FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Morphtalk by the Blog Dog

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by kingop18

Blogisode 9 Part 1:

You know, I run into a bunch of really weird situations in my line of work. One of the biggest problems I keep encountering, though, is racism. Or is it speciesism? I’m not really sure, but I’d guess it depends on whether we morphs count as “human” or not, according to the law. For instance, there’s a lot of universities out there that won’t accept me into their programs, no matter how well I look on paper. They take one look at my picture, and I’m off the table.

“Now wait a moment, Pinch,” I’m sure you’re saying. “How in the world could you know that about your potential hirers? After all, they might just be turning you down because of other criterion.”

Yeah, normally, I’d say sure, you’re right, and I ought to just chill. Not in this case, though. You see, the people who look down on morphs don't really care if we overhear them talking about us or not. They don't even mind us listening in while they discuss our fate right in the same hiring meeting. I guess it's a leftover from the days when we were all just some sort of "help," intended to serve quietly, and not admit we had any opinions. That, and we do look like animals in an awful lot of ways, and seriously, who would care if a Doberman Pinscher overheard you talking about it?

The mindset of regarding morphs as "the help" isn't helped much by our continued presence as "keptmorphs." These days, with the full emancipation of morphs on the rise, having a keptmorph as a servant around your household is seen as a pretty big status symbol, sort of like being "old money." With the near-annihilation of the human species, old money isn't nearly as old as it used to be, so signs like having a morph to fetch and carry for you have become a lot more important.

Then there's the kids from these families. A lot of them are pretty badly stuck-up, but I guess I can't really blame them, considering how much they pick up from just being raised that way. Believe me, I know how hard it is to break away from taught traditions, because that's how first gens like me get trained until we'll normally do just about literally anything for our human masters and mistresses. The ones that showed any sort of resistance to our "programming" typically ended up on a killblock, until those were abolished back in the day. But still, there's some of these rich kids who actually are pretty decent, and I've even gotten to be friends with a few.

One of my friends from this rich kids crowd is a girl named Morgan. Obviously, and as always, that's not her real name, but it's the one I'm allowed to use on the blog. The girl was a real sweetie, about as gentle-hearted as you could hope for. When I finally found an accredited university willing to take on a morph as a professor while I worked on finishing my Ph.D., I started to really get involved with the student body. I figured (correctly) that I was a sort of ambassador for morphs at all levels of academia, to students as well as my fellow faculty and the administrators who'd eventually decide my financial fate, so I started really spending time with students, getting to know them, and making sure they got to know me, all the better to spread out as much real information about morphs as I possibly could. Usually, this involvement just meant I attended rallies, went out for drinks on non-testing weekends (being a morph, of course, non-caffeinated soda was my hardest drink), took time out to see concerts and plays and other cultural events, and stuff like that. Just making myself a visible presence on campus, known by sight by a whole lot of people. At the same time, I took steps to earn my department's awards for teaching, to make sure that the administration noticed me favorably as well. Morgan was the girl who helped me really earn that award, with all the work she put into getting other students in my classes to help me out. I didn't really learn about what she'd done for me until after the fact, and I have to say: I was really grateful.

After the semester when Morgan was in my class, I started to chum around with her on a serious level. Well, maybe she was chumming around with me, since I was the more experienced one of us. Morgan was a freshman, about as naive and sweet a girl as you could hope to imagine. She'd spent a lot of her very sheltered life in various boarding schools, kept away from her family. Maybe that explained why she was so nice, but whenever I met her family, the human members, they were...well, let's just say that they weren't anything like their darling daughter. The less said about them, the better.

Morgan's family, though, wasn't just made up of humans, though I kind of doubted the humans in the family would have regarded their keptmorphs as proper family. And there were a lot of morphs in that family! I mean, seriously, how much of a status statement do you need to make? As for Morgan, she was her family's little princess, and she got only the best of everything growing up. That meant she got constant care and attention...from the morphs. They were the ones who raised her, and since she was such a precious little princess, treated like a china doll, too fragile to go out and make real friends, she quickly developed her friendships with the morphs who raised her instead, especially this one boymorph, Jojo, just two years younger than herself.

Maybe that's why she turned out so decent.

