FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“What the hell you doin’ over there?”

“Nothing,” Meadow insisted, distractedly. The petite, gold-and-cream harvest mouse was holding her phone in front of her face. Tilting her muzzle this way and that.

Petra, her rat co-worker, squinted from her separate desk. “Takin’ selfies?”

“I’m just using it to look at myself … ”

“Don’t you got a mirror in that fancy purse o’ yours?”

“No. And it’s not fancy.”

“It has flowers on it. Flowers are fancy,” the brown rat insisted.

“Since when?”

“Since always.” Petra did a lazy, full-circle spin in her swivel chair.

Meadow rolled her blue eyes, looking at herself a bit longer before putting her phone down.

It was nearly 8:30 in the morning.

The mouse was a part-time receptionist at a dental office (currently three days a week). With appointments on the hour, they were between ‘waves’ of patients.

“Out with it, Girly. What’s up?” Petra asked.

The mouse sighed, turning her chair to face the rat. “Is my … does my muzzle look like it’s getting a little … mm, well … ”

“Go on.”

“Silver?”

“Silver?” the rat echoed.

“Yeah … ”

Petra tilted her head. “You mean grey?”

“No! When you have gold fur, you don’t get grey. You get silver.”

“Psh!”

“It’s true!”

“They’re practically the same thing. One just sounds better than the other.”

Meadow’s whiskers twitched, not wanting to argue the distinction. “But … am I? Getting that?”

“Hmm.” Petra gave her friend a close look. “Sure, a little? Round the edges there. The sides.” She pointed with her tail. “When the light hits it right, it’s kinda noticeable.”

Meadow sighed.

“What?”

“You don’t know how to pull punches, do you?”

Petra frowned, finally putting it together. “You think you’re gettin’ old?”

“I’m not getting old. I am old! I’m forty. And, apparently, a literal greymuzzle.”

“_Silver_muzzle,” the rat corrected with a smirk.

Meadow gave her an annoyed look.

“And what about it?” Petra asked. “Happens to everyone, eventually.”

“How old are you, again?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Mm.”

“Girly, stop frettin’. You still got it.”

“I do?”

“Hell, yeah. You’re a total MILF.”

“MILF?”

“Mouse I’d Like to—"

“Petra!”

“Well, it’s true. You’re welcome to join my polycule any time.”

“Mm. I’m sure Fib would love that,” Meadow said, of her mate. Petra and Fib got along well enough, but they weren’t particularly close.

“Hey, if I need to include him to get to you, I’ll do it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think he’s attractive? He’s very handsome!”

“Nah, only cute. And he’s a total nerd. Ruins the vibe.”

“Isn’t Eagan a nerd?” Meadow pressed, of one of the rat’s poly partners. A chipmunk who worked in web design.

“Yeah, but he’s easy to influence. Like you. He’s not some bigshot local celebrity. When you hitch a ride with this rat? I’m in the driver’s seat.”

Meadow’s whiskers twitched.

Fib, a fellow harvest mouse, was younger than Meadow. At thirty-four, he was unusually extroverted and go-getting for a mouse and was a meteorologist for the highest-rated Indianapolis TV station.

‘Fib the Morning Mouse! Part of Sunrise Indy! Weekdays from 5 to 9, only on Channel 13!’

They had met here in the dentist office.

Six years ago.

When he’d just arrived the area, shortly after taking his job, Fib had come in for a general checkup and tooth cleaning and had shamelessly flirted with Meadow upon arrival and departure.

His charm offensive had obviously worked.

Petra interrupted Meadow’s thoughts by pointing out, “What are you worried about, exactly? You’re still a MILF to Fibster, too. Gold or silver. He’s a nerd, but he’s crazy horny for you. It’s always on his face. And I guess he probably loves you, too.”

