FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When I heard about the changes that swept around the world, I got really excited. I mean, who couldn't be excited about the thought that the long held dream was coming true: people going to bed one night and then spontaneously acquiring animal characteristics.

Well, I suppose some were more excited than others. Those that liked the idea of anthropomorphic animals were excited, especially those that for one reason or another wanted another form. The message boards hummed with speculation and hope, and there was some genuine excitement (mixed with not a little bit of envy) when some member of the community announced they had become this animal or that.

I know I certainly couldn't hide my feelings of envy. I had always felt that I was in the "wrong body," that I was a raccoon trapped in human form. I'm not sure where those feelings came from, but as long as I could remember I had felt close to plushies and furry things. I was drawn to stories where a person would be transformed. I never could quite grasp why someone would object to the change; I thought it was the most wonderful thing that could possibly happen.

So when the transformations came that summer, it was like a dream came true and I hoped, like a lottery ticket, I would get my chance. My dead-end job working at a phone farm, increased static because my parents were divorcing, troubles getting any sort of steady relationship: it felt like so little in my life was going right and if I had this one chance, it'd be all okay.

As that summer progressed, a common refrain before signing off (or even when I met with like-minded friends) became "Hope your dreams come true." That's what it felt like. When I wasn't working, my mind would wander - how much fur would I have? Would I have a tail or not? How much would I want? The reports across the globe seemed to indicate that people experienced anything from slight changes like different colored eyes and sharpened hearing to full-blown transformations, with little rhyme or reason for who or what was changed. But I still held out hope.

It was a Friday late in July. The sun woke me early and it promised to be hot. Sluggishly, I fumbled for the alarm and arose to get ready for work. I knew I had stayed up too late again last night, and I didn't look forward to going to work; I rarely did, given the grind I was subjected to. But there was another feeling underneath, as well. There was a queasiness, like I was about to be sick, that I couldn't quite explain.

As I stumbled into the bathroom, I didn't look any different than usual, but I felt like something was happening. Could this be the event I was hoping for? My bleariness dropped away to be replaced by anticipation as I cleaned myself up, grabbed some food and dashed out the door for the drive to work. That day, the drive didn't seem quite as stressful, even though it was no different than before... perhaps because, despite my unsettled feeling, there seemed be something to look forward to. To be honest, I wanted the day to be done so the transformation could take place.

I don't think I entered work any differently, but a few people notice. "So, what's up, Doug?" Kathy the receptionist asked me as I swiped my card into the secured area. "You seem more upbeat than I've seen anyone in this place in ages."

"Not much..." I hedged. I wasn't sure she would understand the odd mixture of feeling ill, yet hopeful for what that meant. The light turned green and I hurried inside to my station. Absently, I went through the routine of logging in, getting new pads for the headset, shuffling papers, and looking over any new information. The reader board was showing an empty queue, so I was in no hurry. Once I had set my phone into ready and was met with blissful silence, I started to thumb through some of my favorite message boards, trying to glean any stories of what happened leading up to a transformation.

I was in the middle such a search, when I was startled by a cough. If I had a tail, it would've bottled. "So, what do you think you're doing, Mr. Cooper?" It was the supervisor of the section, and he was getting a hard time from his superiors about workers wasting too much time on the net instead of doing work.

"I'm trying to pass a little time, Terry. The queue is dead right now," I tried to sound casual, but I was still very nervous.

"Are you caught up with everything else?"

"Yeah, I finished all my weekly routines yesterday, and nothing new has cropped up yet. I checked before I got on the 'net." It was a white lie; I had finished everything yesterday, but I hadn't checked anything new in my eagerness to confirm my suspicion.

"Okay... but remember, don't be spending too much time on non-work related searches." Fortunately, Terry was a good guy, but he still had to enforce the rules.

I muttered an affirmative, and spent a couple seconds looking at the page as he walked away. Quickly, I did the check in my to-do queue, and found a couple of things waiting from the overnight crew. Hurriedly, I started working on them to cover my tracks.

The rest of the day pretty much went the same way, bouncing between tasks. In between, I still looked to confirm my suspicions. However, much like the way the transformations were occurring, there seemed to be no consistent thread. Some reports indicated that people felt like their body was turning inside out, others saying there was no warning at all, and other still that were somewhere in the middle. I wasn't sure what that meant in my case, but I figured I would wait and see.

