FSE

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It's a routine test, Frosty reminded himself. He'd done them several times in the past. All he had to do was drop into the target timeline, anchor, perform a couple comms and system checks, then he'd be pulled back once everything was finished. It didn't slow his anxiously-lashing tail any.

He knew why he was apprehensive. It was a routine test, but it would be the first live test run since CATS, the Causality Assessment Transportation System, had been rebuilt after the devastating fire so many months ago. They had already performed necessary systems tests and simulation runs to confirm everything was functioning as intended, with a few minor hiccups along the way that certainly didn't alleviate Frosty's anxiety.

Despite the hiccups, enough tests had been successfully completed that they determined it was safe to proceed to the live test, which involved dropping someone into another timeline. A "dry run" - like the one that had caused the explosion and ensuing fire - only involved running the system through its paces and simulating a transport. They had to complete a full transport, to confirm it was safe to resume normal operations.

It was somewhat a relief that the issues plaguing the fated test run had been resolved, as far as they could tell. But that didn't make Frosty feel any better. He knew any number of things could go wrong; things that simulation alone couldn't factor in.

Frosty didn't have much time to dwell on the possibilities. The head CATS engineer's voice came into his earpiece.

"Comms check." Frosty responded with a thumbs-up. "Excellent. We're ready to proceed with the test run. Sit tight."

The steady, low hum of the CATS equipment began to gradually ramp up. It was expected, but it also made Frosty tense. His tail lashed as he gazed up at the myriad of cables running to and from the various systems. Considering how much technology and raw power was required to send someone to another timeline, he couldn't help being impressed that it all worked, that they didn't experience more glitches than they did.

But he was still nervous. He visibly jumped when the voice returned louder than before. It had to be, given how loud it would get in the CATS chamber during a transport. Not enough to warrant ear protection, but it was necessary to speak up.

"All systems go. Preparing for insertion."

Frosty took a deep breath and let it out slowly to settle his nerves somewhat. So far, everything seemed fine. He felt his fur begin tingling when the electrical drone abruptly grew louder. Despite all the shielding, both on the CATS hardware and his own jumpsuit, there was enough power running through the circuits that he could feel it in the air. Still normal and expected.

A different voice reached Frosty's earpiece. "Handler confirms ready." It was his handler, Felix. His "tech guy" who was responsible for tracking and monitoring Frosty while he was on a mission, communicating with him, relaying information, and generally handling everything at headquarters necessary to ensure he made it back safely.

There was a full team of engineers and technicians who made CATS function, but Felix was his main point of contact during a mission, and often the only one.

"Handler ready" was always the last confirmation given before insertion, and Frosty knew what was coming next.

The cheetah's silvery CATS suit began to come to life in preparation for the hop. Numerous circuits on the surface, normally hidden throughout the form-fitting lining, began to glow brilliant blue in response to the signals they received.

Felix came on again. "Try not to get eaten. Insertion in 3...2...1..."

The cheetah's response to Felix's initial statement was an elevated middle finger, held up to ensure the nearest camera would catch it clearly. It was the last thing the CATS control room saw on the video monitors before an expected, brilliant flash of light whited out the camera feeds...

* * * * * * * * * *

Frosty blinked as his vision quickly returned. It was like an intense camera flash going off, every time he hopped timelines. In one moment, he was standing on the transportation platform of the CATS chamber, being consumed by brilliant light. The very next moment, he was standing in...

...a bedroom? This wasn't where he was intended to be.

Frosty could clearly remember his mission brief for this test. The destination would be an open plain; a grassy savannah, lacking anything that could pose a threat to him. They were very particular in choosing destinations for a live test, to ensure the diagnostics and checks could be done uninterrupted.

So why, then, was he standing in the middle of a dimly lit, lavishly decorated bedroom?

"Damn it all, this is why I hate testing," Frosty muttered to himself. He reached for his collar and brushed his fingers across the surface to wake it up. What appeared to be a normal black leather band, began to shimmer lightly where his fingers touched.

Wrong place or not, the first thing he needed to do was "anchor" himself. His collar and CATS suit began to scan and gather details about this timeline, and used that information to compile an anchor code, a routing command that would allow CATS to return him to his home timeline.

"Anchor established. Transmitting code," said the computerized voice in Frosty's ear.

Something had clearly gone wrong, and that made a knot form in his stomach. He could still be pulled back, so long as CATS hadn't blown up again. But if he'd been sent to the wrong destination, what else had gone South?

