FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The night was quiet in Hartford. Here in the suburbs, families were settling down to their Christmas dinners as an eerie fog rolled up from the river. To those few souls wandering the streets that late, it carried not the usual swampy stench that percolated in the harbor. An unseasonably long summer had washed tannin and manure from the upcountry. A faint drizzle mixed in with the rain, giving the street lights and stars dim halos which ebbed and brightened with the depth of the fog.

The smell of incense and honeysuckle filled the air. Those who remained on the street after dark would feel eyes on them through the mist, even though none could be seen. A faint flicker in the fog, revealing for a moment a vaguely humanoid shape would, as soon as it was seen disappear. Overall, a strange, forebearing mood clung fast like the damp which permeated the wind.

A gentle breeze wrapped itself between the winding alleys of the suburbs, gathering into a gust of wind and fog. It felt its way along the ancient buildings, the decadent slums bustling with the truest life the city could find. It lingered for a moment above a canfire, drank in the poetry of the ragged prayers of the destitute before rising again, stronger, bolder...

As it picked up speed, it gathered dust and leaves, whipping them up like an invisible hand. Faster and faster is blew, the motes and detritus assuming a supernatural glow. Should one catch adrift alongside them, one might hear the faint murmur of a hundred hushed voices, all chanting in a language long forgotten by human ears. They hummed to the rhythm of the distant sea, the churning voice of the river, the slow beat of the vines and shoots which spung between sidewalk cracks, or snaked skywards along cobble and mortar, competing with meager skyscrapers for their chance to bathe in the sun.

The wind passed through the city like a silent wraith whipping the treetops along an affluent neighborhood, whistling past the faux opulence of the gold-varnished gates. A woman in a red coat let out an annoyed scream as her umbrella flipped outwards. Her telephone dropped to the pavement as she tossed the umbrella aside.

A human child mewled in the windows. Here, the winds lingered. The dust within its grasp gathered close to the windowsill. Just enough, the voices chanted, just enough for a smile...

The light sparkled in the child's eyes. They widened, the babe crawling closer. Its cries hushed to soft coos as the light shimmered on the other side of the glass. The light formed a memory, a teddy bear long forgotten, and the soft voice of his mother. The child put his hands to his mouth, sucking softly as it let out a chuckle. The babe smiled wide enough to be seen even from behind his pink fingers. The voices sung a lullaby of ages past, ere it wandered on.

Up and over the wind climbed, over the concrete barrier which muffled the noise of the interstate beyond. The voices of children turned to impatient honking and the wail of sirens. The voices grew louder, exultant as they turned their attention to what lay before them.

Seated upon a weathered stoop of cobble and slate, there did rise a red door. A wreath hung, framing the porthole set into its face. The glowing dust swirled into a ball at the foot of the door, its light growing thick as it shaped itself into a shape on the stoop. Meanwhile, the wind blew at the door with the force of a knocking fist, the voices entreating the people within to answer. Knock, knock, rattle, knock! the wind sounded on the door.

Finally, footsteps were heard within, moments before the deadbolt clicked. A human face peered outwards through the porthole, glancing up, around, and down. Seeing no one, they sighed and opened the door. At that point they looked downwards and saw something quite queer.

A small box lay at the man's feet, wrapped like a traditional Christmas gift in green wrapping paper and a sparkling red ribbon. A strange yellow dust still clung to the box as he picked it up, but quickly faded away. There was no postage on it... So who had left it? God, he thought, if this is some stupid advertisement...

A gentle breeze caused something to brush against his hand. His eyebrow quirked as he brought the package into the crook of his arm. His fingers trailed along the gossamer string which dangled down from the ribbon, until he felt a length of paper at its end. He brought it up into the light coming from within.

In a fine hand were written small letters in a foreign language. But as the light of the fire behind him flickered, the words shifted upon the tag. The ink sqirmed and shifted, rearranging itself into a name...

Talcott... His furry name? He blinked. Who could've seen this? He peered out into the fog, glancing to the left, and to the right, and back again. He imagined his otter self sniffing out into the darkness after whoever had left it.

He sighed and took it inside. As he crossed the threshold of his door again, he heard a rushing sound behind him as his door closed. Stupid wind.

His fireplace roared. Talcott stepped back, his eyes widening. The hell was happening? A strange sort of laughter filled the air as the man took the gift to his coffee table. He peered at the tag once more before tearing the wrapping off.

