FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Steady as she goes," the call came over his ear piece. It didn't crackle or buzz, but came through crystal-clear. Technology was a wonderful thing, Desert thought, as his small Survey Ship scanned through the space junk.

"Big Mama, this is SS Minnow," Desert replied, his eyes dancing across the data flowing across his screen. "You're freaking high-larious."

There was a chuckle on the line, "Yeah, I know. But autopilot takes away from all the jokes I could crack about your flying skills, Sandy." Desert winced at the nickname. He didn't find it amusing at all, but what could you do?

"Find anything out there," the operator was one of many that monitored all the survey ships in different regions of space. If a ship found anything, they reported it. The headquarters vessel began filing the paperwork while the survey ship inspected and investigated. Any finds were split between the Scavenger and HQ.

Desert thumbed through his sensors, "Only thing I've encountered out here is your horrible sense of humor. Now if you would excuse me, I have hours of endless space to..." His voice trailed off.

There was a slight reading, very minor, but still there. One of his long-range dishes was picking up a bit of 'ping' off of something. It could just be some sort of system error, but if it wasn't? "Pay dirt," he whispered.

"What was that," the operator asked, humor gone from his voice.

"This is Scavenger Delta Three Five, I've got something on the sensors. I'm altering my course, bearing tree-niner-niner."

"Copy, SS Minnow, please send periodic updates every hour. I am obligated to tell you that if we do not receive the updates, we will send a contingent of HQ's Soldiers to rescue you or what remains of you. Should this happen, your percentage of the claim will decrease from 50% to 10% due to operational costs. Is this understood?"

Desert chuckled, "Roger that, Big Mama. If I ain't reporting on a big find, then I'm dead. There's no way I'm giving up 40% of anything!"

With that, he turned off his communication array and began to make adjustments to his ship's systems. He set a small timer on his suit to remind him at 45 minute intervals to send a report, just in case. One might never know what could happen out there and he believed in being prepared. His small survey ship skimmed through floating debris. Some of it was rock, some of it wasted metal. This entire sector had once been a massive military installation, one of the biggest that had ever been constructed in space. Planet garrisons weren't counted in that estimate. Nonetheless, thirty years ago, a war had broken out between two planets. It had spread, different species choosing sides. Twenty-five years and billions of lives later, the war was over. No one knew who had won and honestly, they didn't care anymore.

The Scavengers were the underprivileged, those hit hardest by the war. This was their only chance to somehow make it in life. To sort through the ruins, find what could be used, and sell it to whatever political structure remained. Scavengers didn't care about the higher-ups and their politics. They just did what they had to in order to survive.

Desert was a refugee from the war. His whopping five foot nine inches of lean body meant he wasn't going to be hired as muscle. His species, skunk, meant he wasn't going to be hired anywhere else. So he fell in with the Scavengers, who didn't care that one whit about who or what he was.

Desert's systems notified him when he was close. Despite the decrease in distance, his systems were barely registering anything. He hoped to all that could be holy that it wasn't just some stupid systems malfunction. But if it wasn't...the only thing that could ping like that and not come up on any other scanners would be some seriously expensive metals. Probably forged for specific, high-grade purposes. That meant ship plates or perhaps some chunk of the installation. Forged metals weren't often found floating in space freely. At least, not in large enough quantities to have any great value.

As the numbers representing his distance from the object decreased, he became more and more frustrated. Nothing else was being picked up whatsoever. Just that little tiny ping! Desert finally gave up on his more extensive survey equipment and turned on the visuals. It wasn't something anyone did lightly. The space around his ship was filled with slabs of metal, rock, and pieces of bodies. The remainders of great vessels floated by, fragments forgotten on the edge of space. The remains of so many lives drifted with the remnants of their work. It was not a pleasant sight. Still, Desert peered through the depths of blackness to find his target.

