FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

-1-

Rocks hit the windshield as the 2003 Caravan struggled up the mountainous dirt roads. Dark clouds loomed overhead, if it could be called that. Grant thought they were more level with them than overhead, but Amelina thought they were just really close. Regardless, their color combined with the cool, wet wind made the couple uneasy while they made their way to the new house.

"Hope it isn't always this stormy..." Amelina murmured, peering furtively from the passenger seat. Her silky red hair hid her features as it cascaded down her shoulders, but Grant didn't need to see her to imagine the worry on her features. She'd been wearing that same expression the whole ride across the country, and he couldn't blame him.

"I'm sure it'll clear up. Besides, storms can be beautiful, you can still paint storms!" Grant said. "I'm more worried about the quality of the internet at our new place. The sales guy said 200 down a second, but I dunno..."

Amelina didn't respond, but Grant caught a glimpse of a smile, and that was good enough for him.

-2-

When they finally arrived at the new place, the sky had cleared and the sun had gone down. They were on the wrong side of the mountain for a sunset, but the sunrise would shine straight into their kitchen. That was one of the reasons they'd bought the house - Amelina had insisted on it so she could paint them, but Grant had liked the idea anyways. The only real requirements that Grant had for a house was that it would be within an hour drive to his new job in the city, that it had stable internet connection, and that it be within their budget. Though the commute was nearing an hour, when they were shown this house it was almost like destiny; it was new, it was in a gorgeous area, and due to the poor reputation of the town it was technically in, it was dirt cheap.

That really was the one, big kicker. Hamton didn't exactly have the best reputation. Those who had even heard of it called it small, backwards and smelly, the antithesis of what the two city dwellers were looking for. They said it was full of pigs who were racist to humans, had nothing to offer as far as entertainment, and certainly wouldn't be accepting that the pair were living and sleeping together without being married.

The two decided to leave their belongings in the trailer for now, taking out only an inflatable mattress, some blankets, and enough provisions to last them through the next few days. The trip had exhausted them, and they barely thought to even brush their teeth before collapsing into their bed in the living room.

Grant pulled Amelina close, yawning and snuggling into her. The silence between the two grew, and he'd thought she'd fallen asleep when she finally spoke.

"Do you think they'll accept us?" she said.

Grant yawned again. "Accept us?"

"Yeah," she said. "In the town. Cuz we're together without being married."

Grant didn't respond for a while. Finally, "Why don't we go in and introduce ourselves? Get ahead of the rumors."

"You think they'll like us?" Amelina replied.

Grant had to think again, this time to ensure he worded what he was going to say properly. "I think... I think that if they don't, then we don't have to go there ever again. But if they do, then we have a new community to be a part of. We can just see what happens."

Now it was Amelina's turn to yawn. "Yeah... yeah. I like that. Going in and introducing ourselves. Getting to know them."

Grant couldn't help but grin. Her sentences always got short when she was tired.

"Let's deal with it in the morning. Deal?" he asked.

"Deal."

Grant leaned over, planted a kiss on her cheek, and pulled the covers over them. It wasn't long before they both were passed out.

-3-

The morning came quickly, brilliantly, and unignorably - while they'd have liked to have slept a little while longer, that sunrise that Amelina was so excited about intruded at almost 7am, and without any curtains installed to block it, the light shone directly into the sleep-deprived couple's face.

Though they both awoke at the same time, one look at each other told them not to talk until there was time to wake up a little. Grant rolled out of bed first, pulling out the portable grill and tossing on some sausage and bacon. By the time breakfast was done, Amelina was up, and both of them were ready to face the day.

"So, uh... town, then," Grant said between muffled bites of food.

Amelina didn't respond, focusing on clearing her plate as quickly as possible.

Grant tried again. "So, town, then? Spend today in town, unpack a little after, and then start unpacking for real on Friday?"

Amelina yawned and nodded her tired assent.

