FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Oh no, we both know More trouble's gonna find us If we're all alone -Kimbra's "Come into My Head"

"I can't believe he how much toxic waste there was!" FBI agent Sally Ashburn said as she entered the bar.

"Yeah, but it blew up real nice," said Detective Sharon Mulhoney, tossing the emptied RPG tube into the corner. "Hey, Roy."

"Mulhoney! The usual?"

"Two usuals," Mullins clarified.

"Where's the bathroom?" Sally shook some droplets of green stuff off of her hand.

Roy pointed.

"I still think we should've waited for the ambulance," the agent continued.

Sharon looked at the taller woman with a raised eyebrow. "We can go back after we have our drinks. It's just some industrial crap! We'll be fine! Go take your whizz. I'll keep your whisky warm for you."

"Whisky? We're still on duty! I thought it was water!"

Sharon started at her cohort. Then she spun in a slow circle, taking in the sports posters, celebrity pictures, and beer neons until she got back to Sally, at which point she gave Sally a "really?" look.

"Okay," the agent said, "fine, it was silly, I admit. I'm feeling dizzy, I hope that goo hasn't got to me."

"What's the worst that could happen? Cancer?" Sharon took a swig of her glass. "Great-aunt Jenny's had skin cancer for ten years, and she's not dead yet. Unfortunately."

"She still make those apple pies?" Roy asked.

Whatever Mulhoney responded was lost by the bathroom door closing.

The bar didn't exactly have a fancy women's bathroom. The biggest concession to the fairer sex was a full-length mirror in one wall. Sally looked terrible. Aside from the gunk, she looked pale, her eyes bloodshot. Her suit was probably a loss. Most dry-cleaners probably didn't cover toxic waste. There felt like there was something wrong with her teeth. The bathroom smelled worse than usual. Her little black nose twitched.

Wait, what?

Her nose had gone black, and was changing into something that would be more suitable on a dog than a human. Even as her mouth dropped open, she noticed her sharp teeth, the longer tongue, and - was that fur? She reached toward her face and stopped.

Her hands were changing too.

Her nails were black, reshaping into points, and her palms calloused into pads in a way that probably no amount of pumice stoning or spa treatments would ever be able to get off.

Her legs weakened, nearly sending her into a toilet bowl. As she scrabbled for purchase on the tile, her shoes burst, revealing splayed claws, fur sweeping rapidly toward her stomach -

Aside from all the hard work of her last waxing being undone, something else occurred to her, and she struggled to pull her skirt down, or open, or something, and ripped it in the process. Of course, if her widening hips had been any indicator, it probably would've popped soon anyway.

Of course, there was a funny-shaped dick pointing out of her crotch now, so that kind of overruled any worries about replacing her wardrobe.

"How..." she whispered. "Why...?"

A sudden thought seized her, and she reached down to confirm that, yes, It was still there. Some distant part of her went _darn, I could've saved a on tampons_and she broke out into hysterical giggling, which came to an abrupt halt when she accidentally brushed her new endowment and shivered at the sensations it sent through her, breath hissing through her muzzle.

There was a snap under her shirt as her bra failed - "No no no no!" - followed closely by the buttons of her blouse vacating the premises. Her improved assets were already covered in brown fur, which was spreading down to meet the advancing fur coming up from her addition at the DMZ of her belly button. A tail shot out of her backside, hurrying like it was embarrassed about being late to the party.

And then it was over

Sally stood, stared at herself.

"What am I?" she whispered, touching the mirror.

A sleek-looking mostly-black dog-woman, apparently, which narrowed it down to roughly five million types of dogs.

Actually, even that defended on your definition of "woman". How much of her needed to be female? No - how much needed to be considered human, and female? How much did including dog skew the ratios? Was there some sort of -

Sally's increasingly hysterical musings were cut short by Sharon entering the little girl's room with her usual grace and lack of tact.

"What're you doing in here, giving bir-" She paused. "...Huh."

"I can explain," said Sally, before realizing that she could not, in fact, explain. "No, wait, I can't."

"The toxic waste turned you into a police dog shemale."

"Well, yeah, that seems about ri - wait, a rottweiler?"

"Yep. Happens all the time."

"Really?"

The shorter woman grinned. "Nah, I just wanted to say that. Weird that it only changed you, though."

