FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I feel the beat in my core, my very essence. Everyone in the club is moving to it, writhing and pressing against each other, some leaping, others gyrating. It's the deepest I've been so far, but my endurance is faltering.

I make my way through the throng of bodies beneath the blacklights, colored smears glowing on every frame I pass. Finally, I reach a spot open enough to take a breath. Realistically, I know that I could keep going. Physical endurance isn't an issue here. But I'd used up my emotional energy, throwing myself into the experiences on my way down.

His tail appears from outside of my vision, the plates on its underside glowing violet under the blacklights and the spots on the top shining white. The spaded tip curls, setting a loop hooked around my chest under my arms. And he lifts me.

I'm out of the club, nighttime seeming to go in reverse as I continue up and up. Images of the layers going by blend together as the colors on his tail return to how they appear in the daylight. The sun un-sets and raises into the blue sky, then covered up by glass.

Finally, the curled limb lightly sets me down on a bed, slipping away. I feel his presence still, but know he is letting me be to rest.

I hug the pillow tightly and close my eyes, exhaling.

I can feel his entire hand cup over my essence reassuringly, and I sleep.

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My work for this publication has sent me into many different worlds. Many would consider the Predscapes themselves to be different worlds for this definition, but not really. As the distribution here is multidimensional, it only follows that I have had to cross the boundaries of worlds to find the best Predscapes to provide our readers.

You can imagine my surprise when my employer informed me that the next predator I would be visiting was coming to collect me at my office.

It was shortly after I had received this news that, on the wall opposite the doorway, a void opened up. It was much unlike the methods I have used for traversal, ultrablack with shimmering lights that reminded me of eyes or perhaps teeth. It was through this that he arrived.

His serpentine head was crowned with a half-crescent horn sprouting from amongst his black mane. On either side, large ears rose past the point of the spire. A trio of darker facial markings atop his muzzle shaped like downturned chevrons accompanied the light brown that covered much of his body I could see, with fainter darkenings of a rosette of spots on each cheek.

And that's just his head.

His long neck bore yellow reptilian plating that continued through the ventral pattern of his torso and onto the underside of his tail. Said extra limb was girthy and long, with its own brown mane down the first six feet or so. Between that and the scaled underside was dark blue hide spotted with white shapes reminiscent of giraffe markings. These continued onto the black hide of his exposed hips, his current garb designed to cover up while leaving most of his leg exposed. From just above the knee down, his brown fur resumed, fluffing out into fetlocks behind two cloven hooves.

Similarly, his armfur was separate from his shoulder fur by dark blue hide, and each forearm bore three of the markings that rested on his snout. The fingers at the end were black, appearing to be made of the same material as his hooves but articulating as if they were flesh.

He flicked his tongue in a rather serpentine manner before smiling toothily. "Well, hello there. I believe we had a meeting scheduled. I'm Oynezra, but you may call me Ozy."

By the time he had spoken I had recovered from the surprise of his arrival. I informed him with some amusement that most appointments used the door.

Ozy's smile was infectious as the void sealed up behind the spaded tip of his tail. "You should already know that I'm not most appointments." He set his pronounced hips down onto a seat across from my desk, casually looping his tail around the chairback in a broad curl all the way to my side of the office. "So, interview first, right?"

I noted the position of his tail's spade so I didn't accidentally roll my office chair onto it while moving and set to asking questions. First, I asked him what readers should know first about him, beyond his name.

"Well," He arced his long neck to one side, ears swivelling in thought. "I suppose, that I'm the proprietor the Laugh Track. It's a world of excess and pleasure, where all vices are safe to indulge in. The rules of the plane won't let you get hurt, you see."

I told him that that sounded a lot like what it was like being in predscapes, from my experience.

Ozy grinned and patted a hand across his exposed hip, finger trailing a particularly diamond-shaped white spot. "Oh, it's a different kind of excess there..."

I couldn't help but blush at his tone, and that only made him grin more.

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I get back out of bed, recovered from my last excursion. In the back of my mind, I feel a gentle sway, soft impacts at the end of each side to side motion. Although the room is stationary, I do not feel disoriented. It is easy to tune out while focusing on the room around me.

