FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I was born about a year after the ship crashed. Yeah, that means my parents were fucking under her paws. So were yours so what's the point?

Anyway, she is the most beautiful disaster you could ever lay your eyes upon. No, disaster might not be the right word for it. Catastrophe? Tragedy? Either way, it didn't matter.

She is big, huge like you wouldn't believe, and I had the most responsibilities for her. You can imagine it all you want but you'll never know the real fear and trepidation I felt every time I came up close to that monster's paw.

She's about six tents tall, I'd say, if I had to hazard a guess, but none of us has been brave enough to measure her height. She's big enough that our dune-cars fit under her foot. Don't ask me how I found out.

She's actually quite friendly if you get to talk to her, you know. The static buzz of the microphone muffles it a little, but I think she hears me when I talk to her. I can certainly hear her when she's in heat, panting and barking and moaning for relief that never comes. And we desperately try to convince her not to kill us all on the spot in sexual frustration. That's the frightening part. It always happens at night, too.

Soon you'll get to meet her. She meets all the new colonists. They're all here, under her watchful gaze, in the valley of the dog. All of us, a thousand sent out to try and sustain the species after our homeworld was bombarded to ash. And we wound up here.

It's kind of ironic I suppose, when you think about it, after all the chemicals and toxic crap that our ancestors supposedly dumped down the drain without a thought. Maybe it'd all come back around to us.

But now I don't know anything else. Except her. She calls herself Geiger. I think there's some kind of humor in there but I don't know what it is. Humor isn't something I have much of these days.

Yeah, yeah, I know you mentioned talking about my parents fucking, but that was a while ago, is it really such an exciting experience just to hear about it? Fine, I'll tell you, freak.

So back in the early days, when we didn't know much better, the dog was our owner, we did as she said. Seems simple, with the whole towering overhead and such. But for whatever reason she had an excitement at making the colonists fuck when she wanted them to.

So my parents were selected, lucky them, and then they were ushered up to her. She'd spread and fan her toes over them like a canopy while they got it on, and the heat radiating from those massive feet bathed everything. My dad said it was the most intense sex he'd ever had, under Geiger's looming feet. I think it's because he felt like his own mortality was hanging over him.

So yeah, that's how I was conceived, already swimming in mutagens. Probably full of leukemia and all that. I don't care anymore really, it's either that or those fucking alien bastards coming back and killing us all for some stupid reason. What is their deal anyway? I never understood why we're being pursued around the galaxy.

She protects us as best she can, which is pretty great I think. She never lets them touch us. It's better than the alternative. I mean, where are we going to go? Nobody wants us and we don't have enough rocket fuel to get off this rock anyway. So we're stuck here.

Us and the Geiger. She likes it, I think. Me, I think it's silly, dreaming about those clear skies and blue oceans out there, and life big enough to see. There's no way we can ever have anything like that. We're trapped here and we have to deal with it.

Maybe it's a good fantasy for you, a world with trees and grass and no toxic oily sludge running from the ground with every step. That's just silly. But if it helps you cope, I guess it's okay. But don't fool yourself.

She's actually pretty nice once you get used to her. It's not her fault that she's a giant walking toxic waste dump. I tried to pry it out of her a few times but she'd never tell me the secret of what made her that way. So I'll never know. I figure they were trying some sort of new super-weapon or super-cleaner or super-something, and then the super-shit hit the super-fan and everything went wrong. And they figured they'd maroon her where she'd cause no damage. Like this desert rock.

What are the odds, huh?

I asked her about that once, and she laughed and shrugged it off. I guess maybe she thought we were a reward for good behavior or something.

Sometimes she'd bring me some real water from the other side of the planet, not the filtered crap we drink and bathe in on a daily basis. That stuff leaves a thin film of grime whatever it touches, fur or throat, that distinct metallic flavor. The filters couldn't get it all out. She likes me.

She introduced us to our own expendability. I hadn't thought about it before, but the first time she flattened a fox with an errant footstep, she shrugged it off. She didn't think much of it at first, just a bit of grime on her foot, but pretty soon she found she liked it. And then we had a problem.

Because it was hard to satisfy the needs of a stomp-happy canine without diminishing our numbers to the breaking point. Because she ground us flat regularly, crumpling a friend or relative into a glowing footprint. We'd find a hazmat suit buried deep in the glassy sludge. Nothing left inside but burned orange fur. She moaned when she did it.

Well, I guess you're right, that is the fastest way to go. Very fatalistic of you. I guess there is no hope for our future anyway. I can't even imagine the sort of abominations the next generation will birth after a lifetime of exposure.

I'm just content to lay here and let myself die. Is the chemo working? Of course not. Everything is Geiger runoff, bathed in her glow, just toxic dog everywhere. My bones feel so brittle. Hollow.

I'll be with you soon.