"We can ask the CDC or whoever after we call for backup. Let's go."

"Whoa, hang on a second! I need to check you over first."

"Shouldn't you wear gloves?"

"I'm just having a look." She walked around the taller woman.

Sally yelped as Sharon grabbed her bottom.

"Whoa. Was it this nice before?"

"I don't - I don't know!" She was probably blushing under her fur. "Cut that out!"

"Whatever you say, cupcake."

And then she grabbed Sally's dick.

Sally, naturally, went rigid.

"What are you doing?"

"Like I said, playing doctor. Big boy, ain't he?"

"You didn't say that! You said you'd check me over!"

"Exactly. Now hold still." She knelt, examined the tool at close range. "I'm not sure how you're not blacking out."

"W-what?"

"Lack of blood to the brain." Sharon gave her a skeptical look. "Don't tell me you didn't notice your little soldier standing to attention."

Actually, she hadn't. Until the cop pointed it out.

"I think...I think you should -"

"Should what?"

"Aaah! You should s -"

"Stare at it? Stroke it? Smear my saliva on it?" Sally could hear the mischief in the other woman's voice.

"Or maybe you want me to just breathe on it. Just...like...s -"

A few seconds later, Sally was pretty sure her flaming red cheeks were bright enough to land a plane, even through the fur. Sharon's, assuming she was embarrassed at all, wouldn't exactly be visible.

"The sad thing is," the Boston cop said thoughtfully, "that was still longer-lasting than my last boyfriend." She licked her lips. "Tastes better too."

Sally stared at her.

"Why aren't you freaking out?"

"You should see what I get up to on Fleet Week." Sharon rose. "Okay, now I've had my fun, now we call for backu - whoa."

"Dizziness?"

A nod.

"Pressure in the lower abdomen?"

Another nod.

Sally smiled wickedly, and with a certain amount of schadenfreude. "Congratulations, you're going to be a doggie."

"So you're contagious?"

"Told you you shoulda worn gloves." Actually, the whole "contagious" thing didn't seem so important right now. In fact, she had a funny sort of warm feeling, watching Sharon change. Her claws clicked on the tiles as she walked around the woman, watching her thighs thicken, the fur come in, the claws - and the smell - "Maybe it just took longer for the toxic waste to hit you, I don't know."

"Fine! You were right and I was wrong! Now stop this!"

"I don't know how. I don't even know why I'm like this."

The cop's arms and legs, which hadn't exactly been athletic, were now visibly thickening with muscle. Sharon raised an arm and looked at herself, at the cords under the cream fur with brown splotches.

The short, blunt muzzle and stocky build seemed to suit her, oddly enough. She ran a tongue around her sharpening teeth, her canines. Sally saw the exact moment that the nose shifted, the moment the cop's eyes changed to gold. There was some unsteadiness as the legs changed, and then Sharon stood there, panting.

"Okay! That was fun!" Unlike Sally, her loose clothes hadn't been strained off her body. "Where's my tail? And my other tail?"

"No, don't -"

"Screw that. I wanna see it," Sharon declared, and removed the rest of her clothes. "Oooh!" she said, and promptly started examining herself.

"Need some help?" Sally said dryly.

"Well, tit-for-tat -"

"I never asked you to do that."

"You never asked me to stop, either" The familiar grin seemed odd, on that canine face, but she stopped to take a look in the room's mirror. After a second, Sally joined her, spun around slowly.

It was nicer. Huh.

"You're a rottie, and I'm a...pitbull?" Sharon shrugged. "Could be worse. I could be a chihuahua."

"Or a poodle. How do you know all this stuff, anyway?"

"Spent a summer working at a vet."

"Oh. Good, good."

There was a brief moment of silence before Sharon went "Mine's bigger."

"I've got better boobs."

"That's your opinion. What's not an opinion is that mine's bigger."

Before the conversation could proceed along the lines of the comparative merits of the size of the boat vs. the motion of the ocean, there came a banging at the door.

"Hey!" said Roy. "I hope you're not up to something in my bathroom! Do it at home, where it's cleaner! Are you having sex in there?"

The two dog-women looked at each other.

Then they opened the door, chorused "not yet", and dragged Roy in.

ENDF

By Eulalie "Nequ" Quentin 2013 CC By-SA-NC Based very loosely on the 20th Century Fox film "The Heat" The Meat