"Great, it's settled then." The two turned back to their breakfast in silence, wondering just how bigoted the town could really be.

-4-

As it turned out, the answer to that question was 'very'. From the moment they stepped inside the town limits, they felt out of place. The roads were dirt, very far from what they were used to in the city, and massive mud pools dotted the sidewalk. The town itself was made up of half a dozen or so old, unpainted buildings, most of which leaned dangerously to the side. Farm animals wandered the streets without any supervision, feral pigs, chickens, and goats among them. Grant and Amelina couldn't tell if they were owned by anyone, or if they simply lived here like the townsfolk.

And lord, the townsfolk. The couple could smell them before they saw them, but when they finally did see one, it was like they were at a zoo. Or rather, in a zoo.

It happened as they were rounding the corner, looking for a place to eat lunch. After all, even small towns have diners, right? Then, they saw him. Eight feet of fat and muscle, but mostly fat, lumbering down the roadway and blocking out the sun. He was a pale tan with blotches of brown, his body barely held in by ratty, stained overalls, and he wore a threadbare trucker's hat on his tiny little head, like a cherry on top of ice cream. The expression on his face was as nasty as his body, and Amelina let out a quiet gasp of surprise at the sight of him.

He turned towards them, a scowl on his face. His beady eyes looked them up and down, judging them, and lingering far too long on Amelina's rather ample bust. For a while, the two groups stood at an impasse. Grant and Amelina were too stunned to say anything, and the slobbish pig had nothing to say. Finally, the pig turned about, grousing under his breath and lumbering into a nearby building. There was no sign on the building, but faded lettering spelled out 'Fixins and Vittles'.

The two stood there for a full minute, unable to speak. What could they say? They couldn't very well go on about how disgusting the pig was, though they both were thinking it, nor voice their worries that all the pigs in this town would turn out like that, though they both had that fear. It just wouldn't be proper. Finally, Amelina broke the tension.

"He's... an interesting character," she said as politely as she could.

Grant nodded. "He's... interesting."

"But they can't all be like that," Amelina said.

Grant shook his head. "No, I... I wager you're right."

The two stood in silence a moment longer, mulling over their decision to move to this hicktown. Then,

"Well, that was that. Let's say we head into the dinner and get some lunch, honey?" Amelina's voice was full of fake enthusiasm, but Grant appreciated the effort.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Do you think they take card?"

Amelina pulled out her purse as she spoke, checking through it. "No, I don't think they would, but... ah, yes, I have enough cash. We should be good."

With that, they went in.

-5-

The diner couldn't possibly have passed any health inspection, but Grant thought that it was unlikely the establishment had seen one since it had opened, whenever that was. Maybe they killed the health inspectors who came. More likely, this 'business' wasn't registered with anything, and was just ran out of someone's house.

The entire place was brown. The scuffed floorboards were brown, the walls were painted brown with flakes revealing an even darker coat of brown paint beneath it, the counter was brown and even the chairs and tables were all brown. There were a few booths and several tables scattered across the eatery's floor, and the place was about half full.

Every single person there was a pig. There were families of pigs overflowing the booths, sows gathering at tables for their daily dose of gossip, hogs lounging around or even falling asleep in their food. The only human in the entire establishment was the cook, and he was greasy and fat enough that it could be forgiven if one thought him a pig, too.

No one took any notice of them when they walked in. Grant and Amelina looked around, and though they didn't see a 'seat yourself' sign out, they did so anyways, walking up to the counter and finding a spot near the corner.

That was their first mistake.

"The fuck you think you doin?" spat the cook, turning around to glower at them.

Grant paled, smiling weakly. "I-I, uh, we just wanted to-"

"You fuckin wait to be seated, ya flatlander," came the growled reply.

The establishment quieted, and though they didn't turn to look, Grant and Amelina knew that all eyes were on them.

Grant swallowed before pressing on. "I"m... I'm sorry, we didn't know. We should, uh, should we get up and-"

"What's yer fuckin order," the cook interrupted.

