FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Note: This story was inspired by a 2004 line art drawing available here: http://e621.net/data/78/4d/784dde028351c388dc4a707af43fbfb9.jpg?1226134962)

Pete felt the pat on his butt as he bent over in a long stretch, and continued through the motion even though the hand added a rather unsportsmanlike squeeze. "Good morning, Jeremy." He didn't need to look to identify the owner of the hand, finishing his stretch with a light bounce down before standing and giving his best friend an annoyed scowl. "Do you have to do that in public?"

"I am not one to pass up an opportunity!" The trim, blonde young man behind him grinned. "It's your fault for providing too much temptation." Jeremy Mays had been Pete's best friend since elementary school, and he had 'outed' himself practically the moment he'd realized what sex was. This made their friendship challenging, for though Pete had willingly experimented a bit with hands and mouths over the ensuing years, he refused to participate in actual hard male-on-male sex. It was a fuzzy line, to be sure, but one he couldn't make himself cross.

Not that his reservations stopped anyone from tagging them as a 'couple'. Pete noted a couple of bemused smiles from some of the other runners warming up around them. And some disgusted looks from others. "You need to stop thinking about your pecker and focus on the marathon. We have more than 25 miles to run, and I am not gonna wait for your sorry ass."

"Dream on, Petey boy." Jeremy flashed his perfect, blindingly white teeth in a broad grin. "I may chase your tail most of the time, but you'll be looking at mine from start to finish here."

"Fuck you!"

"After the race. We need to focus now, remember?" Jeremy chuckled, blue eyes sparkling. Even pushing 30, his companion attracted a lot of attention from both sexes. He had rugged good looks and a well-muscled, if trim build. There was none of the stereotypical limp wrist or flamboyance often associated with gay men - his thick blonde hair was unkempt and he dressed for comfort, not style. Granted, his idea of 'comfort' was the least amount of clothing possible, which meant his running outfit was only just covering his rather ample package.

Ironically, Pete was the one who had the more effeminate appearance, from the slighter build and carefully styled hair, to a wardrobe of designer clothes. In fairness, he worked as a paralegal in one of the city's most influential law firms. It was all walnut paneling and marble floors, and even the lowliest mail clerk wore a suit every day. Jeremy spent his days as a product agent for an international importer, able to work from his apartment most of the time.

"So, care to make a wager on the outcome?" Jeremy grinned as he started stretching out. "Like, if I come in first place, you finally end your self-imposed virginity?"

"You? First?" Pete shook his head. "That's so unlikely I'd almost take the chance. But you know the problem. "

"This straight sex bullshit is stupid!" His friend rolled his eyes. "We both know you aren't interested in girls. And we've done just about everything but."

Pete sighed and switched sides as he arched his back. This argument was old enough that he wasn't even annoyed. "Yeah, I'm a freak. I can't help it, Jeremy. If I was a girl, I'd hop into the sack with you. But then, you probably wouldn't want me." He stopped to give his friend a pointed look. "And no, I am not making a side trip to Sweden."

Jeremy chuckled and went on with his own exercises, but fell uncharacteristically silent as they finished with the warm-up routine. He didn't speak again until the announcer's voice crackled over the speakers, calling runners to the line. As they joined the migration of men and women to the street, he fished a leather necklace from his shorts and offered it to Pete. "Here. Put this on."

Taking the necklace, Pete peered at the small tuft of soft-looking dark hair or fur that had been artfully tied around the leather. "What is it?"

"One of my suppliers got them for me." Jeremy pulled a matching necklace out from under his shirt. "Powerful magic totems, guaranteed to increase stamina and speed. Oh, and they're also supposed to give the wearers incredible sex." He raised a hand as Pete handed the necklace back. "Only on your terms, I promise!"

Pete snorted. "Magic totems? You gotta be kidding."

Jeremy tucked his back under his shirt and shrugged. "What's the harm? Even if it's just a psychological boost. You don't think I can win anyway, and even if I do, it's still your call."

After giving the fur tuft a dubious look, Pete slipped the necklace on and tucked it out of sight. "So, what happens if I come in first?"

Jeremy grinned. "Then you get to ravish me, unless of course, I decline on moral grounds."

"You couldn't find moral grounds with a GPS." Pete scratched absently at his chest. The tuft tickled his skin slightly, but was easy to ignore. "You're on tap for dinner if I beat you. Fanciest place I can find, whatever I want."

