FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

You are a fluffy, shy, dependable sheep working on a space station. Your name is Valentine, but everyone calls you Lenti. Well... actually, they don't. They call you "Maid" or "Janitor." But the few people you used to communicate with off-station would call you Lenti for short, and it's what you usually call yourself in your private thoughts.

People don't talk much on the station anymore. Things have changed a lot. New leadership, management change, whatever people like to call it. To be honest, you don't know a whole lot about it. As far as you know, nobody does. One day, something happened - some kind of attack, or something. And after that, everything was different. The official record is that "security was drastically increased to prevent a similar incident" but the actual incident is completely taboo to discuss. Heck, you're not even sure the same people are in charge now.

It doesn't affect you too much, though. When the shift happened, everybody had to get reassigned. A lot of people who you used to recognize are in different places now. Some of them are completely gone. When you went to get reassigned, they looked over your credentials, asked you a few questions, and then gave you a new card that looked just like your old one. Not that you minded. You enjoyed your job.

Things definitely got a lot more uncomfortable, though. Random searches, and you got them more than anyone. You suspect it's because you were a low-ranking employee with access to a lot of personal quarters, and they suspected you whenever anything went missing. More than anything, the guards seemed to enjoy asserting their dominance and control over everyone on the station, including you.

They show up, pounding on your door, and the second you open it they push you back and make you surrender to them - hands in the air, then on your head, down to your knees. Then one of them usually stands uncomfortably close and asks you to recite your name, your occupation, and whatever else they can quiz you on in the "preliminary interrogation." Sometimes, if you're lucky, they'll just tear apart your place a little and say that "your cooperation has been noted."

Sometimes, if you're unlucky, or if they're just in the mood, they'll take it further. Handcuff you and stand you up. Make you wait outside. Swipe detectors over you, shine lights in your eyes. Anything and everything, and all you do is keep your eyes low and try not to say anything at all that might set them off or make them think you've done absolutely anything wrong. From what you understand, "conspiracy against the station" has been one of the most common charges placed on people - you've seen the little red rectangular sign of death on many doors, and that meant they were gone for at least a couple weeks. You didn't want that sign on your door, so you kept with your "Yes, Sir" and "No, Sir" no matter what they told you.

You did speak up, once. Once was more than enough to show you that it was a bad idea. Some big brutish Doberman - you were pretty sure, at least, most dogs kinda look the same to you when they're in the same uniform - was manhandling you, and all you said was "Please, not so rough." The next thing you knew, he had you outside your room, in the station hallway, and he had you stripping out of your jumpsuit. You were trembling the whole time, standing out in the hallway in nothing but your underwear as he "inspected" (held) your jumpsuit for you, until the search was over. What little friends you had made on the station before that became much less friendly toward you afterwards, and you learned a valuable lesson about speaking in turn.

That was a while ago, though. Your record had long since been cleaned up with many "notation of compliance" marks, as far as you were aware, and you even received a "diligent service commendation" on your last performance review, which didn't actually get you anything, but it was nice to be appreciated. Since then, you have quietly been going about your duties, cleaning where messes are reported to you, keeping your eyes low, and not drawing any attention to yourself. It was a living, and it was better than trying to fight the system (probably death) or trying to leave the station (for sure death).

You were laying in your cot, looking up at the ceiling and daydreaming about being planetside again when your intercom rang out with a long, low tone. You turned your head slightly so one of your ears could clearly hear the coming announcement.

"Attention all station personnel. A routine medical inspection has begun. Report to sickbay immediately and form and orderly line."

Ugh. You hated these. You had no idea what they were for. Every time was the exact same - everyone gets there and forms a line. Not like, lining up to get into a room, but like soldiers lining up in formation and facing the same way. You stand, eyes forward, back straight, waiting for the medical officer to get to you. Then he takes a sample, scans you, scans the sample (why??) and then moves on. Nobody is allowed to leave until everyone is scanned, and if you start to squirm around too much they make a scene. It's miserable.

