FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

DISCLAIMER: Congrats on not getting caught reading the first one! But again. If you're worried about getting caught, you shouldn't be reading this. 18 or over, got it?

Samantha woke up, and found herself... blissful. They hadn't done anything last night, yet she felt so very lazy, happy, and relaxed. The sun was streaming through the window, the warmth a gentle caress. She understood how cats felt now. Her mind was awash in a pleasant sleepy haze.

Of course, that thought brought last night back to her. She looked at her arms and hands, and yes, they were still as fuzzy as they were when she had gone to sleep. She looked to her left. Rick was sprawled out on his back, his maw open slightly, with his tongue hanging out. She had to hold back a giggle.

She rolled out of bed and stretched, enjoying how smooth, elegant, and... athletic she felt. It was strange, but enjoyable, regardless. Jaguars were indeed thickly muscled cats in the wild, and some of that seemed to have transferred to her new form. While not body builder status, she looked strong, in a wiry way. Another thing she noticed while she stretched is that she seemed a lot more flexible than she used to be.

She walked into the attached bathroom and turned on the shower, completely by habit. As she stuck her hand under the stream of water to see if it was warm enough yet, she realized that she'd have to use shampoo instead of body wash, that it was going to take a lot of shampoo, and that she'd be spending a long time with a hairdryer and a brush afterward. She sighed, and stepped into the shower.

The sensation was strange. She didn't feel wet until the water had soaked through her fur, and the feel of the water beating down on her was somewhat muted. The wet fur was a little uncomfortable, and she laughed. "Now I know how a wet cat feels."

It was about then that it hit her with the force of a freight train, totaling the euphoric haze in her mind. She was not herself. Samantha, the body, the face, her face, could be gone forever. Her inheritance from her parents and grandparents, all of it gone in a literal flash! Now in its place was something only remotely familiar. She had noticed her eyes weren't too different, but she doubted anyone would notice. She was a freak! She thought everyone would see her either as a monster or a pervert, and her vaguely phallic tail wouldn't do anything to help that.

She sunk down into the tub, a sob leaking out as she settled down onto the floor.

Sure, the body felt great. Strong, agile, and sensual. But she could pass her parents on the street and they wouldn't even recognize her. She started bawling as she imagined her dad rejecting her because of what she had become, pitiful mewling noises rising from somewhere deep in her throat.

Rick woke up to the sound of the shower running in the next room. He stretched, yawned widely, then froze as he felt his tongue slide out the side of his mouth. He laughed to himself. "It wasn't a dream after all!" He grinned. He couldn't think of anything that he had imagined more over the years. Waking up one morning with a fur coat. The thought left him with his tail wagging, and the feel of it flipping around under him, mirroring his mood, only made him happier.

Glancing to the side, he saw that Samantha wasn't in bed. Obviously in the shower, he thought. If anything, Samantha's transformation was the only spot in all of this that wasn't completely fantastic. She was beautiful, and erotic, no doubt, but the thing with the second tail... while strange, it didn't seem too bad to him.However, it bothered him how it affected her. His ears perked as he heard soft mewling from behind the bathroom door.

Rick got out of bed quickly and knocked on the door. "You okay in there Sammy?"

"Nooo... I'm a freak! I don't know! Do you think I'm alright!?" She moaned.

Rick's ears drooped. "You're not a freak... I think you're beautiful."

Rage boiled up somewhere deep inside Samantha. All of the despair pooling in her heart flashed into red hot steam in a second.

"Beautiful!? Of course you think I'm beautiful. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO LIKES THIS SHIT. And it's YOUR fault I look like this, bastard! I never would have bought that fucking tail if it weren't for you!" She screamed at him through the door. She ripped back the curtain, leaving large gashes in the plastic from her claws, jumped out of the shower, and stormed across the room to the door. She flung it open and growled at Rick, teeth bared.

Rick found himself staring into the eyes of a very wet, very unhappy, very LARGE jaguar. She looked absolutely murderous. He knew he had to do something fast, or those claws that had extended from her fingers were going to be busy shredding him into ribbons like the curtain. "You're not a freak," he said quietly. "You'll never be a freak. You're Sammy, no matter what you look like. You'll always be beautiful."

She growled in his face. "My family won't think so. My friends won't think so." Samantha looked down at the floor, ears pinned back against her head, strange and conflicting emotions coursing through her. "I don't think so." She said softly.

"Sammy-"

"Don't Sammy me!" she growled, her head snapping up. "It might not have been so bad if it weren't for that stupid fucking tail!"

Rick took a step back, his own ears folding down. "Hey! I wasn't the one who bought it! I also sure as hell wasn't the one imagining myself as a busty jaguar!"

Samantha's pupils dilated slightly. She noticed somewhat absently that a set of muscles she never had before flexed in her forearms as she pulled her arm back. It was done in an instant. Four parallel cuts opened up on Rick's muzzle. What had started as a slap had become a vicious slash.

