FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Zara, please, it’s all I ask!” Ellie the mouse sighed—the sneaking suspicion that, as always, her bitchy roommate would get her way crept up on her. “You always get to decide where our spare cash goes!”

Zara snorted and locked eyes with Ellie. “Well, duh. It’s not like you do anything else but waste your time on that fucking computer,” said the arctic fox vixen. “I’m getting some perfume imported from Paris, you know, so I can go out with my friend this Saturday.” Zara pushed her chair back; the shrill squeal of wood against the kitchen’s linoleum floor made Ellie wince. “Not that you’d know what those are.” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“I have friends, Zara,” said Ellie in a voice that came out weaker than she’d intended.

“Oh, honey, I don’t mean those idiots you spend all day playing games with.” Zara popped her Versace sunglasses on and strutted to the door of her room. “Speaking of games,” she said, twirling and glaring at Ellie over the tops of her shades, “what the fuck do you need another computer for?”

“I can’t get decent FPS anymore with newer games.” Ellie blinked rapidly and avoided the fox’s stare by looking at her room-temperature cup of coffee through bespectacled eyes, her beanie slipping slightly forward over her brow. “My computer’s, like, twelve years old.” As she spoke, Ellie’s tail wrapped itself around the leg of her chair.

“Oh? And pray tell, what’s the deal with FPS? What the hell even is that?”

Ellie’s demeanor lit up—it always did when she got a chance to discuss anything related to computers and electronics. “That stands for frames per second. See, my overclocked GPU can’t keep up anymore, and whenever I get to this really awesome, huge-ass area of a map, it slows down to a crawl, and it’s soooo frustrating. Sometimes, it even kernel panics and—”

Zara burst into hysterical, ugly laughter. “Holy shit, Ellie, that fucking computer science and whatever engineering double major’s gotten to your head.”

“What?” said Ellie, the timid lilt back in her voice.

“Did you seriously just go full nerd on me?”

“OK, wait! Let me explain. Imagine you’re watching a movie, and you get to the best part and—”

“You’re so annoying! Whatever, you don’t need more FPS.”

“No! I really do, Zara, please, I really do!”

“No, Ellie. What you actually need is to get a life. Anyway, I gotta freshen up before my boyfriend comes over.” Zara’s door slammed shut.

Ellie stayed quiet for a couple of minutes. She brooded over the conversation to the rhythmic ticking of the kitchen wall clock and the swishing of her finger claw around the edge of her coffee cup.

The situation was, unfortunately, business as usual in their two-bedroom apartment.

Ellie would make a reasonable request.

Zara would treat her like shit.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

The fox would then prance off, leaving Ellie with a negative feedback loop playing in her head over and over again like a scratched-up vinyl record.

A telltale buzz came from behind Zara’s door.

That was another thing—in the vixen’s lingo, “freshen up” typically meant a ten-minute rendezvous with her wall-powered “back massager.” The bitch’s boyfriend ticked all the boxes as far as her equally cuntish high-society friends were concerned, but, of course, as per the vixen’s own kvetching, he was a lousy fuck, so Zara had to resort to giving herself all her orgasms.

“You can’t keep letting her talk to you like that,” snarled Ellie. “You need to teach her a lesson. You need that new computer.”

But how could Ellie show Zara what a genuine, authentic need was? Everything about Zara—from her obnoxious raven-black waist-grazing hair to her pedicured toe claws—screamed fake. It’s like the one thing she genuinely enjoyed was . . .

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

Zara’s muffled cries of release made Ellie’s eyes roll. “Wait. That’s it!” whispered Ellie as the vixen kept cooing in orgasmic pleasure. “Ellie, sweetie, you are a genius.” She steepled her fingers in front of her maw, and a devious glint—rather unusual for the mouse—shone in her eyes. “So, I don’t need more FPS, huh, Zara? We’ll see about that.”

---

Saturday.

Zara’d slept in, and by the time she’d begun drifting out of sleep, noon sunlight poked through her curtains. Eyes still closed, she smiled to herself.

The vixen of the haut monde had a ritzy day lined up: a manicure/pedicure combo first thing in the afternoon; then she’d meet up with her friends at a three-Michelin-star restaurant; the evening promised a private viewing at an upscale gallery with the most avant-garde exhibitions; she’d conclude the day with “dinner and a movie” with her boyfriend.

