FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

White Rose

By Psion

An Adipose City Story

All Rights Reserved

St. Petersburg, Russia, 9 PM local time...

In some regards Russia hardly noticed the Peak Oil crisis. Before the petro-crash, what parts of the country weren't impoverished were in strife over grudges generations old or wrapped up in wars started by statesmen clinging to past glories. Only the rich truly noticed their oil wells suddenly drying up. To the majority of Russian citizens though, nothing had changed, not until Motherland Provisions rose to prominence that is.

Motherland Provisions was a bulk food processing company, beginning as a small time provider of MREs for the Russian Army shortly after the collapse of the old Union. While a child of post-Union Russia, Motherland Provisions knew how to change with the times while staying true to the brighter parts of its roots. When the balance of power shifted again after the collapse of the petroleum markets, the company changed one last time, becoming the conglomerate it was known today. The explosion of agricultural technologies did not go unnoticed by the Russian corporation and what began as an attempt to sway starving disenfranchised Russians to join the growing corporate state cemented its position as a leader in bulk food production. Once again, MP was a provider of MREs, ration bars, and similar foods, building a name for itself on the global market as the top supplier of "bulk foods that bulk people up."

Unfortunately, while the world became a place of plenty for everyone everywhere, everyone also hungered for more. In Europe, Anglo-Franco megacorp Aristo clashed with the Sicilian Italiana, setting much of the continent ablaze with frequent skirmishes between the two powers. Several minor corporations had already been swallowed up by both sides but Motherland Provisions was one of a few determined to stand apart from the feuding giants. In a small touch of irony, the Russian company gained considerable influence in several former Warsaw Pact countries looking to avoid getting swept up in the conflict, adding to the Motherland's girth in inter-corporate affairs at the expense of earning Italiana's ire and covetous gaze...

Motherland Provisions made its home in the urban corridor spanning from St. Petersburg to Moscow, a product of the post-peak buildup caused by people moving closer to the cities. While most of their assets were closer to the capital of old Russia, St. Petersburg was crucial to the Motherland's distribution network. Freighters leaving the city's harbor carried their foodstuffs as far as Adipose City in the United States, bringing in revenue from foreign markets across the Northern hemisphere. As such it made a tempting target for both Italiana and PEC saboteurs...

A light snow had started to fall as the Italiana agent hurried through the anagram of different architectural styles, buildings built with the latest techniques and materials stood next to squat structures dating back to the Soviet Union and constructions from when the country was ruled by czars and mad priests. It was cold, even by local standards, and yet the round rat could feel beads of sweat drip off of his brow as he tried to find a place to hide. Behind him, a large shadow slowly lurked in the back alleys. It would not be long now...

A turn off the main thoroughfare through the city, away from the patrolling Motherland security forces, into a small side street that appeared deserted. Thinking he was safe for the moment, the rat animan stopped by a mailbox to catch his breath. He was safe now, just had to return to the safe house and...

"Well what do we have here? Looks like a tasty Italiana meatball rolled my way..." A soft masculine voice whispered in the rodent's ear with a sultry purr. It was the last thing the Sicilian rodent heard before his world went completely black...

The human Italiana executive banged his fist on the SmartGlass table in rage as the final comm. signal went dark in the safe house communications room. That was the last of them, the final member of an entire four-man team of corporate agents lost in a failed attempt to sabotage the harbor. For a moment it looked like he was going to at least recover half the team but then the specter emerged... Some sort of Russian ghost had broken off from the main Motherland division and effortlessly picked off both runners while Molotov's team either killed or captured the two agents lost at the harbor. The ursine Street Sumo was probably laughing at his expense now. But no matter, an extraction team was on its way to pick him up and get him out of the city. He had just enough time for a leisurely dinner before they arrived. Ample time to figure out a plausible explanation for his failure to upper management...

Leaving the communications room for the executive dining suite, the Mediterranean man followed the soothing smell of pasta soaked in butter and olive oil, heaped high with a pile of meatballs, sausage, and tomato sauce with basil. Ah yes, nothing like a nice, filling dinner to help focus the mind on the problem at hand. Unfortunately such relief was not in his future, opening the door to his private dining suite he found an effeminate male artic fox animan, dressed in Motherland cold weather clothing, sitting in the Italiana's chair and daintily eating from a huge plate of pasta. In an excellent display of multitasking, the overstuffed vulpine infiltrator drew his pistol and pointed it at the foreign executive while finishing off the entire plate and licking it clean.

"Mmmm...URP! If only your customers ate as well as you did." The fox intruder belched softly and mused as he tightened his grip on the gun. His free hand rubbed his full belly as he regarded the target with a long, slow lick of his vulpine chops.

"Who are you and what did you do to my agents?" The Italiana manager demanded.

