FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Hello? Anybody? I mean, love your castle, I really do."

Deon was shuffling around on wine purple carpeting with nothing but a pair of flip flops stained in a little green from fresh cut grass. His shorts and simple T-shirt spoke of one of his summer walks in the woods, the kind that let him connect a little more with the natural world after spending so long dodging snow and being soaked by April, May, and sometimes June showers.

Of course, those nature walks didn't usually bring him to a full blown medieval castle.

"Excuse me-ee! Your fire is still going! That's a fire hazard!"

As if on cue the hearth snapped, pale wood mottled as what had been alive blossomed constantly in warm licks at Deon's toes. There was no helpful, long lost uncle's head there among other weirdness to at least give him some sign of this place's owner, if it even had one. After all, one usually doesn't find a castle made of purple cobble in their back yard. Especially along the rust belt.

Deon sighed. Somewhere deep down he'd hoped to meet some kind of wild eccentric who'd set this entire thing up in secret. He had nothing in particular against the potent mix of affluence and irregularity of thought that would possess one to build a castle somewhere in the hills in America, but he wished they would be friendlier. Or cute. Both would be preferable.

There were no hints in the many banners lining the walls: just a coat of arms, a fox with five tails, a big rook chess piece rising like a castle turret and what seemed to a crossed feather duster and book spine. This owner would have to be nuts to say the least.

Deon's ear perked when he heard a giggle. The room around him was empty, the fire casting strange shadows across the plush, deep purple and black chairs and couch, the windows small slits with peeks of stained glass. There were a few portals lacking doors, one leading up a flight of stairs that were, you guessed it, bright purple, and another into what might have been another hallway, each just shrouded enough to make Deon reconsider this entire venture.

He rustled his mat of dark hair with one hand. He felt the comfortable weight of his phone slip into his hand. He automatically checked the time and it took a few checks for the number to stick in his mind: One PM. Well, assuming it was still sunny he'd be fine to head back. He didn't really want to, seeing as how it was one of his days off and he tried to spend as much time outdoors or in new places as possible. Working retail meant his life already had enough silly routines.

When he tried pushing the door open there was a crash of thunder. Deon nearly fell from the jump and shook. The door swung open to thick rain and dark skies. Deon held his hand outside for a moment and felt a deep cold from the water. His walk back to his house would be something like a few hours. He'd be weak and shaking with hypothermia halfway there, much less making it the entire way.

He checked his phone again. No bars. Nothing. He was getting the time and that was about it. It was probably just that he was inside such a thick structure or something, it would be too much to assume this place had some kind of internet connection. Even if he did have bars he didn't know how he would direct anyone. 'Just straight back from my house in largely uncharted woods, without any paths, and just look for a massive purple castle somewhere.' Yeah that would work out.

"Umm, I'm just gonna stay here okay? It's stormy and a little cold out and, uh, there was no keep out sign so..." His voice died away as there was another little giggle. The fire winked out.

Deon shivered slightly in the darkness, barely able to see other than small flashes of light. While he wouldn't call himself scared of the dark, the shadows made odd shapes in the little photos burned into his mind with each thunderbolt. He couldn't help being just a little worried for his personal safety.

But then, a light shimmered ahead. One further down the hallway. The giggling seemed to emanate from there. Deon could swear he saw a door ajar at the end of the hall, so far away, so many giggles inside. He was sure someone here was not right but...

But better to know now than risk the rain or dark right? He didn't even think about a flashlight or his phone's light app, he just started to trot down the hall. He heard footsteps behind him, not on the soft carpet, but actually rasping over the smooth stone! He didn't turn back, didn't want to see, just started running until the light grew brighter and then-

The door swung wide. It banged hollow into the wall beside it. He hissed in pain and covered his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he nearly fell.

Chardonnay-purple walls and bright lights. There was a massive three way mirror in one corner, brilliant incandescent bulbs blaring around a vanity with all numbers of small, brightly colored bottles arranged in rainbows upon rainbows and even further along the color spectrum into metallic and mattes and pastels. Deon blinked and wondered if he was the victim of some kind of airborne hallucinogen. The giggle started up again. For a moment he thought it was through a wall, but then a door he swore wasn't there a moment ago seemed to be the source. He must have glossed over it, even the handle was the same mellow, nearing wine purple of the dressing room. Some part of him couldn't help feeling that if he were to dress up in here he would stand out a little against the slightly shade. Just that thought made a little heat rise to his cheeks.

