FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Disclaimer - This here be as goofy as it is lusty, and boy howdy, it is a goofy one. (This is a work of lewd fiction. Please do not read if it would be unlawful for you to do so.)

A Magnificent Mistake

The door to the old manor creaked loud enough to be heard over the wind as he stepped into the house, sopping wet and chilled to the bone. Even if his car did work, the rain was coming down so thick that he could barely see through the torrential deluge. He had noticed the place before the storm truly hit, and made the slog through the elements to the stately gothic house, hoping to find shelter, and perhaps call for a tow. A crystal chandelier lit the marble floored central atrium, doors leading off into various other lavish section of the house, with twin grand staircases leading up towards the upper floors.

"Hello?" The man called out rather timidly, voice booming through the silence regardless. "Is anyone there?"

No one answered. The man shivered as rain continued to pour down. He was soaked and cold and lost and this was his only chance for shelter, unless he tried elsewhere. But where else? He didn't have the courage to face the already treacherous elements that much longer. He had to go inside. Surely someone was home.

He stepped inside, his soaked shoes sloshing some water onto the tiles. He looked down and felt some regret even as he closed the door. He hoped whomever dwelt here wouldn't mind a little mess. Hell, he hoped they were a little hospitable, at least enough that they could get him some help.

"Hello?" he called again, and again there was no answer. He frowned and looked up towards the two staircases that snaked off to separate higher floors. There was light up there in both, but did he dare risk intruding farther than he already had? Perhaps there was someone just beyond the atrium, in a kitchen or something similar.

His steps cracked on the wooden floorboards. The house was ancient, a relic from ages past, carrying with it the dusty semblance of nobility that lingered in the air, on discolored pictures, ancient tapestries and forgotten arms. The gas-lamps next to them spoke of remembrance and nostalgia, as if the house itself wanted to remember its own history.

"Hello?" he repeated his request and the lights above flickered and a door opened somewhere in the distance. Light was pouring down on him; the warm glow of a fire, the trapped chaos of a gas-lamp burning or the distant yellow, glitter of a sun in winter. A male figure stood inside, his features obscured among the glow. He knew he was smiling.

"I have waited quite a while for you." the man said.

He took off his jacket, some of the raindrops he took shelter because, painted lines on the dusty floor.

"Apologies. I'm just a traveller, seeking shelter from the rain. I'm not who you seek."

"You are." the man said and left behind a glowing rectangle atop the staircase and a strange feeling of familiarity inside him.

He shrugged. Expected or unexpected, he supposed he was a guest here and it would be rude for him to be standoffish. Hanging his jacket over the knob at the foot of the stair banister, he began whistling and jaunted up the stairs. It felt good to be warm and dry for once. As he climbed the long, curving stairwell, the lighting of the dreary mansion seemed to glow a little bit brighter. When he rounded the corner at the summit, he found himself dazzled by an incredible burst of luminosity which forced his arms over his eyes to avoid blindness.

"Dear god," he said, still shielding himself. "Do you think you could turn the lamps a little lower?" He wondered if he'd spent so much time on dark and stormy night roads that his eyes had adjusted permanently to the gloom, and would now be seared by light that used to seem normal.

Slowly, through his eyelids, he could sense the burning fade and dim, till he could finally open his eyes to see the upper level of the mansion. When he opened them, however, he found himself in an entirely unexpected place. A massive, open-aired ampitheater sprawled in front of him, its semi circular rows of seating blanketed in a soft layer of freshly fallen snow. Lavish silk banners and furnishings graced the otherwise crumbling walls, and overhead, a brilliant summer moon glistened down, casting strange shadows through the archways and parapets which seemed to undulate to and fro like the heat mirages he had once seen in the Neruvan wastes.

"Pardon . . . is this . . ." His words faltered as he looked back for the staircase behind him, which had completely disappeared. The sylvan ruins around him glittered in the moonlight, enough to make it seem as bright as the lights of the house had, even if the air was now bitingly cold.. As he fumbled for words and comprehension, a hand suddenly rest upon his shoulders.

