FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Exiting the train, I step onto employee arrival platform nineteen for NexWay Distribution Headquarters 864. With everyone here for the same thing, it's a kaleidoscope of colors to get to the rotary stall to check in, with just a few lone wolves breaking off to the managerial entrance. Once again in another queue, I relax a little bit as a look around.

For the longest time, NexWay had the strictest dress code outside the NexArm strike teams. Eventually, though, the upper brass realized that while the delivery men of the conglomerate needed regulation uniforms for safety and utility, the only reason they should be regulation color was if they were all prison orange and employees where never allowed to leave the facilities.

After two weeks of prison orange, a few members of management were made redundant and everyone else was allowed to go home and pick out a personal color for their new jumpsuit.

I don't catch sight of anyone from my work group, and eventually reach the front of the line without incident. Swiping my phone over the scanner, I digitally punch in and push my way through the rotary to the lobby.

While not necessarily rustic, the lobby and indeed most Distribution Headquarters 864 was designed with a red brick train station in mind. There were several bronze moldings and pieces of wooden trim as well, but it was all peripheral vision with no structures blocking the flow of traffic. After all, a distribution headquarters was for internal NexCorp business only. We didn't have any customers to impress here, just employee morale and the occasional inspectors from Division 001.

Maneuvering through the crowd, I make my way down a memorized pattern of hallways. Routine might be the temptress of stagnation, but when your job involved getting things from point A to point B multiple times per day she was a welcome roommate. I eventually make it to locker room 62 with little hassle.

Breathing once or twice to brace myself for anything, I push open the door and see what my coworkers are going to throw at me today.

"Hey, Mahir!" The call comes from a bulky lion in deep blue jumpsuit. His name was Clyde Richmen, and he was an OK guy. At least as far as what little interaction I've had with him could tell. "Trying out a new hair gel? Seem to have gotten a little extra just there."

The lion makes a move to swipe my hair, and a hold up a hand to stop him. "It's not hair gel. Someone at the work line decided they were in enough of a rush to shift to a gelatinous cube and mow their way through the line. Again."

Clyde pulls back as I make my way to my locker. Here I can't use my phone, instead dialing the last five digits of my serial number, 32407. As I'm doing that, Clyde responds with, "Isn't that the third time this week?"

"It's the second time this week," I respond as I store my phone in the locker and start unlacing my boots. "But is also the fifth time this month." Kicking off my boots into the locker's bottom chamber, I add, "I'm going to grab a quick shower before my first shift. Anything I should know?" I glance over my shoulder at Clyde, doing my best to not appear self conscious. I assume I fail horribly just by default.

Clyde, for his part, just shrugs. "Just that Hartfield is already in there. Otherwise looks like a straight up two nighter" He pats me once on the shoulder, and I suppress the urge to jump at physical contact. As he walks away, I breath a sigh of relief, and finish stripping the jumpsuit.

Tossing the jumpsuit also in the bottom chamber of the locker followed by my socks, I put my glasses into the top chamber and then shut the locker. Despite the routine, I smile as the automated laundry function kicks on my jumpsuit and boots. Distribution Headquarters 864 might look old fashioned, but it was still a high tech NexCo facility.

Walking to the shower, I note that not just one but two showers are running. While I briefly wonder who could be taking a shower that Clyde wouldn't warn me about, I shake the thought away as I head towards an empty stall.

Stepping into the shower and pulling the curtain close, I finally remove my undershirt and boxerbriefs. With those in one hand, I direct my attention towards the cubby at the back of the locker. Pressing my free hand against the door to the cubby I wait as a blue light runs across my body, scanning to see what was my gender, species, and level of grim.

The light stops, and after a moment the cubby beeps and slides open. Inside is a special body shampoo just for potentially parasitic jells. My jumpsuit was being treated with a similar detergent, and in a few moments so would my undergarments as I switch them for the shampoo and close the cubby. The amount of smart facilities in a NexCo facility was sometimes staggering.

With all my cloths now being degooed, I get to work on myself. I won't bore you with the details. Needless to say, I'm eventually fully clean. Shutting off the water, I wait for a moment... and nothing happens. Raising an eyebrow, I turn around and check the cubby.