"Hello? Hey, uh, sorry, but I'm kind of stuck in your house."

The response was another soft flutter, joyous, almost manic.

"And, uh, it's kind of dark out there so... I'm just gonna... umm..."

The door clicked open, swung ajar. No light seemed to penetrate into it.

"Uh, I don't want to bug you or anything! I'm sorry! I-I can go back out into the-"

"Shh..."

The noise hissed out at him, soft and seeming to tickle his brain. "Uh, o-okay..." his voice died away.

The silence stretched for what felt like five minutes before the door swung open, slowly. Deon could see the soft, shaded outline of a figure just within the shadows, the only thing exposed being the lower hem of a long, black dress.

"Do you enjoy my atmosphere?"

"Uh... what?"

Another rich bubble of laughter came from the darkness. "My decorations, my lighting, all my lovely rooms and halls, do you like them?"

"Uh, umm, yes, they're wonderful, I really d-do, you sound v-very pretty miss."

She giggled again and took a step forward. She had smooth, pale skin, her eyes soft blue, her hair long and blonde. She had a pair of smart little black glasses, thin and resting high on her nose. Her eyes were pale, like ice, but half lidded with a rosy pink around her cheeks. "Oh but what matters is that I look pretty darling, do you like my walls? Purple is quite simply divine isn't it?"

Deon swallowed softly. "Y-yes, it's my f-favorite color." Her smile brightened a little and her eyes narrowed to little lines. The dress resolved itself a little more as she took a shuffling step into the light. Her dress was long, black, a kimono to be exact, her sleeves concealing her hands and lit with precise lines of gray and very bright, small, purple buds and flowers. It made her outline smoky. She also had bright purple ears that swiveled forward as he shuffled back. Five tails danced almost like vipers behind her, shaded the same royal shade.

Deon gasped and leaned forward "Oh wow! Oh wow that's so pretty! How did you do that? Ohmigosh where on earth did you get them, I mean they move and they fluff and they look so real! Gosh that's so cute I could just-"

The woman held a hand up to her mouth and giggled so softly, her cheeks simmering to a near airbrush pink.

"Umm s-sorry, I d-don't mean to be impro-"

He felt soft arms around his waist, hugging him so close. His nose twitched, the scent of strawberries so thick from her she might have been holding one freshly cut under his nose. "There is no need to apologize, you speak your mind, I enjoy this about you already."

"M-m-mi-miiisss! Y-you're r-really c-cloooose!"

His arms sort of pinwheeled and he twitched in her arms. She was so soft and so close and that made him squirm. Then he felt something in his hair, a deep scratching through the thick fluff that made him go slack.

"Shhhh, I know, you have so much to say, things I can already read in your blush. No more words now, okay?"

Deon's head bobbed up and down as though to rattle something inside, but even then in a droopy way. This lovely lady laughed, soft and pure and Deon almost felt himself falling into the warm sound. He wanted to be so close so that he could hear it all the time, his ears even twitching toward her. Everything around her seemed to be in a haze, as though she had an aura of normalcy that only existed a few inches from her soft, pale face.

There was this budding warmth that seemed to soak into him. It was beyond anything skin deep, somehow pushing past nerves and filling him with something that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was kind of like when his friends all got together and, even in just, gave him nice hugs. Even with how weird things were, joy seemed to seep into him with each breath with a sense that somehow he was in the right place and the right time. Nothing past, nothing future intruding into his thoughts, just enjoyment of the moment.

"So darling, what do you think so far?"

Deon's eyes cleared up and saw a pair of bright, wiggling blond ears. He giggled a little at them, his eyes following a cute little pale face and soft, flowing blond hair, almost creme colored, with dim purple irises and a soft build. This girl was so cute! Deon just wanted to hug her, how nervously she wiggled back and forth and the way her little blouse perked around her slim bust. She wore an unusual purple ensemble: very thin fabric, shiny and a little tight looking on a dress and shorts that just barely exposed her tummy. They were so frilly too, shiny, maybe made of something rubbery.

