FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There's a tension in the air as you hold the warm glass bottle in your hands. The weight of magic spreads through the glass and sinks into your skin, sending tingles up your arms. You know that something amazing is trapped inside this bottle, some ancient power that you can so easily consume...

...And that magnificent feeling is part of why you can't help but feel a bit disappointed when you unstopper the potion and catch a strong whiff of nutmeg. It's not that you dislike eggnog or anything of the sort, but you'd really been expecting more from a drink that cost more than a month's paycheck. Still, you've never been one to cry over spilled milk, and that certainly includes sugary dairy-ish products. Holding the bottle up to your lips, you close your eyes and tilt your head back. What you taste is.. Most definitely eggnog. It seems to be rather good eggnog, mind you, but you're hardly an eggnog connoisseur. It doesn't exactly taste like anything that you'd consider magical though. You smack your lips and try your best not to feel guilty for spending so much on such a pointless potion.

And that's just when you feel a strange drooping to your lower lip, as if someone had just fattened it up. Your gums thicken and stretch, feeling glossy and greasy from the leftover eggnog. You can still taste the nutmeg everywhere inside your mouth, as you lick behind your teeth and across your lip. The feeling is still there no matter what you do. More than that, it seems to be getting worse. Your tongue trembles and shudders, thick and slick with fragrant saliva. Too big for your mouth, it spills out past your lip and brushes across your chin, dripping thin strands of spit.

A strange fear pounds at the back of your mind as you peer around the room, feeling trapped and ill-at-ease. You're only dimly aware of the sound of shattering glass as the empty bottle slips from your stiffening fingers. Veins bulge from your thickening neck as your vision blurs. You're so dizzy that you can barely stand on two legs. Making matters even worse, a heavy weight pushes down at the back of your head. It's mild at first but the weight constantly increases. You feel almost like someone has placed a lead hat on top of you. It's only when you try to shake your head that you realize that you're growing a thick pair of velveted antlers. The stiff bones creak and groan as they spread out like like an ancient tree.

With a shake of your head you try to compose yourself and keep your balance up. It feels like a thick, warm fog has rolled across your mind, making it difficult to coordinate your thoughts. "Hello?" You ask with a voice that doesn't quite sound anything your own, hoping that someone is around. "A little help? Please?" Your broad teeth and thick tongue make proper speech almost impossible. The thick, bloating feeling in your stomach certainly doesn't help much either. A loud gurgle from deep inside your gut sideswipes your train of thought.

Dizziness overwhelms you as your heavy antlers and swaying neck drag you down to the floor. You barely catch yourself, landing with both hands on the floor. Though you might injure your wrist landing that way normally, this time it feels very natural and comfortable, perhaps even more comfortable than when you were struggling to stand. You gape down at your hands you lean on them, your fingers splayed across the floor. Your fingernails thicken and harden before your very eyes, your thumbs receding to little more than dark callouses behind your wrist. Your ring fingers sink back soon after, fusing with each dwindling pinky to leave you with two inflexible nubs on each hand. Manual dexterity becomes a distant memory as your last two fingers swell and harden, leaving you with thick cloven hooves.

Floorboards groan beneath you as you prop yourself up on trembling forelegs. You stumble once, then twice as you try to keep balance, though your slender hips and unbent spine simply aren't built for keeping you up. An awkward squat is the best you can manage, leaving you sitting like a dog eagerly waiting for a treat as your legs tremble with swelling muscle. Standing up on four legs might take more effort than you can muster.

Your nostrils flare wide with heavy, humid breaths as you gaze around the room, feeling strange and out of place. You find yourself panting through a slowly drooping muzzle as your tongue dangles over your lower teeth. Your upper teeth are reduced to barely more than bony nubs, ideal for grasping but not for chewing. You might notice then that your molars are spreading back deeper and deeper in your cavernous mouth, but the added room is actually from the lengthening of your muzzle. Every breath fills your barreling chest deeper and deeper as a newfound strength surges down your neck. Your shirt feels almost like a collar now, the fabric stretched and ruined in places as it clings tightly to your thickening skin.

Broken shards of glass shine up from beside your forehoof as you struggle up one more time. Tensing muscles swell across your flank and lower back as you kick your way up, legs trembling like a foal as they struggle to support the heavy weight of your chest. But then there's a snap in your spine and a shudder across your back that sets your spine into place, letting you stand comfortably in a quadrupedal stance. You feel strangely relieved by this, since you're much more comfortable on four legs than you ever were on two. A few kicks from your hind leg frees you from your pants, though the stubborn strap of your underpants stays stretched across your rump.

Though you can't quite bring yourself to fuss over your nudity to begin with, the slow creeping of velvety fur across your thickened hide comes as a welcome relief. Starting from your hair down towards your nose and chin, the fur soon spreads down your neck, forelegs and torso, a rich brown shade that contrasts with the thick tufts of white across your chest. Your antlers seem snug and right at home now, resting atop that fuzzy head. A rustling in your tapered ears makes them flick and twitch, startling you just enough to make you peer back at your own startled tail. It takes you a few seconds to relax again, even though you know that the sound was only from your own fur.

The scent of nutmeg still stings your sensitive nostrils as you shuffle anxiously and listen to the floorboards groaning in protest under the weight of your hooves. You peer this way and that, searching for an escape. You blink, eyeing the door. You certainly won't be opening that handle again. Then you turn back to the side, antlers weighing heavily from your head. You can see grass and trees and snow outside, all moist and fresh and full of life. You lower your head and charge towards it, stamping and leaping and surging out through shattered glass and splintered wood. Your hooves step through the cold, frosted grass as you look around, alert and awake in a way that doesn't need words or logic. With that empty house left behind, the quiet forest is the only home you could need.

* * *

"Hmm, I can still smell the nutmeg on him..." the mage mutters to himself as he strokes across the caribou's soft neck. The animal's eyes still glimmer with humanlike memories and emotions, though he seems quite happy to be as he is now. "Did I perhaps overdo it?" His gently spoken words fall on indifferent ears, though the sprig of rhubarb that he holds up in his hand smells very nice. The mage clips away the last few shreds of clothing with silver shears as he lets the animal enjoy his meal. "Ahh... very nice.. You certainly got what you bargained for, didn't you?" With a firm slap to the flank, he startles the poor creature, sending him bounding and sprinting away to pastures unknown.