FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The orb started as art. It was installed at great expense in East Woods Mall, high above the food court. It would display various things on the screens that wrapped its surface: the globe slowly rotating, a galaxy deep amid a starscape, city skylines from around the world, the occasional advertisement for shops in the mall. People would slowly eat their cheap burgers or slurp their overcooked noodles or nibble their greasy pizzas while craning their necks to watch the beautiful panoramas unfold above them.

It proved popular enough that the owners of East Woods Mall cleared out space on the second floor and set out tables, chairs, and couches, so people could watch the orb somewhat closer to eye level.

Then the glitch happened.

Gone were the stunning vistas of far away jungles and even the annoying ads. In their place was a slowly rippling swirl of color. It was orange at first, but the orange bled to red, and then to purple, and then blue, and green, and yellow, and back to orange again. The owners were surprised that they received no complaints, because the color display proved just as popular as any of the ones before it. The engineer, a towering wolverine, couldn't explain what was wrong. Despite working on the orb after hours day after day for weeks, he could not restore the intended displays. Eventually, the owners just let it be. No one was worried about it but themselves.

People would come to the East Woods Mall to do little else other than watch the orb. The food court had never been a particularly popular attraction before, serving overpriced substandard fare as they did, but now every kiosk and shop in the court did a booming business, as people sought excuses to come and stare at the orb. They would stare for minutes in between bites. They would buy a smoothie even when they weren't really that hungry. Foodies choked down vile sushi, tears in their eyes, as they were enthralled by the display.

The employees of the East Woods Mall were as affected as the customers. Cashiers who normally ate their meals in quiet silence in the back rooms instead spent their full lunch break out in the food court. Security guards tried to angle their chairs so they always had a good view. Workers at the food court themselves would take whatever opportunities they could to lean over the counter and stare up at the orb. Even the owners, who rarely if ever actually visited the mall, found themselves drawn out to stare up at the magnificent orb.

Then it was a food court no longer.

It was the orb's court now.

Tables were moved out of the way. More chairs replaced them. People packed in to the court to stare at the orb for hours. They made no excuses for what they were doing anymore. They had come to see the orb.

People should have been concerned, but by this point, everyone in the city who had heard of the orb had been to see the orb, and everyone who saw the orb loved the orb. They all took turns to make sure everyone got the same amount of viewing time. The city's population went through the East Woods Mall in a long orderly cycle that took days to complete. Outside of that time everyone acted much as they had before, except that their attention often drifted and they found themselves staring out windows in the direction of the mall. Outsiders who stopped by the city mall stared for a few minutes and then left, choosing instead another place to do their shopping. It was not a place for them.

The people of the town made sure the orb did not attract any unwanted attention. They continued to do just enough business in the shops of the mall and lived their lives outside of the mall as they had been, so that there were no untoward suspicions.

One morning, the nature of the orb changed. It was suddenly pulsing a brighter neon green that streaked through the other colors. The meaning was understood by all. And once everyone in town had a chance to view the orb in their daily allotment, the mall's patronage changed. It became an adult-only mall, and a male-only mall. Rows and rows of the town's men circled the orb. They would spend their mornings and evenings watching the orb and only go home for a meal or brief rest. Soon they did not even do that, spending day and night basking in the presence of the orb. They ate in the food court and slept in short spurts on the mall couches. Businesses in town adapted, excuses were made for those employed elsewhere, and doctors wrote an impressive amount of medical notes about time off required. Everyone understood how important this was.

A need arose in the men. Special orders were placed. A few shops at the mall did a surprisingly booming business. A sporting supply store that had never done that well before found itself needing to order wetsuits of all shapes and sizes. Every man in town needed one. They reported to the tuxedo shop across the hall to get their precise measurements, then came to the sporting goods store to have a specialized wetsuit ordered for their species. The shop got a call about the huge order, but the employees offered no explanations. And ultimately they did not need to. It was the best month in that business's history. Money answered their questions.

The outfits arrived in pallets, which were placed in the middle of the hall. Two men, a pair of jackrabbits, were in charge of doling them out. Every man came up, said their measurements (which they had memorized), and received their wetsuit. These were all taken to the nearby hobby store, which had likewise placed a massive order for paint, and each man quietly added their number to the collar, a six-symbol code that each of them knew without needing to speak with any others.

