FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Alright, this is it. 125 Hanson Drive."

You're a little nervous as the car pulls to a stop. The wolf in the driver's seat -- Cecilia -- has been nice enough, but being cooped up next to her for hours has taken its toll. She mostly kept things strictly business, but you still felt a little awkward and overwhelmed. Thinking about her position only made it even stranger. She wasn't the same State agent that did your interview or helped you fill out your paperwork, but she was the only one with you for the long car-ride. It was her part in the Official Matchmaking Process. But that doesn't stop it from feeling like an imposition on her.

Getting out of the car is a relief. The afternoon air is temperate, the skies gray as they've been all day. You look around at your new home while you stretch; the neighborhood seems quiet, nestled on the outer part of town. Though it may be across the country from home, Toughton doesn't seem all that different. The streets are lined with the same sorts of houses, same kinds of cars, and the same kinds of people. The size of the buildings tells you it's a newer part of town. Ever since anthros started exiting the service and began to live domestically, there have been issues about buildings and public services being too small for the larger among them. The new buildings and retrofitted additions around you suggest this place is modern.

The building Cecilia is standing by seems large in particular.

"Cameron?" she asks. "If you're ready?"

She has to gesture to get you to snap out of your daze.

"O-oh, right. S-should I get my things?" you say.

"In a moment. We need to see if she's home, first."

As you round the car, she snorts.

"As if there's any question about it..."

The comment works its way into your musing as you head up the front steps after the wolf. You don't know if she has a partner or not, but having her hand you off to yours contributes to the awkwardness. It might be why she seemed distant. To be honest, you're sort of glad -- when she took a phonecall during lunchbreak, she acted completely different. She was suddenly bright eyed with a wagging tail. She talked loud and fast with whoever it was about a sports team you vaguely remember. And even sitting a few seats away from her in the rest area, not being the person she was talking with, your heart started to race.

As you climb the front steps, you hope that the Matchmaking Office wasn't lying to you. They assured you that they'd found you the perfect partner. She was even into video games like you. You glance through the large windows as you approach, but pale curtains block you from judgment. The immense height of the door dwarfs Cecilia, who's even a few feet taller than you. She rings the doorbell as you catch up; you note with some relief that there's a second, lower doorknob and lock at your height.

"Matchmaking Process Office!" she calls. "Could you please open up?"

There's no response, and the wolf grumbles.

"...What do we do if she's not home? Or asleep?" you ask.

"Oh, she's home. She just probably didn't hear us."

You're not sure how the wolf knows this -- there's no driveway, and the Matchmaking Office car is the only one parked in front of the house. She waits a few seconds before doing the routine again.

"Hello? Matchmaking Process Office! Could you answer the door?"

You strain your ears but hear nothing on the other side. Cecilia's ears flick. She steps back with a sigh, folding her arms.

"Wh-when you said earlier, 'as if there's any question about it,'" you ask, "--what did you mean?"

Cecilia looks down at you with slight surprise. Her expression quickly shifts back to mild annoyance as she looks back at the door.

"Lets just say her file makes her sound like a bit of a home-body."

You're not sure if that's good or bad.

The wolf knocks and yells one last time before cursing, heading back to the car.

"Stay there," she waves when you try to follow. "I've got spare keys. We'll let ourselves in."

It doesn't sound like a great idea, but you can't really argue with her. Your chest feels hollow as the wolf rips open the car door; this isn't going to be a great first impression. You reach up and ring the doorbell one last time before pressing your ear to the door, straining to hear over the clack of the wolf's nails; the door vibrates against your ear.

Footsteps. Heavy ones.

You step away just as the door swings inward. Cecilia stops behind you with a grunt. The mass of brown and gray makes your head spin, and you nearly slip when taking a step back.

"Yes?" the bear asks, looking down blankly. Her voice is deep, but the lack of energy comes through clearly. Combined with her loose crop-top and booty shorts, only her mass makes her come across as intimidating. Her uninterested stare actually reassures you -- with her getup, you'd melt if she were immediately interested in you.

"I'm with the Matchmaking Process Office," Cecilia says before gesturing to you. "This is your new partner, Cameron. We've sent you letters about this over the past few months."

