FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I've been a furry for some time. I'm not sure when it started, but I remember that I've had a longstanding fascination with dragons. I devoured E.E. Knight's Age of Fire series and the Inheritance Trilogy. (Best four-book trilogy ever!) I might even sink my teeth into Pern if I get the time. Anyway, this led to many a day spent sifting through the hundreds of millions of Google matches for dragons.

I would often go on link-quests. No, it has nothing to do with Zelda. It's a little web-surfing game I developed over the years where you pick a site about a topic you like, go to their links page and follow one. Then you check out that site, see if they have any links and so on. A round of that game starting with a search for dragon lore had me reading a story about a knight being magically transformed into a dragon. That was quite some time ago, it must've been more than six years, so distant...

Anyway, I read through that story and was thoroughly enjoying the highly descriptive transformation scene. I didn't know how thoroughly until I noticed the tightness in my pants. My mind raced, this was so wrong, and yet I couldn't come up with a strong enough motivation to stop. Had I known back then what a massively life-altering precipice I was teetering on at that moment I might've turned back, but my presence here attests to the fact that I did not.

From that point it was a simple matter of disabling Google safe-search and it was game on. The link-quest game worked just as well on VCL, fChan, FurAffinity, and even here at Yiffstar. Artists that I discovered always seemed to be good friends with other ones that I also grew to love. That social networking led to an ever-expanding world of furry art for me. I even started registering accounts so that I could keep track of all my many favorites.

I had passed the point of no return long ago. I was hooked. Even though I spent countless hours browsing, and eventually commenting, I never contributed. The artists here make for very intimidating company, and visual art was never my strong suit. I was always a promising creative writer back in high school, but I could never come up with a good idea for a story, yiff or otherwise. I excelled in writing stories within the bounds of English assignments, I even wrote a very good video game fanfic about Golden Sun in my spare time.

However, I still fall flat when trying to come up with something truly original. That and I'm quite inexperienced in the game of love, and the game of life for that matter. The imposing community of talented artists is mirrored by that of astounding writers. They all give one an impression of being well-traveled and experienced on a scale that I revel in appreciating, but could never equal.

All that kept me from submitting anything other than a quick comment or a good constructive story review from time to time for all those many years. Being an astute reader, you'll note that that paradigm has also changed. And what kind of a writer would I be if I didn't tell you how?

In my virtual travels I met many different fursonas that I came to admire. I thought occasionally about creating one for myself, but those efforts quickly ran into that old stumbling block of not being able to just pull something out of thin air. Hopefully you've caught onto the ‘recent change in the age old problem' theme by now. I was going though a troubled time in my life, and often had problems falling asleep.

One night as I lay there, my thoughts drifted to the fursona problem. I supposed that since creativity was an affair of the mind, the several hours each night that I spent simply thinking while trying to get to sleep would be a good time to try to tackle this one.

I first thought of the problem of my inexperience. If I'm going to make something that will represent who I am to everyone I meet online, it's got to be perfect. I've made enough mistakes to know that you can't expect perfection the first time you try something. So how does one gain experience in the field of using one's imagination?

"Maybe I should ask Barney..." I pondered quietly.

I decided to start with a practice creation. I had to make something that represented me in some significant way. It wouldn't be my fursona, but it would be an effort that I would gain valuable experience from. As you can tell, I had entirely too much time to devote to figuring this thing out.

I started to flip through what was by now an expansive rolodex of different critters to start with. A fox? No, they've been done to death. A coyote? Nah, that's just not how I see myself. Werewolf? Also tragically overdone, plus I'd have to come up with some heartbreaking backstory about the man I used to be and how I contracted lycanthropy. No, that's not for me either. Squirrel? Nah. I'd like to steer clear of rodents if it's all the same. Maybe something exotic; a red panda? Ocelot? A ring-tailed lemur? No, how am I supposed to identify with animals I've never even seen in person and know nothing about? I rolled onto my back and struck out at my sheets in frustration.

"Why is this so hard?" I silently lamented "Do I not know myself well enough? Is there no animal out there that represents anything about me?"

Perhaps that was it... It wasn't an animal that I was looking for. I'd have to turn to the realm of fantasy to find my avatar. A gryphon? I've always found much beauty in them, more so than in my true body.

"Well that makes us different then doesn't it?" I asked myself. "If I were a radiant golden gryphon I would believe myself to be the most ravishing beauty in all the world, and I won't lie to myself like that."

