FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The slamming of the door meant hope for the mice; it also meant terror. Amplified by the glass that enclosed them, it caused the leaves to rustle and the pond's clear waters to stir. It made them stir, too. One by one they emerged from their wooden houses, moved towards the boundaries of their home, and peered at the vast urban home beyond - and at the towering husky that had just stepped inside.

"No, it's not an inconvenience at all!" Stuart said, holding his phone between his face and his shoulder while he emptied his jacket's pockets. "I'll be happy to help you move. Yeah, exactly - it does make it easier when the furniture is tiny in comparison. That's the price I pay for not being able to fit into mouse-sized apartments, eh? Right, Saturday evening it is. I'll give you a call."

His smile remained even as he turned his phone off. "Nice girl. I should consider adding her to the terrarium, if it ever gets too empty. Speaking of which, I ought to feed you guys, hm?"

Those were the mice had been hoping to hear. Yes, they played it coy by retreating to their homes, but when the lid opened and the food pellets started to thud against the food dish, it was like music to them.

When it became clear that the lid wouldn't close again, they cautiously approached the dish. Jeanette took the lead.

If anyone in this vivarium represented what they all had lost, it was Jeanette. All her predecessors had long met their end, more often than not to Stuart's maw - and more than once, Jeanette had stared it down, sure that she would not draw another breath. But Jeanette was a businesswoman, equal parts shrewd and intelligence; the same skills that brought her to the top of the ladder now allowed her to survive for another day.

She crossed her arms and looked up at him. "You have that look in your eye. What's today's game?"

Her boldness helped, too. Some of the other mice gasped in disbelief; the ones who had been around for longer simply took the chance to help themselves to the pellets.

"Am I that predictable?" Stuart's voice was deep; then again, when you're a mouse, most voices are.

"You haven't bothered us in weeks. You fed us extra today. You're either trying to butter up so we won't testify against you when the cops come and bust you... or, if that call with your latest mouse friend is any indication, you're looking for an excuse to make room for more pets."

The husky smiled. "Oh, Jeanette, you've just earned yourself a place at my table."

The mouse's smile faded.

"Don't worry, it's not that kind of table, not today at least. Let's see... I think I'll take you, you, and you."

The mice knew better than to try and escape - not that they could have, considering the husky's reflexes. Within seconds they were held in his clenched fists, and carried to seats laid around the coffee table.

Jeanette was the first to be placed down, and immediately she scanned the room for escape routes. The window was locked, and so were the doors. Stuart had prepared for this. Jeanette watched him undress; his shirt hit the floor, then his pants, and soon he stood fully naked, shameless before their bewildered gazes. He took his place on the armchair at the end of the table, a leather throne so much unlike their rough plastic seats, and leaned forward.

"We are going to play a little game."

He pulled up something from under his armchair - a cardboard box - and dusted it off. Baroque lettering and pulp-style illustrations of a battle between three adventurers and a dragon let Jeanette know just what she was looking at.

"A tabletop roleplaying game."

Jeanette looked at the source of the obvious statement. Edgar, one of Stuart's latest trophies, shifted uncomfortably on his seat, adjusting his glasses.

"You're familiar?" Stuart asked, an eyebrow raising.

"Uh, yeah. Playing pretend, right?"

"And the rest of you?"

"I've heard of them," said Jack, arms crossed, all posturing. He looked to Jeanette like one of the adventurers on that box, staring down a fearsome and ravenous dragon. "Never played, though."

No answer from the fourth mouse. Stuart pulled a gamemaster's screen out of the box and placed it before him, then began to pull out miniatures and premade character sheets and laying them down on the table. "I asked a question, Will."

Will, dainty little thing that he was, winced at the mere mention of his name. Jeanette couldn't blame him. The husky held all the cards.

Will's red eyes blinked, his pale fur made all the paler by contrast with the black plastic of his chair. "I played once or twice, back in highschool." He glanced at the cover. "Uh, only third edition, though."

"It's okay. The rules are very simple. There's only one houserule you need to keep in mind," Stuart said, his grin broadening, showing off his fangs. "If your character dies, so do you."

