FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Wow, finally eh? Man, this one was hard to churn out. As usual, enjoy, but before you get to reading I have an announcement to make.

As you may or may not know, I made an announcement in the previous chapter about setting up a mailing list for this story. Every time I publish a new story or have an announcement to make to readers I'll send out an email on this list to give word that a new story is published. I'll also give everyone a breif overview of each current chapter. This is also an opportunity to have any questions about the story thus far cleared up and to have one-on-one chats with me, the author. If you'd like to be added to this list all you've got to do is send me an email at [email protected] with something in the title about wanting to be added and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Anyway, enough of me. Please enjoy the continuing saga of "The World Over."

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Traversing the Unstoppable

The world was a truly amazing place. Even more so when everything was condensed into a single city. That's how it was in Vivel. The city that was always lit up, even at night. Sara could hardly believe her eyes at first, and rubbed them furiously to get a new glance at its magnificence. To the stragglers behind her, namely Varian and Miria, she took on the air of a child in her mother's arms; excited and elated, yet solemn and respectful as well.

"We're here! I knew we'd find it!" she said happily, hugging Varian without so much as a thought. He would know.

Sara spun and danced around as they came slowly into the city as if with a new verve for life and it's meaning.

She had no idea what was in store for her.

For the night they decided on a tavern up the main road of the city a mile from the border where they had entered. It was densely populated with human, and the stench of all of them together in one room was enough to slaughter bulls. The trio pressed onward anyway, too enraptured with finally reaching their goal, after so many fruitless weeks in the desert, to be stopped by body odour of the working class.

Sara was first to speak to the owner, who hid himself behind the bar wiping down a glass with a rag. He was a tall man, burly and strong too, and kept about him an aura of distrust and distaste. It seemed to show too, at the tactless use of loud and tasteless colours plastered all over the room.

The only thing that kept them here of all places was that it was far better than the one across the street.

"Greetings!" said Sara joyfully, smiling at the man, "We'd like a room."

The whole room became stiff with tension. The music still played, and no one batted an eyebrow, but the thickness of tension grew exponentially, and could be sliced with a knife.

The tall man grunted something incoherent and turned away.

Sara's ears perked up at this and she asked, in the politest of fashions, "Sir? Could we please have a room for the night?"

There was a breaking of a bottle near to them and a man gruffly removed his large posterior from his seat. He lumbered forward and slammed his hand down on the counter beside Sara, who jumped with fright and seemed to recoil like a mouse trapped by a cat.

"Listen Missy," said the man, "We don't want your kind here. So if you wants to leave in more than one pieces, get out now."

Sara had never been so rudely dismissed before, and when the innkeeper pointed a hairy finger to the door, it was all Sara could do not to cry out with frustration. How could they do that? She was a paying customer! Or she would have been. They left the inn with all the humiliation that the crowd of onlookers could bestow upon them, and before the doors swung shut Sara could feel her eyes well up with tears and her hands crumple into balls. She could feel the eyes of the patrons gaze at her - specifically her - in disgust and it was difficult not to scream back a curse at them. But that would probably have made things worse.

Why did she leave so willingly? Why didn't she fight with that man like she would have anyone else? She could take him? As long as he never touched her she could deck any one of those fat ass holes.

But what was the point? They'd never get a room like that.

They decided then, logically, on the place across the street. When they entered they were greeted with less tension, but somehow more hostility than before. And this place was full of furres. Of every variety too. There were foxes in the corner, wolves and other canines in the corner opposite, cats taking up space in between those, every form of lizard near the bar and then, adding to the segregation, rodents nearest the trio by the door.

Sara whispered to Varian and Miria, "What's wrong with this place? Is everyone here scared of each other?"

Miria could only shrug, and Varian stayed silent and with his gaze gave Sara all the strength it took to cross the room to the bar and ask for a room once more.

They received one, a shanty room at the back of the upper floor's hallway. As they opened the door it squeaked on its hinges and a family of mice scurried out from under a floor panel. The room looked like it was made as a storage area for mops and buckets. It smelled of old and rotten things the likes of which the three of them didn't want to fathom. They entered, and looked around. No bed, no wash bucket. The only article of any remote use was a single window, paned in four pieces by thin wood beams, the bottom left of which was shattered and the top left of which had a hole shaped like a violently exploding star.

Sara was too dazed to argue with the room and sat down against the middle of the far wall, hugging her legs to her chest and laying her head on her knees.

"Well, this is squalid!" exclaimed Miria, "I'm going to complain!"