“Probably, huh? And stop calling me a MILF.” Meadow turned back to her computer and started working on some files. She quickly gave up, sighing and slumping in her chair. Her prehensile tail wavered and curled in the air. “Did you know I’m now older than both my parents were? When they … passed?”

“Didn’t know that.”

Meadow sighed. She rubbed her cheeks. “Just makes me so self-conscious. I feel like I’m on borrowed time or something.” She shook her head and hugged herself. “It’s … I mean, it was health issues, you know? For both of them. So, that means I almost certainly inherited something, and—”

“You’re gonna drive yourself loony thinkin’ that way.”

“I can’t help it.”

“You’re just havin’ a mid-mouse crisis.”

“That’s not a real thing.” Wait. Was it?

The rat shrugged. “You’ve made it this far. That’s somethin’. As for the rest of the way? View it as a bonus. Take it step by step. You got people that love ya. That’s all that matters.”

Meadow smiled faintly. “That might be the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I’ll deny it if anyone asks,” Petra swore.

Meadow giggled, expecting nothing less

The conversation ended when the phone rang and a customer came through the door, forcing the rodents to get back to work.

The next day, Meadow woke up and groggily stumbled out of bed. Eyes half-open, she bumped into something. Was it the dresser? The wall? Whatever it was, it hurt.

Squeak!

“Ouch … ouch … ”

Whimpering and rubbing her bruises, she was forced to shuffle back and flop into bed again.

She covered her pointy face with her furless paws, trying to rub the sleep away.

Grabbing her phone, she checked the time.

8:05 AM?!

Her blue eyes widened.

Staring at the ceiling, she frowned.

It wasn’t even that early. She’d been in bed for nine hours!

Why don’t I feel rested?

I should feel like my weight in gold!

She looked down at her naked body.

Which isn’t too much, but still.

She reached at her sides above her hips.

Did I used to be this curvy?

Are those ‘love handles?’

Next, she checked her breasts.

Mm.

They still look good.

I think?

How can I tell if I’m still attractive if I don’t feel like I am?

Of course, Fib was biased, so he wouldn’t be able to give her a straight answer.

And Petra had already confessed she was horny for her.

Her mind, racing on a wheel, was flooded with so many worries and doubts. Her long-simmering self-esteem issues coming to a rolling boil.

Step by step, remember?

Stay in the moment.

She stretched her arms over her head, bunching up the sheets in frustration.

Still tired.

Waking up had been easier when she’d been younger.

Hadn’t it?

She tried to think back, she but couldn’t remember it ever being that way.

But it must have been!

You’re just forgetting.

Forgetfulness. What’s that a symptom of? You better look into it!

Fib woke up with so much energy to begin each day! She wasn’t that much older than him.

I mean …

It would help if she could sleep a whole night through.

How many times had she woken up last night?

Three? Four?

She always woke up when Fib’s alarm went off at 3:50 AM.

Then a few more times to use the bathroom.

Then once for whatever random reason. Hearing a noise. Jump-scared awake by a nightmare.

There’s such a thing as light sleepers and heavy sleepers. Maybe you’re just a naturally light sleeper.

Hmm.

Maybe.

Or maybe something was wrong with her.

Yes.

That had to be it!

Her pulse quickened as she imagined all the horrible things it might be.

You’re doing it again.

Try those breathing exercises you saw online.

In.

Hold four seconds.

Out.

Four seconds.

_Breathe back in. _

Was it helping?

Her whiskers twitched.

I feel the same.

Giving up and grabbing her phone, the mouse pulled up the news app from Fib’s station. She tapped on the ‘weather’ icon and played his latest forecast (which was time-stamped from twenty minutes ago):

“Holy moly, heat wave!” the dapper, golden mouse declared. “That’s right, Indy, we’re in for a summery slam of sunshine. The heat dome above the Midwest is stubbornly lingering, as you can see here … ”

Dressed in slacks, a button-up t-shirt, and a bow tie, he used his pink, prehensile tail as a pointer as he dodged about the weather map. At four feet, nine inches (an inch taller than Meadow), the camera was angled down so he wouldn’t look too short.

