FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Tim fidgeted with his iPad, making sure that the video link was still active. He could have used the stored file, but he wanted to make sure it was clear that the source was remote. If his expected audience thought there was only one copy, this meeting was unlikely to go the way Tim wanted it to. That lesson had been learned the first time he'd tried scamming some extra benefits from his security job.

He looked around the clearing, then frowned at the dash clock. Maybe they were keeping him waiting on purpose. Their reply set when and where the meeting was to take place, so he had expected them to be waiting. Well, at least someone. Or something. He shivered involuntarily as the enormity of the risk he was taking hit home again. Blackmailing people was dangerous enough.

What were the Mythics, anyway? Not human, not animal, possibly not even from Earth. They had arrived in a box-like ship the size of a football field and immediately dashed the expectations of a public weaned on 'E.T.," "Star Wars", and Star Trek." The first aliens to approach mankind stepped directly out of humanities' own past. Satyrs, minotaurs, nymphs, even Pegusi now roamed the planet, real beings from ancient mythology, hence the slang name.

Even a decade later, the Mythics were mysterious and elusive. The fact that they were rarely seen in public was secondary to the immediate and unrestricted access they had been granted by world leaders. Despite the ever-present doomsayers and conspiracy theories that populated the Internet, there was no indication that any form of threat had been used, though rumors of 'special favors' abounded. Not that bribery was anything new in global politics - it was the suspected nature of the favors that sparked imagination.

The President at the time had been in his 50s and was known to have heart trouble. Recent pictures a decade later showed a man who looked to be a trim and vibrant 40. It was also reported that the British Prime Minister's wife had a sudden total remission of what had been reported as inoperable and terminal brain cancer. Never acknowledged, of course. Yet both incidents were nothing compared to the video currently paused on Tim's iPad.

A tap on the window startled him so bad he almost dropped the device, and he turned to see a young man smiling at him. It took a moment for the horns and bare chest to register. A satyr. Tim took a deep breath to steady himself, and then got out. The satyr hopped aside on his goat's legs, and then inclined his head. "You are Timothy Drake?" His voice was a pleasant tenor with a faint vibrato that boarded on a bleat.

Nodding, Tim extended a hand. The satyr looked puzzled a moment, then appeared to recognize the gesture and took it in his own. His handshake was firm and positive. "Welcome. I am called Metaschi?matistí?s." The word was guttural and included sounds that Tim was sure he could not duplicate. Another grin. "Just call me Meta. We understand you have something to show us?"

Tim looked around the clearing nervously. Other than him and the satyr, no one else was visible in the bright fall afternoon. "Um, yes." He raised the iPod. "A video. Taken not far from here, about a month ago."

"A movie?" Meta looked at the iPad with obvious interest. "I very much enjoy these entertainments. We are not able to go to theaters, but some friends have set us up with something called Netflix."

Tim felt a little flustered. This satyr came across as the curious and pleasant teenager he looked to be. Quite a contrast to the balding, out-of shape 36 year-old who was here with selfish motives. Then Tim almost grinned as he realized the game they were playing. Of course they would send someone who radiated innocence and charm. Satyrs often represented the Mythics in their rare public appearances. Always young and handsome, they managed to exude both mischievous, harmless fun and an underlying sexuality that appealed to pretty much everyone.

However, they were not all quite so harmless or innocent as they would like humans to think. Tim felt his resolve strengthen as he thought of the video. "I doubt you have seen anything like this on Netflix. It might become very popular on the evening news."

The satyr's smile hardened slightly. "So your message indicated." He nodded to the device. "Do you want to show me what you have?" Some of the boyish charm had faded, though Meta kept his expression friendly. "Or would you prefer to let more of us see it?"

There were flickers of movement around the clearing, and then Tim gasped in surprise. They were suddenly surrounded by a half-dozen other Mythics - a shaggy black minotaur, a centaur built like a Clydesdale draft horse, a green-skinned girl with leaf-like hair, a brilliant white unicorn, a massive lion, and what looked like a toddler with wings that hovered a few feet off the ground.

There had been no sound, yet the new arrivals all looked like they had been standing there for a few minutes. Maybe they had. Tim swallowed and tried to keep his hands from shaking. "Hel-hello."

There were nods of acknowledgement all around, but no one else spoke. Meta looked amused. "I hope we did not startle you. Our kind can move very quietly when we want to."

"Uh, no." Tim lied, trying to save face even though he knew they had seen him flinch. "So, uh, this is streamed from the Internet. A secure file, and the site is really well protected. And there are other copies." He emphasized that last, in case they had some way of hacking web sites."

Meta raised his eyebrows. "This must be quite interesting to merit such care! Please, show us what you have."