I was sweating. I wasn't sure if it was from exasperation or from thinking about all the smokin' hot gryphon prons I've seen over the years. In any case I needed to move on. Hmm... Purple Gryphon; Man, that guy has the goods. Storm Gryphon's got the whole quality over quantity thing going on. And Vargr Dragonwolf 's "Vinyl Gryphon" story over at FA was a masterpiece. What was that I said about moving on? Oh yeah, the fursona thing. Man I'm easy to distract.

What about a dragon? It seemed the obvious choice. Dragon... That would be perfect, but I don't think I'm ready for that. I want to be sure that I can do all the great old legends justice. No, not just yet. A satyr? No, I'm definitely not the ‘minor deity of lust and fornication' type. As my propositions grew stranger, I referred myself back to the exotic animals argument from earlier.

"Ok, I thought about that hours ago." I summarized. "Which means I've spent all that time and made no progress."

Or have I? I know now that this practice run should be something mundane, something simple that I'm familiar with. Satisfied that I had at least made some progress I rested on my laurels, so to speak, and decided to leave it until tomorrow.

Ironically, sleeping on it might've been the best thing I could've done with my pesky little conundrum. The next day went by well enough. It's an oxymoron, but I still like to use the term ‘extremely average' to describe such days. That night I started out with a clear set of goals that launched me to a conclusion with a speed light-years ahead of the frustrating plod of last night.

"Okay," I addressed my own mind quieting the din of my various frustrations about my day, work, and life in general. "Here's what we're working with. I need something simple, something that I'm familiar with."

My stream of thought sprang anew, right where it had left off last night. What am I familiar with? I thought of my home, now so very far away... No, that's just another regret about my situation. I need to focus on the problem at hand. What animals were there at my house?

"None that I'd want to be." I thought, the rats and roaches and other such vermin that used to burrow into our old dirt basement coming to mind. "Well, none other than my dog. My dog..."

I'd always loved him. The image of the shaggy chocolate lab jumped into my mind. He was a mix of some sort. We adopted him so we never knew what other breed was in there. Whatever it was it made his coat as thick as a sheep. There was still brown fur coming out of my clothes in the wash even months after I'd left home.

I doctored up the image as I mused. I shined his coat up some, like it looked before the thick, bushy winter fur came in. I erased the gray on his paws and his muzzle, heck, some big parts of his face were gray too, especially around they eyes. He's gotten so old of late... Well I guess he's been getting older the whole time I just never took notice. And I suppose it's no surprise that that's the case. We've had him for eight years, and he was full grown when we found him.

I reviewed the image again. He was beautiful. I even threw in a soft backlight that made his fur shine with a positively angelic quality. He was just as I remembered him from all those years ago. He probably looked better in my mind's eye now that I think about it. He was pretty ragged when we first got him, skittish attitude too. It's likely that his previous owner had abused him.

My face burned and tears welled up behind my tightly shut eyelids as I thought of someone hurting such a gentle, friendly creature. As it turns out, it was that same emotional attachment that made me think of him which stopped me dead in my tracks. No, this will never work. I can't alter him. Propping him up on two legs and making him dance around for my amusement, unacceptable! He deserves better than that!

I sat up, covered in sweat once again, this time it was definitely from anger. I looked nervously over at my roommate in his bed across the room as I realized that I had said "Unacceptable!" out loud. Fortunately he was a heavy sleeper. I laid back down and tried to calm myself.

"Okay... that'll be a no." I whispered as a cast out the image of my beloved companion. Ever dutiful and obedient; he vanished into the nothingness from whence he came without protest. I gazed into the emptiness of my blank mental landscape. Many, many creatures had been featured before this unexciting backdrop for my consideration, none so far a success.

I tried to recover the line of thought that I was on before I was thrown off into that emotional tangent. Fatigue stalled my efforts. Regardless, I managed to think of home again. What other animals would one find in a home? A cat? No, now I've gone too mundane.

Besides I hate cats. I chuckled as I rolled over in bed. I didn't really have that much against them. I just couldn't help but think about all the feral cats that lived on our family farm and how cats are so capricious and aggressive. Yeah, I'm definitely a dog person, and we all know how the dog line of thinking turned out. I'll worry about it tomorrow.

And before I knew it, it was tomorrow. Or rather it was today, but like... the sun was up and I had to go to work. Oh, you know what I mean. The day went rather well. An old tightness in my chest seemed to ease. It had been there so long I had gotten used to it.

