FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Left Right Out

Tony scratched at the prickly, coarse hairs bristling out from what had been a cleanly-shaved head this morning, eagerly absorbing the blistering sun's heat. His temples ached from both the sharp nubs of hard nail that had pushed out and reckoning his position. Everything looked the same: corn stalks beyond what the eye could see, only broken by the pale blue of the warm, cloudless sky.

The shifting bones in his thickening fingers cracked a bit as Tony gripped the bottom of his sweat-soaked T-shirt; the wet fabric crackled as he pulled it off, revealing the new hair growth wasn't confined to his head. Freed from the shirt, his massive chest seemed to expand even more. Tony breathed in; he hadn't realised just how much he'd had to hold himself back. He flung the wet shirt to the dirt: with his new pelt and the unbelievable increase in muscle mass, there wasn't any point in keeping it.

With his lungs finally able to breathe in properly, Tony stretched out, the fabric of his shorts complaining. They were feeling even more tight: between the massive bulges straining the front and the diameter of his legs, he was going to have to lose them soon too. Letting out a deep moan, Tony let his erection slide out the top of his shorts. His cock sported changes, too: the usual dark, thick, round head replaced by a light pink point ending a long, iron-hard shaft. The feeling of it sliding out of his over-thick foreskin proved too much, and he let out a very bestial grunt. His thoughts flashed to Tina's amazing rack; idly wondering what had happened to her and Joe.

Tony's thick-fingered, dark-nailed hands grabbed an ear of corn, his increased strength easily snapping it in half. "It's all Joe's fault," he thought, cursing his friend who wanted to fuck his girl outside as he let the corn juices run over his hairy fingers. When he first noticed himself sprouting hair and looking a little weird, he'd gone looking for them. "Fuck 'em," he swore, scratching his swollen, oozing nostril with one of his thickened fingers. Now he just wanted to get out of hear himself.

Both goals proved equally elusive. Coming to another dead end, Tony snorted loudly. With his increasingly bullish face, snorting was becoming natural. He turned back, throbbing feet stomping on the dusty ground. His toenails had dug painfully into the front of his sneakers.

A few footsteps later, and Tony had had enough of the pain. He bent down to pry off his shoes, which quickly proved to be a mistake. The first distraction came from the tip of his still-lengthening exposed cock rubbing up against the coarse pelt of his torso. With his shaft throbbing and his muscles flexing, his shorts finally gave up: out spilled a pale, hairless and gargantuan sack; out sprang a foot-long ropey tail getting its first taste of fresh air; out stretched his freed waist, the muscles of his large buttocks seeming to grow.

"Shit," Tony cursed, feeling an odd twinge as he rested his hands on the ground briefly, staring at his mostly-naked, transforming body. His brain flashed an image of him on all fours; mentally recoiling, he turned around, sitting on the ground in a way he hoped an actual bull couldn't.

Staring at his shoes, Tony muttered, "No point in just wearing socks and shoes." Hefty fingers tore through the stretched leathery outside - Tony giving himself an odd, nearly-erotic thrill as he demonstrated his strength - exposing the heavy, dark nails merging together as his malformed feet looked a lot more like they were sporting cattle hooves. He pulled off his torn socks, too, since they just clung around his ankles.

Completely nude, Tony sprawled on the dirt, his black pelt eagerly soaking up the sun. The heat almost seemed kind of nasty, as a warm breeze stroked the exposed parts of his cock as they brushed up against his furry pelt. Despite it coming with a hide and a tail, his new body wasn't bad: aside from aches he guessed were from the changes, he felt pretty healthy, and it was hard not to feel good about having a huge, muscular body with a nice, large set of genitals. If it just stayed like that, he might even get used to it.

A new scent caught his bovine nostrils: through the now-familiar scents of dust, corn and his own changing musk Tony caught a whiff of something he recognised. He glanced down, but despite being excited his cock had only dribbled a little bit of clear fluid onto his chest. Sniffing again, he got to his feet: he could definitely smell the scent of cum, the odour seemed to be calling him. Following his widening nose, he pushed through the stalks.

Wandering about and sniffing, Tony felt his elongated ears twitch, straining all of his senses to help him find what he was hunting. "Heavy breathing?" he wondered. As he closed in, the sounds became more obvious: a piercing bleat resounded. Peeking through the some stalks of corn, he looked into a small clearing.

A buck goat was furiously going at a nanny, horned head bouncing around as the male clumsily mounted the female. Jeans and shoes were strewn about haphazardly; shirts hung loosely from the animals bodies, impeding their natural urges. "Joe and Tina," Tony quickly identified, wondering what had made them transform so much more than he had.

Before he could figure it out, Tony quickly slid back the stalks he'd disturbed. A lanky-suspender-wearing man, looking like some strange archetype of a hick farmer, ambled into the clearing. The stranger gave the rutting animals a quick glance, and a chuckle. "Found you two, maybe a bit late, but I found you just the same."