Angling the iPad so that most of the gathered Mythics could see it, he tapped the play icon. Even though he had watched it a hundred time, Tim still felt his skin prickle as the scene played out. The screen showed a forest clearing, much smaller than the one they were in now, seen from an elevated position. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves to provide splotchy, but good illumination. A doe wandered past from left to right, oblivious to the camera that was obviously hidden in a tree. About a minute after the deer passed, a lone figure dressed in fatigues crept along the same path, wielding a camera with a large lens. The photographer was a young man who had the scruffy unshaven look of someone who had been camping for at least a few days. He squatted down and apparently took several photos of the deer ahead of him.

The video had no sound, so it was unknown if the being watching him had made any sound or not before it moved directly behind him. At least 7 feet tall not counting the impressive rack of antlers, this new arrival was a humanoid stag, the embodiment of a Celtic Green Man. The photographer raised his head slightly, possibly catching the scent, before looking back and then scrambling away with a silent shout.

The stag's muzzle moved, and the young man's obvious fear appeared to ease, and then become curiosity. The two began a conversation, one that the human seemed to find interesting and pleasant. The stag nodded a few times, and then stepped forward to brush a stray lock of hair from the human's forehead with fingers that looked like the elongated segments of a cloven hoof.

The young man grinned up at the stag, and then appeared to lock eyes. The stag stroked his forehead once again, and the young man's skull began to deflate like leaky balloon, the cranial bulge dropping. Protrusions formed on either side of the forehead, pushing out into recognizable shapes - antlers.

The hoof-like hands caressed the photographer's cheek and chin, drawing the scraggly beard into a full cover of dense fur. The camera strap crumbled, allowing the expensive-looking equipment to fall to the ground unnoticed. His clothing followed, but the young man was obviously mesmerized by the eyes of the stag. Changes became visible in the photographer's arms and legs, first reshaping and then sprouting the same dense fur that was rapidly spreading down his chest.

The doe reappeared on the right side, ears twitching and muzzle lifted. She approached curiously as the transforming creature that had been human just minutes before fell forward and caught himself on forelegs and cloven hooves. The last bits completed the transition as the doe nosed the newly-made buck. The humanoid stag dropped his hand and watched as the young buck twisted its head to sniff at the female, and then the two deer scampered off into the woods together. The stag man watched a moment longer, squatted to pick up the fallen camera, and then silently retreated back the way it came. The video continued about ten more seconds, then went black.

Tim was keenly aware of silence. Not one of the Mythics made a sound. Too nervous to be able to stand the quiet, he blurted out "That was one of the Mythics. He has been seen in the area. That video was part of a woodlands observation project. There are a couple of dozen cameras placed along known game trails." He held up the iPad. "I work for the company that monitors and records the feed. And I have the original video on the simm card. It can be verified to be original and unedited."

The centaur looked around at the trees. "We must examine our home for these devices. I would like to see what else they have captured. Cernunnos will be eager to see himself, I am sure." Several of the Mythics chuckled.

Tim blinked at the casual humor. "You admit that was one of you? Transforming that kid into an animal?"

Meta grinned. "Of course! Nicely done, too. The human wanted the doe, so he gave him an appropriate form. The doe needed a mate, so both are now content."

This was not going at all the way Tim had expected. His stomach clenched again. "But... if people find out, if the authorities know what you are doing..."

The centaur smiled at Tim, but there was no humor in the expression. "Ah. You came here hoping to frighten us? To threaten exposure, perhaps. What is it you wanted? Youth? Strength? Beauty?"

There was no concern on any of their faces, only a kind of cold amusement that chilled Tim to the bone. "I. uh..." Oh, shit. What had he gotten himself into? "If anything happens to me, that video will get distributed all over the world!"

The satyr shook his head. "Oh dear! And when people come looking for that missing young man, how will we be able to explain such convincing proof?" His form blurred, then suddenly stretch up and out. A moment later, the photographer stood in Meta's place, the scruffy features recognizable from the video. He was naked, but appeared to be fully human. "Then again, you might be surprised to know that while we have transformed many humans over the past few years, none have ever been reported missing."

Tim gaped, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Even Meta's voice was different, no doubt also a match to that of the young man the satyr had become.

"There are hundreds of us among your kind now." The centaur gestured at the woods around them. "These remote places not only provide privacy, they attract the younger and more physically fit members of your species. The younger the better, for they are the ones who will grow into power and influence after your race has become complacent and accepting of us."

Sick realization washed over Tim and his mind raced trying to think of some escape. "But... all of those people. You have stolen their lives!"

Meta chuckled. "Funny how concerned you suddenly become about them. You were not worried about justice for me." He indicted his human body.