His eyes widened at the sight of an asteroid floating ahead of him. He quickly opened up a small display on the right and did a search. There were no records of such heavenly bodies in this solar system. "Holy cow, pay dirt indeed," he announced to no one but himself. An unrecorded asteroid could hold untold riches in minerals. He might even be able to retire off of this and get himself a place on an actual decent planet. Thoughts of living in real gravity floated through his mind as he brought his survey vessel in closer. He did a quick scan for any readings that might indicate it was claimed and came up empty. Desert reached for his communication array, "Big Mama, this is Delta Three Five. I've got a find that needs to be registered as fast as possible! An asteroid. Unmarked and all mine!"

The voice in his ear popped back, "Haha, good one, Sandy. No way is there an asteroid just floating around without someone..."

Desert interrupted him, "Check your screen, I'm transmitting the data now." He waited for the response.

"Holy mother of... Uh, roger that Delta Three Five, HQ copies. I've got your data, we'll begin the filing process with the sector municipality immediately. And you're one lucky son of a gun."

Desert powered down his comms array and reset the timer on his suit. He was gonna be rich! He directed his ship in closer to begin taking samples. He would probably have to call in one of the mining companies, but he could afford the loss. It was as he was pulling in closer that his sharp eyes caught something unusual. The asteroid was only lightly pitted. Small craters here and there, probably from micrometeoroids. There was one such depression that ended in a flat surface instead of a bowl-shape. Desert adjusted his course to get even closer. The ship hadn't quite analyzed the rotation of the asteroid, so he had to be careful with any close operations, but he could risk this.

As he got nearer, it became apparent that the crater wasn't natural. It had been carved. Some might ask how Desert had deduced this. "Well, my good self. It's quite simple really... The freaking docking bay doors built into the side of the damn thing!" He wasn't quite sure how or why, but they were there. There were no beacons or signals. No identifying markers on the surface to notify anyone that this piece of space rock was claimed or owned by anyone. In fact, even this close to the surface, he was barely picking up the metal underneath the surface.

Desert sighed, rubbing his nose slowly. There was always an exception. He knew he had to do the right thing. He carefully opened up his communications array to open broadcast, "Hello, station asteroid. Please come in. Hello?" He waited for an answer from what was obvious some kind of hidden base. He would apologize for stumbling on it, and then leave. Another day, another waste. Minutes passed and no answer, so he tried again, "Unknown Station, please respond. This is Survey Vessel Delta Three Five, over." He waited again. Nothing.

"Alrighty, Desert, old boy. You've got a hanger door without any response. That means whomever was inside probably is dead. That might mean some seriously bad stuff in there. So what do you do? The smart thing, right?" He scanned the hanger and then tried sending a series of codes to it. The codes were meant to open various automated hanger doors. They included sixty-five different systems run by various species. Desert hoped it didn't work. Sadly, it did. "Smart thing, right," he asked himself as he began to move his survey ship into the now open hanger. "Yeah, right," he scoffed.

As his ship drifted in, the programmed docking procedures took over. Data still streamed in, though Desert had the visuals running too. It showed a standard military hanger layout, with enough space for multiple supply and transport ships to dock. In fact, the interior of the hanger was massive considering there was only a single external entrance leading in. Once his ship completed docking operations, Desert released the magnetic harness that held his shoulders and hips in place. Once free of the pilot's chair, he stretched and stood. His body had been sitting for hours, but he was used to it. It took a few minutes to release his suit from the ship's life support. That done, his space suit turned on its own systems, which could sustain him for a few hours if need be.

His ship was very basic. It had one single space for a pilot and the rest was all sensors. It had never been designed for luxury. Once Desert stepped down from his chair, he only had to take two steps to reach the ship's hatch. He waited for the green from the docking systems that said the hanger doors had closed and sealed. His suit could handle space if need be, but this was not a 'need be' situation. The system blinked once, then showed green. Desert pressed a single button and the hatch slowly unsealed. Inside, a small cube-shaped space waited for him. He grabbed the handles and pulled himself in. It wasn't big, but it didn't have to be. He had to tuck his feet in before he pressed another button, closing the inner door. Once that resealed, the outer door unsealed itself, preserving the atmosphere inside his ship.