I get into some comfy clothes that have been provided from the closet and head out into the hall. There's many other doors outside, but it still had the feeling of a small inn rather than a sprawling resort structure. Each of the doors is labeled with a name rather than a room number, in the form of, with mine for an example: Patrick's Spot

I walk down the hall towards the central shaft of the inn. I see a length of spotted black scales extending floor to ceiling behind the desk there. As I approach, it descends until the scales give way to light brown. Then, the uniform coat of the Innkeeper comes into sight, followed by his arms, shoulders and head.

He has the same chevron markings on his snout and cheek spots as Ozy, although he is an entirely different species. "Hello, would you like a ride to ground level or are you headed lower?"

I tell him I'll start and ground level today.

Smoothly, the innkeeper reaches over the desk and has me cradled in his arms, held to his chest. And then we are descending. At the bottom of the central shaft is a deep padded pit, filling up with coils of naga body as he lowers his torso and my person down to that level.

Once we reach bottom, he gently sets me back on my feet on the floor outside of the shaft, on the other side of an identical desk.

I thank him for the ride and head out of the lobby and the hotel itself, the doorway in a pair of intersecting curves of the floorplan, similar to the top indent of a cartoon heart. As such, the view from the threshold is the walls curving away to reveal the rather stylized urban environment of the rest of the level.

To the right is a rather high-class bar with glass walls showing the immaculate interior. To the left, there is a massage salon. I see a few people out and about, walking along the curving street. It is clearly designed for pedestrians with the dark blue marble sidewalks the same level as the yellow tile road itself. Further. Amongst most of the buildings, only two others draw any sort of attraction. Continuing clockwise from the massage parlor is a waterfront office for lake access, the sparkling water beyond able to be seen on either side of the structure.

Following the road as it curves back on itself around a small topiary center island leads to the library. The path continuing back towards the hotel has a design differentiation, where the yellow tiling ends with a taper, with a large marble arrow pattern brought to butt up against the sidewalk before the curve.

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"Even within the revelry of my world," Ozy said, getting back on track after his little tease, "It can call for a little vacation, a way to get away from getting away from it all." The chimera leaned forward in his seat while crossing one calf over the other knee, resting his hands along the horizontal beam this created. "And of course, I accept vacationers from other worlds as well."

Feeling his eyes on me and averting my eyes from his toothy smile, I cleared my throat and changed the subject. I asked, as politely as I could, what sort of creature he is.

His expression told me that he saw through my diversion entirely, even as he answered. "Questing Beast."

Unfamiliar, I asked him exactly what that was.

"It's what happens when you ask an ancient celt to describe a giraffe for the first time." Ozy smirked to himself, before continuing. "The Questing Beast is representative of chaos in medieval legend. A chimera composed of the head of a snake, the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion and the feet of a hart." His tone became a bit more somber as he spoke, as if reciting it rote.

After scribbling down notes, I asked what exactly about all that makes it a 'questing' beast.

With a chuckle, he leaned back into his chair. "Oh, the Welsh had some strange ideas about me." He idly traced a hand down the front of his sleeveless top, past the livery to his waist. "They claimed my stomach's rumbling sounded like the baying of at least twenty dogs on the hunt." Ozy tapped his stomach through his shirt. "Questing dogs, as they were known at the time."

As I was noting down this new information, something struck me. He had said 'me' rather than 'us'. I asked if he really meant just him specifically.

Ozy grinned, as if proud of me for noticing. "Well, my mother was a kirin and my father one of those Greek style chimeras. There weren't many other Questing Beasts to describe, were there?"

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I return to the inn, entering between the architectural 'cheeks' as it were. Hard not to think about it that way when the dark blue cladding on the outside makes the white drapes in the windows remind one of the spots on our host's hips.

As I enter the lobby, the Innkeeper greets me with a wave. "Hello again, Patrick. Would you like to head back up to your spot?"

I shake my head with a chuckle and tell him I'm ready to head down a level.

Smiling as warmly as ever, the Innkeeper slips over the desk just like when he had scooped me up to carry me downstairs. Instead, however, he plants a soft kiss on my lips. Then, his jaws part revealing dark purple flesh.

