FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1. Chapter Theme: https://youtu.be/Tah9C6VryjYv=A4Ee8OWpmqA

The clock in the classroom read 2:00pm.

"Mister Callaghan, do you have a question?"

Mike whipped forward and clasped his hands. "No, Mister Young."

"If you do, it's alright to ask me." The aforementioned Mister Young tapped a meter stick against his freshly shined leather s. "I'm sure I have a better answer than Mister Wolcott."

A minute of silence passed. Mr. Young stared at the red haired teen. Mike stared back, smiling, thinking how similar the teachers nose was to a halfpipe.

"Very well."

The teacher turned to point at a map unraveled against the chalkboard, wiggling his bushy eyebrows. "So who can remember why the French coined the phrase 'tiger troopers'?"

A ghostly white-skinned girl raised her hand. "Because Tiger Anthros were picked by the Spanish to wave their flags."

"Correct, this was during the thirty years war..." Mr Young pointed at the world map and rubbed his index finger between Germany and France. "As the militaries of Europe grew, it became necessary for the emergent anthropomorphic population to be utilized."

And so the lesson resumed, and after five minutes, Mister Young was lost in his world and Mikey saw a chance to resume conversations.

"So the cop said you had to help her?"

Billy dropped his pencil, having taken the lecture to finish a drawing on the inside of his notebook. "Yep."

"So that was your date?"

The blond sucked on the bottom of his lip and looked away. "Yeah."

Mike snorted and seemed to Billy to focus on learning rather than Billy's search for love. So he took to shading in the doodle, a caricature of Elizabeth toting cake and a gameboy colour while in lingerie.

"So is she hot."

Frills and doily patterns spiraled around the rabbit's panties. "Yeah."

"You sure you're not just into bestiality."

The eraser top bounced off the back of Mikeys' head. He chuckled and cracked his neck.

"So what makes her hot then?"

Mr Young rolled up the map, and wrote on the board "Rocroi - Tigress Captain - Page 91." His eyes grazed over the students, making sure they were checking their books. For a second he focused on Mike and Billy. Then another student asked a question, and Mr Young's attention wasn't on the boys.

"She's got a huge ass."

"How huge."

Billy waited for his friend to look over his shoulder, and then demonstrated with his hands. The red head chuffed and smiled. "But do the drapes match the carpet?"

He took a second to process the statement, and then asked "what?"

"How's her tits?"

Doodle Elizabeth's massive mammaries were smudged away by an eraser worned down to its metal parts. "She's pretty flat."

"Darn."

Mr. Young pulled down the map again, eyes drifting again to stare at the two boys at the far back.

"Why?"

"What?"

Billy finished adjusting his illustration of the rabbit with accurately sized breasts. "What's wrong if she's got small boobs?"

"I mean, nothing." Mike scratched his chin. "I guess they'll grow when you impregnate her."

The pencil fell out of the blonde's hands onto the ground."Ech"

"What?"

Billy leaned over and picked up his writing utensil. His eyes shifted out the window to his left, where a starling perched on a branch outside.

"I'm fucking fifteen, man."

"If you want to be a man..." The ginger bent to the left and tied his shoe, giving him a chance to look his friend in the eye. "You got to think about that stuff."

The starling bounced from one end of the branch towards the tree trunk. Mister Young was asked if any tiger troopers visited their town in the olden times. He scratched his chin, assured the question-asker that the answer was on the tip of his tongue, and consulted his textbook. The rest of the class took this chance to talk amongst one another.

"Besides." With more people talking, Mike felt safe enough to raise his voice. "Imagine you as a father."

Billy raised his voice as well. "Hey fuck you."

"You would make a great Tv show. Not even 16 and a father."

"I'm not sure I'd like to make a baby with her! I just find her hot."

"Mister Wolcott!"

The class went silent. The startling stopped on its branch. Mike slumped in his chair. All eyes were on Billy.

"Would you come to the front of the class?"