"So good of you to make it, yes?" A deep stately voice boomed from behind the man. Spinning around with undue haste, the traveller knocked the hand from his shoulder and looked up, seeing a rather tall figure with a well trimmed beard, dressed in a rather outdated suit jacket with a mane of curly brown hair beaming at him, laughing as if it were all some kind of joke. It all seemed somewhat wrong though, peeking through his hair were small calcified nubs that resembled the bases of horns, and although he was dressed lavishly from the waist up, his lower half was bare, clad only in shaggy fur that looked like it belonged on a goat. The oddly stately apparition proffered the fur mantle to his befuddled guest. "We've been expecting you for hours. The fun's about to start, indeed."

"Expecting me?" He shook his head. "No, no, no, you must be mistaken. Listen, uh..." his eyes swept over the strange man before him. He looked like something he vaguely remembered from the school house long ago, a...a satyr, yes that was it! But this man couldn't be a satyr, no, of course not. He was just costumed or some similarly rational.

"Sir," he continued. "I'm not here for a party, I'm here because my car broke down and I--"

"Car?" The satyr's eyebrows rose and he tilted his head. "What do you mean by car?"

"An automobile?"

The satyr's eyebrows rose higher.

"My vehicle, I...nevermind." He sighed and held out his hand. "Maybe I'm going about all this wrong. Hello, sir, my name is Clancey and--"

The satyr laughed and clasped his hand. He shook it hard, his thin frame belying his greater strength. Clancey smiled, despite the fact that his hand hurt very much, and pulled away from the handshake or he meant to. Instead, the satyr pulled and before Clancey knew it he was being led by the hand somewhere else.

"Hey, wait!" he yelled while the satyr gleefully bounced and hopped while pulling the him along. "I need help! Where--where are you taking me?"

"To the party!" the satyr answered without turning his head. "You've arrived just in time!"

"Time for what?' Clancey asked, but then he realized he didn't really want to know. "Stop! Let go of me! I'm not here for a costume party!"

"Costumes?" the satyr scoffed. "Of course not!"

Despite his efforts, Clancey could not escape the satyr's strong grip and so he was pulled toward the party, whatever that meant.

"We're almost there!" the satyr called back.

Now Clancey could hear the sound of voices in the distance and laughter and music too. He gulped, wondering just what he had been dragged into.

Before he knew it, he was pushed through a door into a massive, brightly lit room. The sudden brilliance of yellow and white overwhelmed him for a second, forcing him to avert his gaze until his eyes adjusted.

He blinked and realized he was staring down at one of the white stonework slabs that littered the ground. Hideously expensive, creamy white, marble stonework slabs whose forms were drenched in a warm, golden glare that stung in his eyes.

Sunlight?

"Welcome to my humble home!", the satyr announced proudly and described a large semicircle with his hand.

Clancey's gaze followed, his eyes squinting a little as he surveyed what looked like an expensive roman styled terrace. Lined with impressive ionic columns holding a large ridge roof, its sides were open, granting a view onto a sun-drenched landscape of green, rolling hills, cramped olive-groves, gentle streams and snowcapped crags far in the distance.

"Impressive, ain't it? I'm telling you, even this 'car' of yours can't do it like good old magic!"

His gaze wandered back to the terrace. People stood all around, sitting or standing at small tables, some even resting on large roman loungers or in corners full of sumptuous, colourful pillows.

The problem was, they weren't people: they were things, monsters, beasts; aberrations with tentacles, paws, fur and large alien tongues that dangled out of their mouths, spoiled the ground and the food with saliva and the air itself with yips, growls, ghastly sucking noises and, most of all, happy, loud, drunken laughter and the amused droning of friendly conversations.

