FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Mitch’s head had that groggy, pounding quality that was unique to waking up after a night of particularly intense partying. His entire body ached from the previous night’s exertions. The coolness of the air on his skin and his odd posture told him that he hadn’t fallen asleep in a bed. It felt more like a softly padded chair.

He was about ready to let himself fall back asleep when a bright, singsong voice called out, “Good morning, Mr Mendez!”

He froze in place, surprised. Well, maybe he had had some fun the night before. He roused himself, and at last forced his eyes open. “Good morning. You’ll have to ex… uh.”

His words failed him as he got a good look around himself. There was bright sunlight filtering in through enormous windows, and through them he had a perfect view of all of Euphorique Pleasure Station. Simulated blue skies gazed down at sprawling beaches, pools, and plazas, all beautifully brought to life on the station. Even from this high up, he could make out many of the softly shaded areas laden with cushions and recessed areas for reclining. Far on the opposite side of the station, he could just make out the docking tower that tourists arrived from. Even in his hungover haze, he remembered arriving at that tower the morning before with the others for Brett’s bachelor party.

Sitting directly across from him, behind a desk that blocked part of the windows, was a synth; a cat, it looked like. Its features were all an exotic blend of human and feline, all sculpted into elegantly curving plastic, rubber, and alloys. Like all of the synths on Euphorique, this was a softly coloured pleasure model. Even as it sat at that official-looking desk, there was a sly, inviting look on its face. It was only as he noticed its lenses on him that he realized he was entirely nude in his seat. He sat up sharply, and shoved his hands into his lap to cover himself up.

“I see I have your attention.” It spoke again in that feminine voice. He gave his head a shake. She. It was clearly a female model. Right. She went on. “I trust you enjoyed your stay last night?”

“I…” He paused to clear his throat, trying to maintain as much dignity as he could. “I believe so, yes.” If those aches and pains were any indication, at least. “I’m sorry, is there a problem? My friends and I were booked for three nights.”

“Yes, of course. The rest of your party is enjoying themselves. However, we noticed some discrepancies with your account.”

Mitch blinked. “Discrepancies?”

“Indeed.” The feline synth pressed her hand against the surface of her desk. The window behind her flickered, and then shifted into a neutral blue screen. The screen began filling up with information, showing an image of his face and his registration information. “Our records indicate that you paid for three nights of our Value Package Plus deal, while the rest of your party mostly opted for our unlimited packages. Is that correct, Mr Mendez?”

“Well yes, but I don’t see how that--”

“Last night, our records indicate that you went beyond your paid use of our facilities and assets.”

Mitch blinked again. Given his lack of memories, and the number of aches he had, that didn’t surprise him in the slightest. “Alright, so I went a bit over on my account.”

“‘A bit’ is a significant understatement, Mr Mendez. By our records, you went over on your tab by, well…”

She pressed her finger against the desk. Numbers began flashing up on the screen behind her. Mitch’s jaw grew slack as he watched them climb, and his heart sank. He’d spent that much in one night?

He managed to clear his throat. “I’m sure there’s some sort of arrangement we can come to. Mistakes were made.”

“Our initial financial check shows that you are overdrawn on all of your personal accounts.”

Mitch licked dry lips. “That is… true.”

“Do you have any collateral to levy against this debt, Mr Mendez?”

“Well… there’s, uh…”

“I will take your hesitation as a ‘no.’”

Mitch wanted to let out an offended outburst, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t really have much to go on, here.

The cat went on, undaunted. “Don’t worry, Mr Mendez. This isn’t the first time this has occurred. Mistakes do happen. We have plans in place to help with paying down such outstanding balances.”

Mitch let out a breath that he hadn’t realized that he’d been holding. “Thank you for being reasonable. It really is just a giant misundersta--”

She pressed on the desk again. The information cleared from the screen behind her, and was replaced by a highly detailed diagram of one of the pleasure model synths Euhporique used. It was designed to look like an anthropomorphic otter. Seeing it, Mitch had a few hazy memories of having one of them service him in one of the pools the day before. And in a beach chair. And in one of the cushion pits for reclining.

“You apparently enjoyed our O-model assets. That is good. You’ll be working off your debt as one of them.”

There was a very long moment of silence as Mitch stared at the feline synth, not moving at all. When his voice finally caught up with him, he stammered out, “what?”

