FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Jenny's hand is soft, each little paw pad feels like a little cushion on your hand as you pull her up and out of the bench seat. She's surprisingly light, though you can't really get a good gauge of her figure given how she's always wearing baggy or otherwise ill fitting clothes. You make a mental note to ask about that but push the thought aside. Your pull was a bit too strong given how unexpectedly light Jenny is and you almost pulled the poor girl into your chest but stopped just shy of slamming her snout into your sternum. She looks up at you from behind those deep eyes, it pings your heart and you can feel the warmth of a blush spread across your face. Her nose begins to rapidly twitch and her ears flush red.

You quickly take a large step back. Awkwardly looking away and scratching your head to try to bring attention away from yourself. “Yeah, let's go to the truck." You say with a wide, awkward smile strewn across your face.

“Ye-ye-ye-yea-yeah l-let's" Jenny stammers out, the swishing of her tail almost being louder than her words.

The two of you leave in short order, the tempting thought of taking her hand again is just about all you can think as you hold the door open, taking in a good view of her figure as the wind pulls her clothes against her frame. Her thighs are ample, but a tad thinner than you've seen on the few times she's worn shorts, perhaps her fur gives her shape extra fullness? Her hips are slim, almost unbecoming of a girl her age, just slightly wider than her already thin shoulders. However the thing that stands out most to you is her considerable bust, it isn't huge like those on the farm animal girls like the cows and sheep, but it's certainly at least a D cup, and maybe even a double D cup. If you weren't focused on keeping your composure you may let some of your shock creep onto your face, but despite your efforts you can feel your blush deepen. You know her tail is a little less fluffy than the normal foxes, but she also has hair on her head rather than fur, maybe she's part horse or something.

You can tell she's still rather pleased with the ending of the status quo between the two of you, her long, fluffy, orange, and black tip-. You catch yourself, the tail of a fox always ends with white, in every species. Curiosity seems to take your tongue with a fist as it forces a rather inconsiderate mess of words out. “Say Jenny, why's the tip of your tail black?' You blurt out.

Jenny flicks her tail up into her hands. She stops and looks at you as you let the door go, and then back at her tail. “Uhhh. I'm not a pure fox, you do realize that right? That's why I have human-like hair." She says.

The forwardness catches you off guard.“I figured as such but found it rude to ask." You reply, making sure to keep your manners.

She nods. “Right, you're a proud Hathian, makes sense. But yeah either my great grandma or great grandpa on my Dad's side was a human, my Grandpa's dad died in the war after leaving his pregnant wife behind, and then great grandmother died giving birth to grandpa. I've only ever seen their wedding photos, and even so, their faces have faded beyond recognition with time." She says, rather casually for such a macabre subject.

You force an awkward smile “Wow, that's rough." You say with wide eyes. Jenny stares at you for a second with a tilted gaze.

Jenny leans towards you. “Say you're a pure human, right? I mean with how rare humans are in this part of Hathia even quarterlings are quite rare." She asks.

You nod. “Yeah my family has been on this island forever, out near the Jacobins. There ain't many furbloods, scalefolks, or featherheads out there." You say, talking like your grandfather.

“Furbloods, now if that ain't the most Hathian word I ever did hear." She says, letting her familial tongue slip in. “Oops, sorry about that" she says, realizing her slip up, the inside of her ears becoming more a reddish orange than their typical yellow in embarrassment. You catch the accent, a newcomer would say it's Cajun, but it's missing that somewhat southern twang that the Cajuns have. No, Jenny has the Hathain french diaphora accent, the one from the Southern coast.

“So your folks are from New Caen?" You ask, smiling ear to ear. “Or am I mistaken?" You say.

“My folks were raised in Little Gascony not New Caen, but my grandparents were French proper, or “vraie lignée française" as they

“Little Gascony? Really? Out by Saint-Joan?" You ask, a little ping in your chest

“Closer to Le Babord, but close enough." She is clearly excited that you actually know a bit about the region given how a slight yip is let out at the end, supposedly a sign of excitement in foxes according to Eida. Or was it arousal? You can't remember. Sadly, her accent faded away again. A shame really, you thought it was rather cute, plus it's always nice to hear a tongue used to speaking in a uniquely Hathian way.