My outlook was a little brighter. Yesterday, I had spent only my time at work dwelling on the trials and frustrations of the day, rather then both my time at work and my time in bed whist I was trying to sleep. It was very liberating. Work seemed to go much smoother and the hours flew by. I even finished with time to spare and got to turn in early; rewarded with two extra hours of leisure time.

Normally I would've just slept, as I work long hours and I'm always short on sleep. Yet I left work still feeling energized. So I hopped on my computer. Surfing the web was one of my favorite things to do, but I hadn't been able to make time for it for several days. I checked e-mail, visited a few forums, caught up on webcomic updates, the usual. As I reached the bottom of my bookmarks menu, I came upon the non-descript folder ‘from Internet Explorer.' (That's where I hid all my links to furry porenz when I switched to Firefox.) One stray click in there opened the floodgates.It wasn't really my intent, but it had been a very long time since I'd had the opportunity to engage in this particular leisure activity.

There were so many new submissions up. I always start with YiffStar, as the images here tend to be more subdued. (Relatively speaking...) Even so it wasn't long before sweat made me start fumbling with the mouse. More and more of my fantasies were coming true as I clicked.

"Oh it would be just too perfect if he made another... oh wow!" I thought as I looked over a folder of new commissions. "I wonder if he continued that comic... oh God!"

I was regaining my grip on the mouse because every muscle in my body began tightening up, building an exquisite agony that I had not known for some time.

"Good thing my roommate doesn't get home until really late." I thought, because I knew I was well past the point where I could stop. If I actually wanted to that is. "I'm starting to come across ones I've seen before. I'm gonna go check what's new on fChan. Ahhhh!"

My whole body heaved with a powerful, lusty contraction. As I thrust forward I pressed hard against my lions through my jeans, as though trying to keep them from getting out of control.

Fchan was kinkier than YS, as usual, but it was just adding fuel to the fire now. Usually I don't browse through alternative/hardcore with such wild abandon, but the period during which I actually cared about such things was long past. My belt was open, as was the button of my jeans. Every once in awhile I would hear a link in the zipper pop open as it slowly lowered, submitting to the ever greater advances of my manhood.

After fChan I came went to FurAffinity, over 100 new messages, murrfect. A quick flip through my inbox and then my imagination plunged me headlong into a hot and steamy werewolf story by one of my favorite authors. Pretty soon I had to move my mouse over so that I could use it with my left hand for *ahem* personal reasons.

As always, I imagined myself as the main character; taking his one true love without reservation. I reveled in the images that I conjured. I was thrusting madly into my love, bashing my knot up against her tight hole. Bolts of pleasure shot through both of us as I got closer and closer to forcing my way completely in. Proportions and adaptations sure to disgust any normal man couldn't feel more right. I drew upon the great feral strength within me, coiling up my whole body and lunging with one final heroic effort, finally burying myself up to the hilt into the warm embrace of my lover's sex. I broke up our passionate kiss to howl my triumph to the heavens.

I couldn't hold back and longer. My legs tensed up and my chair leaned back as I bucked out of the seat, throwing my load into the air. I gasped as I came down from the high. It seemed that the warm sense of contentment that I had woken up with had only built up more and more throughout the day, waiting for this moment.

I looked out the window to see pitch darkness. Until now I had been completely oblivious to the passage of time. Mindful of the impending return of my roommate, I snapped myself out of the placid lull I had fallen into and went to the bathroom to clean up. This was always my least favorite part, but before I do something like this I always seem to be particularly unconcerned about the consequences of my fun. And in this case it was totally worth it.

It was the perfect ending to the perfect day. Those were my thoughts as I returned to the bedroom. Exhaustion hit me as soon as I even looked at my bed. Even with circumstances as they were, I could think of nothing to worry about as I quickly retreated from the waking world.

I had some most interesting dreams that night. I'll let your imagination take the reins for a change as to their exact nature. (Yeah, fun stuff. Okay, you done now? Sure I'll wait... Right then, moving on.)

And it wasn't one of those "I never get laid so I'm fapping to pr0n even in my dreams" dreams either. It was much more than that. I really can't go into much more detail. Such is the nature of dreams. They always seem to fade so much faster than other memories, and concentrating on them just seems to blur the lines and make it worse. Still, it let me start the day with a little warm fuzzy.

At work I encountered the new, enjoyable, productive sort of day that was becoming the norm. I returned home with a lighter step. No early punch-out today; Quite the opposite in fact. The sky was streaked with brilliant red and orange as I walked back to my room. The sun had retired before I did that day, as per usual.