"Don't," warned Varian. "Don't. They won't give us any more. We were lucky to get this room as it is."

Miria sighed. She had to take his word for it. He was the psychic after all.

"Why is it like this?" came a whimpering from the back. "Why does it have to be like this?" Sara sniffled and tried to continue. "I thought... I thought--"

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry," comforted Miria, moving close to Sara, and kneeling. She bent to hug Sara and bring the panthress to her chest as a mother does an infant, but Sara pushed her away with one arm.

Varian knew just was she was thinking.

Sara cried herself to sleep that night.

The next morning Sara awoke with sleep caking in her eyes and the rough feeling one gets when tears have dried to one's face over night. She rubbed her face and looked around bleakly at her room. The worn wood of the closet-like box and the single beam of light spearing the darkness that surrounded her made a whirlpool of emotions well up in her breast. "We don't want your kind here!" She hated the man who uttered those words. It may have been a simple string of letter forming syllables, but their meaning was not lost on her. It may as well have been translated as: "You're less than me! You're nothing but a lowly zit on my ass!"

Thinking like that made her cry.

She had never felt so berated in her life. Like she meant nothing. Like she was just a bug to be squashed.

She hugged her knees close to her chest again and cried painful tears into her fur. It was at that moment that Varian walked in with a tray of soup and water. The light from the hallway stained the floor for a moment before it was once again removed by the darkness that encroached when the door hilted to its frame.

He saw her tears, and it shook him for a moment, to see her in so pitiful a state, but he quickly rubbed it off and pretended it wasn't there. He laid the tray on the floor beside her and knelt down.

"I brought you breakfast. I hope you like it. Miria said it was expensive." He smiled at her, his awkward grin making it more comical than sentimental.

She didn't reply, but motioned for a bowl of soup, pulling her hand away the instant she touched the bowl.

"Oh, careful, it's really hot. Here," and Varian reached down for a cloth and grasped the bowl in his right hand, the hand without feeling, and then handed it to her. She took it in her palms, being careful to keep the cloth under the bowl to block the heat and blew over the surface of it.

It looked horribly unappetizing, but I shouldn't complain, she thought, not in a state like this.

And still Varian smiled at her.

He could rub off everything people said as nothing. He could read minds. He knew everything going on it people's head. He was reading her thoughts right this very moment.

Suddenly she became angry, and threw the bowl across the room, shattering the ware and spilling the watered soup all over the wall, and watched as it leaked through the crooked floorboards, much to the dismay of the customers below.

Why was Varian so God damn fucking happy all the time? She raised her fist to hit at him when she was completely enveloped in an embrace. His arms flew around her and pulled her body close to his.

He shushed her with soothing strokes on the back of her head and the constant gentle breathing against the back of her neck from his mouth.

"Don't be afraid Sara. Be strong Sara. You've been through too much to be stopped by words. You're not alone."

She was somehow calmed by this, and instead of lashing out at him her fist dropped to the floor and she wept onto his shirt, spouting apologies. She gripped at his shirt and collar and fur and skin. It was painful, to a degree, but he said nothing, and let her weep, if for nothing but to vent everything bottled up.

Was she so weak? No. But she wished she were; that would give her the excuse to be so horribly emotional right now. No matter what Varian could say, words hurt more than she would ever want to admit. To herself or to him.

Why did Varian have to be so God damn caring?

Later that day Varian had dried her tears and convinced her to come outside for a walk with him.

"You travelled for so long to be here, so come. The city awaits."

She stayed close to him that afternoon, and rarely did she speak when not spoken to, directly, from Varian.

"Where's Miria?" she asked once.

"She said she was going to explore. I have a feeling she went out looking for... toys... again, though," replied Varian.

"You know or you think? There's a difference with you."

"Well..." he sighed, "I know."

"Then let's avoid the bar she's in then," said Sara, "I don't want her to see me right now."

"I know," he said, "That's why I've got something special to show you."

He led her east, to the edge of the city.

They were walking through a densely populated part of town in a few minutes, though it distressed Sara up and beyond what she thought it would. It was almost completely dominated by humans. Not only that though, she and Varian received little, if any good treatment. As they were walking a group of several humans, who were coming towards them crossed the street and continued without batting an eye. Store doors were closed in their faces and those who lived on second floors with windows looking out on the street closed their shutters. As Varian and Sara walked, the sea of people parted, not in reverence, but in spite, as though they were the plague personified. Sara gripped Varian's hand, hard, and she never let go. Nor did she blink, for that would force her tears out.