Plastic storage bins lined the outer rim of the food court. Men would quietly slip out of their standard clothes and place them and any other belongings into the bins, before sliding into their wetsuit and joining the ringed throng about the orb.

A pulse of red wrapped the orb now. It split the other colors apart in a slow beat, appearing, growing, and then disappearing. It, more so than any other color before it, attracted everyone's gaze. Their eyes would rest unfocused on the orb until the red showed up, and then they would fixate on it until it vanished. The pulse occurred once every thirty seconds, lasting not longer than three or four. While the men's eyes were pulled to the streak of red, their hips would push forward into the air. A straining bulge at their groin would arch out for a touch that never came. After each pulse tongues were run over lips, needing, desiring. Heartbeats pulsed in ears. Hands clenched into fists.

It became too much for one. A black fox, whose suit marked him as A2-4035, slumped to his knees and panted hard. His hand slipped between his legs and rubbed hard at his trapped shaft. A well-muscled bull and donkey nearby sprang into action. They grabbed the fox, pinning his arms to his side, and marched him into the center of what was once the food court. There, a weasel holding a knife (from the cooking supply store) made a careful incision of the suit right around the fox's shaft. The powerful men gripping the fox made sure there were no sudden movements from the fox's hips, so that the weasel could work with precision. He cut a neat hole just large enough to allow the fox's shaft to flop out and another just under his tail. The vulpine groaned lustily as his shaft was touched and manipulated by the weasel, and then another groan of frustration when the weasel, whose task was completed, left.

A ram rushed down to the far end of the mall and picked up a VR visor from the tech shop, and joined the fox beneath the orb. A wolverine waited for him there, the engineer who had once been tasked with repairing the orb by the owners of the mall. He no longer cared about that. Instead, he was responsible for connecting a long bundle of wires that led from the orb's control unit out to a cluster in the food court, right behind where the fox now stood. The wolverine took the VR visor without comment, plugged it in, and noted that the swirling colors of the orb were now displayed inside the eyepieces. He didn't look too close. He understood that wasn't ready for that.

The visor was placed over the head of the still thrusting and straining fox, who immediately calmed. The tough men who had been holding him no longer needed to. The fox was standing on his own without any excess movement. His shaft slowly flagged and slipped back into his sheath. He stood tall, straighter than he had ever done before, arms at his side waiting attentively.

The wolverine engineer and other men who had left their contemplation to procure items for the fox returned to their positions staring up at the orb, but they, and all the other men, kept the corner of their eye trained on the fox to monitor his progress.

There was a light on the front of the VR system. Currently it showed a dull white, as the fox continued standing to attention.

The color of the light shifted to red. Everyone in the mall knew that red -- the red of arousal, pulsing and thumping. At once the fox's shaft began to harden once more. As A2-4035 remained standing, otherwise unmoving, his vulpine shaft bounced in the air, fully hard, dripping pre. It bobbed to some unseen, unheard rhythm, far faster than the pulse which slid across the orb every half minute. Each bounce sent another little drop of pre flicking down towards the ground. The fox's shaft strained, eager for climax, while the rest of him remained at relaxed attention.

The color of the light shifted to purple. The effect was instantaneous: the fox's shaft stopped holding back the orgasm that had been building and seed shot from the tip of the vulpine's cock, splattering onto the floor. Everyone in the room let out a slight moan of desire as their own unattended shafts wished they could release like that. All of them except the fox, who remained silent and attentive to the patterns of the orb dancing before his eyes.

The color of the light shifted to green. The fox immediately slumped to his knees, hands behind his back. His mouth fell open and his lips and tongue curved into a perfect waiting O shape. There was even a slight pulse within his mouth as he swallowed at regular intervals.

Another shift, a different shade of green. The fox's head began to slide forward and back on nothing, bobbing his muzzle along a shaft that wasn't there.

Another shift, to blue this time. The fox turned around and lifted his hips high into the air, tail arched along his back. Ready to be mounted.

Another shift, back to the dull white. The fox stood once more, relaxed and attentive as he had been. No sign of his orgasmic exertions or his other poses remained in his form.