Instead of lamenting on another day of the grind, I kept my gaze and my mind pointed skyward, enjoying the playful pink swirls of the upper clouds and the sparkling rays of the day's last light as they danced though the sky. Thoughts like that got me back to my room a lot faster.

As I lay in my bed once more, I found my thoughts drifting towards home. I remembered how much I loved spending time with my family; and how the summer after a graduated high school was the happiest time of my life. I never wanted to leave home, but I had always been very practical. I knew that staying at home forever was not a possibility, not if I truly wanted to live my life. That was how I came to enlist in the Navy that summer. It seemed as good a way as any to get out and see the world the way I felt I needed to.

I suppose I could've mentioned that I'm in the Navy earlier, but now works too. I chose a career in nuclear power because it sounded interesting. As you might imagine there's a battery of lengthy, intense training to go through before they'll put me at the helm of an atom-smasher. That's the nature of my work that places me so far from home and puts me on such long hours. That's the lifestyle I had come to regret choosing. I think that was the source of some of the stress that left me with the problem of insomnia where this whole Nantucket sleigh ride started. In any case, my thoughts of home reminded me of those myriad regrets and crushed my good mood.

"Well crap..." I thought. "I never sleep well when I'm depressed."

My mind continued to wander. What had gotten me on to thoughts of home? Ah yes... my dabbling in creature creation. I saw no reason not to take up that old challenge. I somehow felt as though I might be onto something even though I'd had no success so far. I redirected my focus from home to the animals therein. Cats and dogs in the house were out, so I widened my gaze to include the whole farmstead. And there it was; I was inches away from my perfect animal the whole time.

I saw the barn that my mother and sister used. They were both avid equestrians and went to dozens, maybe hundreds of horse shows. In the stable there was one of my sister's prized show horses. Conveniently enough it was one of my favorites. His name was Scooter, a remarkable example of an American thoroughbred. The luster of his russet brown fur was clear as day. Yes, that's where I'll start. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before, transforming into a horse had been one of my earliest fantasies all those years ago. (For those of you wondering, yes. It was that kind of fantasy.)

I plucked the horse from the barn and placed him on my big, empty mental canvas. I toyed with the image of him a little, anthropomorphizing him, smiling as he looked with confusion at his new hands. I casually flipped through different modifications, tossing around varying proportions of human and equine features.

It was amazing how easily I shifted his body this way and that. Centaur, equitar, whatever I could think of I tossed his way. Even when Scooter's face wasn't particularly human I could see the growing frustration and unease in his eyes as I forcefully manipulated his form with my mind. The pleading gaze in those deep brown eyes of his told me to stop, and I listened.

His hands snapped back into hooves as he fell forward onto all fours again. He planted his front feet to be sure of himself, then snorted in irritation and walked off. I couldn't believe it. He just got fed up with me and pranced right out of my head. It wasn't like I was trying to hold him there. I could call him back if I wished, but I knew that it was a bust. Scooter had been less than helpful.

Scooter... Perhaps that was the problem. Since he was a real horse, I would always think of him as Scooter no matter what I did to him. Come to think of it I wasn't all that comfortable with "doing things to him" in the first place. He wasn't mine to alter, he was free to go about his business without my interference, as a horse should be.

That put me right back to square one. A normal horse wouldn't do. The whole point was for me to create something, not just remember what a horse looks like. I had gone through all the mundane animals I could think of and none fit. A plain horse didn't do the trick; it would have to have feathers or wings or something. Grrr... Didn't I go through Pegasus when I was on that fantasy creatures line?

So that's it then. If I want something good enough to be the perfect fursona, I'd have to make some modifications. If I was to have a form I'd be comfortable altering, I'd need to create one from scratch. Yep, definitely thought that before... I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow as I considered giving up. Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead. This whole experience had been a little ray of sunshine in an otherwise gloomy time. Speaking of sunshine...

"What the fuck?" I mumbled into my pillow as I pushed myself up to see what the source of the light that was hitting my head. I looked to see sunlight streaming in from the window.

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed. Surprising myself, I don't usually swear. Maybe all those old sea dogs I work for are rubbing off on me. "I bet I didn't sleep a wink last night." I grumbled.

"Well there's no reason to drag me down with yah!" My roommate snapped, throwing the pillow he had been using to cover his face at me.

He was probably hungover again. He usually is. He's on the same schedule as me and yet he still finds time to go out and pound down a six-pack most nights. I don't know how he does it. I don't want to know.