The bear grunts. You look over her again with awe. Even with the custom construction of the doorway, her thighs -- head-level with you -- press slightly against the doorway.

"Cameron," Cecilia says, "this is Babbs."

"N-nice to meet you," you manage. The bear returns your gaze for a second, then turns around and shuffles back inside. You're at a loss watching her go, curves jiggling all the way.

"Now we get your stuff," the wolf sighs.

"D-did I do something wrong?" you ask. Another heavy sigh from the wolf makes you turn around.

"No, Cameron, you were fine," she says. "Babbs treats everyone that way. Everyone we've ever sent, anyway."

She turns back to the car.

"She's been through maybe... five or six other partners? All of them described her the same way. Never leaves the house, hardly pays attention --" she chuckles -- "one even called living with her 'unbearable.'"

You manage a hesitant laugh. Cecilia glances at you as she opens the trunk; her expression softens a little.

"Don't worry, I don't mean she went through them like, she killed them or something. All of them are okay, it just wasn't a good match."

That only makes you slightly less worried. You join her at the car and help her grab your luggage -- there's not a whole lot, but it's going to take a couple trips between the two of you.

"What did she do?" you ask, adjusting your grip on your work computer.

"Well, nothing," Cecilia says. "And that was precisely the problem."

She hops the rolling suitcase up onto the curb, then curses at the sight of the stairs. After a moment, the wolf pulls it along side through the grass.

"All of them said she barely paid them any mind. She'd just sit at her computer, doing work or playing games all day. Only time she left was to get food from the fridge, and most of it was stuff she'd have delivered."

You feel a strange sense of relief. It doesn't sound like Babbs is very demanding, which suits you fine. Since you're going to be working from home, you wouldn't want to interrupt her or have her interrupt you. But as you follow the wolf through the open front door you wonder if the bear's size might be a problem.

"S-she didn't hurt any of them, right?" you ask. Cecilia is about to answer when her nose wrinkles and her ears fold back. Your eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the windows as the slight smell hits you too. The proportions of the front room are large, but the actual space is still relatively small. The only things in the front room are a couch, a TV on a stand, and a table covered in papers and random discarded objects.

"No," Cecilia says, dropping your stuff and quickly turning around. "She hasn't crushed anyone yet. I imagine they weren't keen on getting close."

She suppresses a cough when going back down the steps. After a moment, she collects herself, giving you a firm expression.

"Don't worry too much about it. She doesn't have a history of violence, she's practically harmless. Just... remember that you can request a new spouse when the probationary period is over."

The wolf sighs.

"She didn't fight any of the other separation requests, so you should be good. Just try not to get crushed before then."

Thoughts bounce around your head as you and Cecilia move the rest of your things into the living room before she takes her leave. The Matchmaking Office did manage to fulfill your request, it seems. But you still have to see how much of their exit interviews were true. You take another look around the front room and your belongings, Babbs nowhere to be seen. The furniture looks well used but not necessarily old. All of it is sized for her, taking up a fair amount of space. The couch and table are heavy duty, just like the thick carpeting. You didn't look at the bear's feet, but you imagine hard floors would quickly be scratched up. The table is covered in what appear to be letters, ads and coupons, shopping bags, and paper take-out bags. Most are filled with dry wrappers and receipts. There's a relatively flat section near one end of the couch, a coaster sitting atop an old local newsletter about 'changes to the garbage schedule.'

Also in that section is a remote and a game controller -- you take a look at the TV stand to find a few different consoles set up. They're mostly modern, no physical games anywhere in sight. Evidently, she's willing to shell out and get entire new systems for the exclusives. You glance back at the piles of letters for any red ink. That can't be cheap, but a lack of 'overdue' letters seems to say she can afford it. A small wave of guilt washes over you -- you shouldn't be snooping. You look at the pair of doorways out of the front room, but see no trace of the bear.

"Babbs?" you call out, "C-can I -- where should I put my things?"

You hear a vague shifting somewhere upstairs, but nothing else. After a moment, you decide to explore the rest of the house. Much of it is like the front room, occasional pieces of large furniture sitting here and there. The kitchen is fortunately relatively clean -- from what you can tell, anyway. The counters are a few feet taller than you. You find what you're guessing was her old partners' room, since it's the only one with a human-sized bed and desk. You note it locks from the inside. You doubt you'll need it, though.