“Our next chance for rain won’t be until the weekend, and that’ll be isolated. This is a developing concern. We’re not yet in outright drought territory, but an ‘abnormally dry’ alert has been issued. We may want to keep an eye on this as fourth of July approaches, because it could impact firework shows.”

The graphics behind the mouse changed. The weather map turning into a ‘five-day outlook.’

“With high humidity and temps in the low 90’s both today and tomorrow, it’s important to remember: stay hydrated! Watch how much time you spend outside. And if you do stay inside, stay tuned for our all-day coverage of the Summer Olympics! Oh, and for those of us with furless ears and tails: sun lotion!

“And that’s my golden guarantee! Now, back to you, Opal and JR!”

Opal and JR were the morning news anchors. A Jersey cow and coyote.

Meadow smiled and closed the app.

Even when the forecast was bad, Fib made it sound good.

Mm, Petra’s wrong. He’s not a nerd. He’s just smart and passionate about his interests.

And one of those interests is me.

What do I have that others don’t?

She laid in bed a while longer.

I should get up.

I’m hungry.

Fib wouldn’t be back until at least 1:30. The morning news was from 5 to 9, but he had to be there from 4:30 to 12:30. After the news, he’d do meteorological research and update the station’s weather blogs, film videos for their social media, attend meetings, and other random things. He also sometimes worked the noon-time newscast when the afternoon weather people were deployed for severe weather coverage.

He works so hard.

She was dependent on him, financially. Her receptionist job was just ‘spending money.’ Not enough to pay major bills or save for anything useful.

I feel like I don’t contribute enough.

Her stomach growled.

She clutched it.

What am I going to have for breakfast?

I don’t want cereal.

I want toast. Yeah. Whole wheat toast. With apple butter. Mm. And a fresh cut golden kiwi on the side.

The gold ones were way better than the green.

That’s an unbiased fact!

She sat up and stretched her golden self, easing out of bed, awake enough to avoid bumping into anything this time.

She wriggled into her clothes.

After breakfast, I better water the flowers before it gets too hot! They need to absorb the water before it evaporates. They looked a little wilt-y last night.

An hour later, Meadow, dressed in denim overall shorts with a lemon-yellow t-shirt beneath them, pulled a snaky, black garden hose from the side-door to the front of the yard. It was one of those ‘magic’ hoses that expanded and extended when the water flowed. However, this also meant it was made of softer material and got tangled very easily.

Well, if you hadn’t run over the old sturdy hose with the lawnmower!

“Yeah, yeah … ”

Grumbling as she unthreaded a tangle, she threw the hose to the grass.

“Ahh!” she squeaked in frustration, her straw sunhat falling off in the process.

She looked around.

No witnesses.

Meekly, she put her hat back on, picked up the hose, and tried again.

This time, she got it.

Ha, ha!

Yes.

Take that, hose.

The flower beds lined the quiet street in front of her and Fib’s townhouse, nestled within a wooded pocket on the north side of town.

Sunflowers and zinnias. Multiple varieties of each. That’s what she’d planted this year. Eight rows that stretched the whole yard! The seeds had taken hours to plant back in late-April.

Blooms would come by mid-July. The zinnias’ growing window was twice as long, so she’d planted more of those. They were in the front. Sunflowers in the back, so she could remove them once they began to wither and still maintain the color and freshness of the display.

I’m a total gardening wizardess!

_ Or … no, that’s not a word. Is it? Eh. No, I don’t think so._

What’s the female for wizard? Witch?

Her whiskers twitched.

Not great connotations, there.

How about … sorceress! That makes me sound cool.

Scurrying back to the house to turn the water on, the hose expanded, and she set the spray nozzle to ‘rain’ mode. Starting at the east end of the bed, she gently swept the cold, steady jets of water back and forth over the green, growing plants.