Rick blinked and wobbled forward into the bathroom. Samantha's claws were razor sharp because they had never been used before, thus never had a chance to dull. As a result, the cuts were clean, almost surgical. He stumbled back and toppled onto the bed, blood flowing freely from the slices on the side of his muzzle. He lifted his hand up to touch his face, and as he pulled it away, he stared wide eyed at the blood soaking into his fur.

Samantha gasped, standing frozen, her hand still held up, a little bit of blood collecting on the tips of her claws. They slowly retracted. "Oh god." She took a shaky step towards Rick. He looked up, and his eyes met hers. They were wide in shock, with a little bit of pain starting to leak in. "R-rick, I didn't m-mean to... I-I-"

"Sammy, it's alright," he mumbled quietly. "It was an accident." He stared down at the blood dripping down onto the sheets for a minute, before standing up again, and pressing his hand firmly against the cuts, wincing and whining at the stinging pain.

She slumped back against the wall, staring at her bloody fingertips, tears returning to her eyes. "Oh Rick. What if this happens again? They came out on their own!" She mewed sadly, tilting her head back, closing her eyes, and clenching her hand into a fist. "I'm a-a... a monster!" she wailed.

Rick stopped next to Samantha in front of the door to the bathroom. She looked terrible. He walked into he bathroom quickly, turned off the shower, which was spraying onto the floor through the slashes in the curtain, and grabbed a towel off the rack. Stopping in front of the mirror, he took his hand off of his muzzle. Four four inch slashes reaching from just under his eye out along just above his mouth. He sighed, thankful that the cuts weren't deep enough to cut all the way though his cheek. He'd still need to get stitches. Resent began to rise within him. His dream, the wolfen perfection he had desired for years, was marred.

He turned, ready to chew her out. Samantha was moaning and shivering on the floor, her face pressing against her knees. The growl that had been building in his throat choked. He stood for several seconds, conflicted, gripping the towel tightly. He was still frustrated, his mind racing from his body's reaction to the endorphins released to dull the pain, but as he watched her shake quietly, he could not help but feel she deserved compassion, not anger, in her state.

This was one of the reasons Samantha loved Rick as much as she did.

Rick squatted down next to her, and using his free, unbloodied hand, he started to dry her off. "How can I keep myself from hurting someone? I c-could hurt someone again." she said quietly."

"Hey, you're not being fair to yourself. It's all brand new. You've never had claws," he mumbled. "I'm sure you'll be able to control them perfectly in no time at all."

"But... I just sliced you face open!" Her tails lashed back and forth, mirroring her troubled mood. Rick's ears twitched backwards as his frustration threatened to break loose again.

Samantha was beginning to spiral downwards. Her mind was locked in on the blood staining her fingers. She mewled, on the edge of despair, staring down at the floor. Rick knelt down in front of her. "You're not a monster. You're my Sammy. Just because you look different doesn't mean that you aren't you anymore." He put his hands on her shoulders, and massaged her tense muscles. She looked up, tears still in her eyes.

His face was still bleeding slowly, but to her, he barely seemed to notice. Samantha had trouble reading the wolf's expression until she locked onto his eyes. There was a shadow of anger there, but also kindness, worry, and love. She cried out and wrapped her arms around Rick's chest and sobbed into his soft fur. "I'm s-sosorry," she mewled.

Rick held her, whispered "It'll be aright," and gently rubbed behind her ears, something that was surprisingly soothing. Samantha wanted to stay there forever, hiding from the world against her rock.

Around ten minutes later, Samantha's sobbing had given way to quiet snuffling. An idea crossed Rick's mind, and he smiled to himself. He looked down and kissed her forehead. "How about I make you breakfast to make up for me not being home last night?"

"I'd.. like that," she whispered.

Rick pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, kissed her again, then walked out of the bedroom. Samantha sighed and curled up in the blanket, still feeling terrible, but far from the fury and despair from earlier. She tucked her head in under her arm, and fell asleep, exhausted, despite having just woken up.

===============

Half an hour later, her nose poked out from under her arm, twitching slightly as it picked up the smell of what had to be bacon frying in the kitchen. She yawned sleepily, and sat up. Her hands hands caught her eyes, and she stared at them. Black pads capped her palm and fingertips, with short tawny yellowish fur between them. A sigh slipped from her lips. It felt like she would never feel at home in her own body again. Her ears drooped a little as she closed her eyes and sighed again.

Rick's muzzle poked through the partially closed door as he nosed it open. A quiet squeak emanated from the hinges, causing Samantha's ears to turn towards the door automatically as she looked up.

"Oh, hey. Breakfast's about done." He said, looking uncannily like a happy panting dog as he grinned at her.

She looked closely at Rick's face. While there was still some blood in the fur, the cuts were closed, and there was something glossy over the cuts, and, for that matter, all over his fur. "Okay... uh, how did you stitch up your face?"

"I didn't. I used some superglue. We sometimes use it to close up some of the less severe lacerations in the ER... I got a feeling it's gonna really suck with the fur, though." He held up his hands, which were also covered in glue.