"So you don't-"

"You already fucked up, might as well slop ya. What's yer fuckin order?"

Grant swallowed, grimacing as he found his throat to be dry. Amelina took over.

"Well, what's good?" she asked.

The cook visibly relaxed, and the quiet din returned as the locals went back to their usual business. One mistake to start, but apparently she did something right to make up for it.

It was like navigating a minefield. This town, as Grant and Amelina quickly learned, was a quixotic place with odd customs that absolutely must be respected, but would never be communicated to outsiders like themselves. It was trial and error, learning what to do and what not to do based on the reaction of the cook.

Finally they got their food ordered, and when it arrived, Amelina struggled not to gag at the sight of it. She'd ordered gruel at the cook's suggestion, but as tannish, mushy slop was set down in front of her, she regretted that decision. The smell was strong and rotten, but the cook was standing right there, watching her. She needed to be polite. She needed to make a good impression.

She brought a spoonful of the stuff to her mouth. The cook stared. She knew the hogs behind her were staring. She put it in, and immediately began to gag.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she tried to apologize, but it was too late. The cook turned a deep red, slamming down his spatula.

"You fuckin reprobate, ya think y'all can just come in here, fuckin disrespect our customs, shit on our traditions, then have the fuckin nerve to gag on my food? Get out, get the fuck out!"

Grant and Amelina shot to their feet, stumbling back because it looked like the cook was about to jump over the counter and throttle them.

"Ugh we...we're sorry.!" Grant yelled out, backing up with Amelina in arm. "I'm, I'm sorry, we're new, we don't know the laws around here, we want to learn!"

"I don't give a shit if y'all moved here, y'all don't belong and never will. Get the fuck out!"

Grant wasn't going to question the cook. The town was as strange and bigoted as they said online, and that was fine. They would just leave and never step foot in the town limits again.

They almost managed it, too. Grant grabbed Amelina by the arm and pulled her towards the door, but she was still choking on the repugnant food. She wasn't able to look where she was going and tripped on a chair, falling back and directly into the arms of a hog sitting there.

Everyone froze. Grant stood there, stunned. The cook stood there, stunned. No one could believe what had happened. The humans didn't know what they had done, but the pigs, they knew what was coming next.

It was the hog's wife that started everything back up again. "Slut!" she screeched, jumping up and pointing at Amelina. "Adulteress! Cheater! Wanton whore! She tried to proposition my husband! He's a married pig and she tried to give him some hussy lapdance!" All at once the crowd started up, jeering and throwing insults at the couple. 'Cheater!' 'Slut!' 'Whore!'

Grant's heart sank, but he lifted Amelina up, backing away towards the door. Neither of them knew exactly what they'd done. "It was an accident!" he said. "We're sorry, we're just, we're gonna leave and that'll be it!"

Now the offended hog stood up, reaching forward with a speed much faster than his bulk would betray and snatching Amelina from her boyfriend's arms. "Like fuck y'all will! She touched a married hog, she's gotsa pay the price."

Grant rushed forward to try and release his girlfriend, only to be held back by the cook, who had moved behind him in the confusion. Amelina was too stunned to struggle.

"No! No, let her go! What are you doing with her? Unhand her!"

The crowd grew louder as Grant struggled. The cook grinned ear to ear and leaned down, whispering in his ear. "If an unmarried slut tries to take a married hog, the slut's gotta get married to an eligible bachelor in town. And since ya helped her break our law, you getta go to jail."

Grant's heart sank as he heard the cook's words, hanging there helplessly from his arms as his Amelina was taken away from him into the back room. He shook his head, too stunned to say a thing as he was dragged out of the building toward the town jail. The last glimpse he got of Amelina, was of her being pulled away with little effort despite her attempts at freeing herself.