As the day went on, a few others began to join the fox at the center of the court. Each was outfitted with a VR visor. Each had their wetsuit cut appropriately. Each was run through their basic paces before standing next to the others. The lights on their visors were in perfect sync. When one shifted red, they all shifted red, and a dozen shafts stood hard and throbbed in the same synchronized pulse. When one shifted purple, they all shifted purple, and a dozen balls emptied in simultaneous orgasm.

Plans had to be made: more equipment was required. Everyone in the town chipped in, each using their funds and ordering from different websites and different suppliers to continue averting suspicion. There were so many VR systems that had to be ordered, spools of wires, more and more elaborate computer hardware, sex toys, and other, stranger items.

It arrived in pieces at various homes and businesses and was taken, one shipment at a time, to the mall, where the deliverer stood at a respectful distance, gazed upon the orb, and felt its benevolent glow fill them with satisfaction.

The small collection of visored men at the center of the court grew daily, forming a new expanding series of concentric circles. The others, those who had not yet given fully in to their lusts, quietly rearranged themselves to be standing farther out, giving the circles of visored males room to expand. Whenever they looked away from the orb, which was rarely, they glanced down at those in the center of the court with envy.

A2-4035, the black fox who had been the first to join the inner circle, removed his visor. He set it down with care and respect and walked with mechanical efficiency towards an office supply shop. He picked up paper, pens, clipboards, and brought them back to where several others had also removed their visors. They had also slipped away to various stores to pick up items, or had grabbed some from the deliveries from the townspeople. All of them took the equipment they needed and began to make their way down the aisles, assessing their compatriots and marking down their observations on the paper.

The fox stood in front of a cougar. The light on the cougar's visor -- and only the cougar's visor -- went red and his shaft went up: for the first time in days, the feline was out of sync with the others. The fox knelt down and measured the cock's length and circumference, unemotionally gauging the impressive girth and the slight bend in the middle. He manipulated the shaft with strokes and gropes, which prompted no response from the cougar. Then he held a small measuring cup near the tip of the cougar's cock just before the light went to purple, and measured the volume of seed the cougar produced. He dipped his tongue into the cup and tasted it, putting his observations on the paper.

The light on the cougar's visor turned green and the cat slid down to his knees, his mouth open and waiting. The fox stood in front of him and had to glance up into the depths of the orb to see the hot red pulse that encouraged his own arousal to push out and into the cougar's muzzle. He continued his measurements by feel now, which included how successful the cougar was at performing fellatio.

After making a few notes, he stepped back. The cougar's mouth continued to swallow and work its tongue inside a now empty muzzle. The fox filled it a moment later with a series of increasingly large dildos taken from a small carrying case next to him, progressing until he noted for the first time some signs of discomfort on the cougar's otherwise blank and placid face. The maximum size was marked on the page.

The color shifted to blue. The cougar got down on all fours and lifted his tail. The fox pulled out the same assortment of dildos (after a quick clean and disinfection) and began to press them into the cougar's hole until discomfort again showed. He also made some extra remarks at how the cougar's shaft stiffened with some of the mid-sized shafts: the light hadn't been red.

Then the fox went to the next man in the line and performed the same tests, and the next and the next. The other assessors worked around their own rings, steadily making their way through the town's entire population of men. By now, the last few holdouts had given in: all of them were now wearing visors or were performing assessments.

When all the data was collected, the assessors came together and wordlessly agreed upon a plan of action. Inadequacies and strengths were noted. The sorting began.

The concentric rings of visored men were broken up, people were shifted and moved one at a time in slow mechanical steps as they were directed by the assessors. The pattern of circles centered at the orb fractured into whorls and spirals as new centers of activity formed. At the center of one small nexus, a milking machine was set up, attached to the shafts of the most productive males. At another station, those who were lacking in physical fitness were slowly exercising and pumping weights, all while staring into the colors of the orb inside their visor. For those with inadequate oral capacity, they were kept constantly in green-light mode, while a steady stream of their fellows walked past and used their mouth again and again.

Everyone took their turns. Even those who had briefly taken on the role of assessment returned to their visors and stood alongside the others, with no indication that they were any different from their fellows. All members received frequent oral and anal training and contributed to the milking machine's load. Their movements from high above looked like ripples in the surface of a lake of molasses, slow shifts that seemed purposeless until you looked closer.