In response the feline reached down and pressed on the surface of her desk again. Restraining cuffs slid out of Mitch’s seat, wrapping around his wrists and ankles. Before he could speak, she hit another button.

The seat morphed beneath him, the soft material flowing to move him. He began struggling, but he couldn’t slip away from the restraints' tight grip. As the material moved, the cat’s voice sounded above him.

“Please try to keep comfortable. This won’t hurt a bit.”

“Won’t hurt a bit!? What isn’t going to hurt a bit?”

She didn’t answer. He heard a soft sound of machinery moving beneath him. He glanced down, and just caught sight of a shallow pool of translucent, violet liquid rising out of the floor beneath him. He lost sight of it as the chair continued moving, laying him out flat.

His breath came out in a startled gasp as he was lowered down, and a pleasantly warm liquid crept up against his back and shoulder blades. It set off a not unpleasant tingling across all of the skin it touched. His muscles tensed and he pulled away from it, but his restraints pulled him inevitably downward.

Despite his resistance, he didn’t actually panic until he heard a soft hiss. He strained to look down at himself, and watched the hair along his arms sizzle briefly before withering away. With each inch he slipped deeper into the violet liquid, more of his hair was burned off, leaving the skin behind perfectly smooth. It inched upwards, and as he watched it coated a small burn scar he had on his arm. It faded, and the skin evened out before his eyes, leaving it featureless and unremarkable.

His restraints pulled him lower, and he gasped as the warm liquid slid up past his exposed asscheeks, and began teasing at the underside of his balls. He couldn’t bite back a few stammers as the tickling situation played over the sensitive skin, quickly robbing him of any pubic hair. His soft shaft twitched once or twice as he sucked in gasps of air, but soon the warm, purple liquid crested over the tip. His squirming intensified, and he couldn’t bite back a moan as the liquid slid insistently under his foreskin. There was actually a small splashing sound as his shaft abruptly went rigid, standing straight between his legs. Its head poked back above the water, and he let out a strangled groan as he saw it.

The dark skin was growing lighter, and it almost looked like the pale purple liquid was dying the flesh. At the same time, the veins and any other features along its length smoothed out. Soon, what stood between his legs was a simple, purple shaft with an outline of a head. The flesh glistened a bit; more than it ought to have from just being wet.

His attention was finally pulled away as the liquid reached up higher. He sucked in a deep breath as it slid to his lips, and then he was fully submerged, surrounded by the pale purple substance. He kept his eyes clenched shut as the liquid made the skin across his nude body tingle. The seconds dragged on, and he kept his mouth shut, fighting the burning need for oxygen. His struggles grew harder, and soon he was bucking against his restraints.

Then, in the midst of his struggles, his mouth opened. He felt the liquid flooding into him, and his eyes opened in alarm. He didn’t swallow, but it was like the stuff had a mind of its own as it dove down his throat. There were a few long moments of terror as the liquid flooded into him, and he waited for the horrific choking. Instead, though, there was just an odd release. It wasn’t entirely unlike the feeling of taking a breath after being underwater for too long, but… it wasn’t the same. There was the sudden relief of the burning in his chest, but something was missing.

Regardless, he calmed down, and just lay there, submerged.

He didn’t know how long he remained like that, letting the odd, warm liquid wash over him. He kept reflexively trying to clench his mouth shut against the liquid, but each time he soon remembered that it wasn’t necessary, and he let his mouth hang open.

Then, all at once, there was an odd quiver that ran through the entire tank. Mitch twitched and tensed, all of his muscles clenching all at once. The intensity lessened a moment later, but it didn’t go entirely away. There was still an odd clenching tension, particularly in his core. Mitch let his gaze drift down, and through the purple liquid, he could see the muscles in his chest and stomach clenching as they were pulled gradually longer.

Mitch was too stunned to react beyond that, and so he just watched the progression. As his torso stretched longer, his chest and stomach narrowed in time with it. It almost felt like he was being squeezed, his mass stretched out and pressed lower. Any extra muscle or bulk was gathering in his hips, as those thickened and curved ever so slightly.