-6-

The air was musty and damp. There was a single cell in the two-room jail, and Grant was the only one in it. He sat on a hard concrete bench, shaking back and forth as he tried to understand what was going on. They were going to force her to marry? Is that... even possible? Was this legal? It couldn't be legal, could it? What could he-

His train of thought was derailed as the door to the street opened, and a pig stepped in, closing it behind him with a solid thud. Grant immediately cringed, holding his bruised arm close to his body. "S-Stop, I, I'm not resisting! You don't, you don't need to-"

"Ah, shut yer yapper," the pig growled, and stepped into the light so Grant could get a better look at him. He was different from the others; he was shorter, thinner, and clean enough to simply be grungy, rather than revolting. His bald head was clean at least, judging by the clear sheen. The pig eyed Grant a long moment, then sighed. "Fuckin' hell. I ain't gonna hurtcha, kid, settle yourself."

Grant warily eyed the pig for a moment before relaxing, settling back onto the bench. The pig plopped down at the only desk in the room with a sigh, the chair creaking beneath him. "Name's Boris. I'm the sheriffs in this here town. You caused a disturbance, so I's gotta holds ya overnight. Sorry to inconveniences ya, but the law's the law, y'know?"

The human didn't reply. He just brought his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, staring down at the ground. The silence grew.

"I'm... sorry 'bout yer girl," Boris tried again. "I, uh... I can sympathize with ya. Y'all didn't know our customs."

The silence was shorter, and this time, it was Grant who broke it.

"What's going to happen to my Amelina?" he asked quietly.

Boris looked down, studying his toes for a while. Then, "I figger she'll be married off to uh, Hanson. Slobby bitch, even for us, but he's the only 'un available, y'know? Gotta make do."

Grant took the news with a certain measure of grace. His eyes stared down at the floor, and Boris figured he'd had nothing left to say, but really Grant was struggling to figure out a way out of this for both him and Amelina.

The solution for him was simple; he waited out the wedding, and once he got released, he could go straight to the authorities. That would ensure her rescue, eventually, but how long would it take for them to follow up? What damage could the dumb pigs do to her in the meantime?

Perhaps he was being too harsh on the pigs, though. Perhaps they really weren't so bad, if you were accepted as one of them. Perhaps-!

Of course! Grant knew a pig that didn't seem to be as bad as the rest of them, so maybe he could... well, he had to try.

"Boris?" Grant said, looking the pig firmly in the eye. The pig cocked his head and grunted. "Why are you like this?"

"Like wha-?"

"Like..." Grant gestured broadly at the pig. "This. Why are you being polite to me? Why do you sympathize? Why are you skinnier and better kept?"

Boris grunted and looked away, but Grant could have sworn he'd saw a bashful blush on the pig's cheeks. "Well I uh, I dunno, I figure, well, y'know... I gotta goes up to the city every two weeks, my job and all to do that, reports an', well, it exposes me to other folks, and that sortsa rubs off, y'know?"

"Yeah, I see..." Grant said, staring straight back at Boris. The pig couldn't meet his eyes. "Boris?" he said firmly. "You need to let me out." Boris started. "Let you... what? No! That's, that's 'gainst my job, regulations!"

"Boris, please! Find it in you, find it in the part of you that likes the city to be kind to someone in a tight spot! You know it's wrong what they're doing, you know that it's illegal, you know I shouldn't be here! Just, just help me out, please!"

Boris' beady eyes glimmered as he thought about it. Finally he grunted, pulling a key from his belt. "I ken a way to get 'round the rules."

-7-

"Come on now, don't cry!" cooed a sow, patting the back of a distraught Amelina. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smeared, and she wore a pair of shackles on her legs, but other than that, she looked the picture of a bride to be. Long, flowing dress that fit her perfectly, roses all around her, crooning bridesmaids getting everything ready and comforting her.