Unknown to Frosty, everything had worked exactly as intended. While he hadn't been sent to the timeline indicated in the mission brief, he'd instead been sent to one of Felix's choosing. It was the calico's way of getting back at Frosty, for all the trouble the cheetah had put him through during the "Fomo" debacle. They were still trying to sort that particular mess out.

Felix would be severely reprimanded if anyone found out, but he had an alibi prepared. And he was confident that Frosty would return just fine.

Eventually.

To Frosty's relief, he received a confirmation tone in his earpiece after a brief wait. He was anchored now, so at least that much was working. And with the anchor established, he would be able to communicate with his handler.

Before he could send a request via the touch-interface on his collar, a voice came from the doorway of the bedroom.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise? Already here, waiting for me?"

It was an alarmingly familiar voice. Frosty quickly swiped a finger across the side of his collar to disguise it, then spun around to face the newcomer. His mouth fell open when he was greeted by a face that matched the voice: Fomo, the same grey and white mouse that he'd met so many versions of during his missions. This one was dressed in flowing blue silk robes that clearly were meant for royalty. And they left little to the imagination, most of the spotted mouse's generous curves on full display.

"Oh, hell," Frosty muttered.

The mouse tsk'd and folded his arms as he took in the sight of the white cheetah in his room. "Now that's no way to greet your Prince, Princess."

Frosty blinked at how the mouse addressed him. His cheeks flushed lightly despite his reaction. It wasn't the first time someone had called him that, but not a total stranger. "Excuse me, Princess?"

The mouse's teeth glinted in the dim light. It was a confident smirk that was all-too-familiar. "Well, would you rather I call you by your proper title?"

Frosty opened his mouth for a moment but reconsidered what he was about to say. He didn't need clarification, nor did he have enough information about this specific Fomo to know what to expect from him. Considering the similarities between this princely mouse and the one that he'd unwittingly brought into his own timeline, Frosty suspected he should be on his guard, either way.

One thing was clear, however. "Look, I think...you may have me mistaken..."

Fomo stepped closer, prompting Frosty to take half a step back. "Mistaken for what, exactly? We both know why you're here, Princess Frosty." There was confidence, the tone of his voice. Then a pink tongue slid across the mouse's lips.

Frosty immediately knew he was in trouble. He felt his heart leap when Fomo closed the gap between them with a swagger in his hips. He nearly tripped backwards when his calves caught the edge of the bed. There was no more room for him to back away from this mouse, allowing the prince to approach until they were face-to-face.

The mouse's blue eyes glanced up and down Frosty's front, taking in the silvery body suit hugging his figure. Thankfully, it had returned to an idle state, so the circuitry woven into the fabric was no longer glowing. But Frosty still cursed the fact that he didn't have a proper disguise to conceal it.

"Have to say, I'm not sure what to make of your outfit, but it certainly does look good on you. Shows off that curvy figure rather nicely."

Despite the warning flags flying in Frosty's mind, a compliment was a compliment, and it made his cheeks blush again. Perhaps it was so disarming because it was the same sort of thing the Fomo in his own timeline might say. There was a glint in the mouse's eyes when their gaze met once more.

The look Fomo was giving him made the hair on Frosty's neck stand up. He recognized it well.

And the realization only made it even more urgent that he get out.

"I-I'm not...who you think..." As he stammered, Frosty reached for his collar. If he could just send CATS an emergency extraction request...

Grinning, the mouse gently closed his fingers around Frosty's wrist, stopping him short of it. Frosty tugged and attempted to slip free, only to remember too late that he was already standing against the bed. He ended up toppling backwards onto the soft mattress with a loud chirrup, landing on his back.

Before he could scramble to safety, Fomo began crawling over him on his hands and knees. Leaning down, he brushed his nose along the cheetah's grey spotted neck and sniffed lightly, distracting Frosty just long enough to take both wrists and pin them into the bedding above his head.

"Mmmh, you certainly smell like the real deal to me. I'd recognize Princess Bellyslut anywhere."

"Oh...h-heck..." Frosty attempted to lean away, feeling a wave of heat suddenly rush to his face. He knew he was in way over his head, a realization that was punctuated by a hungry growl from the mouse's stomach.

A warm tongue ran up the side of Frosty's neck, causing him to involuntarily shudder. His eyes shut as he let out a soft groan, toes curling. His heart was racing, fidgeting against the bed as Fomo's warm breath puffed against his neck.