I stand still and raise my head towards the gape, arms at my sides.

The serpent is upon me, his slick inner flesh rippling along my shoulders as his jaws are already stretching along my hips. His hands cup gently under my rear and he slips back over his desk to more easily raise me upside down.

Gravity helps me slide into him, my body tapered from the thighs down also a benefit to my consumption. I pass through his upper torso and feel myself starting to slide into the curves of his coils as my feet pass his lips. He strokes over my form. "You'll be down momentarily... just relax."

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Grin still in place, the large Beast leaned over my desk, idly placing one hand on his jawline. "Now, if there's no more questions in this interview..." He crooned, eyes half-lidded.

I took a moment to make sure I had hit each of the points I wanted to check on, saved my notes and closed my laptop. I told him that I had everything I needed, now.

"You know, your boss didn't indicate just how you'd like to get in." Ozy's other hand was still stroking the white markings on his hip, while up above his fingers drummed on his cheek.

I asked him how most of his 'vacationers' get where they're going, trying to keep up my professional face for a bit longer.

The Questing Beast sat upright again, ears and horn threatening to graze the ceiling... had he somehow gotten bigger since he sat down? "Oh, it's different for different people. I could even just snap my fingers and you'd already be resting under my tail, safe and sound."

Such an act of magic would be quite impressive, I thought, and told him as such.

"But I suppose with your contract terms I wouldn't get nearly as much time with you if I did that." Ozy let out a dramatic sigh.

I asked him if he'd rather take his time with me. I wasn't unfamiliar with long run-ups to my visits, after all.

His grin was back in full force. "Well, there's one, two, three, four..." He lowered his hand from his chin to gesture at different parts of his abdomen as he counted. "...chambers for you to enjoy."

I couldn't hold back my blush.

"So." Ozy seemed to be filling the room entirely by this point, or at least my perception of it... "How about you ruminate for a bit before you get to your assignment?"

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I find myself standing on the path outside the Inn's lobby again, but now the sun is grazing the horizon, filling the air with orange warmth. Up in the sky, a gradient leads all the way through to purple overhead, with black encroaching in the opposite direction.

I have gone a layer down.

Besides time of day, other things have changed. The bar to my right is now a less high-end establishment with a more industrial look. More of a nightclub, really.

My attention, however, is on the massage parlor. The façade has not changed, and I have not tried out the services there yet. It's a short walk from the inn down the dark stone path to its doors, and quickly I am inside.

There is a sign posted behind the counter, offering Shiatsu, Ashiatsu, and a third word I do not recognize. Each has a parenthetical description beneath. Shiatsu is, of course, a manual technique. Ashiatsu is the form of massage performed with the feet while standing on the subject. The third's parenthetical is simply listed as 'Tail Therapy'.

I ring the bell for service.

A tall iguana comes out from behind a nearby wall. From his facial markings I can tell he is another aspect. He is built rather a lot like the original, but without the chimeric elements and a bit more emphasis of the feminine form. His hips are clearly visible over the height of the counter as he comes to a halt, smiling down at me. His fleshy crest drapes like hair, adding to his overall femme appearance.

After I tell him the technique I desire, the third option, he turns to guide me to a massage table. As soon as he has turned around, I see how girthy his tail is at the base. It's clear that his hips help support all that mass as he sways his way along, and it's dragging on the ground for over an extra body length behind him.

Once on the table, I lightheartedly ask if the therapists for the other techniques on offer are built the same as him.

"They look like me because they are me." He answers playfully, holding up his hands. Before my eyes, they stretch and thicken up, becoming meaty claws that could easily cradle my entire head in one palm. And not a moment later, they slim back to normal, leaving his fingers slender and effeminate.

I laugh off a little bit of my embarrassment at presuming anything in this chaotic place. Before I return to the appropriate position, I do notice that the white fur on my shoulder is darkening and turning purple.

"Ah, looks like a new desire blossomed in your heart." The masseur comments. "But that can wait until after this therapy." As he speaks, he walks in front of the table.