Every thought of the boy's was fear. The chair screeched as it scraped against the classroom floor. He walked forward, each step echoing in his mind. As he passed his friend, for a quick glance Billy thought he saw "sorry" mouthed but not said.

He reached the front of the classroom, standing before Mr. Young, wielding the meter stick like a dictator's whip.

"Repeat what you said."

Billy hesitated, peering at his seat. Mike sliced a thumb across his throat.

"Mister Wolcott, as this is the last period, we don't. have. all. day."

Billy coughed, took a deep breath, and repeated what he had said. " I'm not sure I'd like to make a baby with her. I just find her ... hot."

It was silent again.

And then someone laughed.

And then the whole class laughed.

From the first goody two shoes on the front left corner to the pair of buffoons in the corner behind Mikey, they all laughed.

And Billy felt the most foolish he had felt in forever.

"That does not sound like the history of anthros." Mister young commented. "Please go back to your seat, Mr Wolcott."

Billy obliged.

Just as he was about to sit down again, the teacher said "And, Mister Wolcott, please see me after class."

The boy sulked against his chair, slipping down until the back of his neck was against his back rest. He wanted to crawl inside something and hide until everyone in the room was dead and his loud mouth was forgotten.

"Anyways, class, thanks to Miss Colt's question, your homework is research." The bushy-browed man erased the blackboard and wrote down instructions. "Look into the history of our town and bring me back a paragraph describing one notable person you found."

Mike whipped behind him and uttered a quick apology, but wasn't heard over Mister Young saying "Bonus points if this citizen is an anthropomorphic. "

Though his pride was still hurt, Mr. Young's instructions made the boy lit up. Elizabeth did seem to like that history stuff. Billy could ask about her ancestors, get to know more about her, and even get closer to her.

Maybe even close enough to grab that ass...

As Billy fell back into daydreaming, the starling began to dance on the branch once again.

The watch read 3:27, exactly 57 minutes after school ended. 47 more minutes than Elizabeth expected for Billy to get there. But this watch wasn't on either boy or rabbit mentioned. Instead, it was on the railing in the bell tower of the Episcopal Church. Roger's eyes bore into it, his hands wrapped around the rope attached to the bell. "3:28...." He whispered.

Down below the leafless trees swayed as the wind howled. The eastern gust was frigid, and Roger felt it through his gloves and life-preserver-like coat. "Fuck." He squeezed the rope, itching to tug it already. "Come on, 3:29..."

To the west, coming from the parking lot, a large white van pulled up the driveway. It stopped to signal a left turn, and the sudden movement and its colorful logo caught Roger's eye. 'Abernaphy Glass' read the logo, red letters circling a woodpecker, its mouth agape. Then the van drove into its turn towards the rotary, taking the third exit and leaving Roger's sight.

"They probably repaired that rabbit bitches' glass." Roger's brown pupils came to rest on the side of Reknowned Furniture. "Goddamn. If it weren't for her I wouldn't be in this mess!"

He spaced out staring at the store wall, revisiting yesterday morning in his mind. Since that incident he had not only lost another place on which to play hockey. Roger had lost privilege of playing with his friends after school, his father coming up with busy work as punishment. The only option now was to wake up early before his father or siblings, and head out to play. But they would need a place that was close to all of their houses. Close enough where it would take little time to get there, and then once they're done playing, get to class.

As Roger pondered, Billy Wolcott came running from the school, crossing two streets to bypass the rotary.

"Oh hey, Billy! Billy!" Roger called out to his friend. Maybe they could hammer out an idea right now and scout tomorrow before school, he thought.

But Billy didn't do so much as look in the church's direction before opening the store's entrance and disappearing.

"Ah well." Thought the reverend's son. "I'll catch him tomorrow."

Then Roger heard his father yelling, realized it was 3:35, and tugged the rope quickly.

When Elizabeth took a seat on the crate, the church bell next door had begun to ran. But the rabbit lady didn't pay it any mind.