The centaur shrugged. "Not so much stolen as traded. Perhaps not what you would consider a fair trade, since life expectancy is drastically reduced for a wild animal. Yet that life will be one of total contentment and acceptance, free of worry and regrets. Most humans strive their whole lives for this state and never achieve it."

"We make sure those we select are happy. It only takes a kernel of interest -a photographer's interest in nature." Meta grinned. Or a troop of Boy Scouts excited about being in the wilderness. They all live in these and other woods now, an integral part of their environment."

A creaking noise drew Tim's attention to his car. The nymph had her hand on the hood, and the silver metallic paint was turning mud-brown in a spreading stain. Holes appeared in the sheet metal, and Tim realized that the stain was rust that ate through the vehicle like fire consuming cardboard. The glass came apart in a shower of glittering dust, and the tires went flat with a combined sigh of released air. In less than a minute it was gone, only the faint impressions of tire tracks across the ground to show a car had ever passed this way at all.

Tim suddenly felt the iPad in his hand crumble, and looked in time to see a mass of black powder sift through his fingers. The rest of his belongings and clothing followed seconds later.

The centaur wrinkled his nose in distaste. "You came here not out of concern for this young man." He indicted Meta. "But in hopes of some profit for yourself. Those we have transformed were given a gift of innocence and contentment. To us, and to them, this is no small thing. Worth the trade-off in years, though you could never understand."

Tim wanted to run, to find a way out of this place and never return. Yet no matter how desperately he tried to make his feet move, his body would not respond. It already knew he would never leave these woods again.

Meta raised a hand. "But he has aided us. The devices could pose a problem for us. Now that we know of them we can take appropriate steps."

"What would you do with him?"

The former satyr smiled, but Tim took no comfort from the expression. "I think he should meet Cernunnos."

The centaur nodded. "Yes, that is quite appropriate."

"What?" Tim felt even greater panic. "The stag guy!? No!"

"Why?" A deep voice resonated behind him, and Tim froze. "Did you not like my work after all?" A strong, acrid odor stung his nostrils, close and musky.

He turned, slow and trembling, to see the humanoid stag looking down at him with surprisingly gentle eyes. One of the black-tipped fingers raised to touch the center of his forehead. "There is no desire for nature, no appreciation for all that surrounds you. I cannot gift you with the contentment, the essence of the beast."

Tim almost collapsed with relief. He didn't want to be a damned animal! They couldn't change him! But then he felt a throbbing in his forehead and reached up to find nubs pushing out of his skull. "No!" He tried to lunge past the stag man, only to trip over his own feet and fall awkwardly to the ground. None of the Mythics moved to stop him, and he scrambled desperately to rise, arms and legs tangled impossibly as his body pulled and shifted under him.

When he finally managed to rise, Tim actually ran thirty feet or so before he realized he was on all fours. Coming to a stop, he twisted a too-long neck to look back at himself, feeling the weight of antlers as he did so. A buck, like the one the photographer had become. He recognized the brown fur, the upturned tail. They had transformed him into a deer! Tim braced himself against the expected mental onslaught that would tear away his memories and leave him with the thoughts and instincts of an animal. It did not come.

The Mythics watched him impassively for a moment, and then all but Meta turned and moved away, vanishing back into the forest in seconds. The nude human gave him a sad smile. "The one whose form I wear accepted his change as a gift. No matter what you think, those we select are truly happier with their new lives and would not want to return even if they could."

Tim looked to the rough path he had driven over to get here. There was a small town not too far away. How far? He struggled to remember, but the concepts of distance were muddle din his head.

Meta shook his head. "You are a healthy young buck. The part of your human brain that comprehended symbols doesn't exist."

A frantic search of his mind turned up no trace of language. Tim understood the former satyr, but letters and numbers were gone. He remembered using marks to communicate, but could no longer comprehend how such things could work.

"Enough of the deer's instincts are in place to let you move your body naturally. I suspect you will also find the prey's flight instincts too much too control. But the rest is you." Meta was suddenly the satyr again. "Grass and leaves will satisfy your hunger, water will slake your thirst. But you will taste them through the mindset of a human. No doe will attract you or want you, and you will feel the cold, the heat, the loneliness, and the certainty of your own death as a wild animal with human comprehension."

The true horror of his fate finally began to dawn on Tim, and he took a step towards the satyr with a bleating cry. From the far side of the woods came a low, rumbling in answer.

Meta lifted his head and smiled slightly. "Ah. I expect that will be the lion. Since you do not appreciate Cernunnos' gift, perhaps you will find release from that form more to your liking."

Tim's instincts kicked in and he spun and bolted for the woods in blind terror. He heard the roar from far behind, as well as Meta's last words.

"And I am sure he will greatly appreciate the meal."

-end-