It wasn't long before Varian took her beyond the borders of the city, Vivel, and up a short mountain trail where they stopped on a plateau overlooking the city. The sun in the distance gave the city a surreal, floating quality that made it seem magnificent and for a moment allowed Sara to forget the people of the horrid city.

Varian sat down with his legs hanging over the edge and looked out over the rugged buildings. From here could see, with his diminished sense, the borders of the city, but no farther. Though he could make out the colours of the sky, which were very distinct from the gloomy mountain shadows hanging over the town.

Why was he being so nice? Asked Sara to herself. What was she to him? He was more a burden than anything and yet, she didn't think she would have ever had the courage to stay herself, or what fraction of herself she had remained in the past day, in this place, this... hell. He undoubtedly knew what was going through her head, and yet, he never once told her. He never gave the slightest hint.

"Sit with me?" he asked kindly.

She did so, but stayed outside of arm's reach. He didn't look her way, nor did he make an attempt to approach her.

I must be so volatile, she thought, does he notice the people or am I the only one?

"Remember what I said back at the inn?" he asked her, "You're not alone here."

She hated his abilities. It made her want to scream. "Why are you always in my head?" she said loudly.

He made no answer but only looked into the distance.

"We will leave tomorrow. This place won't be safe for much longer for us."

And damn his dodging!

He inched closer to her side, using his cane for support and scraping it against the ground to make the movement easier. His hand rested on hers momentarily, but he made no advance. She hated him for it right now, but his presence made her feel much more at ease. It was impossible for her to stay mad at him for very long. A tear streaked her cheek, on the side away from Varian thankfully. She couldn't hide it though when she sniffled. And even less when she buried her face in her hands and wept.

"I'm sorry Varian..." she whispered.

He hugged her. His arms found their way around her shoulders and he pulled her body tightly to his. One of his hands reached up and stroked the back of her head; the other was support around her back.

"Shh, it's alright. Everything is fine," he replied.

She took it back now. She loved how he made her feel better. How he made her feel good. He knew just what to do, just what to say. To hell with his psychic abilities! She was just glad he would comfort her at all. Especially in this place.

Vivel.

Racism.

Why?

That question tossed and turned in her thoughts, and she brooded over it for the longest time. She was about to ask it when Varian answered with,

"They fear what they don't understand. They can't see us as people because they only see fur. If it's any consolation, I think you're just perfect the way you are."

She was happy with that answer, and sniffled once more, then stopped. She dried her tears on his shoulder, leading it into a nuzzle, cheek-to-cheek, and then backed up, releasing his grasp upon her. She managed to smile weakly. Even if his face was a bit scarred, he had to be the sweetest man she had ever known. Tonight, maybe, she would prove it him.

It was her turn to hold him. Her hands caressed his cheeks, and trailed to his neck, sliding over his collarbones and down his chest. She leaned in then, and placed a tender kiss upon his lips. It was passionless, but it spoke endlessly to them both. Sara pulled back once more, and looked him in the eye. He was sturdy, well built, his eyes gave took nothing, and gave tiny fractions of himself. She thought though, maybe for just a moment, that she saw him. The real him. The one behind the scars and the bad eye. The boy he once was, and the boy that still inhabited this body. She liked what she saw, and kissed him once more for it.

"Thank you," she said quietly, tenderly, resting her head against his chest. She wanted only to feel his chest rise and fall right then, and nothing was going to spoil this moment for her. Not even the setting sun. She closed her eyes, and could feel his calm, steady breaths enter him, filling his lungs, and then leave, only to repeat the motions. In, and out, in, and out. He made no move towards her anymore, nor petted her again, which she might have liked, but stayed still, simply watching what he could of the sunset. He didn't tell her, but the sunset was why he had brought her there. It was almost finished, wasted now, but he didn't mind one bit.

Later that night they made their way back to the inn. They had stopped in the market and bought some bread, cheese and some nice looking smoked fish. It was a furre behind the counter, so they were treated only mildly poor.

When they opened the door they found Miria settled in for the night, amidst a large rug and blanket, which she must have taken from her large back pack, and was fast asleep. They didn't want to rouse her, so sat quietly in the corner and served themselves sandwiches, which tasted better than they looked in this dim moonlight, and then stared at each other contentedly for a while. Neither Varian nor Sara's stomach growled anymore, thanks to the food, and after that day's mountain event, both were trying to figure out more about their counterpart.

When Varian smiled, so did she, and when he made a frown as a joke, she could barely keep in her laughter.