Minutes passed.

Gah!

So humid already.

I can’t believe this heat.

I’m gonna wilt before the flowers do.

She was halfway done, so she kept going.

Then she saw a weed. A big, ugly, leafy weed right in the middle of the zinnias.

Oh, no, you don’t!

Setting the hose down, she bent over to—

“EEK!”

Eyes flew open.

Whiskers stiffened.

Crying out in spontaneous pain, Meadow teetered before flopping back into the grass, wincing, breasts heaving. Her eyes watered. It hurt. Oh, gosh! It hurt!

Pain, pain, pain!

It took her brain a few seconds to realize what had happened.

Had she been shot?

Stung by a murder hornet?

No.

Sciatica.

Her sciatic nerve. The fiery, piercing sensation ran all through her lower back, down her left rump and leg, causing simultaneous feelings of pain and numbness.

She tried to stand up and fell back to her knees, whimpering pitifully. She ended up on her back again, adrenaline surging.

As she stared up at the blue, clear sky, she came to terms with the situation.

Welp.

This … this is it, isn’t it?

I’m gonna be stuck in the yard all day.

She could see it all.

Fib will come home to find me dehydrated and shriveled up, dead of sun poisoning. He’ll be so ashamed. I know he said to put lotion on my ears and tail, but I thought I’d only be out here twenty minutes!

She bit her lower lip.

That’s if the kestrels don’t eat me first.

Or any falcon, really.

I hear they’re vicious.

It’ll be quick.

A huge shadow suddenly loomed over her.

Not this quick!

“Eeeek!”

She shielded herself with her paws, eyes squeezing shut.

“Meadow? What’s wrong?” the shadow asked.

Meadow blinked and squinted, lowering her arms, a big, rounded figure coming into focus.

“Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“Daisy!” the mouse exclaimed. It was her neighbor. The capybara, chill and easygoing, was a horticulturalist. She’d helped Meadow develop her green thumb. “N-no, no, don’t … don’t call them. I just … ” She was struggling to find her breath.

Daisy got to her knees and reached for the hose, turning it to ‘bubbling’ mode. A slow, easy stream. She sat Meadow up and brought it to her muzzle. “Drink. Go on.”

Meadow did so, nodding when she’d had her fill.

“Lucky I was here!” Daisy exclaimed.

“Yeah, t-thanks. Thank you. I … I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t dehydration? My sciatica pain came back. It just … wham, you know! All I did was bend over … ”

You know you’re a greymuzzle when …

“Muscles tighten when they dehydrate,” Daisy said calmly. “Could’ve been a contributing factor, especially if you were already tense to begin with.”

Meadow twitched. “I’m such a klutz.”

“You just overdid it. Now, let’s get you inside,” the capybara said gently, helping the mouse up.

“No, I didn’t finish wat—”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that … ”

Daisy smiled. “It’s no problem!”

“But you have things to do. I feel so bad. I can’t—"

“Meadow, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re okay! Let’s keep it that way, hmm? Come on. Take my paw. Can you walk?”

Meadow, leaning against the bigger, curvier rodent, half-hugged on her as she tested her left leg. A slight wince. “It still hurts. A shooting pain in my—” She grimaced. “My nerves.” Her breath shook. “It’s been getting worse the past few years. Mostly when I lift or pull, but … all I did was bend over!”

“Like I said, you were probably tense enough that something just snapped. Can you do anything for it?”

“Mm … doctor taught me some stretches? I’ll do those. Take some pain pills. It normally dies down after a day.” A nod. A deep breath. “I’ll be okay.”

The doctor had sent her to physical therapy. Four weeks, twice a week. It hadn’t helped. She was ultimately told she needed to ‘relax.’

But how did one do that?

Without weed, anyway?

Weeds!

“Daisy, can you pull that? That’s why I bent down. I don’t want it to win.”