Before that, however, she had one pressing need to take care of, a need she’d deliberately shunned since Monday evening to make the relief even more gratifying.

Orgasms. Three or four of them in a row.

She reached out to the bedside table, to the drawer where she kept her, as she’d put it, “sexual wellness device.”

But as soon as her hand got to the edge of the bed, she felt a tug on her wrist.

Zara’s panic-stricken eyes shot open. “Huh?” Both her wrists were attached to the bedframe via a pair of metal handcuffs. “Ellie! What the fuck is going on? Where the hell are my clothes? Did you do this?” she yelled in the general direction of the open door, hands balling up into fists, craning her neck. To her mounting horror, her legs, too, were restrained, spread, ankles hoisted up with two ropes that went through a pair of pulleys affixed to the ceiling.

Ellie sashayed into the room, an uncharacteristically confident left-and-right strut in her hips, her hands behind her back. “Good morning, Zara!” she said as she closed the door with her tail. She stood to the side of the bed, curtains behind her. “Or good afternoon, rather—you sure slept like a baby!”

“You stupid, worthless bitch!” started Zara. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck your deal is, but you’re going to let me out this instant, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll go easy on you.”

Ellie, smirk unfazed, used her tail to swoosh open the curtains. Sunlight spilled in, making Zara narrow her eyes. “Come on, Zara, be a good sport, now. I just wanted to continue our conversation from last Monday!”

“What conversation are you blabbering about?” Zara’s tail, too, was strapped down to the bed, but that didn’t stop its tip from flicking furiously. “Every single conversation I’ve had with you is beyond forgettable. You’re just a nerd, nobody gives a rat’s ass about you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” said Ellie. She revealed what she kept hidden behind her back—Zara’s electric massager. “See, I went ahead and modified this thing. That way, our little chat today’s going to be real memorable.”

“You went through my shit?” spat the vixen. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Relax, sweetie. I should be thanking you for giving me the opportunity to tinker with this little toy of yours.” Ellie plugged the extension cord into the wall. “It wasn’t awful hard—I rigged up a little something with an Arduino. Jerry-rigged an app for my phone, too. Nothing too fancy.”

“I swear to fuck, if you ruined my vibrator, there will be hell to pay!” Zara grunted and tugged on her restraints, all to no avail. “You’ve been sneaking into my room all this time? Seriously?”

“Nope, just this past week.” The mouse’s thumb claw flicked over the massager’s ON switch, and it powered up. “See, Zara, I realized something after our little chat last Monday,” Ellie said as she placed the tip of her finger on the purring head and smirked at the intensity. “So, I knew I had to get to work—got a little microcontroller in this here toy of yours that interfaces with my phone. It has a neat little temperature and humidity sensor, too!”

“I don’t care for this fucking nerd talk! Just get me the fuck out of here! I have a goddamn appointment for a pedicure!”

“But we’re just getting started, Zara. Come on, don’t you want an orgasm? Or maybe three or four of ’em?”

“What?” The cords in Zara’s neck strained against the fur. “You piece of shit, you went through my phone?”

Ellie giggled. “I didn’t have to. I hacked in from my laptop a few days ago. Not like I needed to do that either,” she said, running the tip of her finger down the pink folds of Zara’s slit. “Looks like you’re pretty, you know, in need.” She licked the pussy juice off, maintaining eye contact. “Want me to take care of that for you?”

“No? No!” said Zara. She clenched her teeth and thrashed around; Ellie’s bondage, however, was too effective. “Get your hands off me! Now you’ve really gone and done it!” growled the vixen. “I’ll—”

Without warning, the decent-sized wand vibrator found Zara’s clit.

Zara hissed through her teeth as her nipples began to tingle and harden. She swallowed, looked away, and squeezed her eyes shut. “You absolute pervert! What is—oh, fuck, that’s so good—no! Get that thing off me!”

“What were you saying before, sweetie? You’ll what?” asked Ellie. “You’ll have your orgasm? Mhm, yeah? You’ve been waiting all these days, huh?”

