FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ratchet turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine. Finally, after almost three months of hearing about this place, he'd finally be able to give it a visit!

He accidentally slammed the car door a little harder than intended, wincing as the vehicle rocked slightly from the rebound. His car was a piece of shit, no point in lying. The absolute embodiment of it too; the sun scorched brown paint and boxy frame clearly denoting its age. But despite all of that, it still ran, and it still got him to where he needed to go, so who cared?

Double-checking the door was locked (the car was too old to have a keyfob), he readjusted his bag over his shoulder, taking in the ornate wooden sign over the canopy.

“The Other Side".

He'd heard some things about this place. Hopefully, it would live up to the reputation it was getting.

A small bell over the door tinkled as it opened, announcing Ratchet's arrival to the rest of the shop. Nobody looked up, though, as the several other patrons were busy browsing the array of merchandise on display. Only one person behind the counter, but he was helping another customer.

First impressions were… surprisingly positive. Ratchet's opinion about occult shops had never been the most… warm, as he'd just viewed it as mystical mambo-jumbo sold by crackpots in dingy little holes somebody forgot to pay rent for. But this… this shop looked professional. And so did the guy running it.

Clean, orderly and well-organized, with each section clearly labeled and easy to read. Merchandise put on display in an artfully messy way, the jewellery and various crystals in the display cases scattered with no pattern, but very pleasing to the eye.

In tune with the time of year, it seemed the shop wasn't immune to the festive atmosphere of Halloween. Seeing as it was a few days away, almost every available surface had purple, orange and black decorations, with costumes and Halloween props prominently on display at the front of the store. Curious, Ratchet flipped through the costumes, feeling the material of them. All very well crafted, he wondered who made them.

But the thing that caught his eye were the masks.

On their own separate rack above the costumes hung an entire array of masks. Traditional kitsune masks. Timeless plague doctor masks. Gas masks, rubber masks… all of them in pristine condition, and as he felt one of the rubber ones, they felt just as high quality as they looked.

“Hey! Welcome in, how can I help you?"

Ratchet jumped, startled at the voice over his shoulder. Quickly turning, he saw the guy behind the counter had snuck up on him as he'd been distracted.

“Uh- nothing much, just taking a look around."

He expected the guy to leave, to go and help some other customer. He didn't expect him to giggle, a surprisingly giddy sound.

“You're a little lost, huh? Don't really believe in this stuff? Little odd to find you in a place like this, I'll admit."

The hair on Ratchet's neck stood up.

“How-"

“Oh, you forget I run an occult shop. I'm in the business of knowing these things!"

Well. Ratchet couldn't argue with that.

Turning back to the masks momentarily, he picked one off the rack. A makeshift skull of some kind, clearly not human. Mimicking a cat skull, maybe? Or canine?

“Well- uh, it's almost Halloween, and I'm still looking for a costume! I'd heard about this place, and figured I might as well give it a look, yeah."

Almost true. He didn't have a costume, and he had indeed heard about this place from his friend Nathan. But that wasn't why he was here, and as the shop owner tipped his head, he knew that he knew that too.

“Oh, really? Well, I assure you, the costumes bought from this store will certainly be enough to shine this All Hallow's Eve, that much is guaranteed!"

Ratchet was starting to get a little creeped out by this guy. Cryptic and strange, not to mention he knew way too much about Ratchet than he liked. But he was here out of curiosity, and if nothing else he could use it as an excuse to get a costume.

Flipping through the costumes themselves, he balked at the prices. They were how much!?

“Almost $200 for a costume? That's insane!"

The shopowner smiled again, still putting on the creepy act. “Well, they're specially made pretty far from here, so the materials plus shipping and whatnot- it adds up. If it makes it any better, those are the more expensive ones, meaning they come with a few extra… features."

Oh-kay. Yeesh, this guy was a nutjob.

Ratchet decided to stick with just the mask. It looked cool as hell, and for only $35 it seemed like a steal for that quality. At least, a definite steal compared to the costumes…

Behind the counter, the shopowner made one last attempt at conversation.

“So, you been seeing a lot more of those changed people around? Y'know, with magic coming back and all?"

Oh. Yeah, actually, he had. He'd just been thinking about a couple he'd seen on his way in, a bright blue fox and a grey wolf, walking hand in hand (or would it be paw in paw…?) down the sidewalk, not a care in the world. A definite uptick in the amount of anthros he'd been seeing, ever since those two dragons had come on the news several months ago.

But he didn't mention any of that. What, he was just expected to play into the weirdos and freaks strutting their animal sides in front of everyone? They'd been weird enough when it was just those suits, and now they were animals- eugh.

