FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ceyln sighed deeply and then knelt in the gently swaying outcropping of tangle-reeds at the edge of the riverbank, allowing the warm breeze to caress his dappled fur. He looked up through the canopy of jujube trees and into the sunlight. As he feared, there would be no celestial assistance. The sun was almost in the middle of the bright blue sky now, and it would be impossible to tell direction by shadow. The young buck frowned, occasionally flicking an ear at the sound of the restless water nearby. He was indeed quite lost now, and lost was certainly a bad state to be in while taking part in the Run.

Four four-turns, he thought to himself as he gazed at the flowing river and sighed again. His people knew little of numbers, save that they were bothersome and confusing the larger they became. Only the eldest of his tribe knew of anything past ten, and these numbers were mainly used during times of war, to count opposing fighters. Anything over ten was many, and anything more than many was to be avoided at all costs - for Ceyln's tribe was not as large as many.

But war was not on the young buck's mind now. Surely not in this lush forest, with its tranquility and lucidity. He took an experimental sniff of the air around him and captured many scents at once. Beautiful yellow and white wildflowers, petunias and archangel bell-flowers painted the riverbank in splotches of color midst the deep greens and warm browns of tall-grass and reeds. He could smell the damp and rich scent of date wood, and the attached yellow and green petals of flowers of the surrounding jujubes, and the appetizing aroma of brown drupe fruit hanging from its branches.

At least he would not starve. He shook his head and got to his feet, reaching up for one of the riper, purple fruits nearly ready to fall from the tree. He took a healthy bite, allowing the cool sweet juices to trickle down his throat. He felt better. He would find his way again somehow. What was the worst that could happen? He could go back in the direction he had come from, and when he was familiar with his surroundings once more, he could turn back once again and-

He shuddered inwardly. There was a danger that he could venture too far back, and return once more to the village and become a laughingstock to the tribe. "Look, Ceyln finished his Run!" they would jeer at him, pointing. "He made four four-turns and came back here!"

He munched thoughtfully on the drupe, looking out at the river and weighing his options. He could not turn back, not now. The only other thing he could do was follow the river until he came across another tribe. Many of his brethren had ventured forth through the years, settling their own people and expanding the reach of the forest for all deer. Perhaps he could come across one of them and explain his situation and that he was on his Run. They might even know of his tribe and help him find the right path designated to them eons ago for the coming-of-age ritual.

He smiled and got up from the edge of the river, nodding resolutely. He would follow the water. He stepped closer past the reeds until he felt the cool water surrounding his feet, and took a long look on either side, seeing where the river eventually led and came from. He flicked his ears again as the current flow of the mighty river sang to him, a soft, endless rhythm of trickles and light splashes. It was a beautiful sound. Before he continued his path, he would bathe. The water would be a welcome relief from the hot sun and he could get rid of the dirt and dust of the winding path from which he had obviously strayed. He stepped in a few more feet, and the water rose up to his calves and then his thighs. He reached down and untied the loincloth from around his hips, tossing it to the edge. Naked, the buck carefully stepped across the rocky bottom, sure-footed and steady, until the water was up farther to his chest. He glanced across the river in both directions, keeping an eye out for any unseen predators, before settling into the water up to his neck and relaxing, closing his eyes against the sun's merciless glare.

He felt safe here and - warm. The water was indeed warmer and had a smooth, almost silky feeling along his fur. Instantly, he felt the first pangs of pleasure. The water felt so good at this moment, as though he was enjoying a bath being given to him by one of the tribe's maidens. He thought of having his own maiden one day, once he was five four-turns, and at the height of his manhood. She would bear his fawns and then together as a family they would venture along the river and find a new home, and form a new tribe.

He looked sad now. This was of course all subject to his ability to complete his rite of passage, the Run. An excruciatingly long and arduous journey through the rainforest more than many miles long, without food or water, relying only on the help of the spirits for guidance and advice. He thought about what might happen to him if he were to fail. It would mean he would stay with the tribe for all of his days, and would have to settle for one of the lesser maidens, not as attractive and certainly not fawn-bearing. The bloodline would end with him. While it was not such a bad life to think about, if one truly were fiercely independent and adventurous, it was tantamount to a death sentence.