From my position, I realize my head's height is just at the level as where the bottom of his tail's girthy base attaches to his body. As I watch, the large appendage flexes, starting at the joint at his hip and travelling in a wave along the length. Soon, I am looking at the supple looking underside and where it meets his bare cheeks, the triple cleft on full display.

Then, the tension relaxes, and I realize where the rest of his tail has gone. It's settling onto my body, weighing me down to the table more with every moment. He takes it slow, adding a bit of weight at a time until I'm quite comfortably compressed.

He rolls his hips to one side and the part of his tail closest his rear slides to the side of my head and squishes in onto one cheek. It's cradling like a firm, warm, pulsing neck pillow that only fits there. And the motion continues, the muscular tissue twisting and turning along my body, contouring to the shape of my frame. It only stops when I feel the tip of his tail against the sole of one of my feet and realize that every inch of that powerful limb is on the table with me or on me.

"Now. Let's begin." He smiles down at me over his shoulder as the muscles in his tail begin to undulate and contract against my form. It's like dozens of mitten-covered hands clenching onto my form, kneading in and squeezing. It's unlike any other massage I've had.

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Ozy swallowed me feet-first, allowing me to watch how my frame distended his throat in the mirror I kept in my office. By the point my head was resting on his tongue, the kneading of his swallowing muscles had relaxed me quite a bit. He was holding off for the moment, his hands roaming my curves where they were imprinted into his neck.

I could feel his hands clearly through the taut flesh. And as I lost sight of the mirror behind the back of his tongue, I felt him starting to rub over my chin under his own. He couldn't keep his hands off me the entire slide down, until I had crossed into his torso, that is.

The first chamber, it turned out, is a cozy, relatively dry affair. Warm but not overbearing. Like a damp sleeping bag in a hammock if I had to use such a comparison.

I shifted around, getting myself into a less awkward position than having simply crumpled in from sliding loosely down a throat. But I also tested the elasticity of the walls with my fingers, pressing my palms around.

"Now." Ozy's voice was clear to me, seeming to even lack the resonance of hearing a predator's voice through their own body. "One day per chamber aught to be a good rate of entry."

I was suddenly glad he couldn't see me, though I'm sure he got the desired reaction anyway. And could feel the heat glowing off my cheeks. After a few long moments, I bashfully asked him if I could have my phone inside with me if I'm going to have that much downtime.

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Feeling light and airy after the compression of my massage, I head to the coffee shop across the curl. On the surface, it is the library, but descending represents a desire for something a bit more interactive. Both are places to relax, yes, however there is more carnal indulgence to be had in pastries and brewed coffee than all but the most lascivious of tomes.

I get my order and take a seat by the window. There is a lovely view of the sunset over the lake from my position. As I enjoy my croissant, I ponder how long I should wait before heading deeper. My previous attempts all seemed to peter out early, both when trying to rush down and taking my time.

The sun will never fully set on this layer. Time is amorphous and the night will only progress once I do.

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I awoke on the third day of my journey to the sensation of being drawn back up Ozy's long throat. All the day before I had been left to soak in a warm, soothing pool of stomach juices, brazing the day away. And being brought up... well, ruminants do need to 'chew' a bit.

In Ozy's case, he chewed the scenery. Dramatically, located at a mirror in a room I did not recognize, he parted his jaws. He allowed my eyes to adjust before his hands began to grope and squeeze over my curves.

Even as I blushed and fidgeted from the feeling, he smiled around my vision. "No, no, still quite solid... but the first two chambers are usually the endo rooms, anyway..." He spoke without a hint of my presence blocking his ability to enunciate. "You will have less time and mental energy to use your phone today, pup." As Ozy spoke, the muscles in his throat undulated only on one side, and I felt my arm bending.

With the help of his tongue, he brought my hand up beside my face, still clutching my phone. Before I could react, the purple length curled its forked tip around the case and slipped it free of my grip, passing it to one of his hands.

Thoughtlessly, I reached my now free arm out in an attempt to get it back, only to get the base of his tongue pressed into my snout. His throat muscles were contracting again, pushing down on my hips, making me sink out of sight of the mirror.

I could feel his lips lightly purse around my wrist as he raised his head, then distantly I heard the audio my phone makes when I take a picture. Whining bashfully, I sank the rest of the way down without any resistance.