Desert had expected to be able to push himself out the hatch, floating free inside the hanger. Instead, when he pushed himself out of the small space, his body fell to the floor. Luckily, his thick tail cushioned most of the fail, even through the padded material he wore.

"Great. Just great, artificial gravity systems in place. Yeah, totally should check that next time before leaving the ship. Just brilliant." Self-berating complete, he stood. He turned one way and then another. All the docking pads had paths leading to a central location which had a single large door leading elsewhere. While Desert had no clue where "elsewhere" went, he decided he should find out.

Before he left the ship, he activated an active link to his communication array, "Big Mama, this is Delta Three Five. Checking in. I'm...conducting a close-to-surface survey. How do you copy?"

The ear piece replied, "Good copy. Paperwork has already started over here. Keep checking in. Out."

He reset the timer once more and then started walking down the stark grey walkway. It was the only thing dark in here. Everything else was very white, including the walls. At the end of the path, a single door waited for him. "Okay, Desert, old buddy, old pal. You've made it this many years. All you have to do now is not die. First sign of a dead body, we book it out of here, got it? Got it."

Next to the door, a touchpad rested on the wall. He pressed it, hoping once again that it wouldn't work. It did, just to spite him. The door slid open into a huge room with a line of metal benches on either side. Behind those benches were hooks built into the wall. Some kind of processing room probably, he thought. He stepped inside carefully. No signs of corpses, which was a good thing. The door slid shut behind him automatically. Once it shut, a hissing sound began. Desert, feeling a sudden panic, began looking everywhere he could with his limited suit visor. There was no sign of gases leaking in, so what was that hissing sound? He glanced down at his right wrist, where a single scanner had been conveniently built-in.

It wasn't meant for high-tech work, just the simple stuff. It told him that the air pressure was adjusting and the composition was changing to oxygen mixed with nitrogen and minor other trace gases. That meant... He eyed the scanner, tapping it once to check to see if anything in the air was toxic or biological. The scan came back clean. It was breathable. Desert hesitated. He could stay in his suit and keep walking around this place, no problem. It was probably the smart thing to do too. Nope, he mentally corrected. No probably about it, it was the smart thing to do. Except he hated the limited visibility and the stiff movements he was limited to in the suit. So he reached up and removed his helmet with a twist. There was a small click and it came right off. He took a small breath and tasted the air. It was stale, but nothing more. Desert eyed the metal benches along the wall. The hooks made sense now. This was meant to be a place where one could take off your suit and hang it.

"Well, in for a penny..." He removed his entire suit and hung it up. Underneath, he wore only a simple flight suit modified for his big brown and silver furred tail. Suitless, he walked to the other side of the in-processing room. He found, surprisingly, another door. "Ah, my old nemesis, doors. I'm noticing a trend here, old friend. We must really stop meeting like this." He chuckled at his own jokes, then stopped. He decided he had spent far too much time alone in his ship. He pressed the touchpad and this door opened. Beyond it, a hallway stretched in either direction. The air seemed even fresher here, he noticed as he stepped through. Glancing both ways, he saw no indication of any kiosk that could guide him anywhere, so he chose a direction and went that way.

He stopped at the first door he came to. It was marked with a number and a letter in a language he didn't recognize. Still, it had a "1" on it. He decided to leave it alone, since it had no windows letting him look in and see what was inside. He would rather not open a door up and find some disease on the other side. So he walked on and found door "2" with a different foreign letter. Desert touched his earpiece, taking a scan of the letter, and sending it back to the ship. If it was in the ship's database, he would know soon. He kept walking, going past number after number. It wasn't until he reached number 13 that he got a response back from the ship. It was a simple and rather unhelpful 'data not found'.

"Alright then, tried it the regular way, time to try the old-fashioned way. Kicking down doors and chewing...uh...chewing... Whatever it was, I'm out of it, dang it!" He reached for the door's pad and watched it slide open. In spite of himself, he jumped back and flinched slightly.