"Quit bellyaching." I said. "It's time for you to get up too anyways. We're probably late even."

It was normally dark when I woke up. I hurried to get myself together and make up for lost time.

As it turns out, I was not nearly as late as I thought I was. I had merely failed to notice the effect that the changing season had on the time of sunrise. That was of small consolation as I started what was definitely not and enjoyable, productive day. My hasty preparations were, shall we say, noted by my superiors. Of course I was made to be aware of my deficiencies in a fashion typical of the military. Namely various important people telling me I looked like a bag of ass, usually in a public setting. I had previously found "Soup sandwich" to be an endearing colloquial term. Of course, that was when it wasn't being used to describe how terrible I looked.

I needed to start slipping under the radar. I tucked in my shirt deeply and tightened my belt, awkward high-school nerd style. I know this because I used to be one, and because that is how it made me feel, but it effectively concealed the wrinkles in my shirt. I kept my head down so that no one could see the spots I had missed shaving. My guise seemed to work. Whether I had effectively concealed my faults or just looked so pathetic people felt I had suffered enough I couldn't tell.

My friends seemed to be of the latter opinion. A few teased, but then again I'm being overly-generous by calling them "Friends." Others asked me what was wrong; a question I was somehow infuriated by them asking. I don't need their emotional charity. I thank my lucky stars that I kept control of myself and managed to get through that day without snapping at anyone. Usually I just managed to brush them off with some story about how I didn't feel like talking. I didn't burn any bridges. Though I may have torn down some that would necessitate rebuilding later.

On the walk back to my room my head stayed down. It had become a habit, and somehow I felt like it belonged there. It irritated me how everyone talked about getting to "go home" at the end of the workday. I was not going home. I was returning to my bachelor's enlisted quarters. It was just four walls and a bed where I slept. It was no home.

That gloom stayed with me as I readied myself to fill out my room's only function. I straightened out a new uniform for tomorrow and hung it up. Never hurts to look extra sharp after looking extra... like a shitbag. Those were my thoughts as I hit the sack.

What was it I used to drag myself out of a rut like this at night? Oh yeah, that fursona stuff. It all seemed so pointless and juvenile now. Not just because it didn't really matter, but because I had failed miserably at achieving my goal. If I couldn't even succeed at something of no consequence whatsoever, what chance did I have at making a career? Or starting a family...

That last one got me. Usually being a 20-year-old virgin didn't bother me. I just haven't met the right girl. It's not that pathetic. Yet...

But now that fact sliced through me. Now it was I that did not matter, my existence that was of no consequence, it was I that would be forgotten by the world. Tears dripped onto my pillow once again, for me this time; though for a much lesser reason. Before I was filled with righteous fury about the abuse of my life's greatest friend. Now I grieved for the fate of my own life. It seemed to be already over, though I was so young.

I don't know how long I lay there, stewing in a slurry of my own misgivings about my unfortunate existence. That is to say I didn't know until I looked over at my alarm clock and it said 01:30. This only added to my misery. Tomorrow will be exactly the same. I noted, dimly, that it was tomorrow since midnight had passed already. Or rather zero-hundred had passed already. Military time was another of my countless frustrations that led to my current state. That cold, uncaring timescale is the sand pouring down through my life's hourglass.

"That glass can't run out fast enough." That disheartened musing joined the numerous others mumbled into my pillow there. One thing I didn't expect my pillow to hear was:

"What's that damn noise?"

My complaint of yet another frustration. An irascible repeating "click-clack, click-clack," assailed my ears, seeming to become louder and louder as I became increasingly frustrated with it. It sounded like a train slowly rolling across its tracks. The wheels clanking rhythmically as they bounced over the expansion joints in the tracks. There was a track nearby, but it wasn't very high traffic, and what were they doing running trains at this time of night?

"Besides pissing me off!"

My pillow got to hear some more out of this fatigued malcontent...Normally I try to find beauty in the sounds around me. A rhythm or a pattern, even when it happens by accident can be interesting to listen to, as are many sounds of one's environment. But right now this noise was just another nail in the coffin. I'm not sure how to work me not getting any freaking sleep into that metaphor but you know what I'm getting at.

I was fed up and jammed my fingers in my ears, though the aggression of that act would probably make things worse. I quickly noted that this had no effect on the sound whatsoever. I was about to let my pillow know exactly what I thought about this unstoppable juggernaut of sounds, but I was intrigued. The sound was not actually that loud. My frustration merely magnified it. So what could explain how its volume is unaffected by plugging my ears? As I wondered, I realized that I was having trouble hearing myself think over the noise.