As for me, well, I have to admit, not all of my intentions for little freshman Morgan were entirely pure. If you've read any of my previous blogisodes, you'll know I'm pretty omnivorous when it comes to bed partners, and when it comes to adorable little cuties like Morgan, I have to admit, it was really hard for me to control myself until she finished being a student in my class, and I could pursue her like a real person again. Just above, I compared her to a china doll. That's a pretty fair comparison, actually, and it applied to her appearance as well. Now attending college, a college she'd picked out herself, rather than letting her family decide, Morgan had decided to show her rebellious side by going into the Goth scene, wearing lots of frills and lace and black satin. That didn't make the black-haired, pale-skinned cutie any less adorable, though. Actually, it made her even more adorable, at least by the way I judge these things.

Fresh from her boarding school experiences, and cast adrift in the wild sea of humanity that is the typical college campus, Morgan saw me as a source of friendly familiarity right when she'd been starting to doubt if she'd made the right decision in attending university somewhere besides where her domineering family wanted. I was a lot less friendly-looking than the floppy-eared Golden Retriever, Jojo, who'd been her best friend growing up, being a Doberman and all, besides all my many piercings and tattoos, but any port in a storm, right? So as soon as it was academically all right, and I couldn't influence her grades any, we started to pal around together. We went jogging together, went to movies together, I helped her get enrolled for cheap at the gym where I've got a silent partnership, and I even introduced her to a lot of my friends, and more than a few lovers, both human and morph.

If I'm honest with myself, I guess it was really only a matter of time before Morgan started to figure out how sexual a creature I am. Even having lived a life as sheltered as hers, she couldn't suppress those budding hormones. Sure, she was a late-bloomer, having just started to really get interested in sex around the same time she decided to rebel against her family in a bunch of small ways, but when her interest finally piqued, wow was it potent!

Pretty much from day one, when she'd first attended my beginning Sociology class (I'm sure you know the sort of class - everybody has to take something like it, after all), and even more as the ice started to break between classmates and between myself and her, Morgan regarded me as a mentor figure. As our relationship developed, she'd come to me for help with all sorts of things, ranging from schoolwork to fashion to sex. Especially sex.

She's the one who first brought up the subject, though I could smell right away that it took a lot out of her. She'd decided to try dating, and she knew about me and Chuck (and the thought of humans and morphs having relationships really fascinated her), and so one night during and then after our evening jog she started to ask some simple questions. Those questions quickly tumbled into more complicated questions, and before I knew it, I was giving her a pretty graphic blow-by-blow of what she should expect from sex. See, she'd been to the sort of boarding school where they kept you pretty much cloistered, a really religious sort of place, and while they were top-ranked in a lot of subjects, sex ed wasn't one of 'em.

It was really cute watching her blush when I described exactly what happened on my first time, just like I've already shared. Her eyes were absolutely huge, and she covered her mouth, pretty much not daring to breathe for fear that she'd interrupt me or something. Naturally, I didn't just stop with the lewd stuff. Oh no, not with my little Morgan: I didn't want her getting hurt or something by some dumb human kid who didn't know how to treat a girl right. Morphs get training, but the same can't be said of humans. So I was pretty explicit about a lot more'n just the act of sex itself: I laid out the whole mess of physical development, emotional development, romance, relationships, and safe sex. Actually, after that night, I took her out and got her on some birth control pills. With so many human women around, relatively speaking, pharmaceutical companies finally got off their keisters and develop birth control pills that don't have a whole lot of side effects. You know, something better'n estrogen, which is about all they've been putting out there since forever. The pills are a lot easier to get, too: you just need a single physician's write-off, and you're good to go for pretty much as long as you keep buying the stuff.

Somehow, after all that buildup, I have to admit: I kind of expected something more dramatic than what actually happened. At some point, I was expecting Morgan to come to me, all teary-eyed and woebegone, with some sad story about how some stupid human boy done her wrong, and wanting me to help comfort her in all the best ways I knew. Or maybe that was just fantasy talking. No, what actually happened was, pretty close to the end of Morgan's freshman year, during all the stress that comes with the buildup to finals, one of Morgan's friends did a little poking around for her about that morphboy I mentioned, the one she really liked, Jojo.

Turns out, Morgan had taken time off campus during Spring Break, and any time she could, to go and see her childhood friend, only to discover he couldn't be with her almost half the time, because her family had him off "running errands," or so she was told. When she confronted him about it, he told her he was forbidden to tell her what he was doing. He'd told her that, if she really wanted, he'd disobey Morgan's family (and Morgan knew what that meant to a good keptdog, after her talks with me, and so did I - Jojo had it for her pretty bad), but she didn't make him go that far. Apparently, emboldened after learning about me and Chuck, she'd decided to see if she could build up her own mixed-species relationship, but things just didn't work out, thanks to a combination of her family keeping a close watch on her, and keeping Jojo out of the house, doing whatever his "errands" were.