“No!” Zara’s ass clenched as she fought the urge to grind her crotch into the vibrator. “You, you had no business snooping around on my phone.”

“But I had to, Zara! Like I said, I realized I had to . . . convince you that I need higher FPS. That’s when it dawned on me. You see, frames per second, they’re kind of exactly like the frequency of vibration of your cute little toy here.” As Zara took deep breaths, determined to shut down the building arousal between her legs, Ellie fished her phone out of her back pocket. “See this?” said the mouse, holding the screen up close to Zara’s flushed face.

“It’s just some stupid”—she gulped hard and shook her head—“movie projector thingy. So fucking what?”

“Well, Zara—right now your vibrator’s in Movie mode. You didn’t let me explain before.”

“Oh, shit, that’s real good,” muttered Zara the vixen under her breath, tits jiggling as she struggled to control her breathing. “Explain what?”

“See, imagine you’re watching an awesome movie. You got your hero, the villain, they’re duking it out.”

Zara’s brow furrowed. Her nipples became thick little nubs.

“And you get to the part where the villain has the hero cornered. He raises his gun,” Ellie said over the monotonous hum of the vibrator, over the springs squeaking beneath Zara’s shifting weight. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. Is the gun going to jam? Is the hero’s friend going to save the day?”

“Oh, I’m gonna—” Zara’s feet pointed, and her hands clenched tight.

“The villain, he puts his finger on the trigger, and he pulls.”

“—cum!” The fox’s back curved, welcoming the orgasm . . .

. . . That never came, for the vibrator thrumming between her legs suddenly powered down.

“WHAT?!” yelled Zara, staring at her crotch, pupils the size of pinpricks. “What the fucking shit! Why did it stop! I was gonna cum!”

“Oh, noes, Zara! I guess the movie projector had a glitch of some sort.” Ellie grinned and covered her face with her paw. “Isn’t that a shame? Right when the best part was about to happen!”

“You fucking programmed the vibrator to do that? To fucking switch off right before I cum!” She looked at the amused mouse, then back at her engorged, wet pussy. “But, but that’s so evil! I was right there, it was going to fucking happen!”

“FPS, it’s just like vibration frequency—if it goes down when the fun starts to happen, it sucks big time.” Ellie chuckled silently and booped Zara’s nose.

“Fuck you, Ellie!” A drop of pussy juice dripped off her lips and spotted the bedsheet beneath her. “This has nothing to do with your nerdy-ass video games!”

“Au contraire, mon frère,” said Ellie. “It has absolutely everything to do with it.” With the dead vibrator still held up the vixen’s pussy, the mouse fiddled with her phone. “When I’m trying to infiltrate an enemy compound, when I’m about to headshot someone, when I’m about to finish an S-tier sidequest, and it just fucking stalls out right before I get that dopamine rush . . .” She sighed. “Like I said, Zara, vibration frequency and FPS aren’t that different.”

Ellie’s thumb claw clicked against her phone screen.

The vibrator, again, roared to life—pussy juice fizzled around it, and Zara shriek-gasped.

“It’s at a nice, smooth 144 Hz right now, kind of like 144 FPS. Feels absolutely killer, doesn’t it?”

“It’s! It’s! Fuck!” squealed Zara, thigh muscles flexing beneath her white coat.

“I know, right? See, this is a good FPS. Bet you could have yourself a nice orgasm, huh?”

Click.

The massager kept rumbling against the frustrated fox’s pussy, albeit at a slightly lower frequency.

“120 Hz, Zara. We can think of that as 120 FPS. A bit lower, but still a solid FPS as far as gaming is concerned. It may take slightly longer, but you could definitely cum your foxy guts out on this setting, huh?”

Zara, a small drop of sweat beading on the tip of her whisker, shot Ellie a withering look. “Screw you, you dirty rat,” she rasped.

Click.

This time, the massager’s thrumming went from a roar to a hum.

“60 Hz. This is the absolute bare minimum if you want a half-decent gaming experience. Kind of like 60 FPS. You could probably have your orgasm, but it’d take a while, wouldn’t it?” She reached over and tickled under Zara’s chin with her tail. “Sucks when it keeps going down, huh?”