A pressure on his shoulders drew his attention back up, and he tried to turn his head awkwardly to stare. Before he could see, though, a similar pressure began pushing on his head. He opened his mouth, and tried to suck in deep breaths, but all that did was suck in more of the liquid. The pressure mounted in his skull, pushing and pulling all across his features. It never hurt, but it was intensely uncomfortable. His thrashing grew stronger as the pressure built, climbing and climbing… until, all at once, it stopped.

Mitch slumped in the tank, his eyes wide after the overstimulation. He lay there for a few short moments, gathering himself. He had just enough time to notice that he wasn’t blinking, and then that he actually couldn’t blink, before that intense feeling of pressure returned. This time it was focused firmly on the base of his back, just above his ass. He didn’t have time to struggle or squirm before the pressure started giving way. He felt his cheeks spreading slightly, forced into a broader stance. At the same time, sensation blossomed from the base of his spine as something pressed out of him.

He was too drained to thrash anymore, but in his mind’s eye, he was thinking of that diagram the cat synth had shown him before submerging him in the tank. The otter models all had long, broad tails that did a marvelous job accentuating their asses. It was one of the reasons Mitch had been so taken with them. He felt that mass surging out of him throb, and then swish in the warm liquid. He could feel the power in it.

When the pressure abated in his new tail, he was left alone for a short while. He just lay where he was, not even trying to get a look at himself. He was too stunned to react. He felt small, occasional vibrations run through the liquid, but otherwise he was left to himself.

At length, there was a small jerk, and then he felt himself rising up out of the liquid. As he crested above the pale purple stuff, he opened his mouth reflexively to suck in a breath, but found that he didn’t have to. He clamped his mouth back shut sheepishly, and let the table he was restrained to move him.

It tilted forward until he was in a standing position, and then he was facing the cat synth again. She had come around to the other side of the desk, so that she was now standing directly in front of him. Neither of them spoke at first; he just tried to gather himself as she looked him up and down. The only sound was the occasional dripping of excess liquid falling off of him.

At last, a grin flashed across her features, and she spoke. “An excellent conversion. You’ll make an excellent acquisition.”

“Acquisition?” He wanted to blink again as he heard his voice. It was… well, it was still recognizably his voice, but it sounded a bit smoother somehow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

In response, the feline synth leaned over and tapped the surface of the desk. With a soft pneumatic hiss, a mirror rose up out of the floor, directly in front of Mitch. He turned to look, and he froze in place as he saw the otter synth staring back at him.

He was all smooth, clean lines, etched into a lithe and slightly curvy figure. The slightly longer torso and shorter legs gave him a distinctly mustelid look. That thick tail flicked a bit behind him, drawing his eyes with each movement.

His skin itself was all soft violet and unnaturally smooth, and it gleamed softly in the room. Mitch recalled his fingers rubbing along one of the synths from the day before, and his mind locked on one word: latex. They’d all had synthetic, rubbery skin, and now he did, too.

Here and there, there were accents of harder white plastic, all moulded into smooth curves to avoid any rough edges. These pieces almost hinted at clothing, but they moreso served to accentuate his lithe build. One such piece ran up from between his legs, covering his groin. It gave him a clean, smooth surface there, but he didn’t panic upon seeing it. He knew his shaft was hidden underneath, and it would emerge as needed.

Mitch let his eyes wander slowly upwards, noting the webbing between his slightly thicker fingers. He was stalling, too nervous to look at what he knew was coming. At length, though, he glanced up and straight ahead, into his own face. He suddenly knew what all that pressure had been earlier.

He was completely unrecognizable. His face was that of a synthetic otter, from the short muzzle sculpted from the white plastic, to the rounded ears near the top of his head, to the flatter, spread out nose capping his muzzle. His eyes, if that was the proper name for them, were now a pair of pale violet lenses, glowing softly.

He kept staring, unable to look away. It wasn’t just that there was nothing recognizable of himself in that face. No, that would have been more than he could handle already. It was more than that, though. Staring at himself, he felt a shudder go up his back as he realized that he was completely indistinguishable from all of the otter synths he had seen the day before.

“A perfect conversion.” The feline’s voice finally drew Mitch’s attention away from his reflection. She hit a button on the desk again, and the mirror slid back into the ground. Mitch gave himself a shake, and then tried to narrow his eyes on her. All it did was make his lenses flash brighter.

“This is illegal!” he yelped, his voice cracking.