What looked like a cross of a woman with a Dalmatian, dressed in a rather revealing white tunic stood to his right, toasting with a shotglass towards a suited, scaly thing half her size, whose forked tongue snaked out of its muzzle to taste the air. To his left, towered a minotaur, its large frame constrained into a striped business suit, talking something about his recent purchase of options with what looked like an ordinary man, if it wasn't for the fact that he happened to be naked, his skin crimson-red and a spaded tail was swishing excitedly on his ass. Avian things with too many limbs stood on a stage, playing three instruments at once, drenched his surroundings in the soothing sound of lounge music dotted with the occasional squawk.

He had to be dreaming.

"Now come on! The others are still waiting!" the satyr said impatiently, grabbed his hand continued to steer him onwards. Right into the fray.

"Waiting for what?" Clancey managed to sputter as he was jostled, first on one side by a sunglass-sporting medusa, then singed on the other by the emblazoned coattails of a phoenix. All around him, curious eyes regarded the man who the Satyr now dragged through their midst. Clancey could barely appreciate the wonderful and strange mix of creatures regarding him before they became distant blurs.

"Why, the grand centennial welcoming, of course!" scoffed the Satyr, as if the answer should've been the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't tell me you've forgotten?"

"Uhh...." Clancey felt a little woozy. "I don't think...."

"PREPOSTEROUS!" the Satyr exclaimed. "Why, you've been working to be invited to this for years now. Don't tell me you weren't aware."

Clancey narrowly dodged the tail of an attractively-proportioned manticocre as it whipped near his shoulder. "Well.... I wasn't. Sorry." They were approaching a raised platform which carried lavishly set tables, seated by various monsters and-- surprisingly enough-- quite a few normal looking folks. In the center sat a cheery looking old man, sprawled over an ivy-wreathed throne which didn't quite fit his mirth. He was very clearly drunk, and quite enjoying himself over a cup of wine, or so it seemed to Clancey.

"Really?" gasped the Satyr, slowing to a prance as he tugged nearer to the center of the gathering. "The Grand Centennial Welcoming? You didn't know about it?" Clancey shook his head. "Over the course of a hundred years, we here of this blessed land choose those of your world who find themselves sufficiently estranged from the Earth. Wanderers, travelers, mystics, rogues, any and all who walk alone are secretly hunting for us!"

"Well," Clancey tipped his head sheepishly. "I certainly do walk alone. But, I wasn't hunting anything, really. This is quite the nice party you have, and I'd hate to be a rude guest but... Frankly I'm a little too confused for comfort, and I'd just like to go back to somewhere normal."

"Ahh, we all miss those times." the satyr nodded sagely. "The times when this was normal." He reached forwards as if following the steps to an oddly dramatic dance and pulled out a chair for Clancy, gesturing towards it invitingly.

"Yeah! Those motherfuckers think they are so fucking special with their buzzing little toys and their hollow fucking boxes." The space next to the proffered chair was occupied by a rather broad shouldered and busty hyena, slamming a goblet of red wine against the table and making all of her bangles and chains jangle.

"I . . ." Clancy swallowed, looking at the enraged creature's pulled back blackened lips, revealing sharp white fangs.

"Don't worry. She's harmless." His cloven-hooved guide whispered into his ear before scooting the chair into the back of his legs and sliding him against the table in one fell swoop, trapping him in the noisy array of the impossibly chaotic feast.

Harmless or not, Clancy couldn't help but feel some unease at the great wealth of...well, monsters that surrounded him. They seemed perfectly content, however, not bothered by the fact that they merely shouldn't exist. He sat there quietly, picking at his empty plate until the satyr noticed his plight.

"No need to be shy!" the satyr said. "Everyone was expecting you. Anyone here would love to converse with you. Why, here comes along Gerald!"

The satyr stood and caught the flank of a passing pegasus. He tapped the winged horse's rear and the pegasus flapped its wings and spun around in response. It snorted at the satyr angrily. The satyr smiled apologetically and pointed towards Clancy.

"Sorry there, but look!" the satyr said. "He's here!"

The pegasus blinked and snorted again. Then, it talked.