Zara grunted and flicked her hair back to try and take a bite out of Ellie’s tail—but the mouse was too quick. “I’m not telling you shit!”

“You don’t have to.” Ellie narrowed her eyes in smug satisfaction at Zara through her glasses and turned her phone to face the fox. “Remember those sensors I mentioned? I programmed them to let me know how close you are to orgasm.”

Zara glanced at the screen.

86.5%.

“It’s how it knew to shut down, you see,” explained Ellie. “You were at ninety-nine percent, Zara.”

88.6%.

“Why don’t you program it so that you can get a life,” said Zara, rocking her sex against the vibrations.

90.0%.

“We can add more functionality to it later, Zara, sweetie, but first of all—”

Click.

What was once a hum became a mild, droning murmur, barely audible over Zara’s breaths of frustration.

“30 Hz, Zara. 30 FPS. This is a pretty mediocre experience.”

89.3%.

Zara’s nostrils flared. Her toes clenched tight as she wedged her pussy up against the vibrator as hard as she could.

88.6%.

“Yeah? It isn’t enough, is it? You wish you could enjoy it, but you’re slipping further and further down the leaderboard.”

For the first time, the thought of issuing a half-hearted apology and requesting being vibrated to climax crossed the vixen’s mind.

87%.

She had no intention of sucking up to Ellie, but every fiber of her being desired relief. Zara opened her mouth, “Ellie, I—”

Click.

The massager went up to 144 Hz. Then down to 60 Hz. Then up again to 120 Hz.

“What the fuck!” screamed Zara. “Yes! Yes! No, why’s it going down!”

“And this, Zara, is when you go from smaller areas of a map to bigger ones. It’s the absolute worst thing ever, huh? You’re enjoying it one second, then it blows donkey balls, but then it’s so good again.”

The orgasm proximity readout on Ellie’s phone jumped around as well, topping out at 95% with a minimum of 89% and passing through every value in between.

“Ellie, stop! Stop! You can have your computer!” She hyperventilated, thrusting her ass, her pussy throbbing in need, swollen clit screaming for release. “It’s too much! Make me cum!”

“Didn’t your bottle of Guerlain get here a couple of days ago, though, Zara, sweetie?” Ellie rolled her eyes up in faux thought as Zara squeaked, clenched her teeth, squirmed and wriggled. “The money’s already gone, unless . . .”

“I haven’t fucking opened it! I haven’t, Ellie! I was going to take it out today, but I can return it! I’ll return it, I promise, and I’ll give you the money! I’ll, I’ll even throw in the delivery fee!”

“Well, I suppose I could make that work, I—”

“Yes! You can make it work! Please make me cum now!” said Zara.

“What’s the hurry? If you’re all hot and horny, won’t your boytoy get you going later tonight?”

“No! FUCK him! He has no fucking idea what he’s doing, Ellie! I always have to fake every single orgasm whenever I’m with him! He’s clueless! Ellie, please! I can’t take it!” shrieked Zara, her voice a desperate rasp.

“You have to fake orgasms with him, huh? But you want a real orgasm now, don’t you?” asked Ellie.

“Yes! Please, Ellie, please!” Zara nodded frantically, making her hair thrash around. “It’s driving me fucking crazy! I need to cum!”

“Oh, is that right?” asked Ellie. Zara had said the word.

Click.

The vibrator quit its chaotic teasing and settled into a steady 144 Hz.

90%.

Zara tipped her head back. “Oh, fuck, YES! Just like that, just like thaaaaat!” The fox’s hips swayed back and forth.

“So, you need it, huh, Zara?”

“Yes! Yes, I need it so, so bad, Ellie.”

92.5%.

“It’s a need you feel deep down in your bones, isn’t it, Zara?”

“It is! Oh my God, if you make me cum, I swear to fuck I will be your best friend!”

94.9%.

“Will you, now?” asked Ellie. The tip of her tail tickled Zara’s nipple. “Didn’t you tell me a while ago that we would never be friends? And that I should just mind my own business?”

“I’m not a perfect person,” said Zara. By now, the bedsheets below her had a large, dark spot. Her groin was sopping wet, and the lips of her pussy, her pelvis and asshole all glistened, a thin sheet of her pussy juice coating them. “I run my mouth sometimes, oh fuck”—she shivered as the orgasm meter reached 96%—“and say stupid stuff.”