There was no flesh-eating bacteria monster jumping out at him, which was a good thing. So Desert lowered his paws and casually leaned his head through the opening. Again, no dead bodies. Always good to establish that, he reminded himself. On the left wall, he noticed an incredibly large monitor and some sort of primitive data entry device. It looked like it actually required him to touch it to get what he wanted. On the right wall, a single board dominated the space with all sorts of symbols and marks on it. Curious to see if his ship could analyze the markings, Desert stepped fully inside. It looked like science formulas, but with doodles of some type. He snapped a shot and transmitted the data. That complete, he began to turn towards the computer, but paused.

The back wall, all white, wasn't flat. There was a white tube, the same color as the other walls, extending from the ceiling to the floor. He hadn't noticed it because it blended in so easily with the background. Truly curious, he walked completely around it, noticing its diameter was larger than his arms could ever reach, even if he stretched them out. Full circle complete, he shrugged and went to the computer. The tube had no panels or exciting flashing lights, so he decided it must be for transporting something elsewhere on the station.

Still not understanding the language, and his ship not being very helpful with anything resembling a translation, he decided to just press one of the symbols on the squarish data entry system. As soon as his paw depressed one of them, the screen lit up. A being unlike anything Desert had ever seen before stood on it. It stood on two legs, but also had a massive tail that hung far behind it and dragged on the ground. The being had no scales, but it appeared dragon-like in his muzzle and ears. Unlike the proud dragons, this creature was scrawny, its clothing seeming loose on its frame.

It spoke, "After years of work, we have found the solution to the problem presented us." Desert's eyes widened. After all the language issues, it was speaking Basic, the most common language used between the stars. "We were tasked with finding a way to win the war. Our people spent months debating the most effective means to do so. Weapons were designed and tested by some, while others, such as myself, chose a different route. We believe that our results will speak for themselves." The screen went blank, then came back to life, the same creature looking slightly more haggard, "Our supplies have stopped coming. Our people...are uncomfortable leaving here. We cannot. Our projects are complete. Forty-eight of them, all built to the utmost perfection. Unleash them and you will win the war, we swear it. Please...if anyone gets this message, hurry and get us our supplies. I worry that our mental capacity is dropping and..."

The creature dropped his eyes, "Even if we had the means to leave, our people cannot. I am sorry. We will accept our fate if that is the course of things." The screen blanked again. Desert suddenly knew that there was no way in all the galaxies that he would even attempt to open even one of these 'projects'. If they could win a war, then he didn't need them. He was sure someone else would pay dearly for them though.

He was about to leave when the screen came alive once more, the same reptilian on it, this time looking gaunt. "We...We our dying. Our people accept our fate. We will accept it. War might be over. Don't know. Project. Project is way to future. Our people will release ourselves out airlock, preserved for all time. It best. Please..." The creature's hand stretched towards Desert. Knowing that it was a recording didn't matter, he jumped back, scared. He had seen enough to know these creatures were designed a weapon of war. He wanted nothing to do with them. His body touched the curved wall of the tube. "Take. Care. Her." The screen went blank.

Desert's heart was thumping in his chest. "Well," he began. "That was rather informative. Weapon of war. Win, whatever. Her. Yep, not gonna unleash a beast that could end wars, thanks very much, bye now." He began walking towards the door. Then the grinding sound started.

He didn't turn around. He refused. The grinding continued for a few moments, and then stopped. Desert's heart had stopped. "Oh, why me?" His question to the cosmos was left unanswered as other sounds began. A whir of some kind. He took a deep breath, his mouth suddenly so dry that it could be its own wasteland, and began to turn around. The tube was gone. It had somehow slid into the ceiling or the floor, but he didn't care. What mattered to him was the body hanging by hundreds of wires and tubes from the ceiling.