“Heh. A victory for rodentia!” the capybara declared, yanking the unwelcome plant. She waved it around in her dark, webbed paw like a trophy before giving it an unceremonious toss.

As they ambled toward the house, walking became easier for Meadow. She was able to put more weight on the leg. “It’s already getting better. Yeah.” She tried to turn around. “Maybe I can stay out here and—”

“Ah, ah,” Daisy chided. “Let’s pace ourselves, mm?”

“Alright,” Meadow relented. “Hey, Daisy?”

“Yes?”

“I want to be zen like you.”

“Heh.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Rico says the same thing,” the capybara said, of her mate, a long-eared chipmunk. “He wants to know my ‘secret.’ He’s more like you than me.”

“And have you rubbed off on him yet?”

Daisy smirked. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Meadow blushed.

The capybara chuckled.

They reached the porch.

“What were you worrying about, hmm?” Daisy asked. “To get you so tense?”

“Nothing … ”

“That’s obviously not true,” the capybara said patiently, helping Meadow up the steps. “Part of the problem might be keeping things to yourself.”

Meadow dipped her chin, pawing at the porch door handle.

Daisy waited.

“Fib thinks I’m perfect. No matter what I say or do, he … he loves me. I know it. See it.” Another blush. “Feel it.”

“That sounds great.”

“It is!”

“But?”

“Sometimes, I don’t know how to talk to him. I mean, like … about heavy stuff? He’s not objective when it comes to me.”

“And you feel you’re more objective about him?”

Meadow paused. “Maybe? I think so.” Her whiskers twitched. “Probably not. But he puts me on a pedestal. He … he just tells me it’s gonna be alright.”

“You keep saying that like it’s bad?” Daisy was confused. “You don’t want to hear that?” Meadow was skirting her real issue, and the capybara was determined to nudge her into revealing it.

Meadow opened the porch door, pausing halfway through in the current of cold air. It met the warm air pouring in from outdoors, triggering something volatile. A storm. Bubbling, brewing inside her. There was no stopping it, now

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I just feel I don’t deserve it.”

The capybara nodded sagely. Bingo. There it was. She put a paw on Meadow’s back and asked, “Why’s that?”

“I worry all the time,” Meadow confessed, whiskers quivering. “I’m weak.”

Daisy continued to rub on the mouse, letting her get it all out.

“Also, if I’m fretting for no reason at all and everything is actually gonna be okay? Then I’m crazy. I’m broken.” Her breath began to shake. “But if it won’t be okay and I’m right, then my behavior is justified and I’m … I’m not wasting everyone’s time.” A pause before adding, “And, somehow, my brain thinks that’s better.”

“Oh, honey,” Daisy breathed, pulling Meadow into a close, cuddly hug. She put her nose between the mouse’s dishy ears and kissed her there.

Meadow’s eyes watered. She clutched at her friend. “I feel so old … ”

“You’re not old.”

“I’m older than you and Petra and Fib and … and everyone I’m close to. I mean, I … I just h-hurt myself bending over!” she stammered.

“Hush. We’ve had presidents twice as old as you! You’re hardly finished.”

“But I’m also o-older than … than my parents when they died. I don’t … I don’t know … ” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Turning forty, the realization had hit her like a ton of bricks. And she felt almost guilty for living longer than them. Choked up, she coughed. “How can I … if … when … ”

“Shhh … you’re safe.”

The mouse’s eyes stung, and she wiped at them repeatedly.

Daisy shepherded Meadow fully inside, closing the door, setting her on the couch. “You need some energy. You want some fruit?”

Meadow nodded weakly. “I’ve got, uh, strawberries. In the fridge.”

“I’ll cut some up for you.”

“Daisy, I … no. I’m sure you have stuff to do. Please,” Meadow begged.

“You’re more important.”