“Indentured servitude is classified as illegal for organics.” Mitch blinked in surprise at her agreement. He genuinely hadn’t been sure. He was about to demand that she let him go, but she went on a moment later. “That said, it is entirely legal for synthetics.”

“I am not synthe-!”

Mitch’s voice cut out into a yelp as she slid an arm forward with fluid grace. She slipped a narrow finger tip around behind his ear, and then there was a soft click and an instant of sharp mental static. It made Mitch’s eyes water, and he slumped in his restraints. When the feeling passed, he turned his head, trying to glance up in the direction of his ear. He saw a line hanging down from it, running to the floor and then into the desk terminal that the feline synth was operating.

“Is that… is there a fucking port in my ear?” he stammered, caught between anger and stunned curiosity.

“Affirmative. Welcome to Euphorique Corp, Employee O-643.”

Mitch opened his mouth to argue, but anything he would have said was interrupted a moment later when she pressed another button on her desk. He felt that instant of mental static again, and then she spoke.

“Let’s see what we have to work with here.”

Mitch blinked, and turned his pale, glowing eyes up to the enormous monitor on the wall. It took a moment for him to recognize what he was seeing, but a yawning terror grew in his guts as he recognized a simple settings menu. She was navigating through it too quickly for him to see much more than a series of sliders, and the occasional word.

“Wait, wait, you can’t do this!”

“We have already backed up your default settings, O-643. They will be restored at the end of your contract.”

“That isn’t- stop calling me that!”

Those glowing pink lenses seemed to intensify for a moment. That voice spoke again. “First setting requiring adjustment identified.”

The monitor flashed through several sub-menus quickly, then came to a stop. Mitch glanced over at it, and stared. Listed on the screen were several settings, all of them variations on his first and last name. The slider for ‘Mitch’ was set to full, while others like ‘Mitchel,’ ‘Mr Mendez,’ and assorted nicknames he’d accumulated over the years were lower.

The synth scrolled through the options, until she reached the very bottom of the list. Mitch shivered. “O-643” was listed there, the slider set as low as was possible.

“Wait, n-”

She selected the slider, and pulled it to the right. Mitch’s voice cut out, and he just stared at the screen, confused. The feline synth glanced back to him.

“How do you feel, O-643?”

“Strange,” he replied. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words. “I… something’s different?”

“What could that be, O-643?”

She stressed his name oddly. He just stared at her, confused for a moment. Then he started, and glanced up at the settings screen again. He could see his names, ‘Mitch’ and ‘O-643’ were at the top of the name settings, pulled as far to the right as possible. “Wait, you-”

“Initial test is positive,” she interrupted him. “Proceeding to adjust other name settings.”

“Wait wait!” O-64-- Mitch yelped. He saw the ‘O-643’ slider jerk just a hint to the left, but he ignored that. “I’ll respond to O-643 now! Isn’t that enough?”

“We can’t have company assets accidentally responding to clients’ names; it makes clients uncomfortable.”

“But-”

Before he could finish, she began adjusting. She went to the bottom of the list, to a series of nicknames he’d had as a teenager. With mechanical precision, she began pulling their sliders all of the way to the left. With each adjustment, Mitch stared at the name, filled with a confusing lack of recognition. As she moved up the list, the names became more familiar… until she dragged their settings down to 0, and then he could just stare at them blankly. His thoughts were so scattered that he couldn’t even speak.

After she dragged ‘Mitchel’ away, though, and moved onto the final name on the list, Mitch yelped out, “Come on, just a lit-”

Before he could finish, she dragged the slider left. She backed out of the menu before O-643 could even read the name whose settings she’d just adjusted. He stared straight ahead, mouth hanging open, lenses pulsing softly.

“Anything wrong, O-643?”

He took a moment before he replied. “...I don’t think so?”

“Glad to hear it.”

She started flashing through settings menus, so fast that O-643 couldn’t keep up. He just stared at the screen, watching as she occasionally came to a rest on a setting and adjusted it up or down. He was never conscious of anything changing, but he knew that something had to be. His back straightened and his shoulders went back, even in his reclined state. The cool air on his bare body no longer felt foreign, and he spread his legs the slightest bit, all the better to show both his package and his shapely rear. The incredulity on his face lessened, and whenever she glanced over at him he inclined his head the slightest bit.