"I disabled them so my field commander can pick them up and take them back to headquarters for interrogation. As for my name, Nikki will do for-"

"Nicholas Dimitri, Motherland Grabboid, also known as Nikki. I've heard of you, the company has a nice long file on you after that stunt you pulled in Belgarde. I'm surprised the Motherland hadn't chased you out given how Russia feels about men getting hip enhancements and dressing frilly. A country after Italy's own heart really." Nikki's captive interrupted with a sneer. The fool still thinks he has a way out of this... The white fox realized with a bemused chuckle.

The short, wide-hipped snow fox rolled his ice blue eyes and shook his shoulder-length, platinum blond locks. Snorting then choking back a laugh. "Ah Serbia, such a nice country... until you came in at least. Excellent local cuisine and some of the tastiest Italian we could get without having to step into your borders. You taught the Serbian chefs well to prepare for your eventual expansion, shame they were more interested in working for us then you."

The conversation could have gone on longer, but Nikki's communicator picked just that moment to interrupt with a message from Molotov. "Nikki, what's your status? The other Italiana agents have been detained and IT is remotely accessing the hard drives in the safe house."

A big grin appeared on the fox's face as he kept his aim on the Italiana human. "I am in the safe house, I have the division leader hostage. What are your orders mama bear?" He replied in English before asking his question in Russian.

The female Street Sumo was silent for a moment, when she spoke again Nikki could almost hear the smile in her voice. "We have all the information we need, he is no longer necessary. Dispose of him however you wish."

"Very well." He replied with a smile, firing twice. "Target disposed of, I'll be back at the rendezvous location in fifteen minutes." The vulpine femboy reported with a smug satisfaction as he started to clean out the base pantry, his stomach bulging drum-tight as he lumbered through the shelves of ingredients and prepackaged meals. Nikki always loved raiding executive bunkers, foreign management always horded the most delicious foods for themselves. The best foods for filling out a growing queen's padded backside, he reflected greedily as he gorged tomato sauce and fine cheeses, stomached uncooked pasta, and gobbled up breads before topping it all off with a bottle of red wine. Mmmm, 2009 AD, an excellent year, Nikki mused with a chuckle as he waddled out with a smile and a hiccup.

The fox's white-furred belly bulged out with a satisfied groan, Expandex parka effortlessly stretching to contain his debauched gorging, as he holstered his pistol beneath his coat and waddled out into the city. Thunderous thighs swayed from side to side as Nikki walked along towards the team's meeting place, jutting bubble butt bouncing in time to the silent beat of his big hips.

Walking through St. Petersburg's industrial quarter as the streets stood empty of activity, Dimitri bought a pair of ration bars from an MP vending machine and happily munched on one while continuing on his journey. Mmmm, chocolate-covered caribou jerky with vodka glaze, his favorite flavor and the perfect food to help sooth a hard-working stomach.

Arriving at the meeting place, he had just started his second ration bar when Molotov and the Iron Sisters looked up to greet him. The nearly spherical brown bear smiled and finished loading the team's gear into the team's Valkryia APC while the pear-shaped polar bear twins giggled and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

"Another mission, another victory for Motherland Provisions. And I see Nikki is snacking as usual." Molotov began, allowing herself a slight chuckle as the fox finished his other food bar.

"Well mama bear, I AM the expanding Russian front after all." The vulpine femboy replied matter-of-factly, cracking a smile as he gave his bottom a gentle rub and the girls chuckled. Soon, very soon, his "home front" was going to be expanding a great deal.

"Come, let's head back to headquarters, I hear Sergei has made a big pot of solyanka for all of us." Molotov smiled.

Nikki did his best not to frown as all four of them climbed into the leviathan APC and the fox took a seat next to Ingenery of the Iron Sisters. Sergei, the Steel Chef almost permanently attached to Molotov's squad, was a doting, flirtatious chubby chaser... that was apparently not secure enough in his heterosexuality to be comfortable around effeminate males such as the Grabboid. Nikki probably wouldn't have minded it except the Eurasian mink animan preferred to express his discomfort in the Old Russian way... by being an asshole, as Burger World agents would likely put it. A pity as the skilled chef was the only black mark on an otherwise nice posting. As far as Molotov and the Iron Sisters were concerned, the girly-boy fox was just one of the girls, a complete shift from his life before being hired as an employee of Motherland Provisions. Fortunately the three she-bears were not oblivious to Sergei's antics and his attitudes towards Nikki occasionally wore on them as much as his flirting did, the three girls made sure he ate his meals with them and Molotov had threatened to strand the male mink in the middle of Siberia with only Nicholas to keep him warm.

Soon the personnel carrier arrived at the Motherland outpost at the edge of the city, a small guard post for watching company convoys running the highway between Moscow and St. Petersburg. The light snowfall had increased in intensity to a moderate blizzard and the temperature continued to drop. Yet Nikki could barely feel the biting chill; a belly full of meat, and the close company of three similarly well-rounded companions, just four rotund friends chattering about work as they waddled along to warm up with soup...