Regardless, you got dressed in a clean jumpsuit, splashed some water on your face, and began to walk, calmly but quickly, eyes low, posture straight, to the medical wing. Silently, you begin to feel that anxiety building up.

Sure, every time was the same for you. You had no medical history, and you rarely got sick. Heck, even people who WERE sick often had roughly the same experience as you. The problem was that some people - seemingly random people, would get scanned, and then taken out of the line and led away somewhere. You weren't friendly enough with anyone on the station to really know who, and you couldn't turn your head to even see them be led away, but you lived in constant worry that this time, it would be you.

You arrived early, not that it mattered, and the guards were happy to "direct" (drag) you to your place in line, where you stood, passive, quiet, insignificant. The worst part about "routine medical inspection" day is that they wouldn't even start until everyone was there for some reason. Nobody was allowed to enter or leave during the inspection, so getting there early just meant you had to stand around longer. Of course, getting their late consistently meant you were "disregarding" the order to arrive immediately, which was also unacceptable. Ugh. What a mess.

Finally, inspection began, and they started from the other end of the line for no particular reason. You stood, trying not to look too bored or miserable lest the guards decide you needed some "entertainment" or "cheering up," until finally the medical officer arrived to the guy on your left. You tensed slightly as your turn approached, that anxiety welling in you once more. Maybe this would be the time.

Suddenly, the medical officer nodded, and two guards grabbed the husky next to you and pulled him out of the line without a word. You blinked, and let out an involuntary sigh in relief. Suddenly, it occurred to you. You saw that guy's face - at least, you knew his species. This was a new development. Being a janitor, you could probably track down how long he was missing. Maybe even-

"Arm." The medical officer said, and you jolted awake and presented it.

"My apologies, Sir." You mumbled, which he seemingly ignored as he drew a blood sample from you. The routine continued as normal, scanning you, then the sample. You almost returned to your daydream, expecting him to step to the next person in line, when he looked up at you. No - he looked past you. Behind you. And nodded.

Without a word, two strong arms grabbed yours and pulled you backwards out of the line, your hooves clopping on the tile floor as you gasped involuntarily and attempted to stay on your feet. They took your surprise and clumsiness to mean they'd have to drag you, and so they did, as you struggled to get your hooves to match the pace of their paws on the floor. You didn't dare ask where they were taking you, instead just trying to get them to ease up their grips on your arms a little, which they were distinctly unwilling to do.

They marched you all the way across the station, which was eerily quiet and empty, and up through a security checkpoint. You knew this place. They were taking you to the brig. You tried not to panic, even though your prey-instincts were screaming at you to scream and try to run away. You swallowed heavily, keeping your head low as they led you along the hallway and opened a cell. They gave you a shove, and you stumbled inside, not turning around just in case it would make them think you were trying to run back out. The door slid quietly shut behind you, and only then did you slowly turn around, only to catch the tiniest glimpse of the guard's uniforms before the glass fogged up so much it became almost matte grey.

You were so anxious, you felt like you were going to throw up. There was no toilet in your cell, just a bed and a steel stool. This gave you a little bit of hope - hope that you wouldn't be kept here very long. Unless there was some kind of communal prisoner bathroom the guards you lead you all to individually, which seemed very unlikely. You found yourself pacing the cell and chewing your nails, which you realized might look somehow suspicious. Even though you KNEW you had done nothing wrong, you didn't want to give any impression otherwise, so you instead sat on the bed and waited, listening to the very quiet sound of the camera in your cell turning slightly to keep you in frame.

You waited for what felt like a very long time, though you imagined it wasn't actually too long - you were just deeply anxious and without any measure of time in your cell.

Your cell. The words haunted you. Your cell. You had to stop thinking of it that way. You didn't do anything wrong. You would be released and put right back on duty the moment they got what they wanted. You just had to relax and do as you were told.