Tony's blood ran cold when the farmer turned, staring right where he'd tried to hide, and drawled, "Guess your friends got a bit carried away. Might as well come out, I can smell ya from here."

Reluctantly, Tony pushed his way into the clearing, joining his two friends who had turned into goats. They'd finished fucking, Joe sliding off of Tina's back with a wet squelch. They didn't seem too afraid of the man, and only seemed briefly startled by Tony's entrance.

"Well, you're a biggun, ain't ya?" the weird farmer said. Tony couldn't place this guys accent: it seemed to dip in and out of all sorts of rural accents he'd heard on his travels, and even into some foreign ones. He waited quietly, not really sure what to do as the farmer paced around him, almost evaluating him, before offering him his hand and a friendly grin, "Barnaby Cross's the name, but call me Bar for short."

"Uh, I'm Tony," Tony rumbled, caught by surprise by how deep and rumbling his voice had become. He took Bar's hand; despite the limber limbs, he had an iron grip. It made Tony felt uncomfortable again, but he hoped that by playing along he'd be spared the indignity of fully becoming an animal. Looking at Joe and Tina, he wondered whether there was any part of them that was still human. Then again, even if there were, there was nothing identifiable about him; he only recognised them from the ill-fitting shirts that Bar had started helping them out of.

"Never found one of you in time before," Bar noted. "Most of you just end up like your friends here. I'll take care of them like I have the others, but I'm not sure what to do with you. Want to help me with your friends?" The grey-haired farmer hoisted Tina over his shoulder, showing off a lot of hidden strength. Tina protested, but there wasn't much she could do once Bar gripped her by the hooves.

Before giving it too much thought, Tony grabbed Joe's hind legs, mimicking what he'd seen Barnaby do. The buck struggled furiously, but after the initial shock, Tony got a strong grip and slung the animal around his thick neck. Something trickled down his neck; Tony snorted when he realised Joe had just left cum on his pelt.

Bar cracked a smile, gesturing his head silently and heading off in the same direction. With Joe bleating loudly in his ear, Tony rushed to catch up. Walking was a little uncomfortable: not because of the added weight of Joe - Tony barely noticed it - but because his feet had continued to change, his ankles pushing further up as his legs reshaped, leaving him to wonder how long he was going to be able to stand on two legs.

After walking through the corn, following the rustling of Barnaby's passage, they finally came out into a disturbingly flat, grassy field peppered with autumnal trees and a few sturdy wooden farm buildings that made Tony feel like he'd stepped into the past. A small number of animals milled about: a few more goats, even more sheep and a couple of pigs. A pair of dogs lazed about on the porch of the wooden farmhouse, which seemed to creak a greeting to the returning Barnaby.

Tony's mind spun with questions, but there was just too much. Instead, he just followed Barnaby's instructions, shrugging off Joe where he left Tina with the other goats. The oddly ageless farmer wiped his sweaty forehead. Watching Joe eagerly sniffing about the other nannies, Tony started to ask a question, but Barnaby interrupted.

"Our last buck died a couple of months ago," the farmer said, as if it explained everything, "and the girls were getting a mite lonely."

Tony glanced down, uncomfortable that he felt jealous of Joe's predicament. He felt bad that, once he'd lost sight of Tina, he couldn't really tell her from the rest of the nannies.

"I'll take good care of them, don't fret," Bar added, "I never eat the ones that come here, only their little ones and that's just to feed the dogs. Most just die when it's their time, or if they do something foolish while I'm distracted."

"Am I," Tony braved, "going to end up like them?" The butterflies in his gut had demanded him ask.

Barnaby frowned, "I don't know how it works, all I do is collect the animals when they come. I know they used to be people, but they're usually fully turned by the time I get there. Just in case you're going to be like you are for a while, let me show you around. It'd be nice to have company that can converse back for a change."

The tour was pretty brief: the barn was large, but empty, with plenty of hay. Barnaby claimed there'd been cattle here before, and horses from time to time, but they had all passed long ago. The tools look worn but well-maintained, and again seemingly from another age. There was a chicken coop, also empty - Tony was happy he didn't get turned into a rooster - and some dog kennels, where a bitch sprawled, feeding a litter of hungry puppies. That rounded off most of the farm buildings that were worth going in, so they headed into the house. Once again, it was rustic and simple, and not all that large. One big room, with a bed, a fireplace and a stove. There wasn't any electricity, not even with the wooden windmill, so candles and flint was kept everywhere for when night came. There were books, an easel and a bunch of landscapes - thankfully no corn fields - but none of the comforts that Tony was used to.

"I'd offer you tea, but I don't think I've got a cup big enough for you to drink from," Barnaby replied, looking a bit ashamed at his inability to offer hospitality.