Inside, I find a towel and a half circle piece of parchment. Picking up the very familiar piece of paper, and flip it over and see what it's serial number is... and sigh when I recognize it. As said moments ago, the smart systems in NexCo where sometimes staggering. Both in their automation... and their precognitive ability to save time for the company.

Taking a few breaths in and out, I slip the paper into my mouth like it was the world's flimsiest retainer. Knowing what is about to come, I close the shampoo bottle and place it on the shower flower. Closing my eyes type and bracing both arms against the shower wall, I breath in deep once and the bite down.

I immediately feel as if someone just walked over my grave... only it doesn't stop with just one convulsion by instead moves from just my spine to all my extremities and just buzzes constantly. It's disorienting, and if I hadn't braced myself I'd have fallen over. It is only the beginning though, as all my skin spontaneously itches all at once. I resist the urge to scratch, both because it won't help and because if I move my arms out of their locked position I'd fall over.

Then the real pain hits. With a distorted crack, I feel my bones start to reshape. While it happens to small degrees all over my body, I mostly feel and hear it in my face where the most changes need to take place... not to mention cracking sound amplifies and distorts itself directly into my ear drums. It's a wonder I don't go deaf.

All this is in the first thirty to fifty seconds, which is about the point where a where I force myself to slowly exhale. It's all to keep myself from screaming as the vertebrae of my tail grind themselves to dust, and my jaw resets itself four to six inches small. Least disturbing is the growth of my nose into something more angular, but that is overshadowed easily by my sinus passages distorting themselves as my ear canals settle in a new place.

Eventually it's all over and I can trust myself to breath again... and for a moment that is all I can do. In and out, letting the last of the shivers run through me. This was only my first shift of the day. I have to shake this off and move on.

Shifts, those half circle pieces of paper, where very old NexCo tech. Tracing their ways back to the first days of the company, they never saw commercial production. Still, they were cheap to print out, and had their benefits for those who had to transform several times in a single day.

For one thing, can you imagine having an orgasmic transformation six times in a nine to five work day? You'd barely have time to do actual work.

Breathing finally down to a normal rate, I open my eyes again and look myself over. Yep, human yet again. Reaching into the still open cubby I grab... open air. Puzzled, I turn around to look, only to notice the light was wrong. This fact barely has time to register before my ears are filled with, "Sup, Porkrind."

I turn around with a jump, which is a bad idea as my feet slip and I fall flat on my tailbone on the cold and wet shower floor. I count my fortunes that I didn't bite my tongue off, though given what is happening, good luck of any sort has little to do with it. I manage to open my eyes through the pain and look up at the looming darkness in the shower stall. "Justin, I really wish you'd get this jock phase out of your system."

"Nope, sorry Porkrind. This is the new me. Deal with it," the lupine beamed down at me. And I'll admit, the wolf had grounds to be proud. Justin Hartfield was huge. While in most my forms I averaged a six foot three, Justin's base form these days towered over me by about eight inches. His hips were lean yet wider than my waistline, while his shoulders wide enough create that perfect vee. Packed onto this frame was an almost comical amount of muscle.

Which is exactly what he was, comical. Oh, don't get me wrong. Justin was as attractive as an industrial magnet; to me muscles were always attractive on a guy. But attractive doesn't mean arousing. The difference was a little hard to put to words, but let's just say that while I'd jack off to pictures of Justin all day long I'd never want to have sex with him. Standards of personality have nothing to do about it; he's just not attractive in that way.

Realizing I was staring slightly, I avert my gaze and subconsciously place both hands over my crotch. "Just give me back my towel, Justin. We're adults, not high schoolers." Besides, real jocks don't actually pick on nerds.

Not that I wouldn't have minded if they at least noticed me.

As I mentally headlock and piledrive the intrusive voice, Justin smirks and places both hands on his hips. "Sorry kid, you're going to have to earn it today." Raising an eyebrow, I shut off my mental blinders long enough to glance at his package and... yep, his cock was fully erect.