Meadow started crying again. “Oh, gosh.” She hid her face. “No wonder Petra calls me Girly. I’m so dainty and emotional … ”

Daisy smiled as she washed and cut up a bowl of berries. “You say I’m zen? You’re in touch with your emotions. Your deepest self. You’re finding what’s down there and releasing it. That’s healthy! That’s part of the path.”

Meadow, eyes red and cheeks stained wet, allowed her paws to fall to her lap. “Well … maybe I have some awareness?” She sniffled. “But I don’t have inner calm.”

“No one does. Not fully, not permanently. It’s a never-ending journey to achieve it.”

“I’ve never seen you lose your cool.”

Daisy returned with the berries. “Oh, I have. Believe me.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. But I’m not as comfortable letting people see that as you are. You’re really quite brave,” she said brightly.

Meadow blushed, nibbling on a berry.

“I’ll come check on you after I’m done watering your flowers, okay?”

“Okay … thanks. Wait!”

“Mm?”

“Can I have another hug?

The capybara provided one before going outside.

“Mmm! What’s that?” Fib asked as he strolled into the kitchen. It was quarter ‘til two in the afternoon. “Smells like candy!”

Meadow, looking over her shoulder, beamed as Fib padded into the kitchen. “Hey … ”

“Hey, Butterscotch.” The other harvest mouse pecked her whiskered, yellowed cheek, hugging her from behind. He took off his bowtie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, swaying with her. Nose against her neck, he breathed, “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” Meadow replied, helplessly leaning against his chest.

On the corner of the counter, a small TV was playing the Olympics. Table tennis. A tanuki was currently winning.

“What’s cooking?” Fib wondered.

“Mm? Oh. Wild black raspberry jam.” She held up her purple paws.

“Ha, wow! Hope you can get that off?”

“Citrus wash does the trick.”

“Where’d you pick ‘em?”

“Daisy has a bunch of canes growing in her backyard. She invited me over.” Meadow had eaten lunch at the capybara’s house at noon (once the mouse had recovered from her ordeal), and they’d picked berries afterward.

“That was nice of her.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Did you take precautions in the heat? I don’t want you to wilt!”

Meadow twitched and admitted, “I got, um … a little overwhelmed, and my sciatic pain flared up.”

“Oh?” Fib’s face furrowed with worry.

“But I’m okay. Really. Daisy was there to help me out.”

Fib’s smile returned. “You have so many good friends. Daisy. Petra.”

“That’s only two,” Meadow noted. And they were diametric opposites! Daisy was gentle and nurturing, and Petra was snarky and cynical. But they were both fiercely loyal and protective of Meadow in their own ways.

“Two more than me,” Fib said. “All the ‘friends’ I have are coworkers, and I don’t really socialize with them outside the station. My family’s all back in Iowa. I just have you.”

Meadow hadn’t really thought about that before. But it was true, wasn’t it?

She dipped her chin. “I’m sorry.”

Fib blinked. “What for?”

“I don’t know. I just … I spend so much time in my own head, worrying about my own problems. Not wanting to burden you? I view you as Mr. Perfect. But you don’t have it easy, either. And I’m too fragile for you to share your problems with. I … I’m letting you down.”

Fib was a ‘cute’ mouse in a cutthroat media world. He had to be ‘on’ all the time. He’d sacrificed so much to be successful, and now that he was? All he had was his job. And her.

“I should be doing more for you … ”

“Nonsense! Butterscotch,” Fib cooed. “You do plenty for me. What are you talking about, mm? You’ve never let me down.”

“That’s impossible. I know I have.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me. We all have our moments. I wouldn’t judge you by them or hold them against you.”

Meadow bit her lip and stirred her bubbling jam, telling him, “Lately, I feel really old … ”

“That just means you’re a MILF!” Fib said brightly.

“Heh.” Meadow smiled in spite of herself. “Petra said you’d say that.”

“Cause she knows it, too.”