He gave them no time to process his words, immediately putting on a frown. "Ah, but we have an issue. I only have three premades, and there's four of you. Maybe a little pre-game snack?" His gaze shifted from playful to malicious as he loomed over the four, assessing them as one would a cut of meat. Jeanette and Jack met his gaze head-on; Edgar tried to and failed, and Will hid his face in his hands and prayed.

"Nah, on second thought, I wouldn't want to spoil my appetite. I guess one of you gets back in the vivarium for another day - no, wait, I just had a much better idea. Congratulations, Jeanette, you've just been promoted from PC to MacGuffin."

The husky stood, and with a sweeping motion, plucked her from her seat. Jeanette's facade cracked; she let out a yelp, which got a smirk out of the husky, who presented her to the other mice.

"The beautiful princess Serena has been kidnapped by the great wyrm," he checked his notes, "Sardregal. The King puts forth a call for adventurers, and you answer. He promises great rewards should you succeed."

He placed Jeanette on the seat of his armchair. The mouse's little protests soon fell silent when the husky's behind descended upon her; Stuart sat back and, in doing so, trapped her in a small pocket of air between fur and leather. "But be careful! Sardregal has imprisoned Serena in the dark depths of his dungeon and left her to starve. Should her time run out, your mission will be concealed a failure, and it will be to the gallows with you!"

He adjusted himself, making sure to keep the mouse pinned down - hard enough to cause discomfort, not hard enough to suffocate her just yet. He felt her struggle under him, movements as desperate as they were futile, sending pleasurable little waves up his spine and making all the right places tingle. It took the utmost effort to not slump down and crush her right away, but he resisted the urge. Now the stakes were high. He slid the sheets over the table.

"Pick your character."

Jack looked up at him in disbelief. "You... you killed her?! But we haven't even started yet!"

The husky chuckled, shaking his head. "You're worrying for nothing," he said. "She's alive and kicking, I assure you. Well, more alive than kicking, from what I can feel. Now, for how long, I can't tell for sure. Depends on how much air she has left, and how well she rations it. Either way, I suggest you don't delay... protesting in particular will make time just fly by."

Jack, still shaken from the display, shook off his terror and looked down. The other two hesitated; he did not. He picked one at random.

"Jack, you are Atheton, the Wizard! You command powers beyond understanding, which you use to smite your foes."

The mouse smiled. "Heh, powers beyond understanding. I like the sound of that."

Will, in a rare moment of bravery, gestured towards another of the sheets. "I'll be the Thief."

"A fine choice!" Stuart bellowed. "As the wily Thief, Numena, you are the master of shadows. No lock, trap, or secret door can slow you down, and in combat, you are adept at backstabbing and trickery."

"I guess roleplaying is about being someone you're not, huh?" Edgar said, smiling at Will. "On that note, I guess I'll have to take the Fighter."

Stuart put on the voice again. "Last and not least is Rolf, the Fighter! Wielding sword and shield and clad in heavy armor, you protect your allies and strike down your enemies!" He cleared his throat. "What do you think? I wrote the blurbs myself."

The three mice shared a worried look. No amount of levity made them forget where Stuart had put their friend and de facto leader; now it was up to them to save her.

"Take your time getting acquainted with your character sheets; there's a cheat sheet on the back with the basic rules of the game. Study that too, and let me know when you are done."

Jack shook his head. "No! We're ready. Jeanette - uh, the princess is in peril."

The husky clapped his hands together. His grin widened; he took great pleasure in feeling the mouse struggle under his overwhelming weight, and her three friends, scrambling to rescue her. Such a casual thing to him, such a life-or-death situation for them - he loved it.

"That's the spirit! Okay. You stand before the mouth of Sardregal's den, torches in hand. You pull a lever and the gates open. A distant groan echoes off the walls and sends a shiver down your spine. What do you do?"

Edgar took a deep breath. "Rolf steps inside."

"The goblin stabs at you with his rusty dagger! What's Numena's armor class, Will?"

"Fourteen."