Deon giggled and rocked forward on his heels and tried to hug this adorable girl, just wanting to comfort her and tell her she looked so pretty and shouldn't have to be nervous, but when he did his head clunked into a cold, smooth surface. He blinked and shook his head. The girl in the mirror did the same. His eyes widened, and so did the purples of fox girl's. He glanced down.

"AaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

"So I'll take that as approval?"

"O-ohm-m-mygosh what did you do to me?!"

She giggled in that rich, full way again and gently touched Deon's ears and fluffed his hair with both of her hands. Deon felt the anxiety draining straight out of him. It was as though he were a little high somehow, his purple eyes tilting back slightly and his tongue falling out of his mouth.

"Good girl Dee."

Dee smiled and giggled.

"You like this don't you Dee?"

"Y-yeah."

"You're a good girl huh?"

"Y-y-y... uh, oh, my head feels funny..."

Dee's thoughts felt funny. For a moment she was sure she was a girl and then the next she wasn't so sure and everything seemed to run together just a little fast for her. She wobbled on her feet and her hand touched the mirror and she felt her chest wiggle slightly.

This wasn't right! She's not Dee, she's Dee! Or... Something else! She wasn't sure what but everything felt super weird and she was having a hard time thinking coherent thoughts, especially under the lovely Miss' fingers.

"N-nuh s-stop t-touching me."

"Awwww, do you not like that outfit cutie?"

Dee shook her head as heat kept rising and billowing around her cheeks.

"I think I've got just the thing for you."

She reaches down and rubs at Dee's stomach with one hand, the other starting to tease at her ears again. Her brain started to feel very foggy. She thought how lovely it would be if she could wear something like the miss, or if the miss could wear something like her. At least she thought that's what she thought, she couldn't quite think.

The miss squeezed her softly between the legs and for a moment Dee yipped until she felt... Warmth, pleasure. There was nothing there anymore, just smooth rubbery space. The direct line to the pleasure centers lacking any of the other gross parts was perfect, and for just that moment Dee was comfortable in this fluffy, rubber coated skin.

If anything, she felt almost too comfortable, seeming to curl back and rub herself against the miss, just short of yowling and flickering her tails. She didn't feel feline, if anything the heat just felt comfortable, the lovely contours against her body, every part of her that could touch the miss almost as sensitive as her new little null space. Dee felt a curious, hollow, emptying sensation, her skin growing super sensitive... on... both sides? She wasn't really sure how to describe it but it kept tingling over and over, her fingers actually fluttering, her toes squirming and tightened into a smooth, warm line at the end of her simplified ankles. She wasn't exactly sure what was happening but she was willing to tip her head back and let it enthrall her.

The sensations of becoming less mobile and more sensitive are curious: stretching, pulling at every corner, seeming to be too tight but stretching so blissfully, her little space folding in on itself and making her give a little muffled moan in bliss. She could hear and see somehow, but it didn't matter, there was only to stretch and tug and fit. She groaned softly but it was lost for all the lovely squeaking she was doing.

The miss' fingers ran over her face, smoothing out the silly features that remained and drawing a line where the smooth latex would cup her bust. The smooth, latex 'lace' actually brushed her fur in such a way that she couldn't stifle a little squeal and giggle herself. The warm, hollow thing Dee had become couldn't help but squeak with glee.

"Good girl, I think you'll be quite perfect for what I have in mind."

Kay was glancing over his cellphone screen. If his app was right, this would be near the correct longitude and latitude. Deon usually never left messages about where he was going, one just had to sort of assume he was on a nature walk again if he wasn't online or at home. That and the recent downpours, severe weather warnings, even a few tornado touchdowns just a few counties over and now, no Deon for a full day. Kay felt a little frown play over his lips as he thought about it. It was a perfect storm of potential injury.

"Sounds like Deon."

The words weren't to anyone in particular, maybe to convince himself to turn back and just file a missing persons report. Try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from trotting forward and looking for what he would refuse to admit was a good friend of his. Knowing anything about the local precinct it would be days, if ever, they got around to doing anything about it. No, better to go make sure himself. The sky was still murky gray and starting to worsen when he finally saw it: the first set of crenelated battlements, rising out of the canopy.

He blinked. Actually rubbed his eyes. Stared for a good long five minutes.

"Well, either I snapped or that's a castle."

