FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author note: This is the first installation of a multi-part series by commission! The characters, story and setting are written under guidance from the client (I absolutely adore Zoe. Seriously. She is too cute.) and so additional installments will be based on client activity. If you enjoy the first part of this story, consider checking out my Patreon, messaging me for your own commission, or just voting and leaving a comment to boost my stats. Thank you and enjoy!

For an apartment, this place wasn't half bad, Zoe thought. The canine refilled her bottle of water from the sink, and made a mental note of each box stacked on top of the counter nearby. With the last load of her belongings brought over from her old dorm, she was now faced with the monumental task of unpacking everything, which always seemed to take longer than the move itself. Thankfully the apartment came pre-furnished, which meant all she had to worry about were the things that could fit in the back of her car.

With a sigh, she leaned back into the corner cupboards and closed her eyes. It was only 3pm and it had already been a ridiculously long day, but at least all her stuff was here now. That was theoretically the hard part done, right?

There was still the matter of the flatmate, though...

A little knot tensed in Zoe's stomach. She had been living as a woman long enough to know that she would pass without question these days, but there was still a tiny ball of fear that screamed "What if?" every time she met someone new. Old habits died hard, and sometimes it took more than moving away from your small town to let go of the past.

Almost as if sensing she was lost in her own mind, the canine's phone vibrated on the bench top behind her, and brought her back to the present with a jolt. With a glance over her shoulder, she could see the notification flash up on screen.

"Hey Zoe,your new flatmate should be heading up shortly. He doesn't have keys at the moment, I'm getting them cut this afternoon. Can you let him in until then? Ta."

She cupped her hands over her russet muzzle and exhaled deeply into them, feeling the warm air settle against her fur. It would be fine. Student affairs said they had found a suitable flatmate for her, and college was all about new experiences, right? She still had her own room here if she needed to crawl away, it would just be sharing common areas. She could do this.

Nodding in agreeance with her internal pep-talk, Zoe stood back up and did her best to straighten her appearance, though there was only so much she could do while in old jeans and a shirt for the move. She ran a paw through her hair, trying to tame locks that had long since decided to escape her ponytail, and set about trying to move the collection of boxes and items that had since taken up residence on the couch and coffee table during the move.

It wasn't terribly long before there were three deliberate knocks at the door and the sound of activity in the hallway, however when Zoe opened the door, it was not the housemate she had anticipated. Instead, she was greeted with the sight of two older wolves standing together in the hallway. They were well-dressed and politely waiting, though Zoe wasn't quite sure who for.

"Hi there. Can I help you?" She inquired, eyebrows raised.

The older woman clasped her hands together and beamed a wide, toothy smile from her greying muzzle. "You are Zoe, yes? Room one-oh-two?" Her accent was thick with a deeply European lilt, and her eyes were the colour of lemon butter.

Zoe blinked. "Uh, yes. Yes, that's this apartment. Can I ask what you're here for?" They certainly didn't seem like the college-going sort, and the RA said she would only have one new room mate.

"Oh, you are beautiful! Such lovely hair, you are solnyshkuh!" The older woman reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently in greeting and admiration, while Zoe simply stood, stunned, in the doorway. "Mikhail is such a lucky boy to have you for mate, yes? You will be good for him, I think," the she-wolf nodded.

"I'm sorry... Mate?" Zoe stammered.

"Yes, yes. To live with," the older woman insisted. "Er, how you say... "

A bubble of laughter rose within her. "Oh! Flat mate, you mean! Oh, I'm so sorry. You must be my new flat mate's parents? I just got a message that they would be on their way up."

The older wolf beamed at Zoe and released her hand, before gesturing to herself and her partner. "I am Yelena, and this is Vasilly. We are Mikhail's parents. It is most pleasure to meet you!" The older gentleman next to her gave a nod and a grunt in greeting, which seemed to satisfy his wife well enough.

"Please, come in! I don't have much unpacked so I can't offer you a cup of tea, I'm afraid, but I can show you the place?" Zoe took a step back from the doorway and gestured them inside. It was certainly unorthodox, but the canine felt it would be rude not to invite them in at this point.

Yelena tugged at her husband's coat and gleefully rattled off something in Russian that Zoe could scarcely understand, but the older woman was smiling with a grin from one side of her muzzle to the other, so it couldn't be too bad, right? The look of concern across her face must have been obvious.

"I say you are so polite, and your house is so tidy, Mikhail will learn from you, I hope," the older woman clarified, gesturing to the apartment. My Zoe's standards, it was a mess. There were boxes all over the place, a throw had been hastily placed over the couch, there were a pile of shoes near the door, and - Wait, learn from her? God, if this was the woman's idea of tidy... She swallowed hard. All of a sudden, the prospect of having a new flatmate seemed overwhelming.

"So, uh, what's Mikhail like? The RA hasn't told me anything, other than that I'll be sharing accommodations with him for at least a semester," she gently probed.

The older woman clasped a paw to her chest, and made a lovelorn face. "Miho is a good boy, but must study more! He plays too much with the games and the sports. He tells me "Mama, I want to make league" and I tell him I only want him to have good job. Think for your future," she clicked her tongue.

While she nodded and smiled politely, Zoe groaned internally. Sure, she had no real power over who the RA assigned to be her flatmate, but the canine had hoped that it would be someone who at least partially aligned with her own interests - computer games, tabletop role-playing, cosplay. You know. Geek stuff. From the sounds of it though, her new friend was some sports ball meathead who could barely be expected to clean up after himself. He probably smelled like Axe deodorant and went to keggers on weekends, and thought that gender was something you grew in the garden.