A die rattled against the glass. Stuart leaned forward to check the result - and as his position shifted, Jeanette wriggled some more in a desperate attempt to not be flattened - and smiled. "You manage to step back. Disheartened, and seeing that all his friends are already dead, the goblin tries to run! Do you want to take an attack of opportunity?"

"Yeah."

The white mouse picked up the twenty-sided die with some effort, tossing it as one would a bowling ball. "Twelve. With four from my attack bonus, that's sixteen."

"Sixteen hits. Roll damage."

More rattling.

"Three piercing damage."

"You bury your dagger in the goblin's back and hear him gurgle one last time before he crumbles to the floor. Congratulations, adventurers, you stand victorious after your first battle."

"That wasn't so hard!" Jack said. "Okay, Atheton checks their bodies for loot."

"Rolf puts his sword through their skulls to make sure they're all dead."

Stuart smiled. "Ruthless. I like it. In their corpses, Atheton, you find a total of twenty copper pieces and a healing potion. And Jack, roll Perception?"

Jack frowned. His perception modifier was listed as a negative two. Still, he doubled down. He picked up and tossed the die. It landed on a three.

"One."

"Ouch! Okay, you approach their shaman, ready to finish him off, but as you step closer, you realize he's playing possum. He rolls on his chest, points at you and utters something. Give me a wisdom saving throw."

"Seven."

"An idea crosses your mind. You should kill Atheton. If you killed Atheton, everything would be much better."

"What?" Jack said. "Hold on a minute. You can't do that!"

"Rolf lays down his sword."

"You try to let go of your sword, but your own body won't obey you. Instead, you feel compelled to attack Atheton! Give me an attack roll."

"What the fuck? It's my character, how come..."

Stuart straightened in his seat, his muscles tensing, his smile fading. His weight shifted around Jeanette, whose body stiffened, nearly crushed by the pressure. Her squirming brought him such joy.

"Correction. It was your character, and then you failed on a save against a Dominate Person spell, and now you belong to the shaman. Attack roll, please."

Edgar's heart skipped a beat as the die slid across the glass table. Trembling, he approached the real the result.

"...twenty."

"Roll for damage. Twice."

"Oh, god. Sixteen damage."

Jack blinked. "I only have fourteen hit points left. I'm down."

"You're not just down," Stuart said, his voice brimming with glee. "You're dead."

It all happened too fast.

Jeanette inhaled sharply as the weight pinning her down suddenly vanished, and cold air filled her lungs. She couldn't bring herself to enjoy this brief respite; she knew what it meant.

Stuart's hand clenched tight around Jack's body. All of the mouse's strength couldn't ease the grip; all of the mouse's flexibility couldn't wiggle him into safety. Stuart stood to his full height, and Jack could only watch as he was lifted well above his head, while the husky's maw opened underneath him. Stuart's breath, hot and humid, washed over him like a physical barrier. His long canine tongue rolled out of his mouth, dripping with thick saliva.

Stuart let go.

Jack's shout lasted but a moment, and was silenced by a wet thud. He landed on the husky's outstretched tongue. He tried to jump out, but the edges of the tongue bent upwards, forming a slippery slope that made it impossible to find any purchase.

And so, he slipped. He slipped down that squishy tongue, between the rows of sharp teeth, catching but a glimpse of the husky's spotted palate before darkness engulfed him. As he descended towards the stomach, the gullet's embrace grew tighter and tighter, and the sounds of Stuart's inner workings drowned everything else out.

Around the table, the mood had changed. The fun of playing had made it easy to forget the stakes for this little game night. Now, as they saw Jack disappear down the husky's chest, they paid the price for their carelessness.

Stuart returned to his seat, muffling another whimper from Jeanette. He adjusted himself on his seat, grinding his butt against the leather, putting some pressure on Jeanette, but taking care to not crush her under his weight. His gamemaster's voice returned.

"Rolf! With a mighty swing of your blade, you decapitate Atheton and turn your sights on Numena. It's Will's turn."

Edgar buried his face in his hands. Not a word escaped his lips. But Will took a deep breath, tossed a dice, and spoke up.

"Numena throws her dagger at the shaman! Nineteen."