"Or you can ravish me if you change your mind!"

"In your dreams. Anyway, neither of us has ever finished better than the last third. So unless these hunks of hair have a lot of mojo, it's all so much smoke."

"They'd better have plenty of mojo." Jeremy grinned as the distant starting flag rose up. "I paid a couple of thousand each."

"What!?" Pete would have said a lot more, but at that moment the flag dropped and the mass of runners surged into motion. Jeremy was making a show, pushing through towards the front in a hard charge. Nobody paid much attention, other than a bemused shake of the head. In a long-distance run like this, you had to pace yourself. Let the fool burn himself out in the first couple of miles. He'd be lucky to finish the race at all. Except. Pete found himself following. He told himself he was an idiot, berated himself for chasing after Jeremy. And still his legs churned faster and faster, until he broke free of the mass.

Jeremy was already well out in front, and the two of them began to pull far ahead of the pack. A few younger runners, probably teens out for their first marathon, joined in the breakaway. The mass of runners had stretched out and settled into a steady pace that fell further behind as Jeremy and Pete continued to sprint all-out. Even the teenagers couldn't keep up, stumbling as they 'hit the wall'.

Pete felt his muscles burning from the exertion. They had a full city block lead, and he had to admit it was sorta cool. Problem was, they were going to burn out soon. They couldn't maintain this pace for long.

But they did. At first, Pete focused on trying to catch up with his friend. It took a long time, miles of relentless pounding the pavement, to close Jeremy's lead. When he finally pushed himself to pull even, Pete glanced over and got a wild, almost feral grin from Jeremy. The expression was disconcerting, until Pete realized his own face mirrored the same exaltation. A glance back confirmed that they were not only ahead, the rest of the pack was lost in the distance.

The course markers indicated a turn. 17th street. The quarter point - they had been running for more than six miles! There were people crowding the turn, and some local news cameras. Pete was dimly aware of shouts and whoops as they charged around the curve without slacking pace. It was a sure bet he and Jeremy would make the evening news. Hopefully not as casualties.

Pete's legs continued to churn steadily, arms pumping, lungs working like powerful bellows. Heat radiated from him so intensely he wouldn't have been surprised if his clothing spontaneously combusted. The tiny part of his mind that wasn't focused on running was shouting warnings, dire predictions of exploding hearts and torn muscles. Vision was off, Jeremy's figure looking slightly distorted, and the crowds along the sidewalks a meaningless blur. He had to stop, they had to stop. This was crazy, suicidal.

He blinked away sweat, trying clear his eyes. It was getting harder to make out the buildings and crowds. Sometimes the reflection of the sun made it seem like they were in some vast, open space. Then he'd blink and the massive steel and glass walls would define themselves again. Sweat. That nagging corner of his mind chimed in again, this time screaming about water. They both had bottles on their belts, but neither had taken the first swig. Pete wasn't thirsty, though. He was radiating heat like a blast furnace, but his mouth wasn't dry.

Jeremy stumbled briefly, and for a terrified moment Pete thought his friend would go down hard on the unforgiving pavement. Then he had his own muscle spasm that threatened to send him tumbling. He was able to recover, but now found himself slightly hunched over in what should have been an awkward posture. If anything, he found that he seemed to be moving even faster. It looked like Jeremy was crouched as well, though the distortion of Pete's vision made it hard to be sure.

Another turn onto Pacific. Shit! The halfway point! The shouts and applause were a dull rumble of noise, like thunder rolling cross a plain. Buildings were indistinct, sometimes made invisible by the reflected sun. How fast were they running? Pete struggled to think, but his attention was too focused on Jeremy. God, he could smell him. A pungent odor of sweat and musk filled Pete's nostrils, unmistakably coming from the friend just a few paces ahead. And it was getting him aroused. Damn, he'd never admit that to Jeremy.

Somewhere near the three-quarter point, Pete found he couldn't make out anything but a curiously distorted shape that he knew was his friend. There was noise that could have been cheering or rushing wind and rain. The glare of hot sun reflected from windows or beating down directly on them. More muscle spasms had hunched them further over, yet Pete felt more powerful, more massive than ever.