It wasn't looking great, to be honest. Although she knew she had no say in it, the young woman had hoped that she'd see a little bit of herself in the new flatmate. Someone who she'd get along with, share meals with and maybe even become friends. They would laugh at the same jokes, maybe have similar hobbies, and who knows what else? Wasn't that what every University coming-of-age story was based on? It was cliche and - just maybe she had read one too many fanfics - but she had a wistful longing for something more than just someone to share a kitchen and bathroom with.

Blinking back into reality, Zoe realised that the older woman had pulled out a pocket album of photos, the first three all of her new flatmate naked in the washing basin, one of him in Little League and at least one more as an awkward pre-teen. She stifled a snort as his mother fawned over the photos, dropping in and out of English as she spoke about his first word, his first day of school and his first kiss. When all else was done, his mother adored him dearly and he was her absolute world, and there was a very wholesome kindness to the way she spoke so fondly of him.

Over the chatter, Zoe's ears pricked at the sound of keys in the door lock. With a clunk and a creak, the door swung open to frame the broad, masculine figure of who could only be the new flatmate. In an instant, her suspicions were confirmed - here he was standing in the doorway, white tennis shoes, khaki shorts and a Pacman shirt he probably bought for clout because it was on sale at Nordstorm. His hair was a tousled silver-grey and framed a strong jaw and well-groomed muzzle, and his body tone practically screamed "Bro, have you heard about Cross Fit?" He hefted a cardboard box of belongings under each arm without issue.

Great. Just peachy.

Zoe could see it now; she would have to deal with fawning undergrads waking up on the couch at least once a week, ushering them out after finding their clothes strewn around the apartment, and her flatmate having already made himself scarce for the day. Her heart sank.

And then something strange happened. Mikhail's muzzle dropped in what could only be described as a look of horror, as his eyes widened and flicked between his parents, the collection of baby photos and Zoe. Yelena looked over her shoulder at him and absolutely beamed, shaking the collection of photos at the young woman for emphasis.

"Here is my Mikhail!" She announced, rising from the couch. "What a good boy he is!"

The wolf from the doorway lurched into the apartment with a desperate yelp, almost tripping over his own feet in haste to both put down one of his boxes, and snatch the concertina of photos from his mother's hands. Yelena cunningly swung both arms behind her son's back, embracing him with a tight hug, and conveniently keeping the photos out of reach.

"Mom! Mom, stop! HvatitI!" He protested, using his one free arm to try and pry himself lose of his mother's encompassing grasp.

"Yelena," the older gentleman spoke, as he also rose from the couch. It was one word, in a husky, deep voice, but it was enough. The father cut an imposing figure, but his expression was one of kindness, perhaps even exasperation. Mikhail's mother released him, reaching up to pat him fondly on the cheek and tuck the photo album back into a pocket, tutting all the while about the way he was dressed.

"When you said you'd help me move, I was expecting you to load some boxes, not just meet me over here," Mikhail sighed, shifting the box under his arm.

His father chuckled, a deep belly laugh. "You say you want college experience, no? Now you experience the first part - hard work!"

Zoe couldn't help herself and stifled a laugh of her own.

"Besides," his mother piped up, excitedly. "We meet your mate, Zoe. Isn't she beautiful, Mikhail? You be good to her or else!"

"Flatmate, mom! Flatmate! God..." he groaned, running his free hand over his muzzle. When he looked up, Mikhail shook his head and held out a hand to Zoe. "I'm so sorry about all of this. Really. I'm Mikhail, but just call me Mike, it's fine."

Zoe extended her own hand as Mikhail grasped hers and gave it a firm shake. Their eyes met, and Zoe felt a giddy little rush bubble up from somewhere in her stomach as his deep-amber eyes burned into hers. He held her hand for what felt a split second too long before letting go, and she couldn't help but break the spell and look away first.

"I, uh... I know. Your mum told me," she smirked, feeling the inside of her ears go pink. "She's quite fond of you, isn't she?"

Another groan escaped his mouth as Mikhail turned his muzzle skyward. There really wasn't an age where your parents stopped embarrassing you, she supposed. Truth be told, his awkwardness was kind of endearing, even if he was a meathead jock.

"Mikhail, you be good to her! No mess around the house, and wear your pants! She is good girl, and doesn't want to see your-" His mother gestured deliberately to his lower half. His father snorted. "You clean your dishes and put down toilet seat, or I come back and smack you! She will tell me, I know!"

Looking at her own feet, Zoe bit her lower lip. It was all she could do to stop herself from bursting into a fit of laughter. Mikhail's discomfort was palpable and he wasted absolutely no time in placating his mother's concerns about walking around indecently and cleaning up after himself as he herded them towards the door. His father needed no direction, but trying to usher his mother towards the door was like trying to negotiate with a cat - she very much had her own ideas of how this would play out. Zoe could hear the conversation slipping between English and some kind of Slavic tongue as her new flatmate tried to reason, bargain and eventually plead with his mother that all would be well under threat of the kind of violence only a European mother could dish out.

Eventually, after reminders aplenty, several more threats, a painfully long hug, some tears and many, many goodbyes, Mikhail closed the door on his parents, sighed and leaned against it with his eyes closed. For the briefest moment between the two of them, there was silence.

And then the bottom of the box he was holding gave out.