“I guess, Zara, I could let bygones be bygones.” Ellie’s grip around the massager tightened, and she pushed it in as much as she could; despite the pressure against the fox’s vulva, the newly installed servo kept the frequency at a steady 144 Hz. “Since you seem to understand how much I need that new computer.”

98%.

“Yes!” Zara’s eyes sparkled and gleaned as she stared past her nipples at the vibrator pummeling her clit into oblivion. “I fucking need it! Oh, I’m gonna cum, Ellie!”

99%.

“Let’s see it, Zara!”

99.9%.

“I’M GONNA FUCKING CUM!” screamed Zara at the top of her lungs.

Knock knock!

Right as the vixen was about to tip over the edge into the most earth-shattering orgasm of her life, Ellie yanked the vibrator off her; a few strings of clear pussy juice followed the thrumming head, the 144 Hz making the viscous liquid bubble on the surface.

“NO!” shouted Zara as Ellie put the vibrator on the bed and made a beeline towards the door. “FUCK THE DOOR! MAKE ME CUM!”

“That’d be rude, Zara,” said Ellie, a wide grin on her face, amused at Zara’s frantic ass thrusting. “Come on, we have visitors, and I think I know who it is.” She grabbed hold of the knob and swung the door open. “See?”

Zara, pussy lips impossibly swollen, clit throbbing in tandem with her heart, blinked rapidly, trying to process what she was seeing. “What are you doing here?”

A twentysomething skunk strutted in. Around her neck was a silk scarf, and she had on a tailored blouse and a pair of high-waisted trousers. “Zara, darling,” she said, tail pointing up superciliously, Hermès Birkin purse dangling from her elbow. “I guess you’ve been all tied up.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Colette?” asked Zara.

As soon as the skunk made way, a muscular German shepherd strolled in. “Hey, babe. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you that wet.”

“Holy shit,” grunted Zara. “What is this, a freaking party?”

“Seems like you’re having fun, Zara, but we’re getting late for our pedi appointment,” said Colette. “I had no clue where you actually live, so I messaged Milo here, and he gave me the address, and he told me he’d come to your place as a welfare check.”

“Guys, guys!” Zara snapped, wide eyes going from skunk to dog, from dog to skunk. “I’m fine, OK? I just really need Ellie here to finish me off.” She grunted and spread her legs as much as she could. “Couldn’t you wait like thirty seconds to open the goddamn door?” she said to Ellie.

“Aren’t we being rude, now?” said the skunk. “Such attitude. We actually came to your house, and you’re not even giving us the time of day.”

“Yeah, babe.” The dog crossed his arms. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think seeing you like this kind of gives me a chubby, but I kind of want the real deal. You know, like we planned, tonight. My cock, your pussy.”

“Milo, hunk, we will! For real.” She glanced at Ellie, prompting her to vibrate her fox clit to climax. “But let Ellie here make me cum, because I need it so, so bad.”

“I have a better idea,” said Ellie, a sinister grit in her voice. “You made Colette and Milo here waste their time coming all the way to our apartment.” She picked up the massager as it still whirred away at 144 Hz and tapped Zara’s clit, prompting the vixen’s butt to shiver. “I think they should get a say in whether you get to have your orgasm or not.”

“What?” Zara’s heart sank. “No! I earned my orgasm! What the fuck do they have to do with it?” she yelled, eyes wide.

“I do think that sounds magnificent,” said Colette. “Who wants to drive down these filthy roads during rush hour? I actually had to walk here, you know.” She made a face and, standing on one leg, bent the other leg so that the sole of her foot faced her. “See? Feh! Pure filth.” She brushed the debris off the bottom of her paw.

“And I had to leave a gym buddy hanging,” said Milo. “At this rate, I’m never going to get a decent amount of leg days in.”

“You cannot be serious right now,” said Zara, mouth agape. Another drop of pussy juice joined the dark stain on the bed. “This is not fair! This is so not fucking fair!”

“There’s four of us,” said Ellie. “So, to have an absolute majority, at least three need to vote in favor of you cumming, Zara.”