Soon the two of you are near your truck, the ancient Chevy S10 that brakes like a cement truck. It's older than you are, it being more than old enough to drink and you, not so much. New cars aren't something that are common on Hathia, not enough of a reason to sail them here I suppose, so you hope the near antique car is not too off putting. You soon find that it's the only car left in its part of the parking lot, there's a few others scattered about. You swear you can see a goat and a sheep in the same car with the looks of having a “grand old time" on their faces. It's probably just your imagination.... At least that's what you tell yourself.

You see the old dull forest green slightly shine the afternoon sun back at you. You get to the driver's side door and put the key in the door, unlocking it, and before you can really think about what you're doing you shout to Jenny “catch" and chuck the keys to her. You soon realize that throwing a shiny, noisy bit of metal at a nerd, and a girl one at that. You wince a bit as you see Jenny's tail shoot up and fluff out. Her eyes go wide and arms flail in some attempt to in what you think is catching the keys. However in her attempt she throws herself off balance and hits the ground before the keys do... Somehow.

You really can't do much else but go over there, and help the trembling mess of a fox up and unlock her door for her. “See it's not so hard. Just gotta unlock the door, this old gal may be older than I am but I'm sure she won't hurt ya." You softly whisper in an attempt to comfort her. She doesn't look hurt but just seems spooked and upset.

“dON't thROW things at mE… please." She pouts not looking at you as you fiddle with your keys to start the ancient machine. You turn to her as you turn the key to the truck.

“I'll try to remember that" you say reassuringly as you turn the key.

That first blast of hot air causes Jenny's nose to twitch as you can see from the rear view window, and it's cute how her ears seem to move like a wave to adjust to the new temperature too. As you check the mirrors and windows just to check you can feel yourself taking “extra caution" when checking the left blind spot and rear view mirror. The more you focus on Jenny the more her shape is revealed, the soft blouse she's wearing ripples like chop in the bay and erodes the layers of mystery of the curves of her body. You got a taste of it earlier, enough to get a general layout, but now it's clearer, like seeing an island in the distance but now finally being able to see the individual waves lapping against the shore.You can see where her waist sets, and how her hips don't really match her more, plentiful to say, chest. You can also finally see just how tight her bra keeps her chest bound. She's a nerd, her lack of musculature shows it, and she is very cute.

Your cool outward demeanor does not aptly reflect the absolute anxious wreck you are inside, your conscious is whirring a mix of don't fuckkit up dumbass AHHHHHHHHRRRRRGGGGG YOU FOOL at even the most minor of what it perceives as screw ups. While some more primal voice in your head may as well be licking its lips with its third most favorite thing; Need to Breed: Foxes to Seed. You can feel sweat begin to appear on your forehead as you get closer and closer to Jenny's neighborhood.

She's decent at giving directions between her ramblings about how expensive American imported paints are and how while cheaper, the import taxes for Moroccan paints make it more expensive. While she doesn't forwardly talk about her political beliefs she seems to loathe taxes and large corporations in equal measure. Other than that she seems to enjoy painting landscapes, notably of her home region of New Caen, which, like most of Hathia outside of the main city, is sparsely settled and even more sparsely visited. She also talks about her love of old science fantasy stories, with particular focus on the American Mammal-Avian scene of the sixties back when Scalefolk and Hardshells were still under the Greenskin Laws.

She seems far more well read in history than you are, which is to be expected given how everything outside Hathian History may as well have been nap time. As you turn onto Ziggurat Avenue, the entrance to Eridu Gardens, it dawns on you've been running on autopilot this whole time, just nodding as Jenny has talked your ear off. You actually found it quite enjoyable to listen to but found it rather out of character for Jenny's usually quiet self.

Jenny changes tone on a dime. “You know Tucker, most of the time when I decide to talk about old sci-fi or paints people generally either ignore me or try to change the topic, but you at least listened to me, thanks. Also for tomorrow's plan, do you want to get Hot Breton's in town?" She says shyly. You turn to her, seeing her ears and even her face are tinted red with a blush.

What the fuck is a Hot Breton? You think before letting your thoughts out through the small filter you do have. “I haven't got the faintest clue what the hell a “Hot Breton" is but that sounds great so long as it isn't some slang for gay sex."

Jenny giggles and she begins to lean in towards you. You feel your heart racing as she gets closer, she hesitates for a moment about a foot away from your face before her ears flush red and she pulls away suddenly. She then gives you an awkward toothy smile, almost barring her canines, before she leaves your truck almost slamming the door on her tail.

You take a moment to take a good look at her house. It's nice. Really, really nice. The house looks like what you imagine some sort of “Texas-Sized French Villa". The front door is connected to the rest of the house by some sort of welcoming room, and like the rest of the house is built using off-white bricks. There's a covered balcony on the second floor just behind the welcoming room, which has vines of some sort that seem to flow down from it and onto the welcoming room like an endless stream of green

After a moment of waiting, and totally not ogling Jenny's tail swaying back and forth like every Foxy Fox in every other James Bond movie, you take your foot off the brake and begin to head home. You go past the exit sign of the neighborhood “Eridu Gardens, a family neighborhood" and roll your eyes at the pretentious nature of it all. Traffic by now is in that lull of the time after the mild school rush and before proper rush hour, the roads are quiet, the drivers are either old, or parents driving their kids to their after school activities, no one is in any particular rush. You take a deep breath as you come to the light that determines whether one is going to town or the country. To the left is a trendy cafe, and the right is a goat pasture. You go straight, and straight into suburbia.

The drive through here is even less noteworthy, five miles of un-zoned, unplanned, neighborhoods, just like the state wanted. Even organized HOAs are forbidden by law, leading to this jumbled mess of a suburb. McMansions and renovated shacks, Hathian Style homes next to New English Colonial style homes and Antebellum South styled homes too. Supposedly the mainland is covered in pre-planned, pre-built neighborhoods, but you wouldn't know for sure, given you've never been. You breeze through the main road at a cool sixty miles an hour in a fifty zone, just like everyone else. Soon enough, you turn off, and snake your way through the labyrinthine residential roads all the way home.

Home. A simple word, characterized in your mind as a house with a perpetual string of projects. The flowerbed you and your father made before he remarried the fox you always remember calling mom. The navy blue paint on the outside, formerly olive green, and before that a simple off white. There's the basketball hoop that probably hasn't been used since the summer of '08. You step out of your old gal and head towards the back door, where you find a sticky note waiting for you. “Tucker- Please make burgers for dinner 2nite. Oliva- Your job is to vacuum the living room. Irene- You WILL do the dishes after dinner tonight if you stick Tucker with it again I am going to make your orange behind redder than an apple. Dad and I are having Dinner with the Karagans at the Albanian place in town.

Bummer. “More time to study." you say, lying to yourself, knowing damn well you're just gonna get on Destiny with Mickey and Eida. You go in, take off your shoes, grab a can of Coke Zero, and it hits you. It's quiet. You know your littlest siblings are away in Saint Louis with their grandparents, but the twins are here. Or at least they should be.

Figuring they're probably just at a neighbors house you go upstairs to your room. Just as you enter you see the two fox twins sitting in your double-wide office chair staring at you.

“You're late." Irene says glaring at you like an investigator on her favorite show; CSI: New York.

“Very late indeed" Says her near identical sister, with all the veneer of a Mob Boss

Deciding to play along you put on your best Bond Villain accent. “My affairs are none of your concern, dear sisters mine." You say with a polite but intentionally eerie smile.

The two give you a pouty face and you show them the door switching from your smile to a clearly annoyed frown. From there you go about your evening. Games, cook dinner, more games, and then to bed. Except, rather than sleep you find yourself staring at he ceiling, nervous, excited, and overjoyed at the date you have planned with Jenny.