Slowly, the light behind him began to fade. Meanwhile, a fine line began to glow on the box, shining from the space between where the cardboard flaps met. As he watched, the tape dissolved into dust and rose into the air. The glow brightened. Talcott heard eerie voices, or... he thought they were voices. A second listening sounded more like the wind howling outside.

Talcott's pupils dilated as the noise called to him. He brought his hand over the gift, feeling the warmth of the light. His eyes flicked back in his head for a moment as he felt a chill come over him. At that, the cardboard folded back, as if guided by an unseen touch, revealing the glowing contents of the box. Part of him wanted to recoil in fear at the strange sights before him. Glowing boxes? Disembodied voices? But it seemed like his actions were not his own, but this did not disturb him. It was like a mother's tongue, urging him forward...

The glowing contents rose in the air. The darkness of the room gave way to a gentle green light rising from behind him. He turned slightly, and in the corner of his eye he saw his fireplace, erupted in a dazzling gout of emerald flame. The scent of pine and burning frankincense filled the air. As he looked back in front of him, the contents unwound themselves, trailing dust. He shuddered again. This was some Peter Pan shit, right here.

"Talcott... " a baritone voice echoed. The man jumped, looking around as the strange pull over him began to fade, "That is the name you have chosen for yourself, an image of your true being. Oooooh!" it moaned, "But you have lived in this human realm too long! Take the scarf, young one, and remember..."

The scarf floated before him. He reached out for it. It was woven of wide, woolen strands, like one of those ugly christmas sweaters on TV, made to look like they had been stitched together by someone's grandma.

There were several designs stitched along the scarf. As he grabbed hold of it, his fingers touched an area which was adorned with small, interlocking silhouettes of deerlike figures. Some were full-bodied, their long strides transitioning to the antlers of a stylized buck's head. Its nose was tilted up, breathing out a white stream of wintry breath which trailed off, until it wove back into the endless circle of prancing, leaping deer. There were other designs farther up, but this series of patterns seemed to light up somehow, not becoming noticeably brighter, but... They caught Talcott's attention in a way that the others did not. Even as he tossed it onto the mantle of his electric fireplace and headed to bed, his imagination continued to pore over them. He blinked, brushing aside the intrusive visions, before settling down for a long winter's nap.

Something buzzed loudly against Talcott's nightstand. He tossed to his right. Holy shit!

Talcott jumped up in his bead. Holy shit.... he was late. He blinked into the morning sun. Way late... What had happened to his alarm? He reached for his phone groggily, expecting a series of missed calls from work, or an angry text from one of his coworkers. He wrapped his fingers around his phone case, and slid it towards him. It vibrated comically against the wood as the rubber case drug across.

When it was in reach, he pressed the power button, causing the screen to light up. He blinked again. Huh?

3 New Messages Marvin: Hey man u up? Marvin: U down to suit? Gonna b colder nxt week. Talon shared a picture.

2 Missed Calls

Marvin Missed Call and Voicemail Mom

He sighed in relief, falling back down on his bed. That's right... He had the day off. Thank god. Marvin could wait. He needed to enjoy his day off. Talcott curled back up in his blankets, but for all their warmth, he couldn't fall back asleep. He groaned, bringing the covers over his head. Maybe blocking out the light would help. His mind kept replaying that strange dream he had had... The weird voices, shit floating and glowing. He sighed, accepting that he wouldn't be getting any more rest, and resolved to get up. He bumbled over to his dresser and retrieved a pair of olive green pants. He pulled a grey graphic pokemon T-shirt with an image of Lucario on the chest from his closet, and began dressing.

Once he was finished, he entered his living room, scratching his neck as he wondered what he should do on his day off. Hmmm, he wondered, I wonder how many people would be down at the Friendly Fire gaming lounge. Weren't they having a pokemon tournament today? This close to Christmas, a lot of people probably had the day off as well.

The light coming in through the windows seemed pale, diffused. As Talcott gazed closer, he saw a touch of frost on the glass. He rolled his eyes and decided to grab his jacket before he set out for the walk over. His favorite jacket hung by the door, on an old coathanger, the only thing he had managed to grab of his grandparents before the in-laws had swooped in. It was older than him, and only had three knobs left to hang on.