“No! What—”

“I’ll start!” chirped Colette. “Zara, you know that lovely, darling bottle of perfume you purchased from Europe? I’ll trade—I vote in favor of you curling these toesies we need to get pedicured, and you give me the Guerlain.”

“But, but . . .” Zara looked at Ellie. “I promised Ellie I’d return it so she could buy her new computer!”

“That’s right.” Again, Ellie gave Zara’s clit the briefest touch, enough to make her entire body tense up, yet not enough so she could feel its full pleasure. “And if you give Colette here the perfume and I miss out on my computer, I’m not voting for you, Zara. I’m not.”

Zara gulped hard; it was loud enough to be heard over the hum of the massager. “Colette, I’m real sorry, I really can’t give you the perfume.”

“In that case, Zara, I’m afraid I’ll have to say no to that silly little orgasm of yours.” She pulled a Spanish fan out of her purse and began to pump the room’s sex-heavy, hot air away from herself. “Sorry, darling.”

Zara caught peeks of the skunk’s face through the fan—Colette’s brows were pulled down into a twisted look of revenge, and her purple eyes were narrowed in hatred. “You wouldn’t!” protested Zara, voice soft and warbly. “Why are you doing this to me, Colette?”

“I don’t think I’m being all that unreasonable,” proffered the skunk. “That bottle of perfume would have lasted me, what, a month? But all you want is something that’ll last a minute, tops, Zara. Feh, not too surprised.” Colette kept fanning herself, the little hairs of black-and-white fur on her face quivering in response to the draft. “It’s not like you have any idea what style is.”

“Fuck you, Colette!” screamed Zara. She strained against the bondage, pussy lips clenching shut from the effort. “Colette isn’t even your real name, you dumb cunt! It’s Bianca! You just pretend to be European! That’s a fucking Spanish fan! They don’t have those in France, you dumbass!”

“Oh, whatever, my great-grandfather was Belgian. I think,” said the skunk.

“Your turn to vote,” said Ellie, tapping Milo on the shoulder with the tip of her tail. The mouse circled Zara’s clit with the vibrator; the fox gasped and squeaked in response, thighs shifting to get it on her sweet spot. “You already have my vote, so if Milo says yes, you get to cum.”

“My love, my sweet, sweet, Zara,” started Milo. He padded to the side of the bed, opposite Ellie, and leaned forward. “You really want your orgasm, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said in a breathy voice, shivering from Ellie’s teasing. “I do.”

He brushed an errant strand of hair off Zara’s face. “Yeah, want me to vote your orgasm in?”

She smiled bashfully and nodded. “Please.”

Ellie put the massager square on the vixen’s clit.

93%.

Zara hissed through her teeth and muttered, “Oh, fuck.” She slow-blinked at Milo. “Yeah? You’re going to let Ellie finish me off, aren’t you, hunk?”

“You are so wet,” he crooned, tweaking the horny fox’s nipples between nimble fingers. “So horny.”

95%.

Zara nodded and laid her head back. “And you can do whatever you want to me tonight, Milo.”

97%.

“I dunno, babe,” said the dog. “I mean, it isn’t like I could give you an orgasm.”

“Wait, what?” she mumbled, head shooting up, the distant, sex-consumed look in her eyes gone, ever-increasing panic making her pupils shrink.

99%.

“I guess that means a no,” said Ellie, eyebrow raised, yanking the massager off as soon as she hit 99.9%.

“WHAT!”

Milo put his maw up to Zara’s ear. “So, all those orgasms were fake, huh?”

“What? Wait, how did you—”

“Ooooooh.” Colette fanned harder. “The plot thickens.”

Ellie, scooping up some of Zara’s pussy juice off the business end of the massager, pointed up with her tail—and there it was.

Zara’s phone, mounted on an overhead tripod, attached to the ceiling. The camera faced the naked vixen.

“What the shit!” Zara’s growl was a mixture of anger and frustration. “You cunt!” she yelled at Ellie. “You were broadcasting this? This whole fucking time? From my phone?”

“I figured you’d sent me the link,” explained Milo. “And this was all a ploy to get me going, you know, since we were supposed to fuck like rabbits tonight.