Kay couldn't keep his eyes off of the stonework. He could tell it had a weird color from here but it was washed out against the drier lint blotting out the sun. The wind seemed to die down around this place.

It would have to be some kind of weird crap like this. With Deon things were never entirely normal. There were long hours online, countless words typed out across screens to relate little scenes to each other, composing their own little stories. Maybe the way he did things was just to anchor himself a little closer to the people around him. Maybe there wasn't a lot of high concept thought there. But then, maybe there didn't need to be.

The drawbridge was down, a long tongue out of a yawning mouth. The moat was filled with what seemed like stagnant water, but the gate wasn't closed, not that he imagined it would be too treacherous without defenders. It was just common sense, at least as close as he could manage with a castle nearby. He bit down a few swears. There would be time for that, now was just making sure Deon was okay.

The inner walls spilled out into long, green fields, smooth and seemingly untouched by anything human. There were a few places to ascend the walls, the central keep which was massive, bigger than he thought he could see from the outside, and he could tell now: the stone was purple. Not mottled cobble or haphazard shades, uniform purple.

"Deon, hey! Deon!"

The front door to the keep opened for a moment. Something peeked around the door, then it slid closed again. It didn't look like Deon either.

Kay sighed and reached into his back pocket. He had a little folding handle that slipped out with a little pressure from his thumb. He kept the thumb on the flat of the knife, because he'd heard somewhere that it helped to slide the blade in between ribs, and he wasn't going to take any chances.

There was one couch in the room. There were banners grayed out with a thick mat that seemed to almost snow when the door was shut behind him. Every surface in the room had a fine patina that threatened a little tickle just about mid-sinuses. He probably would have rather stabbed someone. There was a fire, so at least the hazards were about as plentiful as he'd expected. He didn't hold his knife in front of him anymore, but decided to keep it at about the nearest belt loop to his pocket.

He spotted a little flickering flame leading up to the second floor. Rather than wasting time calling out to someone else he took each step slowly, listening as best he could while he shuffled through the dusty halls. He would probably rail Deon a little hard about this if it took too much longer to find him.

Then he did it: his hand brushed a railing just a little too quickly, a cloud of dust in his eyes and nose and he was sneezing and coughing hard. "Dammit who even leaves a castle like this."

As though to answer he heard a soft, resonant giggling what sounded like just one floor above him, likely standing at the head of the stairs. When he glanced upward sure enough he could see a strange outline, a shadow that fell over him. He tried to blink away the tears forming from the thick dust in his eyes but he still couldn't really make her out from where he was.

"Hey, uh, sorry about the comment on your castle and all, but uh, you wouldn't happen to know a smaller guy? Fluffy dark hair? Glasses? About this tall?"

Rather than answer the figure pulled back from the stairwell and there was just the long laps of flame dancing around on the flames above. He supposed being weird as hell would come with the territory when one owns a gigantic castle in the middle of the rust belt.

He made his way upstairs, finding the hall lit with sconces. The air was still thick with dust, and he swore he saw one of the doors about midway down the hall shift slightly, a little crack of light inside. Everything in him said this was probably a bad idea. Forget horror movies, this was bad on general principle. The blade wasn't in his hands or his pocket, he must have dropped it back on the stairs when the dust had kicked up. For a second he turned back around to get it.

"K-kay."

It was Deon's voice.

"K-kay h-hummnn..."

Kay whipped right around and ran to the door, pulled it open and peeked his head inside. The room was similarly coated in a film of fine dust, though in the light it seemed to have an odd tint, as though it were a little reflective. There was simply a bed, on one side there seemed to be a set of clothes, the rest of it looking as though it were recently slept in.

Kay wrinkled his nose. He could actually smell something a little like mildew in the room, maybe it was just the concentrated scent of so much of the odd, grayish layers of, well, left over human skin flakes he supposed. There was a closet, but the door was open and it seemed empty, even small for the otherwise impressive nature of the house. There were a few handles sticking out of a basket, smooth and wood polished and looked as much like they might fall apart as clean anything. He frowned a little before looking over the bed again.

The clothes were new, even shiny, perhaps even a little too shiny. He stretched the shoulders out between his thumb and forefingers and found that it was in the shape of a maid dress, if not for the long purple frills along the apron, little markings around the pocket that seemed to glow softly. And it seemed to be made of some kind of rubbery material, almost like latex. A five tailed sigil was printed on the chest where a bow might have gone.