Meadow nodded, her smile fading. “People in my family die early. It’s … it’s happened too many times to be a coincidence.” She released her stirring spoon. “I … I don’t know what worries me more: being without you? Or you being without me?”

Don’t cry again.

Hold it together!

“It scares me,” Meadow whimpered.

“Heyyy … it’s okay.”

Meadow twitched, turning to cuddle against him, doing her best not to actually touch him with her purple, sticky paws.

“Possibilities are infinite. If you think about them all, you’ll paralyze yourself.”

“I know … I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Fib said. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And I don’t care if you’re forty or eighty. You’ll always be my golden goddess,” he whispered, nosing her head-fur. He kissed between her ears. “I treasure every moment I have with you.”

Meadow flushed at his words, unable to keep from smiling.

“Mm. So!” He pulled back a bit, steering them away from the heaviness. “Why are you mashing berries with your paws?”

“I’m, uh, pushing the pulp through a strainer with my fingers.” Meadow pointed with her tail. “The juice and fruit go into the jam and the seeds are left out.”

“Ah, seedless jam!”

“It’s much smoother. Less clumpy and crunchy. Brings out the flavor more.”

“Can’t wait to try it! Is it done?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Well, this batch. I have enough berries for two, maybe three. In a few minutes, when this pan is done boiling, I’ll pour the liquid jam into these jars. Then use a water bath to vacuum seal them. It’ll thicken up when it cools. They’ll be good for a few years! Heh, not that they’ll last that long.”

“It makes me happy to see you so excited.” He skipped a beat. “Are you near a point where you can, um, take a break? Mm?” Fib murmured on her shoulder. He turned to nip at her neck. “I stopped for lunch on the way home. But I forgot to have dessert.”

Without saying a word, Meadow took the pot off the burner and hurriedly washed her paws.

Leaving a trail of clothes on the floor, the naked harvest mice bounced off walls.

This time, it didn’t hurt.

Far from it.

Picture frames tilted on their hangers but didn’t fall. Underwear, however, did. Around ankles. Kicked away.

In the fur, freed of modesty and constraints, their prehensile, fleshy tails roped around each other’s bodies while they traded sloppy, hungry kisses. The kind that involved tongues. The kind that smacked. Left them gasping, saliva dangling from their twitchy whiskers.

Pinning Meadow to the bedroom door, Fib lowered his head and suckled on her pink tits, little, hardening peaks on hilly, white breasts.

Meadow squeaked!

She grabbed at him.

He pulled off, panting on her neck. “Gonna open the door,” he warned, pulling her body back a bit. He turned the knob, kicking it open.

The bedroom.

Dim and cool.

They shuffled inside.

Hugging her, Fib turned them around so that he reached the bed first. He plopped down on the side of the mattress. Sitting, spreading his legs, reaching up to strum her whiskers like guitar strings as he murmured, “You want a treat?”

Meadow, utterly submissive to him (something their chemistry was clearly built on), nodded and dropped to her knees.

Fib squeaked his approval, looking down as his erection disappeared behind the eclipse of her golden, blonde head. He couldn’t see the contact being made. But, oh, he could feel it.

“Ahh … ah! Ah,” he panted.

Careful with her buckteeth, Meadow licked and lapped at his glans, then up and down the underside of the shaft. Drifting upward, she opened wide, angling her muzzle just so to slide his proud male essence past them and into her maw. Briefly sucking, she started to bob her head.

“Ohh … ”

Fib’s cock twitched, throbbed and tingled.

Meadow’s ears swiveled.

She was focused on pleasuring him, but she was also paying attention to how he was reacting.

The sounds he made. Every huff and squeak. And how his paws grabbed her shoulders, rubbed her head? The way his fingers curled in her fur.

She knew his reactions. Knew what it sounded like when he was getting close. If she kept this up? He’d last another twenty seconds, tops. But she knew he really didn’t want this to end in her muzzle.

This was meant to be an appetizer.