Looking straight back up again, I sigh and raise an eyebrow. "I am earning it. This is my job. OUR job. Seriously, are you and your right hand having a spat? Go back to your stall and beat one out."

Of course it would be nice to just wrap my lips around... Not even going to let that intrusive voice finish that thought. Mental ground pound with a twenty ton stone pillar.

Justin raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to growl at me or something?"

Averting my gaze to the left, and huff, "Wouldn't be if you'd just give me back my towel and get out of here." I hate it when other people notice the little guttural sub vocalized sound effects I reactively provide to my mental images. It's hard to explain, and sometimes you just don't want to.

"Listen here Porkrind, if you don't..." Justin begins.

"How about you listen yourself." A new voice rings from behind Justin's hulking frame. I turn my attention towards it, as does Justin. Most I can see if some furred legs between Justin's own. Justin though appears to take notice. "Guy said no. So give him his stuff and back off."

Justin turns around, but as I said before his musculature was comically large. Even from the side I don't get a better view of who would interlope between a bully and his target. "Hey, back off newbie, this doesn't involve you."

Whoever it is, steps up Justin and... it does appear that they just as tall if not taller than the wolf. "It involves me if I'm going to work here. I can't have people on my team forcing themselves on each other. I won't stand for it."

I can hear the beginning of Justin starting to interject, but more importantly I see him relax his grip on my towel. Seizing the opportunity, I snag the towel and pull the curtain closed. I wait to see if the curtain is going to swing open again, but Justin really appears to be arguing with... whoever that was. I can't actually hear them, mind you. NexCo did some wonders on soundproofing a dangling plastic sheet.

Would probably make a killer in horror movies.

Brushing the thought aside, I stand up and start drying myself off. Which is much easier to do as a human than as a rat, the entire reason the cubby supplied me with the shift for first destination of the day. As said before, it was sometimes scary how predictive the intelligence systems where behind NexCo technologies.

Not that I wasn't still a furry fuzzball, even as a human. I was half persian, half european. I basically had normal caucasian skin and more body hair than any human had any right to having. Seriously, I shed more as a human than I ever do as a fur. Grew up with hair carpeting the corners of the house growing up.

And yes, I did grow up human. This brown eyed, brown haired, hairy overweight six foot man was essentially me as I was before I started working deeper in the Conglomerate. Not that I considered it me anymore. When you work in interdimensional delivery, your form had to be... flexible.

Finishing off drying myself, I reach down and pick up the shampoo bottle from where I put it before my shift. I then deposit it and the towel back in the cubby and wait a few seconds. When I open the cubby one more time, I find my undergarments freshly washed.

...well, that or atomized and molecularly reconstructed. You never really know with the Conglomerate.

Getting dressed, I make sure the cubby is secure closed before opening the curtain to find... a musclebound atlas of a cross fox just milling about right outside the showers. You know how I said Justin was attractive but not appealing? This fox before me might have been mathematically larger than Justin, but he just... wore it better. Where Justin was all rounded bulging biceps and triceps and whatever ceps all fighting for room, the fox before me was hard cut perfection with edges like a sheer cliff face.

There are a lot of hot guys in the Conglomerate given the nature of the product we sell. There was no getting around it and I wouldn't be sentient anymore if I just went brain dead the second one walked by. But when you catch someone unaware... sometimes you can't be blamed for ogling.

Oh, they'll blame me all right. Tie me up, turn me around and stick their dick up my...

I mentally cut off the intrusive voice right there with an iceberg that would sink the titanic twice over. The unintentional subvocalization unfortunately catches the attention of the cross fox and I have to force myself to make eye contact.

"Oh, hey," he says turning around to greet me, "Listen, don't let that guy get to you." He flashes a big grin that makes my heart just flip a little bit, even with the extended canines. "Don't know how things were before, but I'm here now and I won't stand for anything like that."

I pause for a moment. I had a two week shift last saturday, so not all the recent work emails where recent to me, but still... "You're Geffroy? The new delivery agent who started yesterday?" Sunday was one of my days off, so of course this was our first actual meeting.

Not as if you'd ever forget a solid beefcake like...