Boot scuffs and mud trails crisscrossed the floor surrounding her. Beneath new windows, splinters and twisted nails littered the windowsill. A cool breeze came through the rear entrance, the glass door currently taken roped against the wall outside.

Abernathy Glass, in their efforts to make the job easy, took the door off its hinges. But they broke the hinges, and the pneumatic closer, and had scratched both the door and the frame. Rather than informing the German accented rabbit, who was already high strung when they had arrived, they made a swift egress once the windows were installed.

Luck was on their side. Elizabeth didn't care to stop them about the door. She was too busy ripping into the delivery men, complaining about how late they were, criticizing their poor customer support, tarnishing their very names until they dropped the wooden crate where they stood, leaving the store without so much as a goodbye.

A crate that was too heavy for the petite rabbit woman to lift.

Elizabeth enjoyed the breeze that blew in. It was the only thing about her new home she enjoyed. The air was either cold, or wind blew enough to make it cold.

Of course, it wasn't the same type of cold that snow brought. Snow, that reminded her of times which ceased since her unexpected arrival to that seaside town.

Elizabeth hung her head and sighed, her ears drooping close enough to her mouth the onrush of air covered up the sound of Billy's entrance.

"Hello! Sorry I'm late!"

The rabbit girl winced as she mentally prepared herself to deal with the boy, thinking of how to get the best use of him.

"Wow, what the hell happened here?"

Elizabeth didn't answer him. She jumped her plump rump off the box and motioned him over. "Grab ze mop. I do not vish to step in mud any more."

Billy obeyed, or at least he was excited to follow her orders. He spent a minute standing still, looking for the mop until she pointed at it behind the counter.

He dragged the filled bucket out from its hiding space, sploshing water here and there and then had to go back and wipe up the puddles he created. All in silence, as he thought of the best way to start a conversation.

"So, sorry for being late again."

Elizabeth picked up a nail that sat on her windowsill, paying him no mind.

"My teacher, Mister Young, cool guy. He gave me this homework, right."

She rolled the rusty nail in her pad-tipped fingers. The brief thought of crucifying the delivery men from earlier came over her mind. She dismissed it as cruel and time consuming.

"Yeah it was such an important task he had to keep me after class, and that's why I'm late."

The bag jingled as Elizabeth dropped the last nail into it.

"See, he wants us to research past people who have lived in town, and that got me thinking..."

As he spoke he watched her walk by, approving of her salmon-pink sailcloth shorts. A complimentary third color to her white and gold tail, which disappeared as she turned to point at his feet.

"Boy!" Elizabeth pointed at his feet. "Vat ar yu doing?"

Billy made a puddle mopping the same square foot for the past five minutes. A roll of paper towels sailed by his head and hit the wall behind him. "Clean sat up, sen ve shall move dis crate."

On his knees, the boy continued. "How long have you lived on cape?"

"Vat?"

Billy repeated the phrase in a slow manner. "How long have you lived on cape?" She repeated in the same tone. "Vat?"

He rubbed the entire roll of paper towels against the puddle, a little annoyed. "How long have you lived in Catuvella?"

"Four years." Elizabeth dropped the rucksack full of nails on her counter. Turning towards the crate, which was as tall as her hips, and by proxy the boys' as well since they were the same height, and decided she was going to move it now. "Come here."

"Are you descended from any tiger troopers?" The sopping roll of paper towels was left behind as Billy came to stand before the wooden box. "Or are you one..."

"Stand here, und prepare to lift." She ordered, pointing at the side of the box farthest from the stairs. "Ready...go!"

Up and off the ground Billy lifted his side, making no noise other than deep breaths. But his lapine employer groaned and grunted, almost panting as she struggled to hold the box. "Follow...me..." She hissed through grit teeth.