Celyn shook those thoughts away as the sounds of the water filled his ears and he suddenly remembered where he was. He would not allow himself to fail. His plan to follow the river and find another tribe would work. He would be able to go back to the village a hero, and would be given one of the most beautiful does in the tribe. And she would...

He closed his eyes and smiled, his hand stroking down his stomach. The warm, silky water's current was moving across the pouch of his sex, and he could feel the sacs bobbing slowly with it. It felt like a beautiful maiden was beneath the water, caressing over his seed-filled sac with the gentlest touch, willing his sheath to spread, to push out a long, thick shaft until she could rise up, wrap her legs around him, and slowly sink down upon his unyielding flesh.

His eyes closed and his hand moved down from his stomach to his groin, tracing over a fully-engorged shaft. He had no idea how he had gotten so lust-filled, and inwardly chided himself for thinking of mating and love when his life was for now little more than unfinished and blank pages in a book. He made a move to turn around and head back out of the river, and as he did, his hard shaft bobbed with him, swaying in the current. It felt as if the imaginary maiden below the water had given his sex a swat with her hand.

He stopped and whimpered softly at the delightful pleasure of his full erection swaying and bobbing under the water. It felt incredible. Without realizing what he was doing, he grasped his ready member in his hand, and stroked the flesh quickly, tilting his head back and moaning. He had not masturbated in some time, and even when he had, they ended in quick bursts of useless pleasure, leaving him only desiring more of the release.

The warm water around his erection aided him, becoming like more than many soft, silky virgin maidens' hands stroking him, caressing him, pumping his length in curiosity and excitement, waiting for the welcome release of his seed to...to...

At once, he climaxed, grunting and then whimpering out loud as the hand around his staff slowed down and then pulled away from his shaft to leak at least three or four spurts of his milky seed into the water. But before he could completely finish, and empty himself fully of his release and his lust, he felt a strange new sensation on his staff, a sudden pressure around his length that squeezed hard upon his flesh and stopped the flow. He gasped as his climax was cut short and looked down into the water in front of him, realizing his hands were at his side.

The current had shifted. He was sure of it. The water around him burbled and bubbled. For a wild, fleeting moment, Ceyln thought it was one of the maidens having come to life from below the river, rising up to the surface to satisfy his every need. But upon closer inspection, as the clear river afforded him the view, he saw that the water was running around his body in circles. He could see tiny, almost-insignificant bits of silt and rock flecks dancing around his hardness, making figure-8s and circles, before disappearing.

Incredulously, he watched as the current flow massaged quickly around his member, as though it were being a greedy lover. The fight or flight instinct finally registered with him and he jerked his hips, trying to make a move to leap backwards and wade quickly for the riverbank. But the water would not let him. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move, frozen there in the water. It was like trying to break through frozen ice, yet unbelievably warm and soft. He panted, realizing finally his predicament, and tried again to at least shrug or twist, and seemingly break the iron-like grip upon his form, but the water remained strong and resistant to his attempts to flee.

He cried out and jerked his head back and forth, the only part of his body that seemed able to move at all. The water sensed this new struggle apparently and reformed itself. The current shifted again, moving vertically, and the surface of the water churned again. A bulbous mass of liquid rose up from it, elongated and shapeless, and surrounded his throat. Ceyln's eyes widened as the river's appendage moved from his neck and started to gradually move upwards, until it was to his muzzle and then just beneath his nose. He burbled, tasting the water as he opened his mouth to cry out again, and then held his breath as the misshapen liquid slid over his muzzle entirely, covering his eyes, ears and finally his budding antlers.