The intrusive thought receives a swift cast iron frying pan to the face, followed by a three sixty spin to deliver one to the back of the head, finished off the dropping an entire kitchen department on them. If I subvocalized at all, Geffroy doesn't notice. "I prefer Jeff," he responds, extending a hand attached to a solid piston of marble majesty.

I take the hand casually, and of course he gives me a firm handshake. Once I know what kind of handshake he wants I do my best not to act like he's squeezing clay, but honestly... I never understood the firm handshake thing. I always thought touching another human being should be... gental. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jeff..."

I'll sa...

Before even that simple sentence can be finished, a land mine goes off under the intrusive voice. I continue without missing a beat, "...I'm Benjamin. Benjamin Mahir. And don't worry about Justin. We're actually friends. He just... restructured who he is recently. Let it get a bit more too his head than he should of and I'm not letting him just roll with it."

Geffroy raises an eyebrow, "Restructured?"

I grin, "You'll figure it out eventually." Before he can respond, I add, "But really, don't worry. NexCorp has a very firm policy against assault and battery," I say, gesturing at him for emphasis. Realizing what I just did, I quickly change my hand gestures to holding my fingers pinched closed before my eyes. "They just also have an almost nonexistant policy regarding sexual harassment. So he can talk all he wants, but he can't lay a hand on me."

Or dick.

I let that one slide as I walk out of the showers and back into the locker proper. Both Justin and Clyde were there, and the inseparable Harry and Edmund had arrived. The married couple were currently dalmatians. I don't know what they began as, but ever since getting hitched they'd been trying to find a good form to settle down and adopt a family with. It was kind of cute, though personally I think they were just extending the honeymoon.

In any case, for the morning of Monday's shift that should be it. I walk to my locker and type in my pass code again. It opens up, and I find my phone and glasses where I left them. My boots and jumpsuit, on the other hand, are neatly hanging on the side. Once again I wonder if they really are the same cloths or if they had been atomized and recreated. After all, it washed leather boots and jumpsuit fabric in the same load.

Oh, and cotton socks, speaking of which I retrieve my socks from inside the boots and pull them on. They aren't a perfect fit, but the smart fibers get to work adjusting them to my human form as soon as I touch them so they soon only fit about as imperfectly as they did on me as a rat.

"So, Jeff," I say to Geffroy as I quickly slip into my jumpsuit, "Yesterday was your orientation, right." This garners a pause from Harry and Edmund's shameless public cuddling, and draws their attention along with Justin and Clyde to the newcomer. Given the recent humiliation, Justin was downright venomous, but even the others looks just a little bit predatory.

"Yeah. Just two weeks of going over protocols, procedure, and policy," Geffory says, ruffling his head fur. "Thinking back there was so much stuff I'm not even sure if I remembered all of it."

Smiling, I pass on putting on my boot after buttoning up my jumpsuit and instead just lean back against the locker. "So, today is going to be your first shift then."

"Well, yeah," he says, clearly not getting what I was getting at. He even went so far as to tilt his head to the side like a dog does when they are really paying attention to you.

Clyde, by this point, breaks into the conversation as he strides over in his dark green jumpsuit. "What Benjamin means is this." The lion holds up the very family half circle of paper. "In your orientation they probably called this Proto Restructuring Whatever Whatever. In the field, we call these shifts."

Geffroy raises an eyebrow, and then laughs out loud. "Oh, shift. As in both work shift and transformation. You think the person who coined that transferred to marketing, because that is top notch wordplay."

Clyde shrugs, "Don't know. The thing you have to understand with shifts though, is that they aren't marketable.

Geffroy tilts his head again, "Isn't that a bit counterproductive? I mean, orientation says we'll be using Proto... I mean shifts... multiple times per day. Why wouldn't we sell them."

Justin grins predatorily as he walks up next to Cylde with his own shift in hand. He's only wearing a jockstrap, which makes me roll my eyes slightly but not much. It's a common thing. "The thing is, newbie... the Proto in Proto Restructuring Film Zero Seven... Proto stands for prototype. And it's technically a failure."