"Well, this looks weird, maybe a little kinky, I wonder who would even wear this... Maybe Deon, he'd be into this kind of thi-"

The maid's dress shudders and seems to make a really unusual squeaking sound, as though it were rubbing against itself... against his body. He glances down finding that somehow in his observations he'd totally missed that he was just sliding the thing on.

His fingers kept sliding over the hems and shoulders. There was a sense of creeping tension, the smooth, cool stuff pushing up under his clothes seemingly of it's own will, oblivious of his own fingers helping the outfit along.

"Wait, hey this isn't cool, how are you even doing this?"

Kay heard rich laughter behind him, thick and soft and almost seeming to toy with his ears. When he turned around he could see a face pushing itself out of the wall, joined by what seemed to be a swirling purple lump of a body. The room bent seamlessly to allow this impossible intrusion, stretching a hand toward Kay.

Kay screamed and tried to pull away, half caught between pulling a set of rubber stockings up his legs and trying to run, instead managing a weak flop onto the bed as the figure seemed to solidify, five long purple tails dancing like snakes and a tongue running over smooth, glossy lips.

"There we are, perfect darling, I think you'll enjoy living here."

"W-who the hell are you?!"

Her eyebrows perked up slightly and her smile only seemed to grow wider. "Oh well quite simple: I am the lady of the house, and the house of the lady. I am all you see and have seen since you entered my bounds, and I have watched you unseen since you drew near."

"So you're crazy."

She can't stifle another giggle, a hand coming up to her mouth as her purple ears perk. "I might be, but that has nothing to do with your current situation, isn't that right maid?"

Kay's next words were meant to be a negative followed by a string of expletives. What came out was a very angry, very strained "Yes miss."

Her face practically blushed as she waved a hand. "Oh just perfect, I love it, start with this room will you? I'll be attending to the library until you're done."

Kay heard himself grunt and tried to form the start of another tirade, but all that manifested itself was a raised voice when he growled out "Yes miss!"

"Good girl, don't dally now."

She shut the door behind her, leaving Kay in the room with nothing but the open closet, a messy bed, a few end tables and lamps that looked like they could use a dusting. He shook his head for a moment, almost sure he'd been drugged, somehow, gassed maybe, or something in the dust. He wiped his brow.

"Alright, to take this off now, just start, with a... glove?"

He honestly didn't remember sliding on the opera length gloves, long and white and reaching from mid-biceps to fingertips. They looked as though oiled, smooth and with barely a hint of muscle tone, in fact looking thinner as he turned over his wrist. Daintier somehow. His wrist made a little squeak as he twisted it around, no weird tensions or pulling down his arm.

He glanced at the frilly, shiny purple glove hem, fingers lacing around it for a moment and trying to tug it down. Rather than pulling them down further his hand tugged the hem up his arm, making them just a bit tighter.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant to-"

There was a sharp squeak as glove met glove. He frowned and tried to think of how he would get out of this. Something was happening. He could feel it crawling somewhere in his brain, along with every squeak, a sense that something wasn't right. He wished he could clear his head just a little bit to figure out what it was. It was like staring at a picture and suddenly realizing there was a person in it who wasn't supposed to be there.

He shut his eyes. What is it, what is he missing? It's right on the tip of his tongue.

When his eyes opened he was pulling the sheets and the blanket tight to the pillows on the bed, tucking them under. He stared as his hands smoothed out the comforter, as though he'd done it a thousand times before, leaving the plush covers as smooth as the edge of a ruler.

As soon as his fingers seemed satisfied from the job they recoiled up to his shoulders as he took a few steps back. There was total horror at the admittedly cleanly loss of control, blossoming into a gentle swelling of pride and a slightly giggly sensation building somewhere in his chest. It didn't feel like his own though, it felt more like something familiar, something he was used to hearing or reading in a chat line, almost like...

"Deon?"

The maid dress tightened a little on all sides. He thought he might be crushed but instead stared down to see that it just... stayed. He was comfortable as his waist had slimmed by what must have been several inches. He wasn't sure but he seemed a little shorter now too. The giggly sensation felt a little stronger. He was sure Deon couldn't talk but that somehow he was behind this.