It was a familiar feeling to him. And that was putting Frosty at odds with himself. He shouldn't be in this situation, he knew. But the parallels between this princely mouse and the one Frosty was more familiar with made it nearly impossible not to enjoy his attention to some extent.

Maybe just this once...

No, this is a critical mission, Frosty reminded himself. If he didn't return on his own, who knows how long it would be before someone would be sent to his aid? Nobody would come until CATS was certified, which was exactly the purpose of Frosty's test.

A wet slurp broke Frosty's train of thought. The Prince's tongue was now gliding up his cheek. When his lips reached the cheetah's white ear, he crooned softly into it. Before the mouse could say anything, a gasp was heard from the bedroom door. Two sets of ears stood up at the unexpected noise, then the Prince sighed heavily at the interruption and twisted his body to investigate.

"I specifically requested not...to be..." He trailed off, but Frosty couldn't see why. His view was obstructed by the grey and white mouse looming over him, still clutching him by the wrists. There was a long pause, then Fomo turned to look over Frosty again, only to look away a second time.

A soft voice timidly spoke from the doorway. "A-apologies, my Prince. I didn't realize..."

Frosty blinked in recognition. That voice. It couldn't be...

Squirming beneath the Prince, Frosty tried to peer around the mouse. Fomo was just distracted enough to allow him to slip partially to one side, but his grip on the cheetah's wrists tightened when he noticed it. Frosty was now able to see the open bedroom door, and he let out a gasp of his own when he saw who was standing there: himself.

Two identical white cheetahs locked eyes, one pinned to the bed and the other looking on from the doorway in shock. Their bodies were a perfect match in every aspect, save for the flowing pink garments the latter was wearing. It was like gazing into a mirror. The golden jewelry, gem-studded collar and modest crown made it clear the second cat had high standing.

I got shafted in my own timeline, Frosty mentally noted.

It wasn't the first time Frosty had stumbled across an alternate version of himself, but he often did everything in his power to avoid it. The timeline generally didn't like when diverging streams intercepted one another. The results were unpredictable: sometimes minor, others severe.

They still hadn't sorted out the situation with Fomo in his own timeline, for example.

After a long moment of silence, the Prince was the first to speak. "Princess Frosty?"

"Y-yes, Prince?" came the reply from the white cheetah at the door.

Fomo returned his gaze to the white feline pinned beneath him, expression a mix of curiosity, bewilderment, and suspicion. Only one cheetah had responded, nor the one he'd expected to.

Frosty gulped quietly. It had quickly gone from bad to worse. He could feel the mouse's tail lashing as those blue eyes studied him, fingers holding his wrists tightly as they'd ever been.

"If you're not the Princess, then..." Fomo peered over his shoulder again.

"L-look, I can explain," Frosty started. Being transparent had gotten him out of a few sticky situations in the past. It had also gotten him into more trouble, just as often, so it was a gamble.

The reply, and accompanying smirk when Fomo turned back, was rather alarming. "That won't be necessary. I think this mix-up can be resolved easily enough. Princess, care to join us?"

With a nod, the elegantly clad cheetah closed the door behind himself and approached the bed. His hands clasped one-another in his lap, showing deference to the Prince. "What do you wish?"

Fomo smiled up at him. "I know we had dinner plans, but there's a little matter that needs resolving first. But don't worry, Princess." There was a tug on Frosty's wrists, pulling him into a sitting position as Fomo backed up, planting his ample hips on the cheetah's thighs to keep him pinned.

"If you'd be so kind as to lend me a hand dealing with your doppelganger, I'd be happy to make room for dessert. Make yourself comfortable."

The intent behind the request was clear enough, given the mouse's belly was rumbling again. Frosty's royal counterpart nodded with a blush, then clambered onto the bed behind his twin and settled in. Their eyes briefly met when Frosty glanced over his shoulder, but his attention was just as quickly drawn back to Prince Fomo with another tug to the wrists.

"As for you," the mouse murmured. Frosty's heart skipped a beat when his hands were lifted to the Prince's lips, snugly held together. He attempted to pull away, which only prompted Fomo to squeeze more firmly to ensure he wouldn't wriggle free.

"F-Fomo, listen," Frosty started.

"That's Prince Fomo to you, mouse food." And with that declaration, the cheetah's hands were plunged into his mouth.