His jacket, in contrast, was a royal blue color reminiscent of his favorite fictional creature, though he got more remarks at conventions about Doctor Who than Lucario. Nonetheless, as he retrieved it, he felt the familiar weight of his DS in the jacket pocket. He donned the jacket with a smile, and pulled the door open a crack. Fiercely cold air blew in through the crack, He shuddered, and shut it loudly. God, it was cold. Of course it would get cold so fast, when it had been unseasonably warm for weeks on end. Good old Connecticut weather. Talcott rolled his eyes, wishing he could afford to visit England again.

He glanced over his left shoulder, to his fireplace. A shudder ran up his spine. Strewn atop his electric fireplace was that scarf he had seen in his dream. Unless... Maybe he had gotten a gift, after all... Maybe it had just been incorporated into his dream. Still, something about it unnerved him. Who was it even from? He walked over to it, looking down into the backlit facade of the mantle, its orange lights made to simulate a real fire. In his dream, the fire had seemed real, and it had glowed green... and... He spun around. He put a hand to his head. Had he dreamt it was in the kitchen?

He rolled his eyes, and grabbed the scarf off the top. A chill hung in the air, even from the brief few moments he had had the door ajar. He shuddered, and tossed the scarf around his neck. He then rapped it back around, the scarf forming a warm loop around his neck. He expected it to be itchy, with the woolen appearance of it, but it was surprisingly plush.

Its warmth spread outwards from his neck. His heart quickened pace as he wrapped his hands around his arms. As the warmth spread to his chest and face, he felt how cold his fingers were. Almost without thinking, he rubbed them back and forth against his skin, hoping to give them that same warmth he was coming to feel.

His skin tingled with a sensation akin to that of skin after a long, hot shower. It pulsed with a warmth, not from without, but from within. Was it the scarf? Wow... No wonder people wore these things. How could they be so effective, when they just covered your neck?

Talcott shrugged, and began to walk towards the door. Time for the real test.

A sudden pitch in his step made him lose his balance. He threw his arms out, his hands digging into the rough carpet as he stopped his fall. He pushed himself to his knees with an Ooof!

"God, I'm clumsy," he whispered to himself. As he sat back up, he felt for the scarf to make sure it was still firm around his neck. He sighed. It was still there, wrapped tight around him, though perhaps strangely tight. He felt around the scarf with his fingertips. Had he done it up so tightly? Further exploration felt hair, soft but fine, all along his neck, and under his chin. Had he forgotten to shave down there? Talcott groaned. That's all he needed, was to go out with a poorly-shaven neckbeard. Except... Something was different.

His beard hair was usually coarse, rough, or wiry where it grew thin. This hair felt soft, smooth, and by the strangest turn of all, it seemed to grow thicker the longer he felt it. Meanwhile, he felt tightness in his ankles, and a loose feeling in his shoes as he tried to stand up. After a few flailing tries, he managed to get to his feet, and clomped over to the mirror which hung between his bedroom and the stairwell. He feet felt oddly numb as he stood before it. His eyes widened for, even while he felt the hair there, could feel his as it continued to thicken, he saw no sign of it in his reflection. What the hell is happening? he thought. This was just like that dream, except... There wasn't that same unearthly, distant feeling now as there had been to it. This was real, or it sure damn felt like it was.

He went to reach for the light switch, remembering something he had heard about lucid dreams, or in this case - a lucid nightmare. He didn't get far before the numb feeling of his feet started up again. His shoes buckled with each step, as if his feet had grown smaller, or short, or both... He reached out his hand, his fingers almost brushing the switch, before he tumbled to the ground again. He cried out in pain as his elbow hit the hardwood flooring hard.

"Hush, child..." an ethereal voice whispered, "Let me mend that for you..."

Glowing dust sprinkled down, settling onto his skin where he had hit it. The pain subsided, be as he rubbed it, Talcott felt hair begin to grow there as well. Unlike on his neck, he could see it plainly here. It was brown, just like that on his head, if a touch lighter in shade, peppered here and there with touches of white. He let out another scream, not in pain, but at the strange sight of it as it too began to spread. He felt tingling along his chest as hair began to grow there as well, pushing up against his T-shirt from beneath.

"What..." he groaned, "Is hap-pen-ing to.... me?"

He heard a snapping sound behind him, followed by a tight feeling at his feet. He swung his left foot around, to look at it and saw that his shoe was bursting from within, and when he pulled the tattered remains of his sneakers off, it revealed something beyond belief...

