FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

On a cold winter’s eve in Victorian-era England, a couple sat at a table in front of a roaring fire. Pierce Bastarache, the owner of a prolific ironworks factory, had just married the woman of his dreams: Isabella. Sure she had been his mistress at first, but the heart longs for what it cannot have.

Only six months ago, Isabella had simply been a working maid; scrubbing the kitchens, doing the laundry and other duties suited to the poor. However, her fortune began to shift when she began to work at the Bastarache Manor. Despite being married to another woman named Merryl, once Pierre laid his eyes upon the maid, he began to court the young woman. She was petite, graceful, and quite beautiful, and to a man of stature like Pierre left him unable to resist. For Isabella, having only known a poor life on the streets and barely making enough to scrape by, was soon lavished in the perks of wealth and began to reciprocate Pierre’s affections.

Of course, in the time period in which they lived, it was fairly common for wealthy men to have a side hustle here and there. The former lady of the estate Merryl was a much older woman, more reserved and quiet in her ways. She was calm, courteous and always pleasant to the staff. Merryl and Pierre had been married for nearly fifteen years, but merely six months after Isabella had been hired, Pierre had announced he was to leave her and marry the scullery maid instead. In fact, the servants of the estate had resented Pierre kicking Merryl out: watching her being led out of the manor, silently keeping an upper lip but no doubt seething with resentment and loathing.

So now, here Pierre was--a lovely new wife, a fancy meal and more money than he knew what to do with. He took a bite of his roasted meat and nearly spat it back out.

“What is this?! I asked for this to be medium rare and it is nearly medium well! I will not have our honeymoon dinner marred by poor cooking! Prepare another one or I shall have you sent to the factory!” he spat at the butlers.

“Yes sir,” came the tired tone of the jeeves, picking the food tray up and returning to the kitchen.

“And you!” Pierre pointed at two of the servants, “Bring me the finest wine from the cellar, I wish to have our first night as a married couple to be perfect you hear me!”

“Yes sir,” the servants said, trying to hide their disdain as they left to complete the task.

Isabella, once a polite and proper maid, had picked up on the condescending tones one could take whilst having money and power, “Such a shame that one can’t find good help around here~”

Pierre laughed haughtily, “Quite right! I only intend the best for you my dear!”

The servants returned carrying the glass bottle, giving each other knowing looks before presenting the wine to the couple. It was a bottle Merryl had bought Pierre on their own honeymoon, but he had never bothered to open it. One popped the top and poured each glass until it was half full.

Pierre lifted his glass up, “A toast to us dear!”

“And to our good fortune!” Isabella chimed in, clinking their flutes together.

As soon as they took a sip: Pierre could instantly tell something was wrong. He immediately felt dizzy: not the kind of dizzy you felt after drinking multiple glasses of wine, but as though he had been spun around in his chair and had his senses disoriented. The room was spinning and he placed his hands onto the table to balance himself.

Isabella felt like she was going to faint, leaning back and trying to fan herself as a strange heat prickled throughout her entire body. Her stockings and garter felt tighter around her legs and she lifted her dress to see--and screamed.

Her slender legs were now growing hair, light tan coarse hair that was quickly spreading up to her thighs and down to her feet. Her high laced shoes began to grow much tighter, causing pain to her feet as she desperately grabbed at them to undo the laces. It was too late--her feet burst out, scattering the ripped fabric. Isabella blanched in horror: her feet had hardened into hooves!

“Pierre, what’s going--”

Like Isabella, Pierre’s legs had grown thicker with darker brown hair, but now what appeared to be a long and hairy tail seemed to inch from his backside. The knuckles of his fingers grew hard, akin to a horse’s hooves. He was huffing as his full body weight lay on the the table; leaning forward until his new tail lifted and--

FFFRRRRRRRTTTT!!!

A ghastly sound escape from Pierre’s backside, an utterly rude and loathsome sound that a man of his dignity would never allow. He groaned, although it seemed to come out more as a whinny than a sound a human would make. His tailored pants grew darker as the sound and smell of musky piss began to spread across his front bulge, dripping down his legs and making a mess.

“Oh that’s…why is this…” Isabella was panting, realizing that she had to go too!

She couldn’t help but spread her legs open, moaning with indignation as she began to soak her undergarments and dress. The piss was flooding her seat, creating a puddle that dripped down onto the carpeting, running down her newly changed legs. She opened her eyes, noticing that the servants were…chuckling?

Pierre farted again, his mouth open in a snort as his face began to elongate. His eyes widened and went apart as his nose began to flatten out, nostrils flaring. His mouth stretched out and his teeth became longer and flatter: resembling a horse’s face. His very fancy dress suit was straining against his new body’s bulk, and with an embarrassed snort he gripped the straining fabric with his hands and pulled it away from his body. Being a dapper man, Pierre did have his torso shaved: but it all seemed to be for naught as now his whole body had that same brown chestnut fur, completely covering him and leaving no traces of his skin left.

“P-Please…I don’t want to…” Isabella whined as she felt the changes coming over her as well.