"The goblin shaman's smile is frozen on his face even as he dies. Rolf, you suddenly snap back to reality, and the grim realization of what you've done strikes you. Atheton is dead, and you killed him." As if to punctuate his words, his stomach gurgled.

"Numena looks at him for guidance."

"Rolf, uh, steels himself. Let's... let's keep going. Let's save the princess."

"Numena smiles at him. Yes. Let's do this."

The husky grinned; with one hand, he rubbed his stomach, but with the other, he gestured dramatically. "Weary but not defeated, you make your way down the dungeon. With each step, the temperature rises. You must be approaching the dragon's den..."

His dramatic gestures were enough for Jeanette to feel his weight shifting above her; a pained moan escaped her lips. None of the other mice could know how much she suffered. Her pain, and her humiliation, would remain a secret kept only by herself and her tormentor.

"...and then you see it. He's massive, muscular, glorious, covered in crimson scales and sitting atop his hoard. You've heard tales of Sardregal, and he does every single one of them justice. Smoke billows from his nostrils; his eyes are closed."

"Numena steps forward."

"Rolf stops her. Hold on. It's not smart to attack a dragon head-on."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"Stand back and keep watch. I'll try to slit his throat while he sleeps. Rolf stealthily approaches the dragon. That's a sneaking roll... nineteen after modifiers."

The husky raised an eyebrow. "Huh, how about that. You manage to avoid making noise as you walk on top of the piles of gold and jewels that decorate Sardregal's lair. You are next to him now, what do you do?"

"Rolf buries his sword in his throat."

"You stab as hard as you can! But no matter how much you try, your sword cannot penetrate his scales. You see a massive eye open, and dark laughter echoes. Fool! Who dares strike me down while I slumber? Don't you know that only Orlenian bluesteel can harm a mighty wyrm like myself? And he grabs you!"

Edgar felt himself lifted into the air, caught in the husky's grip, who smiled.

"He holds you aloft and looks you in the eye! He says, You have guts, mortal, I give you that. I am half-tempted to let you live just on account of that. But I slept for so long, I could use a snack!"

He licked his lips. Edgar shuddered.

"But first, why are you here, mortal?"

"T-to rescue the Princess."

"The Princess!" He wiggled his ass on his seat, an obvious taunt to punctuate the dragon's words."She's worthless to me. I may be persuaded to relinquish her, but at a cost."

"And what cost is that?"

"Your life! And the dragon snatches you up in his jaws."

He dropped Edgar into his mouth; which snapped shut as soon as the little mouse crossed its boundary.

"And you are trapped in his maw," he continued, squeezing the mouse with his tongue, rolling him in his mouth, pressing him to his palate and cheeks, all the while enjoying the bitter taste of fur. "And his breath is so hot it nearly burns your skin. And he prepares to swallow..."

Stuart closed his eyes, his throat muscles tensing.

"But spits you out."

He opened his maw, and Edgar came stumbling out, his fur soaked in saliva, back into his grip, confused but relieved.

"Now, Edgar," the husky said, "You have two options here. The dragon can eat you... or you can take your friend's place under my ass, and become the princess while Jeanette plays Rolf."

Trembling and in shock, the mouse didn't answer. Stuart smiled. "I thought so."

The husky slowly stood up, towering over the table. His bones popped as he stretched, basking in the moment. Edgar averted his gaze for but a moment to check on Jeanette - the poor mouse lay on the leather, surrounded by the outline of the husky's ass. Her body was nearly limp, her breaths were shallow; it was a miracle she was still alive, let alone conscious.

Edgar's relief was short-lived; Stuart took advantage of the distraction. He picked both mice up; one, starting to hyperventilate, and the other slowly regaining her bearings. Edgar knew better than to try and escape, and accepted his fate with some dignity. He allowed the massive hand to place him over the warm leather, and curled up for protection as the husky's massive backside descended over him. Stuart's weight pressed him against the leather, and darkness surrounded him.

Jeanette collapsed to her knees as soon as she was placed on the chair. She looked down at her character sheet - none of those numbers or words made any sense to her. Will welcome her back with a sad smile.