Frosty felt a drool-slicked tongue gliding across his palms and wrists, followed by smooth throat-muscle spreading around them. The Prince didn't hesitate, audibly gulping as soon as they entered, and Frosty watched his forearms swiftly vanish. The mouse's lips pursed around his elbows and suckled to prevent excess drool from escaping, then made another heavy swallow that reeled Frosty to his jaws.

"W-wait, wait, wait, Fo-!" Frosty was cut off before he could make any further appeals, face greedily crammed in between outstretched arms. He squirmed and tried to pull away again, but the mouse's ample rump was still planted on his thighs, and a pair of hands began greedily grabbing at his upper back. There was no escaping him.

Despite his panic, Frosty was still experiencing conflicting emotions. He knew he shouldn't be in this situation. There was no telling how it would pan out, what the repercussions would be.

But there was another side to it that was enticing him. It was a situation he'd found himself in numerous times now, and though he wouldn't openly admit it to anyone but the mouse alone, Frosty had grown to enjoy his role in Fomo's diet. The sight of the mouse's throat rippling just in front of his face was all too familiar.

This wasn't the "Fomo" he knew, Frosty had to remind himself, but the eagerness in the way he was being devoured, and the way the mouse had been teasing him, made it difficult not to let himself slip into that mindset. A pleased groan filled his ears as his head was dragged into the dark abyss, forcing Frosty to hunch forward. It was hot, tight, and exceptionally slimy in the mouse's throat, and his sleek CATS suit was making it easier for the predatory Prince to ingest him.

Another heavy gulp rolled over Frosty's upper body, but this time he didn't make it deeper. Fomo's hips were now hindering him. There was a soft huff, then he felt the pressure on his thighs finally lift. Frosty was readjusted, hips lifting off the bed as the mouse slid back. It would be his only remaining chance to attempt to break free. As he squirmed, however, his feet were unable to find purchase on the silky bedding, slipping on the fabric.

All Frosty really accomplished was wiggling for the Prince, which earned a shuddering groan, followed by another indulgent "glrrrk." The mouse's hands were rubbing and grabbing at his waist and hips now, then Frosty felt another set of hands on his butt. He blushed despite the situation when it dawned on him that his counterpart was now helping Fomo devour him.

A firm push to his rump stuffed Frosty up to his waist in the prince's jaws, lifting his feet completely off the bed and leaving him entirely helpless to the Prince's ravenous appetite. A heavy, gurgling growl reverberated in his ears, letting him know just how close he was to the mouse's belly. Frosty's legs were lifted higher as the Prince tipped his head back, straightening his path and causing him to plunge face-first into the churning, hot gut in one motion.

Everything briefly slowed when his hips were crammed into Fomo's jaws, cheeks drawn taut against his curves. It seemed to be quite a mouthful for the smaller rodent, noisily slurping and swallowing to try and drag this chee the rest of the way down. It seemed like he might be stuck, which made Frosty hopeful that his own figure might be the thing that changed the Prince's mind.

That hope was short-lived. Another helpful shove from the other cheetah, paired with a well-timed gulp eventually squeezed Frosty's hips into the tight gullet with a noisy, wet squelch. And once the mouse's throat fully gripped them, the descent picked up considerably. Frosty wrinkled his muzzle as it was shoved against the bottom of his predator's stomach, twisting his upper body until he found himself suddenly hunching forward, "helpfully" being positioned by the mouse's rippling muscles.

All Frosty could do at this point was wait for the inevitable. He was quickly being polished off. Given the similarities between this mouse and the one in his own timeline, Frosty knew it would be pointless to appeal to him to be released. His knees were swiftly pulled in, then shortly after a pair of squirming cheetah paws.

A deep, satisfied groan could be clearly heard once his feet were gulped down. Frosty was smoothly massaged the rest of the way in, locked in place as the mouse's belly grew more and more taut against his body. He tried to stretch, to push the slimy lining away from himself with his hands, knees, and feet, but the Prince's abdomen clenched snug in response, forcing him into a tighter curl.

"Ooooh, such a good kitty. Dunno who you really are, but..."

The mouse's body shuddered around him as a heavy belch interrupted. "Hnnnnh, 'scuse me." There was a soft giggle with that apology, followed by the sensation of a pair of hands beginning to explore Frosty's body from the outline. "As I was saying, I dunno who you are, but you're just as delicious as my little Princess here."