He struggled to hold his breath as the whispers of the river's flow filled his ears, and he longed to close his eyes against the sting of water, trembling hard. He needed to breathe all too soon. But he could not move at all. The strange water held his nude form entirely in its firm, tight grip. Unsure what to do or how to break free of these watery bonds, the deer felt a sense of great peace come over him. The panic and desperation left him and he gave himself entirely over to water. He inhaled through his nose, waiting for the comforting water to course down his throat and fill his lungs, and for the ancient ones to carry him into loving arms to the ethereal tribes that lived long before his.

But none of this happened. Instead of the watery doom that should have befallen him, Celyn instead felt the sweet, warm scent of a breeze filling his lungs over and over. He panted quickly through his nose, bewildered beyond understanding now. The water clung to his head and caressed his ears, sloping up and over the fur until it could nestle inside each one, tickling the inside and pink felt.

The sound was heavenly now, like a beautiful maiden's voice, and yet it spoke in a language Celyn did not understand nor could comprehend. It whispered and sang to him, and all the while the water he was trapped inside seemed to move as the rhythm of the voice did.

He found he could open his mouth and quickly he tried to reply. "Please. I'm afraid. R-release me."

The water either did not understand or did not feel like adhering to his desire. It had found another desire, one much stronger and more heavily scented. The river sang again and then the lump of water around his head elongated further and further, stretching, until it popped completely, leaving the buck's head free again to breathe hard, adjusting once more to the forest's air. But while his head was free to move, the rest of him was not. He tilted his head down jerkily to observe below the water, and saw that the strange current was still swirling about his member, shifting from every direction, practically enveloping the flesh within its liquid grasp.

"Release me...release...ohh..." The current moved faster. With staring, unbelieving eyes, he watched almost hypnotically as the water around his throbbing member starting stroking with the utmost care and efficiency, every liquid squeeze and pull in just the right areas, tugging and finally jerking firmly on his member better than any maiden's hand could have done.

"I...I..." Ceyln lost the ability to speak. He suddenly heard the strange tones of the water in his ears again, and they were different now, like forceful, louder demanding whimpers. What they said, again he could not understand. The current around his shaft seemed to treble in force, like raging rapids, concentrated solely around his hips, and the deer lost his ability soon to think of nothing else but the need to release. A few more moments, and he did. With a loud cry of pleasure, the deer tilted his head far back and closed his eyes as the rampaging current forced and then milked a fresh orgasm, every pump of his seed emptying into the water eliciting a beautiful hum of satisfaction from the river.

Presently, as this last, more powerful orgasm left him, the surface of the water relaxed once more, the pressure around his hips loosened, and he realized he could move again. But before he could do so and wade out of this aquatic fantasy, his realized his vision must have skewed in his afterglow. For the water around him churned once more and then the thick elongated shape appeared. But instead of going for him this time, it stayed in front of him, wavering slowly and hypnotically, like one of the king snakes he was so often warned about.

The deer looked frightened and stared with unbelieving eyes. And then finally, the whispers he had heard so soft and sweetly in his ears, formed words he could understand.

"I am Neia..." he heard quite eloquently, and yet in a gargled sing-song voice, like speaking underwater.

"I am...Ceyln," he found himself croaking in response, still filled with fear. There was still the desire to flee, but as we all know from the tribal tales, in every young buck's life, curiosity will better fear on more than one occasion.

He watched as the strange shape in front of him seemed to dance, taking on better shape, like that of a thick oak trunk about his height. "You are lossssst, buck of the woodsss...?" The shape hissed softly in question, and Ceyln could see from near the top of it, a trickle of froth and bubbles were forming what looked like a smile.

Ceyln swallowed hard and steeled himself, not ready to admit his carelessness, even to this unearthly stranger in front of him. "No. I...I...came here to rest, that is all. After I've rested, I'll go."

The shape jiggled slowly up and down and his ears were filled with beautiful laughter. "You lie, Ceyln. Rest, you have not." The water around him bubbled and became warmer.

Ceyln closed his eyes and allowed the warmth to penetrate his body. The water felt good enough to sleep inside, silky and smooth, like the heavy quilts he often bundled him up inside during winter months. He thought about those nights, when he was huddled close to his mother, brother and sister for warmth, and the odd thoughts he would have even then of mating and pleasure.