Ratchet quickly made his way back to his car after paying. He didn't pay attention as he peeled out of the parking lot, periodically checking his rearview mirror as the shopowner followed another customer out the door and onto the pavement.

What he didn't see was the shopowner grinning, staring down the brown car as it swerved into the main road, almost hitting old Nancy Jarma on the way out.

``

Ratchet wasted no time in flying out of his vehicle after throwing it in park, quickly locking the doors and bolting up the steps of his apartment, trying to dodge the rain as it poured down. He waited to breathe a sigh of relief until the front door was locked behind him.

God, that guy had been such a creep. And how the hell had he known so much about Ratchet, anyways? Crazy shit.

But one thing he was sure about: he'd gotten something that could pass as a costume.

Taking the mask out of the bag (and throwing the plastic bag aside), he took another look at the mask. The top half of an animal skull, complete with a small muzzle where the mouth and nose would go. It felt like professional materials, not plastic, and he even tried to bend one of the teeth, to no avail. That thing was sturdy.

And to think! Only for $35!

The shop's card fluttered out of the back of the mask as he flipped it over, and ratchet managed to catch it. Black metallic paint, with the words “The Other Side" emblazoned on one side in gold calligraphy. Nothing on the back. Ratchet shrugged, before tossing it down with the bag.

That shopowner was fuckin' creepy, but he could damn sure pull a deal out of his ass.

A sudden flash from outside startled him, and the power flickered. A few moments later, the thunder roared, and the power fully cut out.

Damn. He'd just gotten home, too.

He was about to sit down and enjoy some time with his Playstation, but the power outage knocked that option out. No computer or TV either. What was there to do until the power came back on…?

A quick check showed his phone was at 2%.

Goddammit.

Well. Guess this was a good enough time as any to see what costume he could throw together.

He should have figured that the mask would fit perfectly.

The only light source was the moonlight trickling in through the curtains, which provided just enough ambient light for Ratchet to admire himself wearing the mask in the floor-length mirror propped against his dresser.

It went very nice with his hair, actually. Who knew mullets and skull masks worked?

As Ratchet went to take the mask off, now fully satisfied with his purchase, another lightning strike from outside momentarily lit up the room, closely followed by booming thunder. He grumbled, not finding the edge of the velcro.

“Damn thing! Where's the- fuckin- Oh come on! I know it's back here!"

He kept fumbling with the back of the mask for a while, trying (and failing) to locate the edge, before sighing.

If he couldn't go from the back, he'd go from another angle instead.

Except, when he tried to take off the mask from the front instead, it wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he tugged and pulled, the mask wouldn't move. Getting worried, Ratchet tried to grab the strap to pull it off-

The strap was gone. The edge of the mask had simply… fused with his skin.

And as another flash of lightning illuminated the room, he came to a horrifying realization.

This mask was about to do something to him.

And just as he realized that, a series of cracks from his spine sent him tumbling to the ground, groaning in pain as his spine slowly, painstakingly, lengthened, feeling new vertebrae start to twist and conjure into being. He pawed at his own chest, barely able to see through the eyeholes of the mask as his shirt no longer covered his entire torso; a small (but rapidly growing) sliver of stomach was showing.

Ratchet whimpered, an increasingly animalistic sound, but the only one he was capable of making. The mask wouldn't let his mouth open, even as he stared in horror as his fingernails erupted, claws poking their way out from where they'd been and leaving small rivulets of blood in their wake.

He didn't know what he was about to become. He didn't think he wanted to know. Nothing with a bare skull should still be alive…

It took Ratchet a moment to realize his clothes were creaking. The increased strain from his lengthening spine and broader shoulders were splitting it at the seams, and as he tried to stand back up, holding onto the dresser for support, his pants followed suit, much larger thigh and calf muscles putting too much pressure on the fabric.

Spasms. Another flash of lightning. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he collapsed to the floor; a half-formed, mutant creature, with an overly shiny skull for a head and a rapidly deforming torso under that. Feeling the pain a split second before he saw it, he screwed his eyes shut as his back simply bulged, muscle and bone realigning and splitting his shirt down the back, rendering it useless now. He howled through the mask, trying to reach out to the mirror but only succeeding in scratching the glass with his newfound claws, leaving trails of blood on its surface as his fingers cracked and lengthened, becoming bony, inhuman digits.

His face.

What was happening to his face!?

Despite everything, Ratchet forced his eyes back open as the pain flared in his head. He could feel his ears deforming, feel the fire in every vein and artery in his body. But nothing could have prepared him to see his own face melting off the bones, liquified flesh dripping down onto the carpet below. The bones underneath cracked and warped, molding themselves to the shape of the mask now fused straight to his own skeletal structure. He couldn't see his eyes; where had his eyes gone!?