Now the girl Morgan got to do research on Jojo is named Yoko Ashigura. She's the quiet sort, the kind that sits back and watches a lot before acting, and a few years older than Morgan. Morgan's always liked the quiet types, so I guess it was natural that she and Yoko would get along. From what I understand, Yoko's had relations with morphs - yes, "that" way - and she was sympathetic to Morgan's plight. She's an expert on finding stuff out, and it was only a matter of time before she filled Morgan in on all the dirty details of what, exactly, it was that Jojo did for her family that kept him so busy.

That's the night Morgan came crying to me in my apartment, when she was dressed up like a Gothic dolly, and I was all sweaty in my tight short and sports bra. All the stress of preparing for finals had taken its toll, and now this. I mean, to me, it wasn't that big a deal, but for pure, sweet, naive Morgan, it was like a bombshell: her beloved Jojo was a stud morph.

Before you ask, no, I did not take advantage of her. I could have - I totally could have - and I really wanted to - but I didn't. Then. What I did do, was hug her, and cuddle her, and let her cry and get her snotty nose on my sports bra. Then I got her some tissues, and we sat down, and we talked it all through, once she'd started to calm down a little.

Once Morgan was ready to talk again, and her face was more-or-less normal, I booted up my computer, and we both went to take a look at the "problem." The "problem" in question was Jojo's entry in a major breeding connection website. My friend, Spike, was one of the first to have a website devoted to his studwork, and his mate, Girl, started making some real money by taking the idea a step further, building this junction site where people with studs and people wanting breeders could find each other, instead of relying totally on just the personal connections they'd used before. The idea really took off, especially with how popular it is to have a keptmorph around to show off how important you are. And sure enough, after just a little bit of prodding, there was Jojo, all cute and bashful and giving us the full Monty right there on screen.

Before we'd even gotten to my computer, I'd already gotten to work on talking Morgan down, helping her to understand Jojo's situation. He was a good dog, and everything she'd ever told me about him made that pretty clear. Whatever was asked of him, he'd immediately obey, because that's just the sort of person he was: good-hearted, loyal, and true. That he'd actually been willing to go against the orders of her family, for her, made it pretty clear he'd do just about anything for her, and I do mean anything. For Jojo, I'd guess it was probably the best way he could have shown Morgan that he really loved her, and now that we'd been able to talk a bit, and she could rationally understand Jojo's situation, Morgan began to realize just how much her best friend must care about her. Maybe even the same way she'd started to care about him.

Understanding that Jojo was just being a good dog made viewing the videos on the site a second time (the first being with Yoko) a whole lot easier for Morgan. Actually...well...the kid had some talent! He'd been trained properly, and it showed, because he really put his all into every one of those performances. Which made sense, actually, since he and his partners had to know that their abilities as breeders would be based in large part on what potential future contacts could see.

About that time, I noticed that Morgan was starting to get wet. She was watching the boy she loved, even though she'd never really admitted it to herself in quite those terms before, naked and making love to many femmes, and even the occasional male. And it was making love: he was gentle and sweet and very giving, focusing first and foremost on the feelings of his partner before himself.

While watching almost a good hour of these videos, I casually mentioned that a lot of people like to imagine themselves as a part of erotic imagery. Morgan just nodded, making some noncommittal noise, but then she started to get closer to the screen, and began to fidget and then to squirm as she knelt by my side, while I was sitting in the computer chair. Of course, I could smell her getting turned on, and I told her as much, teasing her that she must really like watching her doggy friend at work. That got her blushing and starting to stammer an apology, but I cut her off when I licked her on the cheek, which made her give this adorable little squeak, her hand immediately going to the spot. Little did she know, I'd done it deliberately to get her guard down, and while her hand was at her cheek, I kissed her on the lips.

One thing I really like about Goth clothes, especially the frilly, floofy kind: they're so much fun to take off. It's just like unwrapping an extra-special present. With me kissing her on every little bit of exposed skin, Morgan was making these soft, sweet little whimpers and moans, her breathing coming hard and fast, while I let Jojo's performance run in the background, and guided us to the bed nearby. The noises his partner was making made a good counterpoint to the noises Morgan made as I got her properly naked, and left her wide-eyed and trembling with excitement, fear, and eagerness on my bed while I stripped just as naked as she was. She told me I was gorgeous, and she wished she had a body like mine. My response was the honest one: she was perfect just the way she was, and if she didn't believe me, I'd show her just how much I meant it.