"It becomes clear to you that you cannot in a million years defeat this beast," Stuart said, delighting in feeling Edgar's haplessly struggle under him. The mouse's wet fur clung to the seat, turning the stale air humid and making every inch of him itch. Stuart continued, "Not without bluesteel, at least. So, I give you, the players, a choice."

Jeanette rubbed her temple. "Here we go again."

"We can end the game here. The heroes retreat and live to adventure another day, and the Princess becomes dragon chow... but only after she's 'starved' to death."

"No strings attached?"

"There's always strings attached. Never cut a deal with a dragon, Jeanette dear. But I promise that the two of you will be okay."

Always strings attached. Somehow, Jeanette got the feeling Stuart wasn't talking about Sardregal.

"And the alternative?"

"The game continues, and you fight the dragon. I'll even nerf him a little bit for the sake of fair play - make him hard, but not insurmountable. A token of goodwill, hmm?"

Will stepped forward.

"We'll end the game, isn't that right, Jeanette... Jeanette?"

Jeanette took a deep breath. Her heart still raced from the close call. Every breath of life-giving air still felt cold against her barren lungs.

"I'd rather die than live with the fact that I doomed someone to a fate like that. We'll keep going."

"Jeanette, what the fuck?!" Will protested; Jeanette's cold glare, however, silenced him as it always did. At that moment, he feared her more than he did Stuart.

The husky clapped his hands together. "Roll for initiative."

Jeanette would tell the story of the final battle for weeks to come - and weeks were as decades in the microcosm of Stuart's vivarium.

She would tell of how Rolf and Numena charged into the fray, weapons in hand. How they dodged claw swipes and evaded breath weapons. How Rolf nearly fell to a tail swipe from the beast, only to hang on to life through stubbornness and will to live alone. How Numena managed to stab the creature's eye, blinding it, but could not escape in time, and was engulfed in flames... and how Will, the Thief's player, found himself scooped up by a looming tongue and pulled into a waiting maw; how the last Jeanette saw of him was a bulge languidly making its way down Stuart's throat, how the husky's satisfied expression looked like mockery. How the husky's stomach had undoubtedly greeted the mouse with walls of flesh that closed in on him and a pool of acrid and bubbling juices, ready to consume. In that alcove of churning flesh, he was certain to have been reunited with what remained of Jack, Stuart's earlier victim; the grim reminder of what fate awaited him would have been one of Will's final thoughts before the walls entombed him.

Many would call her embellishments in poor taste, but none would dare challenge her, for the story ended with Rolf the Fighter - the man who had been made to slay his Wizard friend, the man who had survived the maw of a great wyrm, if not his gullet - rolling yet another natural twenty, and with one decisive blow, impale the dragon through the throat, no bluesteel necessary. And upon the fiend's corpse, he briefly grieved his two friends, and went on to rescue the Princess.

Stuart leaned forward and reached into the seat. Powerful fingers delivered Edgar from his own cramped, steamy prison; they pulled him out from under the husky, and held him tight as Stuart rose to his feet. To Jeanette, he simply smiled, stretching out a hand that the mouse stepped onto, and carrying her with the utmost gentleness.

"Not bad for a first session," said Stuart as he lowered the two mice back into the terrarium. "Previous experience or not, you both did an awesome job. You've earned yourselves an extra dose of food pellets."

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Edgar vanished, scurrying back to his home. But Jeanette stayed, sitting on the floor, looking up at the husky whose smile, for but a moment, felt bright and honest.

"There was a lot of commotion behind that DM screen when we were fighting that dragon."

"There were a lot of things to keep track of - and a lot of stomach gurgles to try and keep in check," the husky said. "Why, Jeanette, are you accusing me of fudging rolls?"

"What if I were?"

Stuart laughed, a clear and friendly laugh that filled the room and echoed through the vivarium. How could such a monster wear the mask of kindness so well?

"If you were, I would say, hypothetically of course, that you would be right to accuse me. But I would also say that if I were to fudge rolls, I'll fudge them both ways for the sake of a more interesting and dramatic game."

Jeanette rose to her feet. Her knees were trembling and her head throbbed. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped her lips.

And the husky, as always, just smiled.

"Good game."

He closed the lid.

"See you next session."