You're hoping you don't use the bed very long, either. There aren't any sheets.

Babbs hardly makes a sound upstairs as you move your things into your new place and unpack the essentials. When your things are organized, the computer is hooked up, and you get the wifi password from the kitchen-table router, you're tempted to collapse in the bed, even if it's early in the evening. But curiosity and a strange sense of duty sends you up the stairs to look for the bear.

"Babbs?" you call, taking the gargantuan steps one at a time, "Babbs? You're up here, right? I -- I'm all moved in!"

A keyboard clacks past a dark doorway. The soft glow of a computer screen -- several, actually -- provides a dim light as you enter. The room is cramped, almost half of it taken up by a huge bed and the other half by a desk taller than you. Babbs fills the space between in a chair the size of a human bed. She doesn't spare you a glance, too focused on her screens.

"Babbs?"

She grunts.

You get on your toes and take a look at her screens; you can only see the upper half, but they're large enough that you can make out what she's playing. It's one of the Epic Ending games, a newer one by the looks of it. Probably XVIII or XIX.

"Babbs?" you call again, working up your courage. She pauses when you reach up and tap her thigh. "Could I watch you play? I played a lot of 15, but I haven't had the chance to see 18."

The bear stays quiet. She's fighting a raid boss, a giant tree studded with cargo crates and glowing bits of tech.

"Is that what the Sedition looks like now? I kinda like it. I remember hearing about that texture-compression technology from one of the public demos, I can't believe how smooth it looks!"

The screen is lit by a large flash as one of her teammates fires an arcane missile. An ephemeral cowboy rides the mushroom cloud that rises from the smoking tree.

"Oh, that's a cool vanity animation. He's from 10, right?"

You jump when the chair creaks. Babbs reaches down and lifts you with a single paw, practically palming your whole back and lifting you with soft, hooked fingers. Your legs brush the arm of her chair before settling in the soft expanse of her lap.

"Yeah," she says. Then her paw returns to the mouse, selecting an emote from the taunt wheel as the technological bits of the tree begin to burst with purple goo. Babbs doesn't seem to notice as you sink into her like a beanbag chair. Her stomach is soft behind you and her thighs are plush beneath you; the pure size and give of her curves almost make you feel trapped. She continues her game while you adjust yourself in her lap, seemingly undisturbed. After a little while, you stop trying to be careful and move more firmly to get a better look at her screen. If your shoes on her inner thighs did anything, she doesn't let it show. You realize how far she's leaning back when you finally come to rest. You're a little higher up in the bear's lap, and her bust looms above you like a gray, frozen wave. If Babbs were to sit up straight, it'd flow right over your head.

Part of you is a little worried that she might. But as you watch her play, you get used to the idea. The bear is anything but overwhelming. She lets you lounge on top of her without a care in the world. When you ask about the new features in the game or story beats, she answers you. There's no judgment, no surprise or admonishment. Just answers. She even demonstrates for you a few times, pulling flashy moves and spending a few inconsequential items. It makes you consider getting into the franchise again. Despite how sleepy you find yourself becoming -- probably just the effect of her lap.

But you wake up with a start when Babbs exits the game. The chair creaks as she moves, and you brace yourself -- but she sinks back with a sigh. A heavy pair of paws drape over your legs, an extra-large controller flashing to life in the dark. The bear grunts as the cursor zooms around the screen at the push of a joystick.

"T-takes a little getting used to," you manage. "I -- I think the d-pad locks movement to the window you're in..."

"Yeah," she says, still fiddling with the joystick. You look at her game library while she struggles to navigate. It's impressive to say the least; there's 300 and some entries according to the stat counter in the corner. She's got numerous folders for organization that span genres and settings, from MMOs to management sims. Epic Ending 18 is still selected and it's got at least 5 different user-made organizing tags. The window flashes as Babbs switches games, starting up Lethal Scuffle 12.

"Oh, cool!" you say as she leans back. "You have a second controller?"

"No. This is the only one that works."

She trails off into a sigh; you think she's being honest. The tiredness in her voice isn't directed at you. And if she did have a second controller, you realize, it'd likely be too large for you. So you relax into the bear's curves and look up at the screen, ready to watch the fighting game.

After it loads. You're honestly not the biggest fan of the game, since it's slower than previous entries and the devs were sloppy with coding. Huge textures and boatloads of particles mean that the loading screens are obnoxiously long, even on high-tier hardware. But you're willing to watch Babbs go at it. It's a good way to get to know her better, maybe get her to talk more.

And besides, it's not like sitting in her lap is terrible. Her stomach presses against you with each deep breath, almost rocking you. You slip down lower into her lap, letting yourself settle into the valley of her thighs. Babbs hardly seems to notice. She doesn't react when you lift up on the controller so that you're nice and snug. You arch your head back to try and look at her over her bust, but quickly realize the futility. You shimmy yourself deeper into her embrace. She's probably drifted off.

You shiver when a low groan escapes the bear. The huge paws on your legs shift and send the controller sliding off somewhere in the darkness. It crashes to the carpet with a dull, plastic clatter. You take her second snore-like groan as your cue to move, but any thought of leaving disappears when a single paw covers your whole chest. You're locked into place against her as she squeezes you like a toy. You freeze out of fear as she moves beneath you; was it something you said? She pulled you up here, you only asked to watch! You didn't backseat game, you only asked how things worked, and she seemed so --

Another rumbling groan shakes you from your thoughts. The sound literally vibrates through you as Babbs' paw tightens around you; you realize her other one is down below. Her thumb is hooked around your leg with ease while she presses the soft inner edge of her palm between your legs. When she grabs your torso and begins to bodily grind you back and forth, the reason becomes clear.

You bounce as the bear's hips twitch. The warmth from her fur intensifies, her loins growing wet beneath you.

Babbs is masturbating with you right on her lap.

"U-uhh -- B-babbs?"

The bear's erratic huffing and rubbing don't slow. You don't know what to think as she goes on, grinding you harder between her thighs and pressing her hand deeper between your legs. Your concerns from earlier seem to be unfounded, thankfully. New ones vaguely take their place; what if she takes to using you as a toy?; what if she's furious with you when she wakes up?; if this is the beginning of your first night with her, what will the coming ones look like?

Most fade away as Babbs' rhythm continues. You've always got the little personal room if you want to be on your own, and she hasn't exactly chased after you. And she's doing just as much work as you with her other paw. You can certainly feel it, the inner edge of her paw cupping your groin. The pressure isn't crushing, just enough to squeeze your now-hardened length against your pelvis. Her thumb presses along your shaft while her soft pads cradle your balls.

Perhaps it's those sensations that have you at ease, but you welcome the feeling.

Babbs barely hesitates when you grab onto her wrist, giving into the urge to grind against her hand. Her hold becomes slightly tighter. The paw around your torso stays light, letting you breathe with ease. But you're still pulled into her plush warmth with a firm paw. Your movements synchronize with hers, your breaths start to get ragged.

All the anxieties you had slowly disappear. The physical world overtakes your mind, the waves of pleasure the only thing that occupies it anymore. Babb's warmth seeps into you. Soft fabric brushes your skin. The firm grip of her paw is like a comforting one-handed hug. And the rocking of her hand between your thighs lights you up from base to tip.

Some part of you realizes how close you are to release and reaches down to fumble with your pants. Babbs doesn't stop her grinding and leaves you to struggle with her huge paws. Getting your arms over the one that holds your chest is a challenge. Your member pokes out when you unbutton, oozing precum onto your shirt. A particularly insistent grind from the bear convinces you to give up your efforts. You lean back into her with a groan and surrender to the sensations -- she's got to have a washer here somewhere, or a laundromat nearby.

And Babbs doesn't seem to mind your precum on her paw.

You're glad. Feeling her soft pad is miles better than the binding fabric of your clothes. Even if your dick is still partially constrained, the firm touch of velvet sends your hips into overdrive. Groans escape you when her fur brushes along the edges. It's still soft, despite being the short stuff on the edge of her hand. You shudder, wishing you'd been able to undo your pants as well.