Quitting time couldn't come soon enough. Fridays were usually a time for relief around that place, but for me there was a special anticipation; what would the night bring? It almost felt like the day before Christmas when I was a little kid. I nearly rushed out the door. I didn't really say why I was so anxious; I wasn't really close to anybody at work, and I doubt most of them would quite understand why it was so important. I could almost feel the ears and fur and tail at that point.

It wasn't until I got home that I confided in anyone my hope; well, as much as you can confide to a bunch of names on a computer screen. It was my one real outlet and I blurted it out as soon as I logged on. There was some derisive comments, but most were hopeful and a bit envious.

As the sun set, I considered my plan. I still felt queasy, and that feeling rose through the day, mixed with nerves. It was hard to eat much of anything that evening. The most I could gulp down was a can of Mountain Dew, which didn't do much for my nervousness, but at least it kept me hydrated.

As it neared midnight, I finally went to bed. I decided that I'd sleep naked, which given the hot weather wasn't too much of a burden. And despite the nerves I was feeling, sleep came to me quickly....

Saturday morning. The sun peeked through the window in my bedroom, but it only served to raise me to semi-consciousness. The sluggishness I felt the morning before was nothing compared to this morning. Moreover, I felt cold, colder than I should've felt on a summer morning. However, that was about all my mind could register. It wasn't until the sun rose higher in the sky that I felt like I could open my eyes.

My vision was much the same as before. However, I didn't move until I forced myself to make a mental examination of my body. The warmth of the sun on my skin felt invigorating as it spilled through the window. I worked my way down: skin sliding against the light fabric of my sheets, tail lightly resting against my heels - wait, tail? I felt a small surge of excitement.

Experimentally, I moved this new appendage and could feel it swing awkwardly. But something didn't feel quite right. Where was the fur? The tail felt scaly rather than a fluffy raccoon tail. I finally focused outward and brought my hand up to my face to examine it closer. It looked much the same as before, but now it was covered in small tough scales. The nails had grown to hardened points.

In horror, I kicked off the sheets to look at my body closer. It was still much the same as before (even had hair in the appropriate places), with the exception of the tannish scales and thin tail that had grown above my buttocks, nearly as long as my legs. Incongruously, I wondered... if someone cut off the tail would it grow back? I rushed to the bathroom mirror to get a fuller look. My face was much the same as before; even the teeth looked human.

As I calmed down, it dawned on me that what I had hoped for had come to pass, but whatever deity was in control of this great change had played a cosmic joke. I was not a raccoon as I hoped, but some sort of lizard. No wonder I felt more sluggish than normal. As I stared at my now transformed visage, I felt a hysterical panic start to rise inside myself. What was I going to do? Would I have to start eating bugs? Could I even show my face?

Then it struck me. Would it been any different if I had indeed been transformed into a raccoon as I had hoped? Probably not. Experimentally, I ran my hand over my face, feeling the sandpapery rasp of scale on scale. This was indeed real, I thought to myself, and I'm going to have to deal with it. I also felt hungry after not eaten since lunch the day before. Fortunately, I didn't feel compelled to eat any bugs, but it occurred to me that a salad or some vegetables would be a good thing...

So, here it is a couple months later. Even though it took me most of the weekend to fully come to terms to my situation, I didn't come into work for a week, pleading illness. I couldn't even let those in my online circle know until the following Friday. But, when I did show up the Monday afterwards, sheepishly in Terry's office, one look at me and he understood why. He did the best he could to cover for me with the upper management.

I am pleased to note that I haven't had to eat a bug since the change, but I do notice that I tend towards a more vegetarian diet; whatever sort of lizard I became must be more herbivorous. I did have to buy a sun lamp if I wanted to have any chance to get up in the morning before 10 am, and tailholes in pants and shorts are much easier to find these days. Hell, it's only on the coldest of days that I tend to wear sandals anymore, but on the other hand, anything below 50 degrees and it feels like I'm walking through syrup.

While I got my wish (of sorts), I still feel like a raccoon sometimes. I still admire them. I suppose I'm still in the "wrong body."