Finally, the door slid open, and instinctively you shot to your feet - a habit that made the guards visibly tense and hold their tasers tighter. You shivered and lowered your head meekly as they entered your cell, which helped to relax them enough that they didn't feel like they were going to break your arms as they led you back out of your cell and down the hall to a different room. They even led you all the way inside, though they still rather roughly pushed you into a waiting chair, which was ominously large and solitary.

"Remain seated." One of the guards told you firmly.

"Yes, Sir." You squeaked out, barely louder than a whisper. This seemed to satisfy them, and they left the room completely. At least, you were pretty sure they did. You didn't dare turn back to make sure they had gone. Eyes forward, Lenti. Eyes forward. It'll all be over soon.

You once again had some time to think. You noticed there was a door in front of you, but it was very subtle. You could just barely make out the outline of the door against the coloring of the wall, and you found yourself thinking of how you might clean this door and the surrounding wall - or, perhaps, not clean them - to better preserve the illusion of there being no door at all. Finding this thought relaxing, you began to look around a little more, making tiny mental notes to yourself of ways you could clean or otherwise maintain this room. You even identified the light tubes that hummed quietly above your head, and silently walked yourself through the entire process of changing them out.

Suddenly, the door behind you opened again, and you tensed right back up. Slow, heavy footfalls echoed in the near-silent room, and you kept your eyes locked forward, just trying to keep your breathing steady as the figure paced slowly into view. It was another dog, though this one wasn't wearing the signature helmet + visor combo that made them all so difficult to recognize. On that note, you DID recognize him - he was the chief of security, Chief Turnik. You locked eyes with him for just a moment, before quickly dropping your gaze back down to the floor. You could feel him studying you, looking you over, and you couldn't help but fidget.

"Do you know why you were brought to me?" He asked, and you quickly shook your head.

"No, Sir." You answered, though every word came out at just a pathetic whisper, despite how hard you tried to speak normally.

"You have been selected for reassignment." He explained, slowly, making you shiver slightly.

"Yes, Sir." You replied, resisting the urge to ask about your new assignment, despite how badly you wanted to.

"Your service record is quite appealing." He continued, beginning to pace once more, slowly, back and forth, in front of you. It was an intimidation tactic for a reason - it worked, and you felt even more like a helpless prey being appraised by a predator than you did just seconds before.

"Thank you, Sir." You replied, still unable to do anything but whisper. He didn't seem to mind.

"From now on, you will be joining the security team." He added, which made you jolt and look up at him. He met your gaze instantly, and any desire you had to ask how on Earth that was going to work was burned right out of your retinas.

"Y-Yes, Sir." You stuttered, and he raised his eyebrow.

"Very good, then." He said. "Please relax. I will handle the rest." He said, stepping forward and pressing a button on a control panel attached to the chair you were sitting in, one you hadn't noticed until just now. In a flash, magnetic bindings clicked around your wrists, ankles, and neck, and you found yourself breathing shallowly and looking up at him.

"I said. Relax." He repeated, and you nodded the best you could in your bindings.

You tried to relax, honestly, you did. But he kept his pacing going, even as the chair beneath you began to buzz and hum and warm up. Suddenly, dozens of tiny needles emerged from the arms of the chair, and began to align themselves with little lazer dots to spots all over your arms. You couldn't see them, but you could HEAR dozens more whirring and clicking into place all around your neck, your legs, your hips. All you could do was keep staring forward, making terrified eye contact with Chief Turnik.

"Naturally, someone of your - well, stature, would make a poor fit for the security team. Do not worry. That is going to be mended immediately." He explained, and the needles all began to slide slowly into you. You felt no pain, other than the sheer terror of being injected with dozens of unknown chemicals and drugs. This terror quickly faded, though, as a wave of dizziness, and then dull pleasure began to build in your skull. Your jaw slumped open as the Chief cracked a tiny smile.