Where once his foot had been, Talcott now had a hoof, like that of a deer. He let out a wail in horror. It had two toes in the front, and a smaller one on the inside. Elsewhere, he new foot was covered in greyish-brown hair, or fur he supposed.

"No, no, NO!" he groaned, "This isn't happening... this.... this..." It was like one of those poorly-written furry stories he had read on FurAffinity. But, now it seemed, he was living it. He lurched forward, the taste of bile in his throat. When he woke up, he was going to have to swear off of furry stuff for a while.

With shaking hands, he removed his other shoe, and found the other foot much the same. As he stood, his ankle shifted in its socket. His knees buckled, his balance shifting into a digitigrade stance. He felt mroe and more fur beginning to grow on his legs, the change crawling upwards. Soon, his legs began to change shape proper, his green pants tightening around his shifting form. Large tears formed on his pants as the change furthered. Damn, he thought with a smile, my favorite dream pants. Now I'll have to buy some more at the dream-Plato's Closet.

For a moment, he heard a disembodied giggle, before more of that yellow, glowing dust rained down. The tears in his pants seemed to knit themselves back together, though not exactly as they had been before. His clothes seemed to be changing themselves to match this new body.

"God, what am I turning into, a deer?" Sudden pressure in his temples seemed to answer that. He reached up, and felt something bone-hard growing from his skull. It fanned out beneath his touch into several, quickly growing points. As they grew, his fingers remained along the base of his new antlers, feeling the soft, hairy texture to them. Weren't antlers supposed to just be bone?

At they grew, he felt them begin to weigh down on his head. His neck, in response, began to thicken to bear the weight of it. The hair began to spread to his face. He opened his mouth wide as he felt his jaw change. His let out a snort as his nose began to grow longer, stretching outward with his mouth and jaw. By the time he could get his hands to his face, he had grown a long snout. His tongue, now much thicker than it had been, moved over his broad, flat teeth.

When he tried to speak, it came out as a weird croak. His ears flicked back and forth, listening to the echo of his voice. New instincts surged through his mind, the quick echo of the room igniting a fear of closed spaces. His instincts told him to run, to flee the enclosure. He consciously slowed his breathing in an attempt to calm himself. No, no... he told himself, This is my home. He let out another, short croak as if to question it. He wanted to feel his face again. God, this was weird.

However, his tongue flicked out of his snout, and licked his nose before his hands could reach it. He felt the rippling, rough texture of his deer's nose, his wide nostrils, the roughness of the short hairs around it. He huffed, air rushing out of his nose as he tried to touch his face again, but he noticed that his fingers felt numb. When he looked down, he saw that they too had transfigured. Just as with his feet, his hands now had several toes, each covered by a thick portion of hoof. Where his feet had three, though, his hands had four. He pulled his sleeve back with his palm, seeing that his arm was now completely covered in fur. The two middle fingers were by many counts the largest, with the two outside fingers being much smaller, though more dextrous by far. He looked down at himself. What part of him hadn't canged? Was it done? As he spun around, it seemed so. Every step made his skin tingle as his new coat of fur brushed against the inside of his clothes. Tightness in his rear made him scratch, bringing the sharp points of his hoof-fingers against his shinbone. His lower back shivered, and he felt something move underneath.

"A tad uncomfortable?" the voice said again, "Here, let me fix that for you..."

He couldn't see it, but he was sure that more of that stuff would appear, for it wasn't long before his pants parted where he touched them, and something short but hairy burst out. It wagged up and down, back and forth slightly as he spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of his tail. God, this whole thing was so weird, and yet.... Why did it seem so familiar?

"Okay, now," he said, his voice peppered by a deerlike croak, though his cadence remained the same, "Come on, wake up. It's done. Wake up!"

"Silly child," the voice giggled, "This is no dream. The Remembrancer will reveal all. Fear not, but look ye upon your new form." More dust rained down upon the mirror, and his human reflection changed into that of what he had become, an anthropomorphic reindeer, still bedecked in the same clothes, but now covered in fur, and antlers, and hooves...

He walked closer to the mirror, his hooves sounding on the hardwood floor. He looked at himself with mixed feelings. He felt both excitement at finally getting to see himself as a furry in such a vivid way, but also apprehension. How long had this dream gone on for? Maybe he really did have work today. He might very well be late, and yet... this dream did not seem to end. His ears laid back as he looked at his new face, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

He put one of his hoof-hands on the glass. Then, after a few moments the image faded, returning to the reflection of his human self. Behind him, something shimmered along the ground, like a picture viewed through a figure made of glass.