With his eyes closed, he did not see the shape change again, this time forming much more than a tree-trunk. The water rolled and splashed in front of him, and the bulbous mass of liquid expanded and contracted in various places. It formed a very distinct outline of a deer head at the top, and then the supple curves of voluptuous breasts, and then the valley of a trim, shapely stomach.

When at last Ceyln opened his eyes again, he was looking into the face of a female deer, and yet not a deer. She looked exactly as he had imagined and he reached out to stroke her beautiful face. Instead of soft doe eyes, hers were made of water, the irises and pupils all varying shades of blues and browns like the dark of the river bottom, swimming in them. They looked at him with joy. He reached hesitantly out to touch her, fearing if he did, that she would vanish beneath the water again.

She laughed, and her form shifted again, surrounding him and washing over him with a large splash. "Celyn....beautiful Celyn, your seed is mine forever..." The river spirit's laughter made his heart sing. Music such as he had never heard before, waters tinkling and roaring over rocks, the majestic thunder of mighty falls, the rich deep tones of the depths, echoed through him. The water rose up once more, and became a deer again, and she caressed him, her transparent hand reflecting the deep greens of the forest surrounding them.

Then the form shifted, becoming a cascading waterfall, then splashing down into the water again and disappearing, leaving the river's surface eerily still.

"Neia... ? Come back!" Celyn cried out as the water smoothed and he was left standing in the stillness. The thought of never seeing her again saddened him beyond any fear, any trepidation he had when he had entered the river. Now instead of returning to his tribe, he wished to remain here, with her, sated and happy in the waters forever. He wanted her to return, to pleasure him and bring him to orgasm over and over again. His quest, his tribe, his desires for adventure and a beautiful maiden of his own were all forgotten.

He heard the sharp screeches of owls and realized suddenly that the sun had set. A pale moonlit sky shone through the dark, looming trees and the gentle winds he'd felt earlier on his fur had died down. The whole river was incredibly still.

How long have I been here?

He closed his large, dark eyes and breathed deeply of the cooler night air, centering himself. I must have fallen asleep, he thought, as he started to wade out of the water. He had sat down at the river's edge, and had probably, in a fit of exhaustion and frustration, dropped off. He cursed himself for spending so much time in the forest alone, when he could have easily been attacked, perhaps killed. He would find a place to stay for the evening, beneath the comforting trees, and continue his Run at morning's light.

As he neared the bank, he placed a hoof on the muddy ground and was surprised to see it sink in. Growling, he reached down to pull his leg free and was suddenly flung backwards into the river again. In the confusion, he submerged, surrounded by black water, and opened his mouth to cry out, tasting dirt. He coughed and pulled his head up to the surface and realized he was a bit deeper, up to his neck. His legs were again rooted to the spot and he could not move.

"What is happening?!" he cried out and closed his eyes, suddenly afraid. He heard a silvery laugh in reply and opened his eyes.

She was standing in front of him, smiling widely, and her form was more solid, seeming much more deer-like and less transparent. She was beautiful, a perfect deer, someone with whom he could make several beautiful fawns. "Welcome back, my little buck..." she said gently and clearly.

"Please..." Celyn protested weakly, feeling his erection surge from his sheath. "I...I must continue...my quest..."

"What makessss you think I am not your quesssst?" Her laughter broke through his reveries and into his thoughts. She had no voice, and yet he heard her sing. She surged up against him, and he felt her liquid legs wrap around him, and her heat surround his length as he penetrated the water between her loins.

With slow, meaningful thrusts, building in force and tempo, his hips pistoned against hers, until he finally climaxed into her, and saw the milky white of his seed mingle and dance inside of her, becoming part of her. This frightened him and exhilarated him at the same time.