“But the more I watched, the realer it seemed, and I guess you said some things that you weren’t supposed to.”

“No, no,” said Zara. Her chest went up and down, nipples pulsing along with her racing heart. “Listen, hunk, you got it all wrong! You gotta vote for my orgasm! You have to!”

“What’s the point, Zara?” he said with a sneer. “Won’t you just fake it like you always do?”

“I won’t! I won’t, I promise! I’m gonna cum super hard just for—”

“And if I voted yes, wouldn’t that mean I’m not clueless, Zara? You said I had no clue what I’m doing.” He took out his phone and reversed back to the portion of the live stream where, indeed, in a sex-crazed stupor, Zara had blurted out exactly that. He tapped play, turned the phone around, and let Zara see her own damnation for herself.

“NO! Please, please, please, Milo!” Zara’s eyes widened, and her whiskers drooped. The fox felt a pit in her stomach swallowing up her soul. “I take it all back! I didn’t fucking mean it!”

Colette tsk-tsked over Zara’s whimpering pleas. “If Milo wasn’t pleasing you, maybe you should have communicated better, darling.”

“That’s right,” Ellie chimed in. “You know we need our clit stim-u-la-tion,” she said, each syllable of the last word coinciding with a tap to the poor, hysterical vixen’s nub.

Zara shrieked and thrust her ass with each teasing touch. “No! Don’t stop!” she said, a deluge of juice now dribbling down her pussy; the spot had saturated, and the clear, sweet-smelling liquid oozed down the sides of the bed. “Keep it there!”

“Clit stimulation?” Milo frowned and began stroking his goatee. “I think I heard of that.”

“Guys, guys, mercy! I won’t say another word to you, Ellie!”

“It’s not particularly hard, Milo,” said Colette. “I, well, I could show you how it’s done.”

“Yes! You two can fuck! You can do anything! You can cheat on me, Milo, hunk, you can! Just please, please, please make me cuuuuuuuuum!”

Milo narrowed his eyes. “I suppose that works.” He turned to Ellie. “By the way, that’s a cool Fatal Firefight hoodie,” he said. “I got my Salad-bin leveled up to 45, can you believe it?”

“Fuck stupid-ass nerd shit video games! Make me cum! Just hold it on me! Just a few more seconds!”

“You’re into Firefight?” asked Ellie, tail curling up cutely behind her. “My Necromage is level 52. It literally took me a year!” She took her phone out and dialed the 60 Hz setting in—low enough to just get the fox to orgasm, but at a snail’s pace. Ellie then handed the massager to Milo, who understood.

“No! What are you guys doing! Ellie! Milo!”

Milo bit his lip—with one swing of his muscular arm, the vibrator had gone up into the air, extension cord snaking behind, and it now dangled from the tripod mount used for Zara’s phone.

Zara’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” She grimaced and angled her hips and pelvis to get her clit on the buzzing head. “Fuck!” she said in a breathy voice, straining as hard as she could.

“Why don’t we head on outside, darlings?” Colette shot the struggling fox a side-eye glance. “It’s getting awfully noisy in here, don’t you think?”

The three made their way to the door.

“That’s right, go ahead and leave! Fuck you, Bianca! And fuck you, Ellie, you gamer, nerdy-ass bitch! Have fun screwing Bianca’s crusty pussy, Milo! You won’t satisfy her, anyway! You’re fucking useless in bed! By the time you’re back, I’ll have had fifty orgasms! Just you wait and see!”

“So, what’s your Disk Hoard ID?” asked Ellie over Zara’s muffled screams behind the bedroom door.

“We can get to that later, Ellie,” said Colette. “Milo, would you like me to illustrate at your place or mine?”

“Ladies, relax,” said Milo as the three stepped out of the apartment and waited outside the elevator. “There’s plenty of me to go around.”

With Zara out of the picture, the three wandered off into the city to spend a roaringly good time together . . . But that’s best left for another story.

And what became of the poor arctic fox, you may ask? Well, let’s just say that her thighs, abs, glutes got the workout of a lifetime. She struggled, strained, screamed in frustration whenever the vibrator swung away, leaving her on the edge.

At least she got a full-body workout.

With the exception of the pussy muscles she was actually trying to stimulate.