He was aware of his heart pounding, the blood racing through his veins, every cell of his body tingling as if it were charged with electricity. His awareness was focused in on himself and Jeremy, with nothing else distinct, no other thought in his head. He wasn't even sure why he was running now, except that Jeremy was leading and he was following.

Some things tried to break into his consciousness. Noises from the sides were strange, the indistinct rumble of shouts punctuated by... screams? And he was crouched so low and forward that balance was sure to give out the moment he slowed his pace. And the odors - behind Jeremy's heavy musk was a miasma of human sweat, perfumes, piss, tar, fuel, and oil, curiously mixed with a hot but cleaner scent of earth, grass, and animals.

Pete stumbled again, and this time he fell forward, catching himself with his hands in a desperate attempt to prevent a face plant on the pavement. When the pain did not come, he felt relief followed by vague confusion. He was still moving, still running. The shape that was Jeremy had also fallen and continued ahead of him. They were on hands and knees, covering distance even faster than before, the curious sensation of being on all fours getting more natural with each stride.

He saw the ribbon, the finish line with sudden clarity, along with the terrified faces of people scrambling away. And then they were past, Jeremy still just ahead. The hot air swirled around them as they stumbled to an awkward stop, lathered with sweat and nearly unable to stand. Pete had to brace himself, leaning back against Jeremy as he shuddered and fought back nausea. After a minute or two, he realized he was feeling better. The intense internal heat was gone, replaced by a more natural warmth of air and ground. He opened his eyes and stared down.

Paws. Huge and golden furred, they were on the ends of furred forelegs. He stared, and found that the claws flexed in response to commands to move his fingers.

(Are you OK?)

Jeremy's voice came to him, but it did not sound in his ears. Pete twisted around to look back and found himself staring at a huge, tawny lion. A lion dressed in the crumbling remains of Jeremy's T-shirt and shorts, wearing an amused expression. (I won.)

(Won?) Pete looked at his transformed friend incredulously. (Are you out of your fucking mind? We're lions! And... ) He looked past Jeremy at the lush savanna, the dark rainclouds that rolled in the distance. (We're in Africa?)

(Probably. Good place for us now. I doubt they'd have welcomed us at the awards banquet.)

Although the massive beast Pete still had his rump pressed against looked to be a completely normal, if magnificent animal, it also somehow was Jeremy. Maybe that was why Pete felt no fear. He was confused, but had no problem accepting the fact his best friend was a lion. That alone was enough to understand that more than just their bodies had changed, for he had also accepted that he'd become a lion as well.

(How? And why?) Pete shook himself and turned around to face his companion. The male scent he'd noticed before was still strong, and he was annoyed to find it still very attractive.

Seeing a lion shrug was strange. (M'boto said they would help me achieve my dreams. He knew about the race, and he knows I've always wanted you.) Jeremy snorted. (Oh, Hell, Pete. Do you think I really believed anything would happen? This is impossible! But... We're lions. And if I had to do it all over with full knowledge, I would.)

Pete snarled, angry and yet feeling the same way about their transformation. (You bastard! You could have asked.)

(Asked what?) Jeremy sat and regarded him with huge, golden eyes. (Try an experiment with some African totem magic? I really didn't know. But are you unhappy? You want to go back?)

Pete struggled to find a sharp retort, an angry reply. No doubt the magic was partly responsible, but all of this felt right. (No.)

(Great!) Jeremy sprang back up to all fours. (I can claim my prize.)

Pete narrowed his eyes. (What prize?]

(I won. Incredible sex, you giving up your virginity?) Jeremy looked smug.

(Sorry, buddy. I told you. Not gonna happen. Changing species doesn't change the rules.)

Jeremy rubbed against him, sending a curious electric sensation that rolled through his body and sparked a hot damp sensation in his rump. (And I told you it would be according to your rules.)

For the first time, Pete realized that there was something missing from his own head and neck - the thick dark mane that marked a male. He.. she twisted around and looked at herself with renewed interest as Jeremy began to lick at her exposed, hot dampness.

(You cheated.) Any emphasis Pete was able to put on the accusation was pretty much offset by the fact she had started licking the furred sheath between Jeremy's legs.

(Agreed.) The lion shifted to press against her, rubbing his chin over her rump. (So you win, too. When we're done, dinner's on me. Fanciest place you can find. I think there's a place specializing in wildebeest just around the corner.)

(Fuck you.)

(Don't mind if I do.)

End