Maybe Morgan would have tossed out some lame excuses, about how her breasts weren't the right shape or size, or maybe she was too skinny in some places, or too fat in others. Or...whatever. Whatever it might have been, I didn't let her make any of those excuses, because by that time I was through with waiting: I wanted meat!

There's something truly rare and precious about a virgin's first time with someone else. It's a rare and precious moment, something one-of-a-kind. Morphs are taught to treasure that moment, and to make sure it's special in all the right ways. With Morgan's sweet voice in my pointed ears and sweeter scent in my nostrils as I nibbled and kissed and licked my way down her smooth, soft body, I knew I was doing it right. She'd remember this night for the rest of her life, and it would be a good memory.

Mmm, just thinking about those perky nipples, tiny little things, each about the size of a dime, makes my mouth water. You might have thought they'd be pink, considering how pale Morgan's skin is, but they're not. Instead, they're a sort of soft, light tan color, just a little bit darker than her skin, almost blending into it unless you're paying attention. But once you close your mouth on 'em and start to suck...ooh yeah, now that's the kind of reaction that lets you know you're doing a good job!

I like my lovers noisy, and that's what makes femmes so much fun to play with: girls are a lot more vocal, on average, than boys when we're doing the dirty. Morgan was more vocal than most, and I have to admit, I was in a layer of Heaven even higher than that time I banged a pair of husky hotties. And while I was running my tongue over Morgan's breasts, after having sucked on them until they had to be aching with overstimulation, I stroked my hand down Morgan's smooth, flat tummy, toward a road thus-far completely untraveled.

Right away, I noticed Morgan had taken a bit of advice I'd given, and I had to admit I liked it: she'd started using nanogels to leave her pubis nice and baby smooth and soft as silk. We'd showered together after working out more than once, and I'd noticed her unshaved bush, but hadn't commented then. After I'd given her "the Talk," I'd mentioned hygiene of the goodies, and I'd also mentioned (casually, of course) how it was a lot easier to work your tongue into the cookie jar when it was smooth as well as clean. Well, she was smooth, all right, smooth and so soft and yielding as I worked my hand against her delicate petals, caressing them with all the tender loving care I could muster. And very soon, she was wet as well, her juices practically gushing over my fingers after just a few minutes of stimulation.

At that moment, I looked toward the screen of my computer, and saw that Golden Retriever, Jojo, lovingly licking out a cute Belgian Shepherd femme, and called Morgan's attention to the scene. All it took was some light suggestion, and pretty soon, Morgan was on all-fours, letting me look over the curve of her tight little tushie, so we could both watch the show on my computer screen while I dug my tongue in as much as her hymen would allow. And I was not gentle about it, either!

With Morgan hugging my pillow against her cute chest, filling my ears with that adorable voice of hers, I mounted her like a male. Well, almost like a male. Obviously I didn't have the same danglies a male would have, but as the front of my thigh squeezed against Morgan's cunny, and the back of her thigh squeezed against mine, we got down to making at least as much noise as if we'd been a breeding pair like the one onscreen right then. Soon I had myself half-turned, so I could squeeze our pussies together, nice and tight, one of my favorite sorts of kiss, and started to grind with all my might until Morgan was begging me to stop, telling me it was too much for her, that she was too sensitive, that she was afraid she was going to die.

Well, I guess I could have laughed off her claims, and just kept going until my little Goth cutie passed out, but I didn't have the heart. She trusted me, after all, and I wasn't going to betray that trust. As we lay together, though, side-by-side on the bed, gently caressing each others' bodies (and Morgan really seemed to like touching my breasts, even though they're not as big as hers - maybe it's the nipple studs), I told her some of the facts about us morphs, and how we took the words of our lovers really seriously. So if she didn't want us to do something, or did want us to do something, she'd better be darn sure before she said anything.

That's when we started talking about something her family would definitely not like. No, not one bit. You see, even when I'd been grinding little Morgan for all she was worth, I made sure I didn't pop her cherry. No, I knew perfectly well that Morgan wanted to save that for somebody else. Somebody special.

The morphboy, Jojo, her best friend while growing up.