"D-dee, okay, I n-need you to s-stop, I need to f-figure out what's happening before I start doing anymore c-cleaning-" As soon as the word 'cleaning' got out of his mouth, the squeaky purple maid uniform stopped giggling, almost like a gasp as it relaxed and then tightened and squeaked all over in a little excited squeal!

"N-no s-stop!"

Kay jerked and twisted toward the little bucket and much against his own will grabbed a set of brushes and scrubbers, sponges and cleaning equipment, stuffing them angrily into the little pocket on the uniform's apron, not even an inch of it seeming to bulge out. He felt his ears twitch in an odd way as he stood back up, the bed posts a little higher than they were supposed to be.

"No, g-gotta, get out of- cleaning sounds so fu- fu- uhhh s-st-stop!"

He turned and marched toward the door, his fingers reaching for the handle. As soon as they grasped it the gloved fingers slipped over the smooth, brassy knob.

"Dammit c-come on l-let's clean some more!"

He felt himself straightening the hem of his skirt out and dragging something out of the pocket, as in he could feel the hem of his skirt and the pocket. They felt warm, oddly squeaky, and Dee... No... K-K something... He wiped a little rag down with a cleaning solution and started rubbing the knob.

"Dee quit being stupid and help k-k-c-clean this whole room clean all of the rooms!"

The outfit tightened and squeaked at his waist. His breath was momentarily shoved out of him before coming back in again, this time his center tighter as he shuddered and stared down at the apron, the hem of the skirt. He was almost an hourglass when really the only shape he would have described himself as before might have been 'pear-ish.'

"Wh-what are you d-doing, s-s-st-stop making us so cute!"

He huffed and tried to pull away, but couldn't manage it until the knob was shining. He ended up glancing over the rest of the door and feeling his ears twitch again. He almost growled as the little rag went back into his pocket, but then blinked for a moment as he realized he was nearly done with the room. Just a little dusting and it would all be done, then he could see the lady of the house and she would probably have more things for her to clean-

"N-no! Him! Him him him him him him hi-"

In the middle of trying to correct his pronouns he'd managed to walk over to one of the end tables. He had a little duster in his hand, noting that it fit easily into his rubber gloved claws, the feathers brushing and fluffing at the lamp shade and bulb until they were about twice as shiny as they had been. She let the feathers take their time as they brushed over the lamp itself, her plight seeming to be shoved into the back of her mind as she leaned in close as though to catch every particle. The duster itself felt so fluffy and tickly and feeling it on the end of her arm teasing over the fluffy dust made her giggle a little. Her movements of the little duster were minute, just little flicks of the wrist and twitches of her tails as she swirled the little duster. While she didn't think of it as such directly, even her posture was part of the dusting: what's the point of having a maid clean things for you if she isn't poised, beautiful, seen and not heard?

At the same time, she could feel giggly thoughts bubbling up into hers, thoughts that didn't sound like hers at all, thoughts that were more like Dee's, more like the w-we... wonderful costume that was making her skin so tingly and weird, tightening further until she was pretty sure she couldn't see any kind of seam between the latex and her own skin.

The thoughts filtered through her brain as though they were common visitors to the landscape of her mind. Something was deeply wrong about them, but it was kind of a numb sensation, growing ever more distant as they kept flooding in. Cleaning seemed as much a physical activity as a mental one: every brush of old cobwebs and dust felt like a little brush at the mothballs of her mind, even as they kept screaming and trying to take back a brain that was being totally overrun.

She felt the brightest happiness filling into her, almost as though something were moving up from the warmth of the dress-skin itself as it tightened and blurred. Her chest almost seemed to beam with light and warmth and suddenly she wasn't entirely herself, wasn't entirely someone else riding her. They were starting to blend together, the differences between one and the other starting to fade away.