Five minutes and they were halfway up the spiral staircase. Though the box was heavy, it was interesting enough that he didn't mind the weight. Orange packing stickers littered the crate, showing that the box had been moved before a lot. He recognized the area codes printed on them from writing letters to pen pals in middle school. Boston, New Bedford, Bristol, places out west, off cape past the canal. Dense, urban cities, poor in some respects, but appreciative of the time for which Elizabeth's knick-knacks all came from. Billy wondered if maybe she was from the Museum of Fine arts. Maybe he was out of her league, he worried. Maybe she preferred an educated scholar, or a hardy punk over a hockey-playing brat.

The rabbit girl gasped. "Ar yu paying hattention?"

When he realized she was talking to him he stuttered. "Uh yeah! I'm giving this all my focus." To emphasize his point, he peered around the edges and corners two or three times. In doing so, he noticed something. A small black stamp against the grain of the wood, almost small enough to read, but recognizable. It was nothing more than a name surrounded by a box in black ink.

Dovin-Basil.

Billy stopped walking and Elizabeth's grip slipped as she tugged against the non-moving blond and crate. Billy found himself teetering at the top of the stairs as all the weight of the box coupled with the gravity pressed against his back. His hands slid along the rough edges of the crate, catching splinters and cuts as the rectangular prism shifted further up, or rather down as he bent backwards, towards his chest and neck. In an act of pure adrenaline, Billy lifted with all his strength and threw the box over head, catching himself on the railing to avoid a somersault down the stairs.

The crate soared over the railing and landed with a crunch on the hardwood a story below.

"Boy!"

The rabbit girl shoved past him, speed walking down the stairs to come before the crate. It was in the same condition before he dropped it. Perhaps smoother where Billy's hands sanded themselves against its splinter covered-edges.

But no doubt, if she had the energy to lift the box, Elizabeth would find the falling wooden crate had scratched the basement floor.

"Sis never vould have happened if vu hadn't come here late!" She yelled at the boy as he sat on the staircase catching his breath. "Tomorrow if yu dont come in time, I vill call yur parents, I vill tell sem vat happened yesterday und I vill see yu in so much trouble! Scheisse!"

So mad was she that she stomped her foot-paws against the floor. Billy, looking down on her, was part amused, part terrified at how her ears twitched. And then she yelled.

"Now go! Leave! Go! Go! Scheisse!"

And without so much as a goodbye, Billy ran. Up the stairs, through the storefront, out the door, and heading home along the King's Highway. He didn't stop to take a look at his hands, his palms and especially his pointer embedded with wood. He didn't stop to catch his breath,his chest pounding as the adrenaline screamed through his veins. He didn't stop even when he started to feel the stress, like a vice grip squeezing behind his eye sockets, as the same few thoughts raced through his head.

"I fucked up! She hates me! If I fuck up again I'm dead! I've ruined my chances with her! I fucked up! She hates me! I've ruined my chances with her! I fucked up! She hates me! I've ruined my chances!.." and so on, his thoughts only slowing as he turned down the street to his house.

"She hates me...I shouldn't have talked to Mike in class. I shouldn't have been late. I shouldn't have fucked around when I was supposed to mop the floor. I should've stopped fucking around with the box."

The box. That stamp. A familiar name whose echo started at the back of Billy's cranium and enveloped every thought as he trudged north. Dovin-Basil. Dovin-Basil. Dovin-Basil. He relived an experience he thought he had gotten over. Something that could've happened a lifetime ago when actually it was last year. Something that was actually everything and now meant nothing as every thought of regret, guilt, depression and angst smashed into one single bout of melancholy and then, apathy. Emotional overexertion turning to exhaustion. And then nothing.

Billy came to a stop in front of his house, thoughtless.

He took a deep breath, tried to remember what he had been thinking, then stopped in his tracks again. Halfway to his door.

"Okay you know what..." He raised his hands, the strap of his duffle bag chafing over his shoulder. "I...Nothing can get worse."

The front door of the Wolcott house opened. Billy's dad was standing in the doorway, belt in his hand.

"What's this call I got from your History teacher?"