"The Ritual!" The pegasus bellowed. "The ritual has arrived!"

Clancy looked helplessly to the satyr. The goat man shrugged and smiled, turning until Clancy tugged at his shoulder.

"Ritual?" Clancy said. "What is he talking about?"

"Why you, of course," the satyr said. "You're here to join us, right? You're one of us after all."

"Huh?" Clancy murmured, getting rather quickly to his feet. This was it, he had to leave, this was all too strange. Unfortunately for him, however, the pegasus's bellows and similar other calls had attracted the attention of the rest of the feast. The whole place had gone quiet, and he felt many, many eyes on him.

"Er..." He looked around. It didn't not seem like he was going to leave.

"What do you think he is?" he heard someone murmur.

Clancy didn't know what to do, much less what everything around here meant, beyond the rather sobering realization that he was going mad. Yet he felt the gaze of dozens of eyes suddenly lingering on him expectantly, gazing at him from faces adorned with smirking snouts, curved beaks distorted curiously and from the questioning glance of the pegasus that had cocked his head in anticipation. He felt the need to speak up.

"Listen, my car broke down. I'm not one of you, I just want to.... " he started, trying to be as confident as he could muster, until his eyes fell onto a peculiar creature at the back of the crowd.

It was what looked like a humanoid lion, its fur cast in the typical beige-yellow of its species and adorned with a large brown mane that was carefully braided into well kept-strands, giving him a distinct sophisticated appearance. He wore a white tunic, its rim cast in red in what he guessed was the mark of some sort of aristocrat. It was leaning casually against a column, sipping on a glass of wine and regarding him with a wide grin on its muzzle. His slitted eyes shone in a vivid bronze, somehow whispering to him of things he should know, of familiarity, love and deception cast in amusement.

".....to....." his voice trailed off.

A memory of a scent, musky, strong and furry; of hard softness on his naked chest; of caresses, light, pleasurable, resounding on his own body, his thighs and hips; of a raspy tongue gently tickling his nose, so far away from his face and of a plan made on the bedside afterwards with a chuckle.

He blinked, trying to clear his head from these strange feelings, from these figments of imagination cast in the form of diffuse, distant memories; of the haze of knowledge shrouded in mystery that was trying to obscure what was true; Trying to convince him of the impossible. Of things that simply could not be.

"Oh look! Look! He is already changing!" the pegasus said and flapped its wings in excitement.

Clancy couldn't understand nor didn't want to understand what was happening, yet his gaze was drawn to his hand that had started to gently pulse. It looked different. Smaller, daintier and became even more so by the second, thinning and lengthening slowly, while his skin itched and extruded what looked like a small layer of hair that was thickening rapidly.

"Ladies and gents, come forward. Here's one ritual coming straight up!" the satyr proclaimed loudly to the swelling crowd around.

Accompanied by the screeching of dozens of scooting chairs, a choir of hushed oohs and ahhs surrounded Clancy as everyone in a 7 foot radius gave him a wide berth, leaving every angle of the approaching ritual wide open for spectating. Stray passersby saw the ruckus and sprinted to join, eagerly pressing into the back of the throng and peeking their heads over its wall.

Clancy closed his eyes and found himself overcome by a newly invigorated sense of smell. He was assaulted with a cacophony of new scents, floating over his skin and fluttering into the warm haze of his mind. But one scent in particular cut deep into him. It swallowed him whole, invaded his head, unlocked dusty forgotten doors in his memory and poured in nostalgia for a time and place he wasn't sure had actually ever existed.

"What is... that smell?" he asked meekly. "It smells... wonderful."

"I should think so, kitten." The warm rumbling words tore Clancy eyes open. He knew that voice. He searched for its source, so distracted he barely registered that at the center of his vision now sat an elegant, strong-jawed muzzle, complete with a flat leathery nostril surrounded on either side by whiskers which sprouted in white clumps from a series of freckles set in gilded fur. He looked ahead and found the leonine gentleman approaching, its paws clasped professionally behind its back, emphasizing the broad stroke of the strange folk's powerful shoulders. The crowd parted before him like the Red Sea to Moses as he strode forwards. "And here I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."