Every second of his transformation was horrifying; mentally jarring in every way possible. Every second was pure pain, as his legs gave way and cracked under the weight of their changes, quickly losing their plantigrade stance. Feeling became muted, as he watched in horror as thick black fur started to sprout over his shoulders and back, hiding the slick sweat over his own skin under a new coat.

He had to find someone. Some_thing_. He tried to drag himself forward, claws digging into the carpet as his fingers finally finished their growth. His spine was on fire, still adding new length to his frame, even as it extended down into his tailbone, a ropy, whiplike thing.

A tail. He had a tail. A tail.

If he had eyes, Ratched would have cried. If he could have spoken, he would have been begging for mercy, for something to make it stop, to end it already.

If he could have moved, he would have considered death as a release.

His feet cracked and pushed together, forming the paws of some large, unidentified canine. Wicked claws slid out from the toenails, leaving even more blood trails in their wake as that fur raced down to cover his legs, his ankles, his toes. He tried to crawl away, feeling the last of his face melt away into the carpet, his nasal cavity and jawbone cracking out, deforming into an animal's skull.

No. It was too much. That face wasn't his.

Summoning every ounce of strength he could muster, Ratchet managed to wobble onto his new digitigrade legs, even as his shoulders, his thighs and pelvis and spine continued to crack, to deform and twist into something inhuman, something unfamiliar. One punch was all it took, and the mirror shattered into a thousand pieces; several shards landed in the eyeholes of Ratchet's exposed skull, but with no eyes to hurt, they simply lay there, taking up space.

Everything was drawing to a close. The last few areas of his body were being covered by fur, the bottom of his paws swelled outwards into pads, muting the carpet feeling under his own feet. He could still see, somehow, even without eyeballs, and he felt one of his ears twitch as thunder roared.

He collapsed again, this time from pure exhaustion. The last couple of cracks emanating from his tail… and then nothing.

It was all over. He lay there, panting, even though he had no nose and mouth to speak of. Ratchet could feel the carpet against his bare skull, despite the lack of nerves. He closed his (metaphorical) eyes for a moment, twitching his head to flick the shards of glass out of his eyesocket.

He didn't know how long he laid there. He didn't care to know. The only thing that jolted him back was the power switching back on, the lights a harsh and cruel replacement for the lightning crashing outside of his window.

Ratchet stood, slowly. He snatched a shard of glass from the carpet, using it to finally get a good look at himself.

He didn't know what he was. A massive, hulking furred creature, with a skull for a face and taller than any man he'd ever met. Hunched over, he could have easily ripped an ordinary man's head clean off, but if he stood up to his full height (which the ceiling of his room didn;t allow him to do), then he could tower over them, instilling fear into any person unfortunate enough to cross his path.

One of his ears twitched as he studied himself. While his features were clearly not of any normal animal, they did resemble very Canine proportions.

The word popped into his head.

A Skulldog. That's what he was.

Ratchet clenched his fist, crushing the glass shard into sand, and watched the grains trickle through his bony fingers.

What… what now? Was he supposed to live like this…? A hulking, several-foot tall monster capable of tearing the flesh off the bones of a full-grown man with only a single bite?

Did he truly want to be feared?

… No. He didn't.

He managed to stumble into the living room, where he somehow flopped into the couch with a whine. He tested his jaw; it seemed to open and close just as well (if not better) than it had before, and his voice still worked, albeit much more rough and gravelly, not to mention extremely warbly and somewhat ethereal. With nothing better to do, he fished back into the bag, holding the card to that shop gingerly, the small rectangle appearing much smaller in his hands now than it had before.

Wait. The card!

The card had more writing on it now! Ratchet flipped it over, somehow managing to read the small print just fine, even though it was absolutely miniscule.

'To whom it may concern,

I congratulate you on finding or purchasing this mask! It's a custom design, a unique collaboration between Sylvestrus, owner of The Other Side, and the Second Identity shop, owned by Drethan. And if you're reading this, then the mask has already run its course, leaving you fully transformed.

But these masks are much different than normal costumes from the Second Identity. They are fully passive, and also fully permanent, meaning you get to keep your mind fully intact but lose the symbiotic relationship between host and suit, leaving you in one form: the one you are in right now.

If the transformation succeeded, then you are lucky! This is certainly a safe (but painful) way to experience a transformation, and we are delighted you are able to experience it!

_Signed,

Sylvestrus & Drethan_

Ratchet set the card down, somehow feeling… conflicted.

So… this was all part of that shop owner's plan, then? Sell him a cursed mask and wait for him to transform, all because he knew that Ratchet'd always hated the idea of magic and the occult?

A chuckle, sounding like scraping metal.

Damn. He couldn't even be mad at him.