Frosty felt himself being hefted, orientation shifting when the Prince moved. He began to slowly rock back and forth, the mouse's belly burbling as a result. Then he was swung around and ended up resting against the Prince's body, sagging down into what he could only assume was the mouse's lap. The possessive kneading resumed a moment after, then he heard the Prince's voice crooning again.

"Come make yourself cozy, Princess. Help me digest this kitty, then I'll see about having my little bellyslut for dessert."

Even though he was the one the mouse's belly was gearing up to digest alive, Frosty squirmed with excited embarrassment. He was growing more complacent with his situation, with the fact that he was now mouse food, as the Prince had confidently asserted. When he felt additional pressure squeezing against him as his fellow cheetah cuddled up to Fomo's belly and began to admiringly caress it, he found himself beginning to softly purr.

"Oooh, that's a good chee. Keep rubbing, just like that," the Prince cooed.

It was a bit humiliating to know that the other "Frosty" was so eager to tend to the Prince, to rub and stimulate his belly to help churn down his squirming meal. It was working, too, already feeling the telltale signs of potent stomach acids seeping through his CATS suit. The suit itself was designed to withstand all manner of hostile conditions, but didn't offer any real protection to its wearer, otherwise. It would survive digestion, likely be gagged up fully intact once the Prince was finished with him.

But Frosty wouldn't, he knew. Prince Fomo was going to digest him, with his twin's assistance. And given the mouse's musings, "Princess" Frosty would likely be joining him soon enough. He realized that if he were in the other cheetah's position, Frosty would likely be behaving in the same manner, eagerly anticipating his own trip down the Prince's throat. Squirming at hearing the Prince call him his little bellyslut.

Despite his earlier objections, Frosty eventually allowed himself to fully surrender and enjoy it. It wasn't the first Fomo he'd ended up in, and certainly wouldn't be the last. At least, he hoped it wouldn't be. There was still the nagging issue of how he was going to return. If someone couldn't retrieve his belongings, he could still be reformed back at CATS with his master copy, but there would be a blank gap in his memory as a result.

His experience with Prince Fomo would be forgotten.

That would be a shame. But there was no sense worrying about it now. Whatever happened, would happen. All Frosty had to worry about now, was to relax and let himself be digested by the greedy Prince. Soft squeaking, chittering, and the occasional giggle when Fomo teased the other cheetah could be heard amid the cacophony of gurgling the mouse's belly made as it clenched against his body.

He felt something crackle when a pair of hands firmly pushed down on Frosty, forcing him into a tighter ball. "Mmh, that's it. Digest for me, kitty. You belong to my belly now," the Prince groaned.

Frosty could feel himself getting groggier by the minute. His body was beginning to soften in his suit as it was roughly massaged and soaked in acrid fluids, and he was letting it happen.

This wasn't how the mission was intended to go, but Frosty was content with the outcome as he let his mind drift. Maybe he'd pay the Prince another visit sometime...

* * * * * * * * * *

It was no surprise to Felix when his coworker's CATS signal vanished and became unreachable. The other technicians in the room exchanged concerned looks, but the calico feline remained calm and relaxed at his station. There hadn't been any anomalies or unusual behavior detected before the cheetah's signal disappeared.

Felix tried not to look overly guilty as he attempted to establish contact with Frosty and failed to do so. He didn't feel bad about it. If worse came to worst, Frosty could be reformed without his CATS hardware. They'd lose valuable data as a result, but it also meant Frosty wouldn't be aware of what had taken place.

"Felix, has there been any contact?" the head technician inquired.

He shook his head. "Negative. Signal is still lost."

"Well, keep trying. We'll keep going through the data on our end to attempt to identify what went wrong."

The only thing "wrong" was Felix's discrepancy in the timeline coordinates, and it took the technicians nearly an hour to discover it. It was easily overlooked, given that they were scrutinizing other systems and reports to rule out technical problems.

When pressed about why Frosty had been sent to the wrong location, Felix simply shrugged. "Don't ask me. The programmers supposedly patched out the bug that allowed someone to be sent to a different timeline than the mission brief. Ask them."

There was a frustrated sigh from the lead technician, then another question. "Well, if being sent to the wrong timeline was the only problem, is Frosty going to be okay?"

Right on cue, a critical alert flashed up on Felix's console. It was a distress signal, and he couldn't fully hide his smirk when he saw whose CATS hardware was sending it.

Felix turned to the supervisor after acknowledging the alert. "I'm sure he's fine. It's Frosty, after all..."