Neia laughed again, and this time was joined by other silvery sounds. Celyn stared at the water and realized that there were many waves playing about him. As he looked they rose and became beautiful maidens. They swam around him and touched and caressed him, laughing and bubbling all about. Then as quickly as they manifested, they were gone, hidden in the flowing waters surrounding him. Only Neia remained, a perfect maiden.

He lusted for her, and wanted to stay with her. He had never felt such desires, such anguish between his legs. He yearned to swim with her, to dissolve into waves and swim beside her, touching, embracing and coming with her for always. Neia shook her head laughing, as her form shifted and she became a beautiful, sleek and transparent otter, playing in the waves. She swam around him, touching and fondling him, teasing his sex mercilessly with steady paw-strokes and tugs, and then diving away before he could touch her.

Just as he thought she was gone again, she rose from the surface in a silvery tower of water, splashing and raining down upon him. She lifted him in her strong arms and suddenly she was an eagle, her watery wings flapping around his head, and her strong claws grasping around his throbbing length until he came with an explosion of pain and pleasure.

Once his orgasm had settled, she dove beneath the waves again and returned as a mer-deer, with a colorful, scaled fish tail and the lovely top form of a deer maiden. Her arms embraced him and once again he was surrounded by water, unable to breathe or move, yet somehow happily sated and in lush with this magnificent water being.

"Who are you?" Celyn gasped when he was again able to breathe. Without voice, without breath, he still heard her words echoing in his head. No matter how old he became or how powerful, he never forgot those words, nor the deep emotions it created within him. No matter the outcome of his Run, he was certain that he was gifted the freedom of the woods, the power of the forest.

"I am the wild water," she answered the depths of passion, "I am the river's daughter, the spirit of the waves. I bring release and I bring fulfillment. I sate desire and I remain your power."

Celyn felt his lust rise again at her words. He wanted this spirit, needed her, desired her. Long tentacles of fluid pushed out from the mer-deer's side and embraced him. Before he could think to feel anything more about this new form, she pulled him beneath the surface and surrounded him completely. Again his fears arose, worried that this time he was being taken and held down to die in her arms, but his lust won out instead. Breathlessly he grabbed around her and held her. The water seemed to stiffen against him, and she felt more solid than ever.

He grabbed her shoulders, lifting her up floating in front of him, and then forced her down onto his raging member, penetrating her deeply. She let out a bubbly sigh as she looked at him, and her fish-tail started to whip back and forth, the strength of it causing their bodies to rock and jerk together. The gentle wave action grew faster and faster until at last, when his breath was nearly gone, he came into her again and the waters exploded around him with a swift and eager climax.

He broke the surface and saw her again, silver in the moonlight, once again a perfect deer maiden, beckoning to him as she started to swim away again. He strode through the water towards her, his shaft once more throbbing and ready. "Neia..." he growled deep within his throat, his hunger for her unabated. Once again his Run was forgotten. All he wanted was to take this watery maiden and become one with her. He envied her shape changing and wanted to absorb her into him forever.

Neia, as if knowing his greed and his lust, laughed gaily and dove again into the water, her fish-tail splashing him as she disappeared. When she returned to the surface again, she was the water shape of a strong and virile buck, a many-antlered elder who looked at him sternly, before she changed into a wolf, his greatest foe. Instead of being put off however, Celyn was exhilarated and chased after the shifting, dazzling water spirit, splashing and diving, hunting and running for her.

Down the river he swam, following her every shift, reveling in her constant caresses, stopping only for a playful bout of sex and games. She filled him up and he shared his seed with her. Theirs was a union of desire and of excitement. He did not know what end she would eventually bring to him and he did not care.

The nights and days moved slowly, and the water spirit and the young buck seemed to be as one.

Celyn was dimly aware that they were further along the water than he had ever been. On the distant shore he spied several small tribes of deer, living on the river's edge, safe from the predators in the forest. He wondered if these were the tribes he had thought to find during his Run. Some of the deer watched his passage with interest, some with fear, and a few with laughter. Many waved him on.

At a bend in the river, he saw a huge form, nebulous, transparent and frightening, seated on a rock watching him. He knew terror then, and started to sink below the waves, but Neia held him upright and he was able to see behind the grim façade the kindly, watery face of the River god. His antlers were huge, at least many tens, and touched the sky. At his feet were younglings, small transparent deer, otters, even wolf cubs, all the substance of water.

A voice, as booming as the falls, and quiet as a stream sounded in his head, as they passed by the god on the rock. "Neia chose well your seed. I foresee greatness in you, young Celyn. Return often for our blessing."

He hardly knew that time passed. He floated and loved, caressed and was loved again and again, until finally he was aware that it was dawn. Neia was there in her transparent watery deer form, and was at his side. She embraced him, but this time he knew it was different.

"Never forget me Celyn" she teased. "Now over there - it is the return path from your Run. Go home and be." She kissed him lightly, showered him one last time with her essence, and then in a gesture of finality, dove beneath the surface of the now still, deep waters of the forest river.

Celyn strode from the water, powerful, sated and confident. As he stretched and shook himself from the excess water on him, he realized that his body was bigger, stronger and older. He gingerly felt his head and realized that the antlers that were merely budding were now full grown and each had six points. He gazed into the still water and saw the face of a five-turn buck and marveled at his change.

Silently, swifter than the wind, or the flow of a river, Celyn began his run towards home. He looked back once and saw a watery arm wave from the depths of the water, but thought he was imagining it. He knew that Neia was with her next lover, satisfying her lust, just as he would return home to find his own beautiful maiden with whom to mate. Idly he wondered how many of his seed, his bloodlines, were being carried on in the wild river waters.

Great joy greeted him as he returned to his tribe. His father, mother, and family had all but given up on him ever coming back. They were resigned that he was either lost or had joined another group far away.

Celyn realized that he had been gone for a complete four turn. Legends told of others who had been gone so long, and that when they did come home, they were touched with a new spirit of greatness. The feast of celebration lasted for several sun turns. Beautiful maidens were eager to know him, but somehow he only was interested in those maids who had completed their own Runs. They were special and as the elder had said, those that finished Runs were strictly for his pleasures alone.

Somehow Celyn expected that those bucks and maidens whose bloodlines would end because they failed to complete their Run would be envious of him. Instead, they watched him with quiet awe, amazed at his return, his size and breadth and his aura of authority. One buck, a childhood friend, was so nervous in his presence that he scurried away from Celyn each time the young buck came to speak to him.

After several days of being feted and praised for his return, Celyn practically fled into the sanctuary of the forest. He still felt guilty as he did not complete his Run on his own. He did not understand how the time had slipped away from him, although he suspected that the River daughter had worked her wiles on him.

He remembered Neia and wondered if he went back to the great river if she would come to him again. He wondered if he was being dishonest not telling the elders that he was helped along his run by the magic of the river. The river - and the river daughter.

As he wandered through the deep woods, alert and aware of its dangers, he thought of her again. He felt his member grow hard and firm, and his sex tighten and throb. He recalled the cool, wet feel of her translucent hands as they ran up and down him, how he swam and frolicked with her and the spending of his seed. He thought of the River's blessing.

He shook himself, his fur stood on end and he looked into the small cool pond fed by the great river near where he was standing. A translucent hand reached up and touched his foot, and he knew she was near. He knelt near the water and he called her name gently. The water rose, touched his face softly, enticingly and then vanished.

He rose and turned away from the water. There standing under a great oak tree, his antlers resembling the strong powerful branches of the tree itself, stood the village lord, the eldest. His wise, large eyes twinkled in delight as he saw Celyn's surprised look.

The younger buck, ashamed and suddenly shy, walked slowly over to the elder.

"My lord..." he said meekly, "I have something to confess. I did not complete my Run on my own, I do not know why my time turned so long. All I do know is that the river took me in and held me. When the river spirit was through with me, she helped me find the path and the way home..."

The chief looked upon the young buck with a knowing smile, and his eyes twinkled as he replied softly, "Young Ceyln. The river spirit helps all of us..."

END