"It's fine," Tony breathed. "You don't have a phone I suppose?"

"I'm afraid nothing gets out of this place," Barnaby shrugged. "You're free to try, of course, but I've got a feeling on my bones if you do I'll just have to go out and bring you back here, only then you'll be doing it on all fours." Offering Tony an empathic shoulder pat, he offered, "It'll take a while, but I think you'll get used to it here."

Tony continued to ask questions, trying to stave off the gnawing despair he felt. None of the answers he got offered any comfort. His only two friends had been transformed, seemingly forever, into dumb animals. He was trapped here, unless he wanted to join them, and might do so anyway. His only company was some weird magical man who, despite being friendly and courteous and seeming just as surprised as Tony was himself about his presence here as some mixture of man and beast, seemed to know nothing.

Suddenly, it was getting dark. "You might be more comfortable in the barn for tonight," Barnaby suggested. "If you haven't finished changin' tomorrow, we can start making you a proper bed. But it's warm, and the hay is fresh and'll be easier on your back than the floor. I'd offer you my bed, but that's not really designed for someone of your size and weight."

Tony nodded, "Yeah, okay," and followed the lanky man outside. The animals were all milling about, settling down for the night.

Barnaby handed a lit lantern to Tony, and got another for himself. "It should last the whole night, and don't worry about it causing a fire or anything like-" The end of his sentence was muffled by the creaking of the barn door, which he held open and stepped back. After Tony passed through, he nodded his head and said goodnight.

Tony didn't reply, instead looking for a pile of hay to slump down on. He felt drained. The barn's shadows loomed like unfamiliar ghosts, flickering about as the oil lantern's flame wavered. Aside from the stalls - "Gonna have to pick one of those," he thought grimly - there was an odd assortment of tools, and an even stranger assortment of jars. His body wanted rest, especially now that the aches of his transformation seemed to have died down, but there was some odd need he had to explore this place that didn't seem to want to die down.

The jars were all labelled in a scrawling script. Some of them were easy to figure out: the blacker ones were probably grease for the windmill, or for maintaining tools. Some were creamy-yellow, and Tony chuckled a bit at the thought of what those contained. Others were darker, but more watery. The labels were a bit faded, so he couldn't quite tell what they were.

Tony licked his lips; he was very thirsty, and even if he made a mess of putting it into his new muzzle, getting drunk and passing out seemed like a pretty good idea. Grunting, he tried to unscrew the jar, struggling against the tightened lid until it suddenly gave way, with the jar flying out of his hands. His expletives were partially muffled by the sound of breaking glass, as the jar's contents spilled everywhere.

Bending down instinctively to try to clean up, Tony instead got a noseful of the jar's contents. Immediately, his cock sprung out of the thick sheath he'd been sporting for hours. His bullish eyes clouded over, as he bellowed, enjoying the ache of that wonderful scent. His hand dropped down, gripping his exposed shaft, sliding it up and down.

Almost mindlessly, Tony scanned about. One stall looked like it had the most hay, so he quickly sprawled in there, sexual thoughts bubbling through his mind to feed the lust. The odour started to permeate the barn as Tony flopped down on his back, grasping more of the pink flesh in his other hand as he leaned back his head, grunting and bellowing as he pleasured himself.

Grunting and snorting, Tony handed the reins over to his animal side, easing into a mentally relaxed, physically active state. His huge hips started thrusting, jamming his straining shaft through the two tight holes his meaty hands made, enjoying the pull against the pink, sensitive skin that encased the long, pink tube. It hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt, the kind that made you just want to keep going because it set off another burst of endorphins.

Tony's balls jostled against his inner thighs. He liked the idea of those huge orbs - his huge orbs, he reminded himself proudly - overflowing with manly fluids. He was a huge, buff virile stud. He tried to imagine the perfect woman - no, women - to join him. With that primal scent filling his nostrils, and then his mind, it was hard not to add bovine tweaks to the female forms: splotches of different coloured fur for him to run his fingers over; huge teats hanging off their large, round teats that he could tease and squeeze; large wide hips that they wouldn't mind using to pin him down with; and definitely nice broad pussies dripping in excitement for him, squirting that same scent to let him know that they were definitely up for a romp in the hay.

Tilting his head up, Tony opened his muzzle. His hands weren't enough: he needed something warm and wet around the tip to help get him over the edge, and his mouth was the only thing that came to mind. His neck throbbed in pain, but he didn't care; the discomfort was worth dealing with if it relieved him of a bit more of that itch he couldn't scratch by himself in any other way.

It did enough.

A bit of gentle sucking pushed Tony over the edge, his mouth greeted to a thick blast of salty bull semen. His body sagged back; now that the floodgates were open, he could relax, sinking into the straw as his hands pumped away, leaving a thick, sticky coating of cum that glistened in the lantern light on his heavily-muscular chest. Still stroking, he started to pass out.