After slurping up my fingers, Ozy's body redirected me to a new stomach chamber. At first, I mistook it for the first, as it was quite dry compared to his second. However, the walls soon proved to be quite different. While the first's were pillowy and stretched easily at my pressure, these were firm.

And very quickly compressed in on my body. Rolling muscles began to knead into my pelt, pressing just on the edge of how far would go to be discomforting. I quietly marveled at the shapes that I could contort into in this way, letting the third chamber do as it wished with my body. It all felt too good to object if my foot was suddenly tucked behind my head or some other feat of flexibility.

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I decide to roll the dice. With my clothing removed at the lake center, I stride out to the pier out back. The water is dark and glossy with the light of the sunset.

I dive in. Soon, I am swimming. Deep bodies of water are often scary for me, out in the material world. But when I'm in a predscape, I know nothing can truly harm me. And in such an environment, scary things can be thrilling.

In the center of the lake, I take a moment to tread water, feeling the vastness of the water around me, looking down at the deep blue depths. On my chest, another purple marking fades into being. Then, something presses my legs apart.

The very large something continues to rise, resulting in me straddling it as I'm pushed up out of the water entirely.

Very soon, I realize that I'm on the snout of a sea serpent. Directly in front of my hips are a triad of chevron markings, all enough to tell me just what was going on. I greeted the monster with a smile.

The lake beast tossed his head, sending me flipping up into the air with a surprised yipe.

My rotation stalls in midair with my head pointed down, enough to see that the monster had gaped his jaws in anticipation of gravity returning me to him. My heart leaps at the sight, and not a moment later I have taken the plunge.

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I definitely felt like kneaded taffy by the end of my third day. I could hardly move a muscle on my own, but the warm euphoria rushing through my flesh brought out a moan almost every time I exhaled. The only part of me that hurt was my cheeks, as I couldn't keep the dumb smile I had off my face for long.

Once again, I felt my face pressing into the tight tunnel that I had come from. In sequence, the rest of my body realigned to travel the linear path as I was partially disgorged.

Ozy opened his jaws again, hands already appraising my frame. The squeezes of his fingers through his own neck elicited a weak squirm and a prolonged moan from my throat, dopey grin still plastered across my muzzle.

"Yep, that's quite a bit of give you have now." The Beast chuckled warmly, stroking along my hips where they showed in his neck. "Just about ready to melt."

All I could do to reply was nuzzle into the base of his tongue where it rested beneath my cheek.

"Glad you agree." Ozy lightly poked my nose, causing my muzzle to scrunch in on itself in a way I normally thought only cartoons could achieve. "Time for chamber four." He clicked his jaws shut and swallowed once again.

The fourth chamber was wet already when I arrived, small and tight to curl up into. His heartbeat was strongest in this last part of his stomach, and the heat was most intense.

I felt as though I was sweating heavily as the muscles closed in on me, even more than just all the saliva and juices I had been soaked with. The pool grew deeper, sloshing up more of my body with each intense knead. It took me quite a while to realize I wasn't sweating. I was melting.

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I come to in the lake center, by my folded clothing I left behind the layer above. As I put them on, however, I find that the cut of the fabric has changed. What were fairly casual clothes had all grown skimpier, revealing more of my body and, perhaps more importantly, the colorful markings taking up more and more of my fur.

With warmth in my cheeks and a smile on my muzzle I leave the building and look up at the sky. Deep blue and full of stars, with only a hint of light on the horizon to show that sunset was recent. I walk along the curve of the path back towards what had been a coffee shop. Now it is a restaurant, lit well from within and casting beams of light onto the stones.

Inside, a mouse with familiar spots and chevrons greets me from behind the host's podium. There is no wait, a table is ready, and I follow him. On the way to my table I see several other patrons are around, some indulging in large spreads of glutton's dream portions, others tackling towering desserts.

One customer in particular catches my attention as the host and I round a corner of booths. A grey wolf has the entire rear end of a skunk girl sinking slowly into his jaws. The mephit's yards of plush tail remain outside for the moment, as somehow the lupine has managed to get her entire torso and legs from the thigh down into his gullet ahead of her hips.