The pleasurable pressure peaks soon enough either way. You tighten your grip on her paw with a groan as you feel yourself fall out of rhythm, but the floodgates are going to open either way. You feel like you should wake her.

"Babbs!" you call, "I -- I'm going to --"

Your words dissolve into a drawn-out grunt. The bear doesn't stop, continuing to rub as you coat her hand and the lower edge of your shirt. You sigh after a few moments of waiting for a response. No need to worry, no need to fear reprisal. The aftershocks of your orgasm ebb out as you relax into Babb's belly and surrender to her sensations. Her warmth spreads through your body as she continues to rub and bounce you. The rhythmic motion threatens to lull you to sleep, only her heaving grunts of pleasure keeping you from succumbing.

The bear's release is quieter. There's no roar or guttural growl of pleasure. Just a contented hum, some heavy hip thrusts, and the paw between your legs giving a few deep, final rubs. The chair creaks as Babbs leans back in satisfaction. Her stomach rises and falls against you as she catches her breath. You feel her excitement on your back soaking into your shirt. There's going to be more cleanup than you anticipated...

A soft chime catches your attention. You look up to see Lethal Scuffle has finally loaded. The main menu text floats over a background of a massive melee, characters from the game fighting in real time. Even with Babbs' extra large screen, they're far too small for the glorious textures and particle effects to dazzle you. You doubt they will even when Babbs starts a match.

The thought gives you the presence of mind to look up; the bear's face is still hidden behind the generous hills of her breasts. They're bouncing less now, you notice. The flex of her paws around you makes you wonder if she woke up yet. They tighten slightly when you attempt to turn around and look. Trying to move out of her grasp produces similar results, as does trying to move her huge, heavy paws.

"Babbs --" you start, but are interrupted with a tired sniff. Evidently, your shifting about was enough to rouse her. The bear leans forward either way, her dark nose poking over the gray bump above your head. The screen's glow highlights her eyes as they linger on you. But only for a few moments. She glances at the screen and grunts when she finds the game's loaded. Babbs releases you and fumbles for the controller in the dark, her arm wrapping halfway across your torso again. Apprehension tries to settle in your chest as she pats at her thighs. You feel like you need to talk to her but you're not sure how. How do you tell her that you were there for the whole thing? That you got off on it too? Or how she dropped the controller to the floor? You voice seems caught in your throat.

Babbs lets out a quiet grunt and stops. The whole chair creaks as she leans over to one side and then the other. You almost find your words when the bear lets out a tired groan, this one of exasperation rather than ecstasy. She swivels the chair to face her fallen controller; you feel her stomach rise against your back as she takes a deep breath.

It occurs to you too late what's about to happen.

"Babbs, wait!"

Your rushed words come out as little more than a squeak. The bear doesn't hear them over the pulsing music and meaty blows from Lethal Scuffle's main menu as she bends down to retrieve her controller. Her gray bust washes over you like an avalanche, quickly muffling your words. You freeze as you feel yourself slip beneath her baggy top. Fur presses in on you from every direction. You try to move but find yourself completely restrained by her heavy cleavage, bent over between her breasts. They wobble around you as Babbs paws at the ground for her controller.

The pure warmth and softness of her practically makes you melt. The firmness of the embrace almost overcomes the awkwardness you feel. Relief washes over you when Babbs starts to sit back with her newly retrieved controller. It's short lived when you find yourself still trapped in her bust from the waist-up. The squeeze of her breasts barely lessens when she settles in, her paws on her lap. Her fur presses against you, heat rising higher and higher. The first breath of her scent is enough to throw you over the edge. It's strong, different from how the house smells. More of a muskiness to it.

But it's still enough for you to be overwhelmed. The bear's chest hardly moves as you push against her furry mountains with vigor, trying to get yourself free, get yourself air, get yourself anywhere but inside her shirt. You're not sure if it's that or your sounds of exertion that get her attention. Babbs lifts her breasts either way, letting you scramble out from beneath her shirt. You sputter and cough on her lap, finding her arm as you drag yourself clear. Her doughy stomach bounces when she drops her rack right behind you. The muffled slap of flesh on flesh brings snaps you out of your coughing, and you realize how cold the air feels.

