silly shirt. What were you wearing it for? It's hardly fitting for you in more ways than one.

You shrug and regretfully put the milk away. You very much want to drink more but you've got to save it for the others, your guests! You smile warmly at the thought of company before remembering there's much to do before they arrive. You hurry to your restroom, hips swaying and breasts bobbing all the while. The way you walk and the way your body jiggles feels strange at first, but you soon grow accustomed to it, because it's just how you are! Curvy and thick, a smoothly scaled superior serpent!

Arriving at the restroom, you toss your shirt off as you pull away the shower curtains. Before you step in, you catch a glance of yourself in the mirror. You pause and can't help but admire your reflection. You're curvy and soft all over, thin and thick where you need to be. You stare into those slitted reptilian eyes framed by feminine lashes first, their color red and yet not angry or aggressive at all, holding only warmth and a certain calm. A smile verging on smugness graces your serpentine snout, those yellow pointed protrusions almost framing your reptilian head as ears gracing you with a little more character and expression.

You look over your curvy thick frame with its smooth scales, dark green down to your belly button and down your back and to your tail, light green that graces your slender arms and legs and almost everywhere else, and finally soft white scales that cover your neck to just over your eyes. Your smoothness enhances your curves, your thin waist, that slight chub to your belly that goes so well with your wide hips that will allow you to bear many eggs at once if you wish, your thick thighs that invite the viewer to peek at the dark green, still wet feminine lips between your legs.

That tail of yours is also a sight to see, long and thick, suitably shaped to properly frame the taut roundness of your rear. You tap the talons of your digitigrade feet against the bathroom tile as you give your body a little wiggle, causing your plump rump to jiggle, your tail to sway softly from side to side, and your breasts to bounce and...slosh? You grab your breasts to cease their movement, dark green claws digging into your soft tits and eliciting a moan from your serpentine maw, tongue flicking out at the pleasure.

Your breasts are so big, so heavy, far too large to be cupped in a single hand. Still you try, your tits spilling out and over your palms while you absentmindedly squeeze at your plump and prominent dark green nipples, gasping and hissing as a bit of milk trickles from your taut teats. You giggle. Of course your breasts are oh so full - they're real momma milkers! You squeeze your nipples a little more and sigh as more milk dribbles out. Perhaps you could get one of your guests to give you a hand with your breasts later? You blush at the thought. That'd be real hospitality...

But that'll have to wait until later. You step into the shower and get to work, hot water spilling over your body as you rub soap all over yourself, but especially into those curves of yours. Normally you'd indulge yourself a little more than giving your tits a squeeze here and there, but you're on a tight deadline and so you make sure you're clean before you step out of the shower and leave it at that. You quickly dry yourself off and then look for that shirt you threw away, but it's nowhere to be seen. Instead you find what looks to be a light green, semi-transparent chef's apron neatly folded on the sink. You pick it up and laugh when you see what it says.

"Kiss the cook," you giggle, because of course it does. You blush at the thought of someone giving you a kiss on the cheek - or breast - as thanks for your superior cooking. It's perfect! You start to put it on and then pause. You're going to put it on, just like this? You're not wearing anything else! If you're wearing just this, anyone will be able to see your nipples sticking against the cloth, plenty of cleavage, practically all your curves, and the entirety of your butt if viewed from behind, and if you lactate it'll be all too easy to tell but that's...

Okay?

You smile warmly as you tug the apron on. That was more than okay. It was hospitality.

***

BEEP BEEP BEEP

BEEP BEEP BEEP

You jump up from the living room couch and hurry to the oven. The cookies are ready! You tug on your oven mitts and pull the cookies out. You smile. They're perfect, just like you. They're shaped a little differently than you intended them to be, looking vaguely like fantastical animals, but that's ok because they still look delicious. You wonder if those odd eggs had something you do with it, but then shrug, causing your breasts to jiggle a little and your nipples to rub against the apron. You shiver as you lactate a little. Gosh, you hope one of your guests will offer to help you out. You won't be a bother about it, of course, but something tells you they'll want to get their hands on them...

As if on cue, you hear something rattle in your apartment's lock before the door opens. Your guests are here!

You hiss in excitement and hurry to the door with cookie tray in hand, your bobbing breasts barely contained within the confines of your apron. Tail wiggles in excitement and soon you're at the entrance to your apartment. Your roommate is there along with his friends.

Guests!

They all look at you with wide eyes, but you're not going to let a few stares keep you from being a good host. You hold up the tray of cookies, your apron-covered breasts resting on the back of the tray. You squirm a little as your stiff nipples dribble a little milk on the tray, before you thrust it towards your friend.

"Cookie?" you offer and your roommate looks to you, blinks, and then takes an oddly gator shaped cookie. He takes a bite and you hold your breath as he chews thoughtfully.

"Wow," he says, not noticing as blue scales start to spread in patches on his face. "This is really good! You're a...a..." His gaze lingers on you as if he can't quite remember who or what you are. Then he smiles with teeth that look a little pointier than you remember and you smile warmly back. "Good roommate and a great host!"

"I know," you say, that smile of yours deepening and coming close to being smug and superior, but not quite. You turn to his friends and hold the tray up and out. "Cookie?"

His friends stare at you for a moment or so and you can't stifle the blush that comes upon your face as they admire your matronly curves and bountiful breasts. Shortly after, though, they each take a cookie and a bite and are more than satisfied, but of course they are! You smile warmly as they and your roommate proceed past you, no one really bothered by the fur or scales that spread over their skin or how their proportions are already starting to shift. You follow after them, beaming and more than willing and ready to continue fulfilling your role. Your tail wiggles in anticipation.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun!