FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was a scorching hot day at the beach. The day had started off with the sun behind a thin veneer of clouds, giving the impression that it could be a nice day, but that had quickly burned off as the sun rose to its apex. Now, the air was thick and heavy, almost oppressive, the sun seemed to loom in the sky instead of rest there, and the sand somehow seemed to sizzle if stepped upon barefoot. The only reprieve was the cool salt water of the ocean and the various spots of shade available, some brought by beach goers and some already in place.

When you finally realized that the ocean water, while cool, would do nothing to slack your parched throat, you decided to brave the burning sands with a pair of sandals. Your destination was the "Snack Shack," one of many tiny huts along the beach with a small wooden pavilion of tables with umbrellas and a few benches.

Once there, your heart sank and your throat began to feel like the Sahara Desert. The line was so long, you weren't sure you could survive it before you either died of dehydration or had to pack up and leave for the day. There were at least 100 people in that line (give or take). Worse, all the tables were shade were packed with various other beachgoers.

Feeling defeated, you sank into one of the nearby empty benches, scorching hot through your ocean-soaked bathing suit, and gave a loud sigh. Your shoulders slumped and your head sank in defeat.

The entire bench suddenly creaked and seemed to shift as someone sat next to you. You glanced over and saw a rather large fluffy and feathered thigh sitting next to you. Moreover, it somehow had a bit of shade cast on it despite there being no umbrella over the wooden bench. Curious at this sudden appearance of shade, you glanced upwards from the floor to find that heaven fit into a teeny, tiny blue bikini.

Her feathers appeared almost caramel in the blazing sun, but they could have been yellow or orange or somewhere in-between. Two massive breasts rested directly on your left, each one with enough mass and curvature to provide a minor bit of shade to the legs underneath while still appearing heavy and full. The massive globes were barely contained by a bathing suit that looked like it could've been painted on instead of worn. You blushed slightly at yourself as you had just checked to see where her nipples were, as they should have been protruding out somewhere. She gave a contented sigh, her shoulders rising and lower, causing her mammaries to rise and fall gently. Your thoughts instantly turned to the thought of seeing this lovely chicken lady without that bathing suit on and your face turned an even brighter shade of red. Thankfully, the heat had already turned your whole face red enough that no one would have noticed unless they looked down towards your groin.

She had a bright red bit hanging off to the sides of her beak and you vaguely recalled that they were called wattles. On the top of her head, she had an even larger red part, almost like hair, hanging off the side of her head. Some distant science teacher's voice echoed in your mind, explaining that the 'comb' of a chicken was used to help control the body temperature, acting like a car's radiator. Lucky her. Her beak held a small straw delicately and you involuntarily began to pant when you heard the sound of some refreshing fluid being drank. Strange, you thought, one hand was either holding up her right breast or perhaps helping brace it to give relief to her lower back, while the other hand held her left breasts steady. So where was her drink resting?

You discarded your covert glances over at her to stare openly, letting your vision wander along the path of the straw, leading directly into her massive cleavage. There, a single glass of cola sat, plenty of ice floating in its dark liquid.

She noticed your stare (how could she not?) and her deep violet eyes darted up to meet yours. You were half off the bench, leaning forward, in the direction of the outside curve of her breast, your eyes burrowing a hole into her chest. It was actually a good thing she didn't shout an alarm of a 'creeper'. Instead, she glanced to the opposite side a little, embarrassed by the intense look you were giving her. She recovered nicely, her eyes darting up a little, then back down, "Um, if... if you're thirsty, you can have a sip?" Using only her tongue, she slowly rotated the straw away from her mouth and towards yours, but kept the cola firmly wedged into the top of her cleavage.

"Are... are you sure?" She nodded slowly, a clear flush showing on her cheeks, even through her luxurious feathers. You wondered how soft they were, but withheld a hand from reaching out and brushing them to check. "Okay... Thank you."

You stand up and lean in, one arm reaching out to grasp the straw and pull it ever so slightly into your own lips. Her prodigious bust juts out so predominately that you realize you're going to have to lean into it in order to get to that straw. Did she know that you would have to do this? Did she want you to? These thoughts shot through your brain as fast as bolts before you took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. Driven by a dry throat (and no ulterior motives whatsoever), you stand up fully and take two steps towards her, standing right against her body, and lean against her right breast to take a 'sip'. The breast gives way as you press into it, warm, but somehow not adding to your overheated body temperature. Politely, you take two 'sucks' of cola. Its icy coolness hits you in a rush and your whole body relaxes.

Your knees wobble unexpectedly and you instinctively place both hands against the nearest surface to catch yourself. You feel the soft feathers, the gentle give of firm flesh underneath them, and the sweat of a body on the beach during a sunny day. Your hands sink into that right breast... but the sweat you had felt gave her body a slickness and you quickly feel your hands slid outwards. It doesn't help that the marshmallow-like breast, while firm of flesh, shifts more like a fluid than a solid.

From leaning in, brushing against a breast, to planting your hands down, and now... You faceplant into that breasts completely, your whole body sinking into it, causing her to give a very unladylike sound in a public place. You try to extract yourself, but it takes a minute as you try your best to be careful, acutely aware that there is a nearby bathing suit keeping this breast decent and you do not want to be that guy that is labeled a 'pervert' by grabbing it and sliding it off her. How the thing doesn't come off on its own as you shift the mass of the breast around to get yourself free is beyond you.

Once able to stand on your own two feet, you clear your throat and glance around. Everyone, even those in the line, are either staring at the two of you or pointedly looking away. You peek at the hen, who's violet gaze now holds you. "By... By any chance, you wouldn't, um... be interested in helping give me a massage later, would you? There are some places... I can't quite reach and I could use the help."

"Uh... are you sure," you double-check.

She leans forward, her breasts sliding down her body to press against your chest, splashing you with some cola and ice. This creates a cover for her next action as one hand teasingly slides itself over the erection in your bathing suit. She whispers, "I could feel that poking into me... And I am sure I'd like to get to know you better... and you can get to know me better too..." She sits back up, her pendulous 'mountains' no longer providing a cover on your groin, "I'm sure."

Then she whispers her address to you, a place not far from the beach. "Don't forget... I'll be home in an hour or so." She stands up, reaches up to put the straw in her beak once more, missing it a few times and ruining the sultry seductress image she was trying to convey, and then saunters off the pavilion with a slight hip roll with every step. As she goes, you stare at the bikini bottom. Well, the little of it that just barely gives her a slight hint of decency. The rest of it is swallowed between her butt cheeks.

"Oh man," you manage to get out. You want to get to know her a heck of a lot better... But right now, you quickly decide to leave the pavilion with an awkward shuffle and your hands over your groin. There is still a very visible pitched tent in your bathing suit.