Sara was the first to move from her sitting position on the floor opposite Varian. She crawled slowly, tentatively, seductively, across the wooden floorboards, making only the tiniest creaking noises. Cats, Varian supposed, were quite able to make very little noise when they wanted to. Then she came to him, and looked at him in the face, eye-to-eye.

He looked at her kindly, but with no further motives. She however wore a seductive glare that she planned on using to her utmost advantage. Varian couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, and blushed under his grey fur.

"Varian," she whispered softly.

"Y-yes," he responded quickly.

"No one's ever made me feel so much better before. I want to thank you."

"No thanks is necessary Sar--" but before he could complete what he was about to say, she tackled him with a passionate kiss before releasing him only to say:

"Let me thank you like this."

And with that she wrestled him to the floor so that he was lying flat, with her atop his chest. She straddled his hips, and even now, with the stimulation and the... view, or lack thereof, he was becoming aroused despite himself. He became worried, and put up very minimal resistance.

"Shh, don't worry. It won't hurt. You'll love it."

Where had he heard those words before? Miria? The tavern perhaps? He was forced into another kiss, and she used his momentary loss of will power to reach along his arms and pin him to the ground. Then she had her way with him, kissing him all over his face, his cheeks, biting and licking his ears slightly and then slowly moving to his neck and chest, where she hovered for a moment before releasing her grip on his arms to hoist herself down his body.

There she found the buttons holding his clothing together. It was his only shirt, and knowing this she restrained herself from ripping it off, and so made slow, languid motions in order to tickle him into erection. It was working.

She also kept in mind his lack of feeling in the right side of his torso, and so only motioned upon his left. It was strange though, by doing this, she was arousing herself more and more. She liked this feeling, and suspected that it was because he had proved himself worthy in her eyes. Who knows, perhaps she even cared for him.

She took the shirt away from him once the buttons were undone and then slid further down his body, grinding her slightly moistened sex against the bulge working its way up to erection. She felt a shiver run up her spine and suddenly she went into overdrive. She began breathing heavier and her body reacted by creating more heat. She was electric and came down upon Varian again for an extended kiss. One where her tongue probed into his mouth and realized its goal. Her tongue wrapped itself around his and twisted and danced between mouths for a moment. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed this part.

What came next was something of a surprise and unwanted shock.

His pants came down almost instantly. And were cast across the floor, revealing to the night air his stiff member at full attention, awaiting use. Sara was all too pleased to oblige now and she removed her clothes quickly, without a moment's hesitation. Then she kissed him again, straddling his hips and hovering just over his penis with her sex organ, eagerly waiting the plunge.

Then it came, and she drove herself down upon him with force that even she didn't realize she had. He gasped and broke the kiss in shock. An unpleasant shock. Suddenly he realized what this was. It was simply an act. Nothing more, nothing less. He had always thought of sex as something only two loving individuals did with each other. He searched her mind for something, anything like that for him. It turned up nothing. He was but a stick worth pounding. He gave up all resistance then, and simply let her have her fun. He was too weak to pry her away.

And fun she had. She bounced up and down, now reeling in lust and pleasure. Her breasts bobbed up and down with every move she made, and hung only inches from Varian's face. She had expected him to latch onto them with his mouth, or maybe even his hands, but he did not, and although she was disappointed, the feeling was momentary, as she drove herself to new heights of pleasure with each downward fall. She could feel his cock grinding against her insides, and to her, that was where her pleasure was derived. She bounced up and down faster and faster, gaining momentum every second, and as her legs became to weaken with use, she made gyrating motions with her hips in order to continue.

She couldn't stop now. She was coming closer, and for some reason the feeling of his complete and utter submissiveness turned her on even more. He was enjoying himself so much he couldn't even move! This excited her to new proportions as she brought herself higher and higher and higher until finally, the dam broke, and she came. A thick creamy substance poured from her organ and rained down on her legs, and his lower body.

He felt berated, but more than that humiliated and cut, like she had stabbed him a thousand times with a rusty knife. He held back his tears. He had shown her enough of those, and allowed her to get off him. She breathed hard, and panted into his face, her breath wafting into his muzzle and making him gag.

"I told you you'd enjoy it," she said.

That was the clincher. She didn't give a flying fuck. Not a damn, nor a rat's ass about him. He slid away from her and collected his clothes. He sponged himself down from sweat on climactic juices using a rag and the bowl of water left during the afternoon by the owner and then dressed.