I do my best not to stare as we walk, but his lascivious growling draws my attention back. His hands are on his cheeks, pushing on her widest point through his flesh to get it into his strained gullet. From the new vantage point I see that he's unbuttoned his black dress shirt, but there's a stretched collar around his throat that seems to be causing some issues.

The wolf digs one index finger into his collar, tugging it out further to reveal the golden medallion dangling from it with a jingle. His next swallow succeeds, the massive curves that had been blocking his progress descending with a smooth bassy sound. His lips are finally able to close around the fluffy tail, and he starts slurping it down to join the mephit as I get too far away to keep watching.

The mouse host sits me down at a booth and lays out a menu.

Upon looking inside, I find that the 'Specials' insert is a roster of names with photographs. A feminine bull is on offer, as well as a full-on fox taur. At the bottom of the list is a skunk's portrait, but it is desaturated, with a sticker plastered over the details declaring 'Reserved'.

Blushing deeply, I turn over the insert and look at the pasta selection.

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At that point, my white spotty coat probably made my body look like jarred alfredo. I could no longer determine individual limbs or appendages, just experiencing myself as a mass that conformed to the constantly grinding, compressing walls of the fourth chamber.

I was sure that I no longer counted as a solid by this point. I felt a fleshy valve below part with a not insignificant amount of suction, drawing me down into the waiting intestines. The intense sensation of passing through that narrow fleshy bottleneck sent a wave of euphoria through my amorphous shape.

When I was fully out of the stomachs, I burbled out a sigh of contentment, my form now drawn out along winding paths of fleshy tunnel, the walls drawing at me, making my awareness of self fade...

Then, all at once, I wasn't inside the intestines any longer. I was warm, and I could detect a curve... no, two curves. Something else round and soft compressed against me from above, and a little bit of my awareness blossomed on that side as well... it was enough for me to recognize just what was happening. I couldn't hold in the flustered groan that welled up in my soul.

Ozy's hand stroked my entire left side. "Welcome to your vacation spot."

I asked him if this was his predscape yet, still quite out of it from my experience getting to his hips.

Thankfully, he heard me, because he replied with a giggle. "Oh, that's the next layer down." He shook his hips from side to side, jostling me and sending me sliding and clapping against myself with a wave of bliss.

Then he started to walk, the steady sway and bounce of his hooves meeting whatever floor he stood upon continuing the euphoric treatment of my soul on his backside. "Oh, a few days back there shouldn't hurt. Your contract countdown timer doesn't start until you're in the Laugh Tract proper, after all." He sing-songed playfully.

When I whined in beflusterment he paused, stroking his hip ahead of where my self was centralized. "And don't worry about getting in trouble. I ate your boss before the interview."

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After stuffing my face and my belly with more marinara and noodles than I had since the Fairgrounds, I make my way over to the club nearer the Inn. On this layer it's a fully industrial dance club, with a bouncer standing out front.

The doberman's cheeks show the tell-tale spots above his suit collar, but I can't see the top of his snout from below. He checks over my body, seeming to take note of all of the colorful splotches across my coat. With a smile, he thumbs over his shoulder at the entrance.

With a nod and thanks I press the doors open and walk inside. All the streetlights and other lamps are gone as soon as the entrance shuts behind me. There are only blacklights. The steady bass thrumming I heard from outside is now pounding drum and bass music. Everyone is moving with the pulse. Several of the dancers are smeared with colorful glowing florescence in amongst the crowd. Everyone else I can see has the same facial markings.

A quick glance at myself shows me that my own smears of color have began to glow under the blacklight and I can't help smiling as I press myself into the throng of bodies and begin to bounce and undulate. Even if most of it is aspects, the communal experience of kinetic motion to music takes hold.

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"Your time starts..." Ozy's voice was all around me. "Now."

I found myself having a body once again, laying on a bed. But at the same time, the feeling I'd been living with for what surely had been days of being on the Beast's backside remained. As I started to move, however, that sensation faded somewhat. I sat up and spotted my phone on the side-table.

When I picked it up, a notification for a video mail popped up on the screen. Unlocking it and pressing the popup opened the file.