"I-I, I can't marry a pig!" Amelina cried out, slumping onto the vanity. "I, I can't! This isn't legal! It's not right, you can't make me-"

"Oh, deary, hush now, things will be alright, you'll see!" the sow continued, pulling the bride into her bosom. "You're too good for 'im, you'll see! He's a skinny, good for nothing weakling. Hanson's, well, he's a man's man. You'll make a good bride and then you'll fit right in, you'll see!"

Despite her repeated mantra of 'you'll see', Amelina was unconsolable, and it was all her impromptu bridesmaids could do to just keep her makeup presentable. Finally the time came for the ceremony; half a bride, fully a prisoner, Amelina was gently yet forcefully guided out the door and to the middle of the town square, where the ceremony was to take place.

The preacher was droning on, saying something up front, but Amelina didn't listen. She just looked at the feet of the crowd in attendance. It was a small one, mostly made of pigs, but there were a few unmistakably human feet mixed in there, too. They were all dressed like it was a happy, joyous occasion.

"The bride may now walk down the aisle." The preacher's words jolted her out of her miserable observations, and Amelina looked up for the first time to see her new husband. What stood before her sickened her.

Hansen stood at seven feet tall and nearly nine hundred pounds heavy, and his body was more like a collection of lumpy pillows with skin stretched over it than something that held a shape, held form. Despite everyone else, including Amelina, decked out in finery, Hansen wore a yellowed wife beater that was once white and stained, ratty overalls. One strap hung down because he couldn't be bothered to button it, and it was painfully obvious through the holes in the fabric that the pig wasn't wearing any underwear. It was hard to tell what his expression was through all that fat on his face, but she had the feeling it wasn't one of gentle love and compassion.

"I said," repeated the preacher, "for the bride to walk down the aisle."

Amelina felt her knees weaken, but she took a deep breath and put on a brave face. If this was going to happen, she wasn't going to embarrass herself further by crying in public. She would grimace, bear it, and when she got a chance, she would escape and call the police.

Just the knowledge that she had an escape plan put hope in her heart and a pep in her step, and Amelina strutted down the aisle with a walk that said anger, purpose, and anything but the placid acceptance that everyone was expecting.

"Finally," grunted the preacher. He opened his book and scanned a few pages. "Let's make this quick, shall we? Hansen, do you take this wanton slut to be your lawfully wedded bride, to own and control, until death do you part?"

"Suuure," Hansen drawled. He looked down, licking his chops.

"And, uh..." the preacher checked his nose. "Ah, Amelina. Well, your assent isn't necessary. By the power vested in me, I pronounce you Hog and Sow!"

A cheering went up in the crowd at the same time a wail came up from somewhere in the back. Everyone spun around to see what it was; Amelina was the first to fully comprehend who it was.

Grant was there at the end of the aisle, being wheeled around in a mobile cage. He was bound, gagged, and tied to the side of it so he could do nothing but watch as the love of his life was taken from him.

"Grant!" Amelina gasped and lifted her dress, struggling to move fast in her shackles. Hansen growled and grabbed her with one ham of an arm, lifting her back to him and forcing her into a deep, slobbering kiss. She cried out and tried to fight, but there was nothing she could do as his tongue probed her mouth, probed her throat, and slathered her in saliva.

The crowd began to hoot and holler as Hanson claimed his bride. Grant let out another wail, and the crowd began to mock him as well.

"Cuck!"

"Pussy!"

"Fuckin pink skin!"

There was nothing Grant could do as Hansen swept his girlfriend away, disappearing into a beat up pickup truck to consummate the marriage. The crowd dispersed shortly after that, the entertainment for today over, and all that's left is some chairs, the altar, and Grant, tied up in a cage with Boris standing nearby.

About twenty minutes pass before Boris moves, untying Grant with surprising speed. Grant falls to his knees as the cage opens up, looking dejectedly up at the pig. "W-Why are... what are you..."

Boris grunts. "Lettin you go. Only hafta hold ya til the weddin's done. You wanna save yer girl? Go fuckin' get her."

Grant never ran so quickly in his life.