"B-Baaa." You let out, as your mind fogged over from the rush of chemicals in your system.

"No, that's not right, is it, 158?" The Chief replied, stepping closer to you.

You weren't sure what he meant. You weren't sure of anything, really. You felt like the room was spinning around you, and your shallow, terrified breathing quickly became panting. Your tongue was starting to feel different in your mouth. Thinner, wetter. Softer, even. Most importantly, longer. The harder you panted the more it hung from your open mouth.

158... was that... your name?

Silently, the Chief stepped forward and plucked a tuft of wool right off your arm. It came out without any effort on his part, and he tossed it aside as if it were nothing. The sight should have alarmed you, you understood somehow. But it didn't. In fact, you were beginning to feel... pretty good.

Your tongue swirled around inside your mouth, licking as your teeth began to shift and change. You felt them becoming longer, more dangerous, as your entire muzzle became flatter and longer. Suddenly, your sense of smell began to become intense, almost overpowering. Your ears, which had folded against your head in terror when the injections had begun, now hung there on their own, floppy and loose and oh so sensitive. You were lost in a haze of new sensations, as your wool began to fall off of you in clumps.

You were panting hard, still, when the Chief spoke up again.

"Starting to make sense, now?" He asked you, and your mind became consumed by the question. What was starting to make sense? What were you trying to figure out in the first place? You couldn't remember, you couldn't make any sense of your thoughts. The large, intimidating dog smiled down at you, and you let out a submissive whine.

"Good." He said, and you shivered at his tone. He continued pacing again, though this time, fear was a secondary feeling. Watching him pace back and forth, as your new fur began to come in, and your now much longer, much fluffier tail began to be uncomfortably squeezed between the chair and your back, watching him pace so dominantly, so confidently, silently impressing your position on you felt... right.

He leaned in, inspecting your newly formed muzzle, your newly grown fur. Even your hooves felt different now - they felt squishy, fuzzy. You couldn't see them, but you had a feeling that every part of you - even your mind - had been completely changed. Transformed. The Chief smiled, and silently pushed a button that released your bindings. You let out a whimper of submissive thanks, though you stayed in position. He hadn't told you to move.

"Now, Pup. Let's get your thoughts in order." He began, and you panted at your new nickname. It suited you.

"Repeat after me." He said, and your ears turned slightly to face him. "I serve the station."

"W-Wruff!" You said, surprising yourself and feeling immensely embarrassed. It was as if you were learning to speak for the first time again, with your old muscle memory still fully in tact. Your new voice box was so much more sensitive, so much louder, so much more... dominant.

"I serve the station." The chief repeated, patiently.

"W-Wruff. W-wrr... I..." You began, struggling to contain your speech. He waited, watching your face expectantly, waiting for you to figure it out. He understood. Of course he did.

"I... serr...wrruf... ssserve. The station." You managed to say.

"Good pup." He praised you, and you shivered. "I obey the alpha."

You were briefly confused, and then remembered you were supposed to be repeating him.

"I... obey.. the alphruff- the... the alpha." You repeated.

"Good pup." he said.

"And do you know who your alpha is, Pup?" he asked, leaning forward and looking into your eyes, uncomfortably close. You swallowed thickly.

"Y-You are, Sir." You replied.

"Chief." He corrected you.

"Chief." You repeated, corrected.

"Good pup, 158." He said, reaching forward and giving you a pat on the head that got you panting once more.

"Now. Let's get you cleaned up, and in a uniform. The rest of your training will come much more naturally when you're uniform." He said, stepping back and allowing you space to stand up. Your old jumpsuit was much too tight for you now, and it nearly fell off you just when you stood. The Chief gave it a glance, and in one motion, ripped it down the middle until you could step right out of it, which you did.

"Yes, Chief." You replied, still meekly lowering your gaze, which made him grin. You were going to make a great guard dog.