"Are you going to wipe me down too?" she asked in her usual seductive tone.

He ignored her and curled up beside Miria, who grasped him in a hug unconsciously in her sleep. She was a heavy sleeper, he had to give her that.

She didn't mind that he didn't respond. It was obvious he was a virgin. All virgins were self conscious the first time. She wondered though, this time, whether he had climaxed as well. She didn't feel anything from him. Wasn't there supposed to be a warm, tingly feeling afterwards?

She dismissed the thought and after a brief moment cleaning up, she dressed lightly for bed and fell asleep on the floor, on the opposite side of the room as where their act had taken place. She sighed contentedly and drifted off.

Miria closed one eye. Maybe they thought she was asleep, but she was in fact wide awake, and keeping an eye on the two of them. She had watched them ever since they entered the room in the first place. She had seen what they had done, and she had seen the look on Varian's face before, during and after. She pitied him now more than ever, for he seemed to be on the receiving end of more abuse than any one being should have to go through. She would give Sara a thorough talking to tomorrow morning.

However, it was late, and even she couldn't stay awake forever. She closed her eye and nodded off as well, being sure to hold Varian in as good a comforting hug as she could possibly make.

As the sun rose, it peeked over the mountain tops and slowly drifted down the walls of the small closet-like room, making shapes on the wood in the same manner as the cracks and the wooden bindings in the window.

Sara was the first to wake, and stretched and yawned the sleep out of her body. She purred lightly, as she still felt the rush from last night wearing off. She loved the mornings after sex. They were the most fun, because every move you made was stimulating what had just recently been over stimulated. She looked around the room and saw Varian and Miria sleeping soundly together, Miria's arms clutched gently over Varian's body in an embrace.

He was so small in comparison to Miria, and Sara had to hold back a giggle as Varian's movements made Miria shiver slightly. He was pressed up against her great breasts, so it would make sense. The two of them however thought nothing of it, and both looked completely innocent.

Sara decided after a few moments of staring at them to go downstairs to grab some breakfast for all of them. She seemed to have recovered from the past few days, and even seemed happier than when they had arrived in the city of Vivel at all. Without further ado, she made for the door.

"Wait," came a voice from behind her, as the door was just barely open. It was Miria, she had released the sleeping Varian and settled him down softly against the wall, where a warm spot had gathered from Miria's body heat.

"Oh Miria. I was just getting breakfast. What do you want?"

"If I wasn't sure that I would send you through a wall, I'd slap you right now."

"Well fine, you can get your own breakfast then," and Sara turned to leave for the stairs when a giant hand clasped around her shoulder.

"Do you know what you did to him last night?"

Sara turned a little red. She had never had an audience before. Besides the tavern when Varian was forced to watch.

"What did you see?"

"I saw a rape," said Miria bluntly.

That caught Sara off guard and she immediately turned defensive.

"Rape? In your dreams. I'd never stoop so low. I gave Varian just what every guy wants. He was totally into it."

"Was he? Or were you so blind to your own pleasure you didn't notice?"

"Notice what?" she asked, rather angrily.

"He didn't reach it did he? Did you even look down at him at all? He received nothing from you but humiliation. You should have seen his face. I have the tear stains on my shirt to prove it. He cried himself to sleep, the poor dear."

"Varian? Cry? What else is new? And how would you know what he was doing? You weren't on top of him."

Miria clenched her fists at her sides.

"How can you be so callous to him? Do you know what lengths he went to in order to give you a great day yesterday? If you had only seen him barter yesterday for that soup. That soup! Sara. He had to barter for a bowl of soup for you." Miria's eyes became misty at the thought.

"He told me that he wanted to make you feel better. He said that he wanted to show you something that he had always found beautiful, and that he was sure you'd be happier seeing it."

Sara's thoughts drifted back to yesterday's sunset. It was yellow, right? Or red?

"You didn't even notice it did you?"

Sara's head drooped a bit in shame, not enough for it to be interpreted as such though. It was then that Miria snapped, and lifted her arm to slap Sara across the face.

On the down stroke, her hand stopped in midair, and both turned to see Varian awake and holding out his arm, his bad eye open to reveal its whiteness. Miria began to cry then, and turned away to sob into her shirt silently.

Sara however, was far less dumbstruck by his act and came to him immediately, bending over to stare him in the eyes.

She was now burning with curiosity and asked, "What did I do last night?"

He made no answer, but a sadness clouded over his eyes and Sara knew that everything Miria said was true.

She wasn't hungry anymore.