"You see, " the voice said, "The spirits have little power here, save what our kind provide. Here, your true form might be seen, but once you step outdoors, humans will see this..."

Talcott felt his eyes focus on the image of his human face.

"I can sense your feelings, young one," she said, "But fear not. This is no trick, no conjuration of a dreaming mind. This is real. Do you yet remember?"

Talcott shook his head, "Remember what?" though as he said it, a feeling of déjà vu came over him, as if he had experienced much of this before, if not in precisely the same way. That voice, that dust... it all... No. That wasn't possible. None of this was.

"No matter," the voice said, "The Remembrancer will fix that. You are ready. I can smell it. Go to him."

"Go to who? Who is the remembrancer?" he said aloud. His ears laid back again. God, now I'm talking to myself? I'm either dreaming or crazy. He gulped. Or both.

"You will find him where the river hides its face. There hast the artifice of Man shrouded the dreaming place of one of the last Guardians. Our world is changing, and it is up to our kind to... re-un-change... it."

Talcott smirked, "Re-un-what now?"

"Shut up!" the disembodied voice said, "I'm not good with this human tongue. I... I will END you if you laugh at me. I am older than the stones, more powerful than the raging wi-" the feminine voice stopped as a small, furry shape materialized behind Talcott. It had no reflection in the mirror, but when he turned, Talcott saw a petite arctic fox standing behind him, no larger than someone's pet chihuahua. Talcott burst into laughter. "Shit!" the tiny fox said.

Lalcott laughed again, but suddenly his smile disappeared. His sniffed. Where the river hides its face... "Wait, are you talking about the Park River?" he asked.

The tiny fox huffed, stamping her paws, "Yes. Now, hush. Your destiny awaits you. Tell none of your... furries what has transpired. Not all are ready for such power, especially if they are not a trueborn spirit such as we."

Talcott blinked as the creature disappeared, "But... wait. Power? What power?"

The fox's voice echoed in his mind with a giggle, "The power of voodoo.... who do... you do... do WHAT?"

Talcott huffed, stomping a hoof, "No, really... What the heck are you talking about? I can't go out like this, even in a dream. Who knows what might happen."

"Oh, hush," she said, "As I've said, this isn't a dream. The faster you accept that, the easier this all will be. And you needn't worry about humans seeing you like this. There's a spell upon all our kin, which permits us to walk amongst humans unseen. Or rather, whenever a human lays eyes upon you, they'll see you as one of their kind, just as you were before you... "

A chill ran up his spine, making his fur stand on end. "But, how do I change back?"

"Hmm? change back to what? A human? Oh, no, no. You've outgrown any need of that. Yes, for many of our kind, a short life as a human is the last step before their awakening, but it is by no means a permanent condition. Not true humanity, anyways. Our forms vaguely resemble humans in some respects, but merely for practical purposes. We... what's the matter?"

Talcott's round eyes seemed distant, as if he was finally coming to consider that this all might not be just a dream after all. He let out a deerlike croak, his lips draping back. "Please, I just want to know... how to turn back. You say I have some sort of power.... So, show me. Show me how to use it!"

She appeared again for a moment, hovering in the air by the door. If it was possible, her little fox face registered frustration as she said "Listen, I told you. It's really convenient. You'll have no need to return to that human form. The glamour does the rest. No one will know. The only ones to see your true form will be your own kind. Besides, truth be told, I really don't think something like that is possible."

Talcott put his hooves to his face, dragging them down across his cheeks. "Oh no..." he shuffled about, his tail wagging back and forth, "CONVENIENT?! How is any of this... How... HOW? How is this even possible?"

"Magic, of course," she laughed, floating in a circle, "My, aren't we dense? Oh, wait..." she giggled, "You really don't know, do you? Well, you'll know soon enough. But for the time being, just get used to your new body. You furries enjoy playing pretend, don't you? Well, pretend to be human again, if it helps you feel better. I'm your appointed familiar. I'll be guiding you in the use of your abilities henceforth, until you are ready to use them on your own. But before any of that... We need to take a walk."

"To... To where?" Talcott said.

"To Park River. Your destiny awaits."