As uniformity was achieved, the relative size of the different nodes shifted. The anal training node, initially the largest, gradually diminished as the men of the town were able to take bigger and bigger shafts, and the milking station grew in size to compensate. The slow ripples of movement became a steady flow of footsteps as each individual went through the same slow pattern of exercise, training their mouth, training other's mouths, training their ass, training other's asses, then offering their seed for collection. When they needed to sleep, there was a ring of air mattresses set up on the fringes of the court. When they needed to eat, they shoveled flavorless nutrient paste into their mouths.

Then, in the middle of the night, the orb turned off.

The mall was plunged into darkness. All the visors deactivated. The men of the city paused in their rounds through the court and slowly removed their visors. They blinked and squinted, seeing light from underneath the visors for the first time in weeks.

As one, the patterns broke into new directions. All of the equipment was broken down. Floors were scrubbed clean until they were shinier than when they were first installed. The wolverine engineer oversaw the lowering of the orb to the ground and then personally disassembled it. All of the men redressed in their clothes that had been left in their assigned bin. The leftover parts and materials were taken out to dumpsters, although there was far too much and garbage bags piled all around them. And then the men left. The last one out locked the door behind them.

The men returned home and resumed their lives and jobs as though nothing had happened. No one in town commented on it or the orb ever again. The East Woods Mall reopened the next day for its usual weekend traffic as though it had always been open, although there were a few complaints about how untidy the dumpsters were.

The men were changed in various ways though. The most notable change was that they all took their health more seriously. They ate better. They talked to their doctors more often and more openly, even about the little things. Psychologically, they were happier, more fulfilled, and more driven to complete their goals. Socially, they were kinder, more supportive, and did better by their friends and family.

Their sexual prowess was, of course, vastly improved across the board.

These changes were remarked on by visitors to the town and even studied by prominent sociologists. The town achieved minor local notoriety: if you married a man from the town, you knew you were going to have a happy marriage.

But there were other, stranger changes, which went unnoticed by the population beyond the town.

Russell Hansen, the black fox once designated as A2-4035, was idly browsing a news article on his phone. An advertisement along the side showed a mountain getaway with a cabin deep in the woods. The black fox's eyes lingered on the trees, on the specific shade of green in them.

Russell set his phone down. He let his wife know that he would be going out for the evening and reminded his son that if he got a good grade on his upcoming geography test, they would all go out for mini-golf this weekend. His family understood the duty that drove him. Then, with a hat on his head and a whistled tune on his lips, he set out, walking the mile down the street to a small local bar rather than drive as he used to. It was a pleasant evening after all, just on the cusp of fall. He greeted the barman with a smile, hung his hat on the old=fashioned rack that rested by the entrance, and made his way to the bathroom.

Once inside, he quietly slipped out of all of his clothes, placing them in a familiar-looking plastic bin and slid into one stall, kneeling down and placing his open and waiting mouth next to a hole in the wall, a hole that had not been there a few months before. He waited, patiently, where the only part of his body moving was his throat, swallowing around nothing in anticipation.

After half an hour, an equally naked cougar -- who had noticed a particular shade of red in the magazine article he was reading -- stepped into the stall on the opposite side of the wall and fed his hard and throbbing shaft unsteadily into the fox's muzzle. The fox, for just a moment, savored the impressive girth of the cock in his muzzle and the slight bend in the middle. Then he got to work.

The cougar pushed forward until his hips were flush with the wall, straining to get every inch of his length into the fox's eagerly attentive muzzle. He gripped the wall with claws scoring the finish and knew he could not hold out long. He closed his eyes as the memory of purple danced in his mind and he climaxed.

On the other side of the wall, Russell allowed his tail one wag at a job well done and noted with an assessor's keen attention for detail how tasty and voluminous the cougar's load was. He did not whine or complain as the cougar's shaft left his mouth. He knew that another would replace it sooner or latter.

Russell licked his lips to catch the last of the cougar's load before his muzzle returned to its perfect O shape. His mind stilled once again.

He sucked off five other cocks that evening, each to explosive orgasms, that left him with a belly full of seed. He left the bar much later at night, happy and content.

Neither Russell Hansen nor any other man in the town ever saw the orb again. They never spoke about it. They never even thought about it. But every one of them, in their dreams, remembered in perfect detail every color of its surface.