FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Rey started to slowly bop his head while still grimacing and groaning. He gained steel piercings in his triangular ears as his head moved more and more. The tuft of fur that was his hair grew longer, higher, taking in more of his cross-fox colouration rather than a greyish black as it warped into a mohawk with fiery orange tips. His hands shook, moving up and down in tune with the music as spiked leather cuffs formed around his wrists.

The lyrics were outrageous, shocking. Brash and brutal. Confrontational and in your face. There was no tact to the words they shouted at Rey. Messages of fighting against authority of the unjust world and the grim realities of life filled his head. Societal norms and the political system were belittled and decried as lyrics that described a life of sex and drugs were interspersed in between. The Fox nodded, not only to the lyrics but to the music itself.

But he should be disgusted, outraged! At the system, no! At the music! This talk of rebelling, of anarchy, was not like him. Or was... it? After all, why should he give a damn about what other people thought of him? He should go his own way, his own style, his own tempo. A tempo of harsh guitars and fast drums, a life of debauchery and rock and roll. Just like the music.

His mind continued to fight, yet he himself continued to change. The white shirt that he wore underneath a red plaid button up darkened, turning black. His button-up too darkened and grew larger and heavier, turning shiny. Spikes and studs formed on the shoulders and lapel as pins, buttons and stitchings with anarchist and anti-conformist messages spread all over the now black motorcycle jacket. His once simple and casual outfit turned into something far more unruly and crass, something far more befitting a punk.

"F-fu..." Rey muttered. He was never one for profanity. He was always polite, proper. But why? Why should he be polite!? Why should he conform to society!? It didn't fucking matter, he didn't need to fucking care! He should be who he truly is. He was Rey, the mother-fucking punk!

"F-Fuck... fuck... fuck yeah!" Rey shouted at the top of his lungs, matching the cresen... no, the climax of the music.

It was... liberating! The fox felt free. What was once simply noise was now a harmonious racket. His body broke from its trance as it thrashed and danced to the beat. His heavy boots kicked and knocked over the furniture as the very last piercings on his eyebrows and nose completed the transformation. But the fox had more to do. He began shouting and head-banging to his music, the chains on his jacket jiggling free.

The apartment itself changed in time with the beat, to match Rey's own rocking out. The art and pictures on the wall changed to band posters. The IKEA living room set become dilapidated and torn. Books became vinyl records and cassette tapes, and a banging HiFi took over his TV set. The balloons and confetti turned into whisky bottles and beer cans, and greasy fast foods replaced the dainty cakes. Heck, even an electric guitar with an amp now took the corner where he once had a desk and a tray of sweets on the coffee table turned into an ashtray full of cigarette buds.

"Whooo!" Rey shouted with a smile as the song finally ended. "What a bloody brilliant song!" His tone and inflexion were more crude and growly, lacking the prim and properness he once had as he mimicked dragging a cigarette.

"I need to thank that Binger."

Rey looked around the room, feeling comfortable in the messy and dark punk's den as he looked for his cup. Taking a sip, he grinned at the taste of coke and whiskey. Refreshing. The Fox padded his leather jacket, searching for a pack of ciggies and lighter, lighting one up as he went through the playlist once more. He could only grin as some of his favourite bands and albums were loaded in, ready to accompany another session of rocking out. Rey was just about to play another track when his phone rang out with a distorted guitar riff. Grabbing his phone, he saw an image of a dishevelled binturong in the caller ID.

"Sup Binger!"

"Ayyy, Rey! You coming to the concert? We're waiting for you."

"Shit!' Rey let out, going through his jacket pocket once more and pulling out a ticket for one of the up-and-coming punk bands in the city. "Yeah, man, I'll be there in a bit. My mind kinda went blank for a bit".

"No stress dude, it's your birthday! Relax! The night is still young."

Rey smiled, "Yeah, yeah it is. I'm on my way now!"

Rey stomped to the door and shut it behind him, causing a picture frame of him as he once was to fall onto the ground and leaving the desecrated apartment for the concert. The night was still young and there was a lot more time to rock on.

Meanwhile...

Zen wasn't sure what the commotion was. At first, he thought it was just a dream, but when he heard shouting and the banging of the door, the coyote gingerly crawled out of bed and walked to the living room.

"Rey? Everything alright? I heard some noi-"

The coyote's jaw dropped as he saw the state of the apartment, completely unrecognizable from what he saw a mere hour ago. It was far beyond the mess the party left.

"What the..."

The coyote could only stand in befuddlement, staring in disbelief.