"So it is getting louder." I said.

The muffled words that filtered out through my pillow to my plugged ears seemed to be on a different plane of perception than the noise that assailed my... ears. Wait a second, that sound wasn't in my ears at all, it was in my head! What the heck? I'm imagining stuff to annoy myself now? God I'm so hopeless. I threw up my black mental backdrop that I had been using to try to see what it was that felt the need to disturb the peace in such a manner.

I found that the sound was indeed not a train. Rather it was the sound that hooves made as they thundered across... well whatever this mind-stage thingy is made out of. Anyway, I learned this because it was not long before the noise came to an abrupt stop; the noise-maker now standing before me. I could not believe my eyes.

There was a large horse occupying my field of view, staring at me, into me, as though he knew everything it was that troubled me. What's more, this was no palomino filly. He was a proud, massive stallion. He looked like he had the build of a quarter horse, with a mix of something else in there. The wild, upright tangle of his blue mane suggested that it might've been zebra, but I couldn't be sure.

Wait... a blue mane? I had met his gaze immediately and been so enthralled in those scintillating black pools he had for eyes I had neglected to take in the features of the rest of his body. There was indeed a shock of blue hair protruding up from the back of his neck, the same color projecting from his rump in long luscious strands.

What's more is that that was the only hair on his body. He was covered in a coat of bright, luxuriant scales. They were a mesh of separate plates, each one glittering in different hues of aquamarine like that of a fish, but that was where the aquatic qualities ended. Despite their beauty, they were solid, they looked as though they'd turn arrows, even though they didn't look like they were attached to a warhorse.

"Though what a fighter he'd be." I thought as I traced his lean, supple muscles down his flanks and belly, leading right to his-

He interposed that penetrating gaze of his again. He was glaring at me, not in a forceful way, but I still gained the impression that he wanted something from me.

I realized that I had just been gawking at him this whole time when he came all this way, springing into existence before me no less, to see me. I had yet to introduce myself or even acknowledge him.

Previously he had seemed to respond to my thoughts. Puffing out his chest and stretching out for a nice profile when he noticed I was examining him. So I ventured a greeting, reaching out to him with my mind.

"Hello. I'm, um..."

His stare made it clear that he knew very well who I was.

"Yes I suppose so. Well... why are you here?"

He leaned closer, a feat I thought not possible with how close he already was, and suddenly the memory of me screaming into my pillow sprang to mind. He pulled back again and inclined his head.

"You... want to help me?"

I was startled as he suddenly whinnied and reared onto his hind legs. Somehow I knew better than to feel threatened, and I quickly figured out that this was a joyous exclamation. He was excited because we understood each other.

He landed, huffing briefly as the impact compressed his chest. He looked at me once again, and I found myself taking in his delightful features again. He was so smooth and streamlined; I suppose for swimming, it fit with the fish scales. He seemed to be getting more radiant as I looked at him. No wait... he definitely was getting brighter. He nickered gently as the light suffused him. It was comforting, he seemed to be telling me no to worry; that this was supposed to happen. I still found myself reaching out to him out of concern as he dissolved into pure, golden light.

The light of the sun that was hitting me in the face again. I sat up abruptly.

"What... just happened?" I whispered breathlessly.

Despite starting the day with a lot of confusion over what was apparently a very vivid dream, I managed to keep my head in the game most of the time at work. As I was walking back to my room though, my curiosity returned anew. Who was this strange sprite that had come to accost me in my thoughts? Did I conjure up such a being while toiling at my fursona project? If so, what would such a creature want of his creator? I didn't think he was the type to make demands though. I even thought we might get along. He seemed nice enough...

The door to my room blocked my path. I had made the journey without realizing it, preoccupied with thoughts of my mysterious visitor. I swiped my access card and walked in to get ready for bed. I knew that I had to speak with this baffling messenger again. Recreating the time and place where we first met seemed to be the best way.

As I pulled the covers over myself, I endeavored to make myself comfortable and think up my ever-useful mental landscape. I found it difficult to relax, my excitement at trying to see my new friend getting in the way. Even so, I summoned my plain, black mental staging area easily enough.

I started to call out to my companion, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know his name. Did he have one? It seemed callous of me to thrust one upon him just for my convenience. And how would he recognize some random name I threw out there? I began to despair as I looked into the imposing blackness still empty before me.