It didn't have spikes or blades or massive fangs that dripped instant death. It had thick brown hair that dripped fluids onto the floor. The hair was matted around her shoulders in various thick strands. Her eyes were closed, but her chest expanded and went down. The tubes suddenly started to disengage with various clicks and whirs. As Desert watched, the body began to slowly descend lower and lower, fewer and fewer pieces of hardware holding her up. "Oh," he whispered. "Please. Her."

One last wire slid out of her back and she fell a very short distance to the floor with a thud. He wanted to approach her, to check her pulse or something, but he also knew this was some kind of weapon of war. Maybe she shot laser beams out of her mouth or something? She whimpered quietly. It was the whimper that did it. Desert sighed and consigned himself to doom if she was some kind of diabolical evil. He couldn't leave her like that. His terror finally receding, he approached and noticed more than just her hair hanging off her body.

She was bigger than him; he could tell that despite the way her body was drawing in on itself, forming a fetal position. In that position, he could tell that she had a long thick tail, which at the moment stretched away from the rest of her in a ragged appearance. And she was...she was... Desert swallowed audibly. She was beautiful. No, he shook his head in awe. She was more than that. She literally the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Even through the layer of fluids that seemed to coat her entire body, he could tell that she was amazing. She was long and lanky, mostly legs and hips. He coughed and blushed as he noticed that there was a lot of hips there too, seeing as she only seemed to be wearing some kind of green underwear. Panties, he recalled them being called.

Desert reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a small towel. It wasn't much, but it was right. He kneeled down beside her and began to wipe the viscous fluids off her face. She had soft cheeks, he noticed. Her facial fur was brown, with streaks of white running along those cheeks, meeting a muzzle of white. Her ears were a lighter brown than the rest of her, almost a sand-color.

Desert felt his heart beating quicker. Her neck was black fur, stretching down to her body, with dark brown on her shoulders and back. She wore a single white t-shirt. It was moist, but not see-through, thank all that was good. Then her eyes fluttered open and Desert felt his heart say, "Screw it" and just stop for a couple of beats. They were a deep brown. Her eyebrows were natural comma-shaped white lines over those beautiful eyes.

"Um, hello...are you alr-mmmm!" He would have finished the question, except she had grabbed his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Not just a 'kiss,' but the kiss to end all kisses. Her lips, still wet from the fluids, danced over his with such intensity that Desert felt like he'd just been struck by lightning.

She released him and batted her eyes at him, "Hello, Master. I am Rhonda. I am pleased to serve you."

Desert sputtered. It was true, he hadn't had female companionship in a very long time, but that didn't mean that he was going to throw himself at this woman. "Uh...I'm, uh. I'm Desert. Hello."

She smiled at him and his heart did a somersault, "Master Desert, it is my pleasure. Did you want to commence now or later?" She was slowly unfolded her body, flexing fingers and toes and other muscle groups that Desert should not be staring at, but (oh god) he couldn't take his eyes away from.

"I...commence what now," he managed to get out as she slid herself closer to him. This was a very buxom woman, he noticed as she pressed the side of her left breast against his body.

"Commencing," she replied, reaching up to slough the t-shirt off her shoulders. Desert suddenly realized that his body was diverting blood other places. That shirt contained a lot more than just 'buxom'. It contained a whole lot more. He quickly reached out and pulled her shirt back up, "No, no. I meant, what did you want to commence?"

She paused, puzzled, "Reproduction, Master Desert. I am primed and ready to receive your cum. My ovaries can..."

Desert put his paw over her mouth quickly. "You mean...you're designed to reproduce?"

She nodded at him, "Of course. I can bear as many as fifty of your offspring every month. They will be completely natural despite the accelerated conception time. That is why my breasts were designed to..."

Desert cut her off again. "Rhonda, was it," Desert double-checked, releasing his paw from her mouth.

"Yes, Master Desert. I am Red Panda, Rhonda. It is my pleasure to serve you." She tilted her head at him, "Are you not happy with me? I know many techniques that can release your stress in a variety of ways."