She was the entrée.

So, she pulled off his thick, five-and-a-half-inch cock, letting it twitch and dribble against her cheek as she looked up at him with pure, lusty devotion.

He nodded, reaching down to caress her cheek. He was reeling. “Mmm. Good girl,” he praised, chest heaving. “Now, get on the bed.”

Meadow climbed into bed with him.

Fib turned.

They hugged.

Grabbed and groped.

And, oh, they kissed.

Again and again.

Simmering, sensual lip-locks, leaving them more breathless than before.

Bodies pressed together, hot, writhing.

Fib wound up on top.

Meadow eagerly spread her legs, locking them around his hips.

He rubbed himself against her, grinding, squeaking on her cheek as he worked his way inside her.

“Ahh … ahh, yeah,” Fib huffed, hilting inside his mate. The feel of her! He couldn’t pace himself. She was too good, and he was too horny. He was already humping her. Balls slapping audibly.

Meadow moaned.

Her entire body clung to his: arms, legs, sex. Lips, too, as they traded their thousandth kiss. Even their tails tied together, vining like a double helix.

They were fused, feeding off each other.

Never closer than this.

I’m safe.

I’m loved.

Oh, it feels so, so good!

For a moment, she forgot all her worries. Her insecurities melted away.

There was only her.

And him.

And this!

And his surging, thrusting hips.

Then utter bliss as she came.

She had no idea how Fib had outlasted her given how worked up he was and how close she’d already gotten him, but … who cared. Her orgasm was shattering. If she wasn’t flat on her back, she’d think she was pinwheeling through space before exploding into a million, sparkling pieces like a golden firework.

Her pussy clenched and squirted.

She squealed! A run-on squeak that she couldn’t stop.

Fib was so turned on by her noises, as well as her body’s reaction. Clenching, milking on him. She was so warm. So warm and wet. So soft and, oh, he couldn’t stand it!

He slammed his hips against hers, hilting as deeply as possible, and came. And came. Filling her with hot, white seed, as much as he could give. As much as her body wanted to take.

Which, turned out, was a lot.

He was rewarded with full-body shivers of impossible delight.

“Ohh … oh, oh! Oh … ”

Meadow moaned with him, groping his ass.

Fib, tail tugging hers, kissed her again.

Their whiskers brushed.

“Damn, Butterscotch! Ha … ah, wow … ”

“F-fib … ”

“I’m here,” he cooed.

Eyes watering, she could barely get the words out. “I … I love you. Fib, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Butterscotch.” A short kiss. “It’s okay. I got you.” Fib hugged her tight, resting his nose against her neck. Breathing deep of her earthy, honeyed scent, slightly mixed with vanilla (from the shampoo she used).

Meadow’s fingers curled in his back-fur.

“Was that good for you, Butterscotch? Mm?”

She nodded shyly. “Yes … I think I saw stars.”

“Heh. Great!” Fib beamed, lifting his head to look into her eyes. “So, your squeaks were genuine, mm?”

“I was loud, wasn’t I?”

“You sounded like you really needed that.”

“I did.” That had been more than a climax. It had been a catharsis. She felt lighter, now. Younger. Was that possible? “I hope I didn’t hurt your ears.”

Fib giggled. “My hearing loss is only temporary,” he joked.

The glowing mates cuddled and nuzzled.

Eventually, they came apart, making an unfortunate mess of the sheets (which Meadow had to bunch up and throw in the washer) and taking a shower together.

Meadow returned to her jam while Fib watched the Olympics (beach volleyball) on the big TV in the living room.

“Butterscotch, you gotta see this squirrel! Her fur color is unreal.”

“I’ll be there in a second.”

Sampling the jam before putting the lids on and lowering them into the water bath, Meadow smacked her lips and beamed.

Perfect!

She may have reached ‘mid-mouse,’ but as long as life tasted this sweet?

It didn’t qualify as a crisis.