Wait, despair! Maybe that was the answer. He responded to my distress last time, I might be able to use that again. I had become quite adept at making myself depressed over the years, maybe that was a skill I could finally make use of. I thought better of it though. I didn't want to trick him. The last thing I want to do to someone I just met is lie. But the truth was, I needed him. I think I can get that point across.

Focus somehow came easily to me as a reached out into the darkness.

"I need you." I thought. "Show yourself again, I want to get to know you better."

My words faded, and just as I was about to throw in the towel, my companion burst onto the scene; appearing with a flash and a flourish, not so much of a dramatic approach as last time, but such was not necessary. He was just and old friend coming back to see me again. I was elated to see him, but I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He threw me that familiar glance. The one that said I already knew, or maybe it said that I should know, I couldn't really tell.

"Well if we already know each other, I guess this isn't about introductions. So why are you here?"

He narrowed his eyes and jutted his nose out at me. Another obvious answer again. ‘Because you asked, dummy!'

Before I could think of another stupid question to ask him, I noticed that he was glancing around looking rather uncomfortable.

"What is it?"

He swung his head to either side, telling me to look around. I saw what he meant. This place was pretty dull. It just seemed easier to work with one particular image when I didn't have to worry about making up a background. I guess it was my brain's version of data compression. But I didn't have an image from my mental Photoshop gallery here. He was my guest, and I should make the place a little more inviting for him.

"A change of scenery perhaps?"

He looked down and pawed at the hard, featureless floor.

"All right, I'll start there."

A little bit of quiet consideration and the ground beneath my companion roiled, shifted and buckled. He scampered about to maintain his balance, but I made sure to be careful not to toss him around too much. Soon enough the ground formed into a grassy meadow with rolling hills and a forest in the distance. Not quite an idyllic ‘Sound of Music' scene, but very peaceful and natural.

I knew my friend's next wish even before his gaze started to drift upwards. What was a meadow without a bright blue sky? An azure ribbon skittered across the dark expanse in the heavens, broadening out into a cheerful arc that filled the air above him. I thought of his aquatic features, so I quickly pulled at the horizon until a bay was dragged into view and settled calmly into a nearby valley. My friend didn't look like he was really up for a swim, but he definitely appreciated the gesture. He looked so serene as the reflection of the sun off the water sparkled in his eyes. Satisfied, he found a soft patch of grass and laid down. He leaned his head in towards his flank, as if inviting me to join him.

Suddenly I was not some omniscient observer of this little world I had made, a floating distended consciousness at home in its own mindscape. I found my legs under me, my bare feet prickled by the dry plains grass. I stretched out my arms to make sure I was all there.

"Well I guess I'm not the only one who can mess with the universe." I jeered.

He pinned his ears and curled up his lip to show off his teeth in jest as I approached him. I decided to take him up on his invitation. I saw no reason not to. I felt like I had been waiting for it for a very long time. I knelt next to him and extended my hand to touch his scales, I had no idea what to expect. There was a gentle grating sound as the scales shifted around slightly under the pressure of my touch. I thought that they would be sharp, but as I tested my hand against their edges I found them to be wonderfully smooth. It felt like running my hand over the edges of a thousand coins.

I gently stroked his side trying to take it all in. The soft metallic clinking as the scales tapped against each other, the way their iridescent, aquamarine hue shifted with the slightest movement. My friend looked back at me; he seemed to have been waiting for this moment for a very long time as well. He nudged my shoulder with his nose, making me lean forward. I realized that I had yet to accept his offer to lay down with him.

I needed no further encouragement. I relieved my legs of their burden and leaned up against my friend's side. His scales flattened to form a superbly smooth surface for me to lie back against. I started to say something, but I kind of appreciated the silence. My friend's muteness gave him an air of dignity, one that I only now came to appreciate. It was odd, relaxing my mental self and resting my head up on my companion's back seemed to wash away all my anticipation and anxiousness in favor of quiet contentment.

In my experience, horses had always been a thick skulled sort. By rights, my companion's jaw line should've been a sharp, hard edge. Yet when he wrapped his neck around to cover my back, it was a warm, soft, comforting embrace. There was so much about my new friend that I didn't know, but it wasn't like our time together was limited. I fought to form coherent thoughts as consciousness slipped from me. I can get to know him... later... I guess...

For the first time I could remember, I opened my eyes gently at the touch of warm sunlight on my face. I extracted myself from my bed with due care and diligence instead of a chaotic rush to get out the door. I was decked out in a positively immaculate working uniform as I headed out to start a new day. I looked at my roommate lying in his bed, cowering away from the encroaching sunlight. He had such luck getting the bed next to the window. I could almost hear a playful whinny as I thought up a way to teach him to appreciate it. I drew the Venetian blinds partway up and rattled them against the window glass.