Ozy smiled from within the screen. "You are now officially in the Laugh Tract."

I pondered this for a moment, he had mentioned that before... at some point.

After a pause the questing beast continued. "It's a deliberate pun, keep up, pup." He winked.

I got a bit flustered, then remembered it was just a recording.

"Recorded messages are so predictable." Ozy casually tilted his head. "I do it differently. Anyway." He leaned in closer to the camera. "In the Laugh Tract, there are people you will encounter with my facial markings, in similar colors or perhaps inverted. These are aspects of me and will help you with anything you need."

The Questing Beast turned his head towards the door out of the bedroom, seeming to have predicted what position I would watch the recording in. "There's one just down the hall. Now, this is important. The Laugh Tract is layered. Things change based on how far up or down you are. And any aspect can take you deeper by eating you."

I asked how many layers there are, before catching myself talking to a recording.

Ozy winked. "No one's found the bottom yet."

My cheeks flushed. It was a recording, right?

The beast's whole head pressed through the screen and gave me a firm kiss. Pulling away, he placed a finger on my lips to keep me quiet. "Just go have fun." Ozy slipped back into the screen and the 'message' ended.

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As I dance, the number of glowing smears on my body multiplies. I feel the strong arms of another dancer scoop up under my hips and suddenly my head is inside a pair of jaws. I am swallowed almost too fast to register it.

And I am dancing again, the blacklights seeming more intense and the space a little less coherent. I catch a glimpse of the marking on my shoulder. Instead of just color, there's now text. "Grab me." I step back out of the throng to check my body over.

"Eat Me." "Take Me" "Pin Me" "Love Me" and so many many others. My desires are fully on display.

As I look back to the throng of dancers, I only see one who isn't an aspect. A voluptuous vixen-taur is pressing herself against as many as she can, bumping and grinding with her desires equally as easy to read printed all over her orange and white fur.

In my distraction, I am pressed between two other aspects, who start guiding me back towards the dance floor.

"Now, here's a tasty morsel." One says to the other.

The other grinds against my back with a growl. "Think we can take care of this laundry list of needs?"

"Of course." The first rumbles playfully.

It isn't long before I see the inside of one of their mouths and I'm sliding another layer deeper.

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When the first smear of color appeared on my fur, I returned to the inn to ask the only Aspect I knew precisely where to find.

"In here, your desires are marked on you for everyone to see." The Innkeeper explained helpfully. "The deeper you get, the clearer they are." The snake smiled warmly.

I thanked him for the information and asked him about descending layers.

"Well, first." The Innkeeper slid over the desk towards me. "What is your preference? Would you like to have to ask an aspect each time you wish to descend? Or would you like a chance to be taken deeper any time you're not in your spot?"

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

I dance.

I pass between slathering jaws.

I dance.

I am crushed beneath the seat of a wide hipped dancer.

I dance.

The dancefloor is covered in slick oil, splashing with every stomp.

I dance.

One of the blacklights parts into glowing teeth and a tongue ensnares me.

I dance.

And dance.

And dance.

And by chance, I spot a light unlike any florescence in the club, through a window.

Once I make my choice, it is easy to slip through the crowd and reach the glass.

I make my way to the doors. I need to see outside.

The environment is different this deep. Everything has strange, chaotic angles to it. The buildings are recognizable, but twisted. It all has a sort of spooky effect. Not frightening... it's too playful for that.

Then I see the light that drew me out of the club. Light over the horizon beyond the structure of the Inn. Dawn approaching.

There is a loop of tail scooped under my arms and across my chest.

Ozy's hands rest on my shoulders. "If you were wondering, this isn't the bottom. Nor is sunrise."

I ask him how many more layers there are. I've lost count of how many I've dropped on this dive.

"That will have to wait for another time." The Questing Beast says affectionately.

When I turn to ask why, there is a timer floating in the air, ticking down days, hours, minutes and seconds...

0.00.04.54

And dropping.

"The week's finally up." Ozy says warmly, noticing my crestfallen expression. "Don't pout, you can try again next time."

That brings a smile back to my face. I'd like to try again soon.