She wiggled her cute little glove-fingers and giggled as her tight-toes squirmed and squeaked. She couldn't help rubbing herself in the front either, for just a moment indulging a rather un-maid-ly obsession with the smooth, tingly sensitivity of her dress, the space where her body should open up just completely smooth. She huffed and blushed and squirmed. She wouldn't trade the weird, wonderful sensations filling her, her singular now, for anything in the world. She moved to the next end table, very gently tightening herself onto her thin, smooth thighs as she felt herself starting up a little hum. It was fairly tuneless, but some part of her felt alright for it. She felt the back of her skirt tip up. Day wiggled and blinked and turned her head, finding it odd her excitable, orderly dress-skin would so something untoward, but as it turned out it was a fluffy obstruction, almost seeming like a duster itself before puffing out and revealing themselves as a pair of smooth, warm tails. The fur was white, a little creamy and almost blonde, but with a long purple frill near the end, matching her uniform, nearly the inverse of the Lady's. She smiled a little at that, even as some part of her tried to pull away from the small corner. The wrongness didn't really touch her as much. She felt a small measure of pride: she was in her place, the service compliment to the lady's nobility.

She felt endless happiness pouring through her warm new skin and she smiled as she rubbed along the hem for but a moment, shivering slightly at the utterly warm and sensitive length of latex, putting the duster away. She turned on her heels and trotted toward the door, opening and closing quickly before following along the halls. The room had moved while she'd been cleaning, but she still seemed to know unerringly where the library was.

She slipped inside, careful not to make a sound as she stepped in between the grand bookcases and past the long tables, piles of assorted literature left strewn over them, some with bookmarks which meant they were not to be touched, others seeming to have just been left where they lay. The room seemed almost too expansive for the keep itself, but it was not in Day's nature to question such things.

She found the miss sitting in, where else, the warmest section of the library. The sunlight peaked in between purple curtains at a slight angle before very gently adjusting themselves to let the light fall over the lady's book. It was, very appropriately, Of Latex and Luxuries. When Day approached she felt something, an echo of something in fact, tell her that she should try to gather the miss' attention, but she felt it die down as the miss kept reading. Rather than fidget or make a sound, she stood to one side of the miss' chair, silent, her hands folded neatly over the hem of her uniform without so much as a squeak. The minutes seemed to drag on into hours, and the maid only felt a swelling pride : she was so lucky to wait on such a lovely miss, to be given entire seconds, even full minutes of standing still and silent like this was testament to the love of the lady. She could be doing work, could be worked to the bone, and she would love every moment of that too, but The miss was giving her a break, letting her wait and demonstrate how good she was. Day was so excited, she wanted to jump for joy, to hug the miss, to tell her how much she loved the miss so much and how she was the kindest miss Day had ever known.

She held still, her face even, simply staring off into one of the shelves, feeling brilliant pride swelling in her knowing that to do so would be nearly the same display of affection, that it would mean just as much to the miss, if not more.

As though on cue to that thought, the miss closed her book and smiled up to Day, who had to contain herself from wiggling. Her tails, damn them, were waggling entirely out of her control. The miss giggled.

"You did well."

Day screamed internally, the ecstasy of the praise overwhelming her. "Thank you miss."

"I do have one small question for you though, my dear maid."

"Yes miss?"

A moment later, she held out her hand. A mirror seemed to well up from the floor beside her, full length. The creature Day saw reflected within was small, dressed in white, with long white ears to match, purple along the tips of those and her tails. She had dark hair, kept fairly close to her neck, her chin soft and her bust a gentle curve. She stood in almost perfect posture, unmoving as her bright green eyes took everything in.

"Do you see anything wrong here?"

Day gasped. She did. There was something that made her skin nearly crawl about the image before her.

"Oh there is!"

"What's that my dear maid?"

Day reached into the depths of her apron pocket, pulling out a little maid hat. She slid it into place at the top of her head, feeling the warm purple frills nestle in and silence that most troublesome part of her mind that railed against this perfection of form.

"There, perfect."

The miss' smile brightened and she giggled. "Very good, maid. Now do you think you could start with this isle? I find the disarray of these volumes most distracting." Day felt as though her heart were going to burst with the joy of being given an order. Her uniform felt a similar rebound of pleasure as it gently tightened and squeaked against her. "Of course miss! Right away miss!"

The miss smiled and opened her book again. Day turned on her heel, tails waggling as she quietly grabbed books several at a time, almost ghostly as she slid each one into it's perfect place. She dusted, feathered the shelves, barely a squeak as her uniform would tighten and wriggle with joy along her form, just short of laughing herself as the library grew cleaner, and cleaner, and cleaner.