She couldn't help but laugh a little, dryly. She wrapped the comforter around her a little tighter. "Just, uh, let me get my robe on," she said, standing up. Rick nodded and ducked back out the door. She opened the bathroom door and pulled her robe off the hook on the back, glancing over to the shower. The cheap plastic curtain was in shreds. She shivered again, suddenly thankful she did as little damage to her fiancee as she had.

She pulled the robe around her shoulders, putting her arms down the sleeves. The terrycloth pulling her fur the wrong way way as she slid into the robe was annoying, but not too uncomfortable. As she tied the sash, she noticed that robe was almost too small now, a good four inches of her arms showing past the cuffs, and the hem at the bottom was almost high up enough to be indecent. Her enlarged bust was at least at part in fault there. It took up a lot of the slack fabric in front, and no matter how she tied it, it seemed to show off a little too much cleavage.

She groaned. "God, these things are huge." On some level, she was thrilled. She knew how Rick liked women, and the size increase was nice on it's own, in a way. But on the other hand, all she could seem to think of at that moment was how hard it would be to find a bra in her size, and how she'd have to buy new clothes, and, hell, even backaches, though they didn't feel that heavy to her for some reason. And she was annoyed with herself at how petty all of that felt. She pulled the robe closed as best she could, and walked out of the bedroom.

Rick was busy flipping blueberry pancakes at the stove, and watching the TV in the living area towards the front of the apartment. He was watching a cable news network, and, of course, they were talking about what they were calling 'The Flash,' not an amazingly creative name, Rick thought, but fitting enough. The talking head, a woman he recognized, seemed to have had her features exaggerated somewhat. What she thought of herself, he guessed. His ears picked up the squeaky door hinge on the bedroom door as Samantha opened it. "Hey, just finishing up, I've got a stack done for you already on the table." He said without looking.

Indeed, on the table was a plate with a small stack of large blueberry pancakes, with some bacon on the side, and a glass of orange juice already poured. She smiled for the first time since her shower that morning. "Thanks hun."

She pulled out a chair and sat down quickly in front of her plate, only to yowl as she sat down on her rear tail, more in surprise than pain. Rick jumped at the noise, then spun around. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I just sat on... my tail." She mumbled. Focusing more this time, she managed to thread it out through the back of the chair as she sat down. she also carefully tucked the front tail between her legs to keep it from brushing against the table.The last thing she wanted was to bang THAT against something. All of that taken care of, she slid forward, grabbed the fork and knife, and began cutting into the pancakes. Moments later, the scent of something burning began irritating her nose. She looked up from her meal to find Rick staring at her so intensely, he had to have been beyond undressing her in his mind, to full blown screwing her. And the pair of sweatpants he had put on were doing absolutely nothing to hide that particular fantasy.

"Rick! You're burning something!"

He blinked and made a sound something like "Arrooo?" as he glanced over his shoulder back at the stove behind him. "Yikes!" he said loudly, and dumped the very brown pancake onto the stack.

He hadn't been lying, she realized, when Rick said she looked beautiful to him. She looked down at her rather exposed cleavage and blushed a little, though it only showed as the insides of her ears turning pink. The thought that she was beautiful, no, sexy in his mind helped to chase away some of the storm plaguing her thoughts.

Yet much of it still remained. She was beginning to think that the way she looked played a large part in her identity. Suddenly, the thought of going outside dreaded her. What would people think of her? What if she saw someone she knew? Would they even consider her a person anymore?

Rick finished cooking the last of the batter, and sat down at the table, carrying a tall stack of them on a plate. Samantha was poking at the food on her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. Rick watched her intently, lifting several pancakes onto his plate. "C'mon Sammy. Eat. I know these are your favorite."

She sighed and cut a piece off and ate it, not seeming to quite taste it. "They're great, Rick," she said listlessly.

"Sam, I know this is tough. Hell, you've made me wonder a little about my own feelings. But you can do this. We can do this."

Samantha dropped her silverware, which clattered onto her plate. "How can I even go outside? How can I go back to work? How can I face my family? It's-"

"Sam, you're still you! How you look doesn't matter as much as you think! And, damn, there's many worse ways to look. You are... amazing. Still the woman I want to marry in every way that matters. And if that's good enough for me, it should be good enough for your family too."

She just closed her eyes and mewled softly, then winced at the sound.

He stood up, pancakes barely touched on his plate. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he tugged gently. "Come on, I want to show you something."

She stood up slowly, And followed him to the living room, where his computer was set up. He bumped the mouse, and the desktop appeared on the screen. Somewhat awkwardly with his new clawed fingers, he opened his email client, then brought up one of the more recent letters.

The subject was "Sketch approval." He straightened and turned to look back at his fiance. "I commissioned a picture a couple of weeks ago. I thought you should see it, even though only the sketch is done."

Samantha peered around Rick to look at the screen. "What did you have done?"

He double-clicked the attachment, and after a second, the scanned sketch flashed onto the screen. It was a sweet, romantic scene, with a familiar wolf and jaguar. It was a winter cabin scene, with the couple sitting in front of a warm fire, gently necking.

Samantha's feelings were conflicted. On one hand, it again forced her to think of what she had become. On the other, it was a sweet, happy sene between the two of them. An affectionate gift.