Clancy couldn't tear his eyes away from the lion. Unconsciously, he inhaled the intoxicating scent deeply and batted his eyelashes at the man. "Forgotten....?" Clancy scrunched up his face as he struggled to understand why seeing this fellow made him feel like jelly inside. Part of him wanted to throw himself into an embrace with this stranger. But why would he? He was neither friend nor family...

"But, really now, who could forget a night with Cithaerus?" the alluring creature chuckled to itself. "Now now, love, focus. It'll all start coming back before long," Cithaerus stooped to one knee before Clancy and took his hand gently, raising one eyebrow as if waiting for a sign of recognition. Seeing none, he leaned in and kissed Clancy's hand, tickling the skin with just a touch of rough tongue.

The background blurred, the entire wild scene spinning, details blurring and becoming inconsequential as all the man could focus on was the stately lion before him. Wide dark pupils stared up at him as the feline rose, wrapping his paws around Clancy and pulling his dazed head against the beast's bristly auburn mane. The warm fur was like and engulfing pillow, making a rumble build up in the man's chest as he huffed in that sandy animal scent with hints of vanilla and saffron. "That's right, my sweet. Now you are starting to see." The proud lion stroked his head with a wide paw, watching the man's face beging to creak out, nose turning pink and moist as it huffed in his decadent scent.

Clancy did remember something . . . but he couldn't quite place it. It was like seeing a picture of his childhood that he had no recollection of. It was just so hard to focus on though, as the regal cat ran his paws all over the man's body, making itchy prickles follow, feeling cramped and constrained under his now strangely tight shirt and pants, making a rumble of discomfort build up in the dazed man's throat.

"Hmmm, yes. They do seem awfully constraining, don't they?" The lion chuckled with a deep purr. "I'm sure our captive audience would be willing to lend a hand . . ."

Clancey nodded, grateful as members of the crowd stepped forward to rid him of his constraining clothes. A trio of imps giggled and bounced as they stood upon each shoulders so the one at the top could undo his belt and let the man's pants drop, revealing wide hips and legs that were thinning and lengthening as soft white fur swept over them. As the man lifted his feet to step out of the pants that pooled his feet, they shuddered and shifted, skin turning hard and dark as they morphed into goat-like hooves. The imps tugged at his underwear, causing his drawers to drop. They giggled and ran off as Clancey's crotch came into few, white with fur and possessing a diminishing set of genitals.

Clancey groaned, rolling his shoulder and that's when a large serpent slithered up behind him. It opened its mouth, revealing an impossible number of small, sharp pointed teeth and it was with these that it bit into the man's shirt. The shirt fell into shreds. Beneath it was a back that was already being covered by golden brown fur. The snake slithered away, its work done.

Clancey gasped as the fur ran over his stomach, smoothing it out and making his upper chest feel all sorts of itchy. In addition, something pressed out from his back. He nearly turned his head to look, but he just couldn't get his eyes of the feline above him, though he could far more than feel it as a snake-headed scaled tail slithered out from his spine--he could see it too, the serpent tail's eyes now his. He peered at himself and the lion simultaneously, admiring his changing form and mighty feline before him. His rear bubbled now, a little more shapely as his chest itched and crotch bothered, smooth mounds growing out around his thicker, puffier nipples while his manhood shrank further and further. His head too began to feel funny as it started to restructure.

His chest started to explode with pleasure as the golden-brown fur overtook it. He could feel it expanding, its flesh puffing out, filling and rearranging itself into distinct mounds. Large breasts that soon overflowed in his curious fingers, soft from fur and tingling from exotic sensitivity.

"I.....I....." he started, yet couldn't finish. Touching them was pure remembrance, pure joy and pure

impossibility at the same time.