Geffroy looks visibly shocked for a moment, "But... why would it be used every day if it was a failed prototype?" He appears to be perspirating slightly now... which given he was still in his boxers gave the fur covering his sculpted body a slight sheen. It takes a lot of willpower not to just ogle him right now.

Harry and Edmund walk up now in their matching black and white jump suits, both also flipping their shifts between their fingers. Edmund starts, "Oh, they work all right." And Harry finishes, "But they have side effects."

Geffroy visably swallows, "Um... what kind of side effects."

The entire group pauses and then collectively looks at me. I hold up my hands in defence. "Sorry guys. The smart system gave me my first shift in the shower." There's a chorus of groans and face palms, which if anything confuses Geffory even more until...

"Wait a second," the crossfox says as he raises an accusing finger, "This is all just a bunch of hazing. Nothing happens at all, does it?" He's grins broadly at having figured it all out. Oh, if only he wasn't in a room of professionals.

"Yeah, sure newb." Justin says as he strides foreward next to the crossfox, "Complete and total hazing. Not like NexCo would make their employees use something dangerous. You just pop the shift into your mouth," He actively does so, "Mand mit diwsolves mlike..." He pauses his horrendous act of talking with his mouth full, suddenly looking like he's choking.

I do my best not to smile, and instead put on a poker face as the show begins. Justin, for his part, hams it up masterfully. As his ears flair out and his claws retract, he makes an exaggerated show of not being able to breath as he convulses standing up. His yellow eyes shift red, and his tail both elongates and retracts its hairs.

Clyde pats Justin on the back, using the action to draw the shocked Geffroy's attention over to him. "Don't let brickhouse here be your benchmark, kid. He and Benjamin were the newbies before you showed up." He slips the paper into his mouth, "Thmis mis mho ah mrophsional..." On que, Clyde grips his stomach in pain... and then just as suddenly leans back and roars in pain.

I watch curiously for a moment as the hairs on Clyde's hands completely retracts, along with the hair on his face. While it's just a suspicion at first, it's when they take on a black hue that my suspicions are confirmed. I didn't realize we had any Gorilla worlds out there.

I have a role in the entire serade too, of course, and turn back to my locker, pull out my stuff, and make an exaggerated show of slamming it shut. At that moment I know that Geffroy would be looking directly at me. Without looking at him or the others, I sit down on one of the benches and start lacing my boots back up.

I take my time, not even looking up when Edmund and Harry start hollering. Those love birds can be a hams at time, and I need to be composed for my part rather than rolling on the floor laughing. It's only when everything finally calms down that I look up.

Once I do look up, I find Justin is a mouse... a seven foot muscle bubble of a mouse... Clyde is a gorilla, Edwin is human, and Harry... some sort of bushy tailed weasel with antlers? In any event, the important part is that they are all collapsed in exaggerated exhaustion while Geffroy stares on in terror. Standing up, I walk over to the crossfox and almost cause him to jump out of his first when I place my hand on his firm broad shoulder.

"Come on," I say with as wide a smiles as I can manage, "Let's see what your first shift is." I'll admit I almost feel like ending the entire thing when all the blood drains from his cute little face. Swallow, though, he turns around and slowly starts entering the code to his locker. Twenty very drawn out seconds later, he locker swings open, and we find his light blue jumpsuit and boots... and nothing else.

Geffory, goes into panic mode searching, going so far as to look in his boot before I start laughing... followed quickly by everyone else.

Eventually, it's Clyde who picks himself off the floor first. "It was probally mentioned deep within all that orientation they drowned you with, but you won't be using shifts for the first week." He pats Clyde on the shoulder. "You'll have enough trouble keeping entire realities straight at first. No reason to tack on species."

As I pick myself up and make sure all my gear is gathered, Geffroy's massive frame was currently trying to look the part of a mouse. "So... it really was all hazing? The shifts don't really hurt?"

I pause in slipping my phone into my breast pocket, "Oh no. They hurt like hell."

"But you get used to it," Justin adds as he FINALLY gets out his light blue jumpsuit from his locker.

I didn't stay to see Geffroy's reaction. I had work to do, after all.