You turn around with worry and look up at the bear, terrified. Babbs stares at the screens, her other hand coming around to complete her grip on the controller. You're once again in her haphazard embrace; there's no trace of anger on her face. It calms your nerves a little. But you still need to say something to her -- you're just not sure what.

The game makes a distinct selection noise as Babbs navigates to the campaign mode. A gong rings when she selects the daily challenge run, and the screen fades to black. Back to another loading screen. Before you have time to question if there'll be another masturbation session or apologize for ending up in her shirt, Babbs sets down her controller and swivels the chair. You make a little noise when she starts to get up, a wordless yelp. You're ready this time; the bear hesitates. Then she picks you up under the arms and stands. She holds you out in front of her with ease, her grip surprisingly gentle.

It's the first time you've gotten to see her face close-up. She looks like an ordinary brown bear, her face a little round. You're not sure how much of the volume is from fur and how much is from fat. Her ears are hidden beneath her hoodie, but you can tell they're poking up slightly as she looks at you in return.

This would be the perfect time to say something. Anything.

"H-hi."

Babbs grunts.

"Hi."

She turns and sets you back down on her gaming chair before walking off into the growing dark. As you lie there on the well-used seat, you curse quietly. You take a deep breath to try and regain your composure. The air is a little more ripe than you'd like, but you manage to clear your head. She queued up a match, so you doubt she'll be gone for long. You can still go talk with her. You go to hop off the chair, but then realize how high up you are. The soft nature of the cushion doesn't help matters much -- with how big it is, you could easily use it as a bed. Carefully, you drop down onto the floor. Babbs' footsteps reverberate through the house, leading the way.

Navigating the large stairs in the dark is a bit of a challenge, but you manage. The clack of claws on tile says Babbs is in the kitchen. Everywhere else has been carpet aside from the bathrooms. You find her working on a plate of food, various items from the fridge and pantry set about the counter. The variety doesn't exactly look healthy. The closest thing to fruit is trail mix, and the only vegetables are kettle chips. Though main course seems to be loaded nachos -- maybe there are some bell peppers too.

Your stomach growls slightly -- you haven't eaten since before you arrived a few hours ago. It's enough to work up your courage.

"H-hey Babbs?" you ask. She pauses, but continues her work. "Do you mind leaving some of that out? I'm a bit hungry."

"Okay," she says. As she pours herself a bowl of pre-popped popcorn, you remind yourself how big she actually is. That 'plate' of hers is probably the size of a platter, and she's loading it with food to match. You try to recall if you packed any dishware with you. Human-sized dishware. Perhaps you'll find some when you get up on the counter to make your food -- however you manage to get up there. Babbs seems like she'll be a bit occupied.

The microwave chimes and ends its passive humming. The bear pops the door and slips the trio of burritos on top of her mounded plate. That seems to be the last piece of her dinner; she bumps the door closed and turns your way, making for the stairs. Now that you've had some time to think, you know what to try and say.

"Hey, Babbs."

You block her way, and thankfully she stops. She looks down at you with that same blank expression. No anger, no curiosity -- at least none that you can find on her ursine face.

"W-what happened earlier -- on your chair -- I just wanted to say that I... I liked it. A-and I hope you did, too"

Her head cocks slightly. You continue.

"I know right now wouldn't probably be good, since you're, well, eating, but -- but do you think we could do that again sometime?"

Babbs ponders you for a moment, her platter of munchies steaming slightly. Her tone is neutral when she speaks. That same hint of tiredness remains.

"Sure, you can. You can sit in my lap again. I don't really care. If you want, you can fuck me in my sleep."

With that, she steps around you and makes her way upstairs.

You stand there slightly stunned. It's the longest you've gotten the bear to speak to you, and it's a message of dismissal. You feel your hope slipping. You get why her past partners said what they said. But then you realize that this means you can go at your own pace. You'll have plenty of time to settle in and get used to the bear without getting overwhelmed. And you do want to get used to her -- the Matchmaking service did a good job. Babbs likes video games like you, and you like her size. If you can make some changes around the house, you're sure you could be happy here.

You just have to get her to open up...