The sliders moved, and O-643 grew more and more confused. She was in his settings; she must have been changing something, but there wasn’t anything he noticed! His eyes wandered over to the windows facing out over the station. His memories went back to the few fragmented bits of the night before he could remember. He’d kept to the more vanilla areas of the station the night before, but that had been more than enough to satisfy him. Now, though… It wouldn’t be so bad to venture over to the more intense areas. He had a brief vision of himself, running his soft, rubber-padded fingers under a bound, blindfolded man’s chin. Oh yes, that could be fun. He didn’t question the fact that he’d instinctively imagined himself in his synthetic body. He was too busy letting his imagination flash to other possibilities. His nude, perfectly sculpted body on display for a crowd as he bent over and spread his cheeks. Sliding smoothly through the water, his legs wrapped around a partner’s waist. A thousand dirty, teasing words slid easily into his mind; anything that he could use to push a partner’s button.

It wasn’t only sexual, though. No, he was thinking of countless other things. Standing patiently, waiting for an order to fetch a drink or towel. Hell, he even imagined himself standing, his synthetic body gleaming in the sun, on display all day for any visitors and waiting just in the off chance that they needed any assistance.

“O-643?”

He glanced back over at the cat, eyes flashing in surprise. She had stopped her adjustment, and now her eyes were focused on him, a hint of a grin playing at the corners of her features. O-643 could just make out the most recent setting she had adjusted: Subservience. It was set almost to full. He tried to think about why that was an issue, but for some reason he just couldn’t.

She hit a button, and the restraints on his chair released. The otter synth rose up to his feet smoothly, naturally assuming a stance that jutted his rump out a tad. The line was still attached to his data port, but he wasn’t focused on that. His heavy tail felt comfortable hanging off of him, like he’d had it his whole life. He turned slowly, his balance flawless.

“So tell me, are you ready to start work?”

O-643 rolled his eyes. “Pft, right.”

That grin faltered, and her lenses glowed a bit more intensely for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I’ll go out and I’ll get myself good and fucked.” Some hint of something deep in the back of his thoughts was amazed that those words slid out of his mouth so casually. He barreled on, though, undaunted. “I’m doing that myself, though, and on my own time. Got it?”

The cat kept her lenses focused on him, and for a long moment she didn’t move. Then, at last, she shook her head and muttered, “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected somebody who ignored his own self-imposed limits to be terribly obedient.” Her hands went back to the panel, and the settings menu scrolled through a few options. “We can change that, though.” She came to a stop on a setting that just said “Obedience.” Before O-643 could say a word, the setting slider moved from the left to deep into the right.

“Stand up straighter.”

He did.

“On your knees.”

He slid down to his knees with casual grace, the movement smooth and uninterrupted by hesitation.

That grin returned to the cat’s face, and she gave her next order. “O-643, present.”

He moved. It was all graceful, all executed with the perfection of a dancer. He turned, and somehow his feet were under him. His webbed hands slid down over his synthetic flesh and delrin casing, even as his torso bent ever so slightly forward. His fingers slipped from his trim stomach, back and around his hips. His broad tail rose and curved out of the way, his fingers dug into the smooth give of his latex asscheeks, and he spread them.

O-643 held that slightly awkward position with flawless balance. The cool air on his bared surfaces didn’t make him feel uncomfortable. The otter synth didn’t move as he heard the cat’s footsteps growing closer. At last, she stepped up behind him, and then the smooth surface of her paw slipped up against his asscheek, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Now that is what we want from a quality asset.”

O-643 turned his head the slightest bit to grin at her over his shoulder. He let his lenses pulse softly as he murmured, “Damn right it is.”

The cat’s other hand moved up, and she tugged the chord free from his data port. The hand on his ass pulled away, before returning to give him a soft smack on one of his cheeks. “Get out there and get to work. I’ll see you again once your debt is paid off.”

The otter synth chuckled and gave a small nod. “Yes ma’am.” He let his hands slip away from his rump, he stood up straight, and he strutted out of the room, letting his hips ride softly from side to side.

The cat synth watched him go, the grin still plastered to her features. She headed back over to her terminal, and began backing up all of O-643’s settings. She was methodical and precise in her actions, but truth be told she didn’t think she needed to be. She had yet to have an asset come back and actually want their old settings returned.