Maybe to make sense of it all, maybe because it was what came naturally or maybe because he already knew why, but his gaze returned back to the lion in front of him. It had watched him the whole time, and his smirk had given way to something a bit more predatory. Something he knew was lust.

And as if the lion knew what he was thinking, he took a step forward, out of the crowd and right in front of him. One of his paws reached out, came to rest on his still widening hips affectionately. He looked into his eyes, as his skull started to stretch in his direction and long whiskers sprouted from his face.

"You were always such a pompous woman" the lion whispered and his paw wandered from Clancy's white-furred, goat-like bottom upwards, following the short golden fur that lined his torso onto his neck and further up to his cheek. It felt warm, soft and familiar and he couldn't help but nuzzle into his touch, an exciting, musky scent stinging in his nose.

The lion looked deep into his eyes and Clancy's blackening lips quivered from desire as he was drawn into a kiss. The lion was gentle and his long, feline tongue tickled remnants of his human teeth that had given way to sharpness and massaged his shifting, darkening nose and lengthening jaws that stretched out into something feline. Meanwhile, he could feel his serpentine tail coil itself around the lion's leg and a forked tongue flung from its tip in an effort to fill his head with more of his scent.

Something inside of him gave way in response, roiled in his crotch and in his mind. He could feel his manhood vanishing. Could feel it inverting, shrinking and opening up into something new and exciting, yet also so terribly familiar. As did his mind, where memories and knowledge flooded back into him. Drowned him. He fought, but he knew it was futile. Clancy had been a lie all along.

Caelia drew back slowly from the kiss and licked her large fangs in excitement at the sight of her husband. "It's always the best part when I'm just back", she purred deviously and laid her arms around his neck. She could feel them tightening, the last remnants of her human costume vanishing under a delicate coat of feline fur.

She nodded at the Satyr, confirming the success of the Welcoming. The Satyr beamed and threw his hands to the air, turning round and round as he heralded the Chimera's reappearance. "And so returns to us the dangerous, the graceful, the seductive Lady Chimera, Caelia!" The crowd cheered and hollered.

"Fire, give us a little fire!" shouted the Pegasus, eyes gleaming like a child at a fireworks show. Caelia smiled at him, before raising her right paw to her lips, turning her palm flat and extending her clawfingers as if blowing a kiss. And blow a kiss she did, a hot, blue flame which tapped her mate ever so delicately on the nose. The Pegasus jumped up and down giddily as Cithaerus growled playfully and swept his arms under his mate, swooping her up and into his arms where they stared into each other's desire.

"I do like it when you forego the goat head," he whispered in her ear. "It's so distracting having another part of you yapping up at me when I've got you on your hands and knees."

"Careful now," she purred in return. "Wouldn't want the tail to get any ideas. And don't lie. There isn't a part of my body you wouldn't love, and you know it." Her tail swayed underneath them, hissing and closing its eyes in comfort as it continued nuzzling against Cithaerus, first his legs, then rising to more intimate locations.

Cithaerus raised his eyebrows and grunted softly at the touch. He turned to the satyr and his audience and bowed slightly, still carrying the chimeress in his arms. "If you'll excuse us, my old friend. We two have been waiting to 'welcome' eachother for quite some time. I think we're off to find someplace quiet."

"Of course, Mr. Lion," the Satyr bowed in return and rolled his arm outwards. The crowd of spectators parted once more to his gesture, opening up an exit path for the reunited lovers. "When you two are sated, be sure to find me and the good ol' drunkard there," he pointed to the corpulent elder still on his throne, "For a chat. We have so much to catch up on."

Caelia giggled and moaned softly as she teased her nipples lightly."No promises, Satyr. You know how us lions are." She narrowed her eyes as the heat in her belly began to assert itself over her more and more in the eager presence of her mate, and batted playfully at his chin. With each brush of their pelts and each caress of their claws, she could feel her fur down below grow more and more damp and sticky and sensitive. As they left the applause of friends behind them and trotted deeper into the warmly rolling groves of their homeland, all Caelia could think about was how good it was to have found home again.