Her face began to outward stretch out much like Pierre’s, except the fur covering her was tan. Her blonde hair turned a silvery white as it thinned out and grew down in a line like a flowing mane. The same silver hair also began to grow from her behind, poking out of her dress and sneaking its way down the back of the chair. Like Pierre, Isabella’s facial structure morphed into a more equine shape, causing the muscles and bones to ache as she tried to push her face back in, only for her hands to grow cloven hooves, leaving her unable to use her fingers. Isabella shot a glance around: her vision was wider than it had ever been, she could see the entire room, but the faces of the servants watching her were now blurry and out-of-focus.

The servants had gathered from their various stations to observe the changing couple. Their reactions varied from horrified, to amused to jovial as their masters became beasts of burden. Pierre had always been awful to most of them with his petulant demands, and even though Isabella had once been among their ranks, the moment she became Pierre’s lover she became just as demanding and rude.

Pierre, in a momentary flash of consciousness, wanted to scold the staff for just standing there, or at the least beg them to help him, but he could no longer remember what for. He also needed to defecate suddenly; a part of him realized he needed to go to the water closet to do it, but again the memory of why it was so important eluded him. Pierre’s tail lifted up and he farted again, letting out a long ripping blast from his gigantic ass until the vestiges of the pants that still clung to him began to bulge out as he began shitting himself. The massive lumps of horse shit filled his undergarments, packing tightly into the space between his ass cheeks and the filthy fabric.

“Piiierrrrrrrrnnneeeiiiiggggghhhhh……!”

Isabella tried to stand up, but her ass became too heavy to lift off of her chair, stuck in a sitting position. Her own stomach grumbled too, and with an embarrassed sound she farted too, tail lifting up as the gas spluttered noisily from her rear. Tears streamed from her face as her body began to bulk up, tearing the fabric of her beautiful dress and exposing her bodice--which also was now coated with the tan horse fur. She grunted, her new tail lifting as she humiliatingly defecated, soiling her pantaloons and creating a smelly bulge.

Pierre and Isabella had become horses, both letting out grunts and snorts as they filled their pants, the rest of the clothing falling away as their bodies grew thicker and more muscular. Pierre rolled off of his chair and onto all fours, hands fully morphed into full horse hooves as his spine locked into a quadrupedal feral stance. The servants all came over and helped their former master, pulling down his soiled underpants and letting the scat splat onto the ground. The female servants helped remove Isabella’s ruined dress, although she had transformed into a horse she was still bipedal. Pierre was completely changed into a feral horse: although he didn’t seem to react much, as if his mind were someplace else. His tail lifted, releasing another fart as he began pooping again, creating a smelly pile onto the dining room floor: completely unaware of how degrading it was to defecate so openly.

Isabella still retained some of her mind, but her thoughts became fuzzy as well…what was she doing in human garbs when she was a horse? The light tan fur bristled as she tried to rub her head, her silver tail lifting as more manure dropped from her behind through the back of the chair and landing on the floor. It felt good, it felt good it just let it out like this, not a care in the world.

“I see these two are nearly done, well done boys,” came a voice that Isabella faintly recognized.

A middle-aged woman stepped out from the shadows where the front entrance hall lay and began clapping her hands. Isabella recognized the woman…who was she…was she her owner? She couldn’t remember…

“Lady Merryl, it’s nice to have you back!” one of the servants said enthusiastically, “We gave the couple the potion as you instructed!”

The woman let out a sly smile, looking at the horse who had once been her husband. Pierre was sniffing the ground, eating at the discarded vegetables that had rolled off, still occasionally excreting shit. She handed the servants a saddle and reins, and they began to strap them onto the chestnut stallion.

“We were married for so long and you never realized I was a witch. I, who gave you the opportunity to become wealthy and successful, and yet the moment you achieved it you dumped me for her.”

She pointed a finger at Isabella, who for some reason no longer could understand what was going on. Merryl came over and gripped Isabella’s head gently in her hands.

“My dear, I don’t want you to forget what you did, or who you once were. My former husband deserves to live life as a nasty beast, but you deliberately worked him to entrench yourself into a lifestyle that was never yours.”

Merryl whispered words into Isabella’s ears, and all of a sudden the former human’s mind came rushing back. She looked down at her body and whinnied in horror: she was a human, but now she was a horse, a fully humaniod horse! She had pissed and defecated in front of everyone, she was now naked in front of the woman whose husband she had stolen. The tan horse tried to stand up, but the servants held her down to the chair as she trembled in anger and fear as she stared at the witch.

“You have two options my dear: you can leave and be treated like the abomination you are, as anyone would see you as nothing more than an affront to nature; more than likely you will be immediately shot in the streets. Or you can stay here and serve me. You’ll be living in the stables with the other horses of course, and given your new stamina I shall make you work the hardest.”

Isabella really didn’t have a choice in the matter--now she was like this, half human and half horse, she had no place left in the world. She hung her head in sad resolve and stood up, as she took Pierre and led him out to the stables. The former human male didn’t seem to care, he let off another fart and dropped another lump of manure onto the floor. Merryl grinned as she watched the two horses leave the house and head down to the stables; the manor finally hers once again.