It was so very tempting, but he shook his head, "Rhonda. I really appreciate the offer, but not right now. And my name is just Desert, not Master Desert. Just Desert."

She smiled and nodded at him, "Of course, Master Desert."

He sighed, then plunged forward, "Am I...the first person you've ever met?" He took his towel and began wiping the rest of her face and cheeks, which still dripped fluids.

"Of course, Master Desert. But I know what my purpose is and what I am supposed to do. I will not shirk my duties in child-bearing."

Desert understood now what had been done here. How do you win a war of attrition, when both sides had weapons that killed thousands at a time? Genetically engineer a woman that is attractive in every way and give her the ability to reproduce on an accelerated scale. The way to win a war of attrition was to out-populate the opponent. That was the lizard-folk's reasoning. That was what they had programmed these women for.

"We've got a lot of work to do, Rhonda," he told her, standing up. She stood up too. He wished she hadn't. It was easy to miss the way her rump was firm and curved when she was leaning her bountiful 'gifts' against him.

"Oh, you want to get started right now?" Some part of him wanted to take advantage of this offer. It was just so tempting, but there was a problem. When she asked it, it wasn't said sensually. It was said with innocence and open eyes. Very, very enticing eyes.

"No, Rhonda. Not on that. Come on, we've got to get back to my ship and I've got...I've got to make some calls."

She followed him as he walked to the door. He touched the door's pad and it slid open. Together, they walked back towards the hanger. Desert glanced back at her. While she walked, her whole body moved sensually, but her eyes looked everywhere with wide-eyed wonder. She was a child in every way save the one thing that she had been told she was expected to do.

"Well," he told himself. "At least I made the claim to this hunk of rock. I guess that makes you all mine." She turned to look at him and squealed with absolute delight on an octave that Desert wasn't certain had existed before.

She threw herself at him, knocking him back onto the floor. "Yay, I belong to Master Desert!" As he watched, but before his brain could get its functions together, she leaned her head down and grabbed her shirt with her teeth, beginning to lift it upwards. Her bosom began to flow out the bottom, spilling out like water into a new container.

"No, no! Rhonda, not sexy time!"

She paused, shirt still in her mouth. "Uuu suure?" As he watched, her areolas began to slowly slip out of the shirt and he knew what would follow those very large black circles.

"Yes! I'm sure."

She gave him a weak whimper, but released her shirt from her teeth. He sighed loudly in relief as she pulled it down to cover her chest. "You say not yet, but when," she whined, her hips pressing against his. She was moving her hips back and forth too, like a dog wagging its tail.

Desert placed a hand over his face and tried to clear his thoughts, "Maybe...maybe later. Much later." It was the only answer he was sure would suffice for now.

"Yay," she chirped, her body leaping upwards in a move that shook its fist at gravity. She began leaping around the room, arms in the air. Her whole body, massive thick tail and all, swayed and shook. As Desert got an eyeful of her thick shapely thighs and buttocks, he knew that he was about to be in for a very long flight home in a very cramped space.

He closed his eyes and asked silently of whomever was watching over him, "Do you just hate me? Because this just isn't fair." There was no answer, but he knew there wouldn't be. Space didn't answer back. He stood up, dusted off some imaginary dust, then nodded to Rhonda, "Let's get going." He wasn't sure quite yet what he was going to do with this sexually charged red panda woman, let alone whatever the 47 others looked like. Still, he knew that he was honor-bound to do the right thing for them. Plus, he still planned to sell whatever he could off this secret installation. He only hoped it would be enough to give these girls a chance at a life other than what they had been genetically designed for.

"Damnit," Desert whispered under his breath. "That planet-side home is gonna have to wait a few more years."

Rhonda paused her jubilations, "What was that, Master Desert?"

He waved it off and chuckled, "Nothing, Rhonda. And it's just Desert. No Master."

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, "Whatever you say, Master Desert." He sighed once more. His ship didn't have a lot of space and there was a lot of Rhonda. It was going to be a very long ride home.