"Wakey wakey!" I taunted. "Time to get up and greet Mr. Sunshine!"

"Ahhh God!" He yelled gruffly. "You will die, man! You will just die!"

"Is that an order?"

His tone got a small bit more playful, though no less infuriated as he dissolved into a rant.

"You will die quietly, without disturbing me, and you will do so within the next few minutes provided I can strangle you without opening my eyes!"

"I'll get right on that sir." I mocked him with an official title, he was just as much of a scrub as I was, but calling someone a member of the brass was just as good and insult as any.

"Maybe I should've gone to the academy," He mumbled. "I bet they don't have to deal with this kind of crap there."

"Like they'd actually let you in if you tried."

"Shouldn't you be dying, recruit?"

An interesting turn on my earlier jab, he had downgraded me to get revenge, but I cut him off by slamming the door. Judging by what I could hear through the window, the sound had been a sufficient retort.

Work went well that day. I should hope so, as there was much to be done. It was late and I was working to get ahead so that I wouldn't get swamped by the next day's new reactor principles topic like I usually did. One of our division Lieutenants poked his head in the door. He looked straight in my direction and addressed me.

"Petty Officer!"

Boy that guy was an odd one. Everyone else would've just used my name, but no siree. Nothing but utmost military precision for this guy. I didn't even bother with the old look behind me gag, I knew that there was no one back there. Few were the people that would stay here this late by choice.

"Yes sir?" I asked. Hoping I wasn't about to ‘volunteer' for something.

"Take out the trash from the second deck heads before you leave. Everyone else is here because they're on assigned hours and they need to study, you're not."

I was about to protest this. Very few people are actually dedicated enough to put in extra hours voluntarily, and now I'm getting punished for working hard! What kind of crap is this?

"Sir I-"

I heard a loud, bestial snort coming from somewhere. I looked around; it didn't look like any of the half-dozen or so people in the room had made it, or were capable of making such a sound. None of them seemed to notice it either.

"Yes Petty Officer?" The Lieutenant asked, sounding impatient even though it was he that was wasting my time.

"Uh, I'll get right on that sir." I said.

"Oh, very well." He replied. Shaking his head slightly as though caught off guard. "Just get on that when you finish your thermodynamics homework."

I had finished that an hour ago, but something told me not to bring that up.

"More flies with honey than with vinegar..." I thought. I straightened up in my seat and gave him my best, crisp "Yes sir!"

He simply nodded and withdrew back into the hall.

"Holy crap." I thought. "He didn't throw a huge list of random crap for me to do at me like he always does. I'm bulletproof!"

I thought I heard a familiar "click-clack" sound fading into the distance. It was probably just the Lieutenant's shoes as he walked down the hall, off to harass someone else. Still, I prefer to believe otherwise.

---

My relationship with my companion grew day by day until I wanted to do nothing more in my off-hours than bask in his comforting presence. That was well and good for time-crunched weekday nights, but I still went out on weekends. That was much to my benefit I think. This would be a much sadder tale if I spent all my time in my room with my imaginary friend.

Still I confided in him quite often. He was always a good listener, pitching in with advice in his own little ways. I think it was really my talking to him that helped more than him to me. If I had to put my problems into words to tell someone about them, it made me think about them in a different way. That or it let me take a good hard look at my priorities and figure out that I was worried about nothing.

It was strange how the good times I had with the unnamed friend in my mind transitioned so smoothly into good times with the friends outside my little realm. My companion's appearance was what really started the process of me getting my act together. Every day I threw myself at my work and breezed through it. And each night I found myself having fewer and fewer problems to discuss with my companion. Much as I hate to admit it, I allowed talking to him to slowly slip from my routine.

I realized later that I hadn't forgotten about him. Whenever I found myself stalled somewhere in the problem-solving process I could feel his presence there, nudging me in the right direction. My friend hadn't disappeared. I hadn't neglected him. We had just gotten to know each other so well we no longer needed to head out to the meadow and chat. He had become a part of me. The part of me that kept busting my hump late into the night. The part of me that knew all the right answers. The part of me that propelled me into the top ten of my class by the time graduation came around.

That ambition got me to my current gig aboard this aircraft carrier now two years later. That's where I'm writing from right now. It Also happens to be the location where I one day realized... I still don't have a freaking fursona!