FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The rain was beating down on Chet as he drove along. It was just his luck, he thought, for it to come down a gully washer when he was driving around in an unfamiliar neighborhood. His lights were on full-beam, illuminating only the black-gray road in front of him with the murky soft green shapes of coniferous forest on either side. He felt sick to his stomach, the kind of sickness that one only experienced when they were on the road with less than four hours of sleep. He had the radio on less for the music and more to keep the silence from getting to him.

The DJ on the station he was tuned to was just about to put on a Bob Dylan song when his car made a sound like a shotgun blast and the vehicle lurched to a dead halt.

"Fuck..." Chet muttered, drawing the hood of his jacket over his head as he stepped out into the chilly rain. It was just a drizzle, but just enough to make an already cold night that much less comfortable. He breathed a heavy sigh as he popped the hood and was greeted with a plume of charcoal colored smoke pouring out of the engine block.

The smoke assaulted Chet's nostrils, sending him into a coughing fit as he cursed out loud at the car, at the weather.

"Fucking lovely! He said as he kicked the tire, half expecting it to instantly deflate like in a cartoon, "That's what I get for thinking my luck couldn't get any worse." He reached for his cell phone, wondering if it was worth it to call off the job search and get another earful from his dad. That was his life, Chet mused; wasted effort, then a blowout.

Then his eyes caught the beginning of a well-kept dirt trail forking out from the road lined on one side by an unpainted wooden fence. He followed it without a second thought, something like this always lead to a house or a ranch. Chet shuddered as he smiled for the first time since he started driving. All he had to do was find a phone and call in a tow company to fix his clunker. It was a situation he knew well from horror movies, but what were the odds of him running into a serial killer, realistically?

The trail led him through an orchard of well-trimmed trees bearing trumpet-shaped red flowers. The cold rain mixed with the scent of fresh soil and flowers was pleasant enough to put a spring back in Chet's walk. When the path brought him to a huge red brick plantation style house, Chet breathed a sigh of relief that turned into laughter. Things were looking up!

The front yard was well kept and so large that Chet was almost out of breath when he climbed the front steps. Three short knocks, then he waited... and waited. When the passing of what felt like several minutes without an answer, Chet tried the knob to find it unlocked. The door swung open silently and he stepped inside, taking a moment to wipe the mud off his shoes on the welcome mat.

His footsteps echoed around him as he stepped inside the dark foyer of the house. He groped along the wall for a light switch, the first one he found turned on an ornate chandelier that beamed soft white light down on the room. The walls were a soft peach color and the floor was dark hardwood.

"Hello?" Chet called out to the owner, or anyone who might have occupied the building, but got only his echoed voice as a reply. Chet wondered if this counted as him trespassing or breaking in, sure the door was unlocked but he wasn't supposed to be here. He made a mental note not to stay any longer than he had to, not that this was a hard thing to commit to, being completely alone inside such a huge house. But would it be worse or better if he wasn't alone? Nothing much can hurt a guy in an empty building after all.

He spent a few minutes peeking in and out of rooms as he searched around for a phone or somebody else, whichever came first. He found a bathroom bigger than his apartment, a game room outfitted with a pool table and an old Donkey Kong machine, and a couple guest rooms that looked like furniture store displays, but no people and nothing he could use to call anyone.

Then, he tried another room to find the atmosphere different. It was a largish room with two bunk beds set up on opposite sides of the room; the air was saturated in a heady perfume scent. The sickly sweet floral odor stuck in the back of his throat, it was almost intoxicating to Chet as his blue eyes scanned the room. Lying on the silken bed sheets was a pair of powder blue fully fashioned stockings, with the heels and toes reinforced in a darker blue fabric. It was mundane, but also rather curious for something to be lying out like that. Chet picked one of the stockings up and felt of the fabric between his finger and thumb, they were so soft and smooth that he felt a naughty rush just touching them. These were obviously high quality, as Chet knew with his quite-limited knowledge of such things.

Between the fell of the stockings, his three and a half hours of sleep, and the perfume-choked air of the room, a sort of giddy drunkenness came over the young man. Ideas, fantasies that he kept in the back of his mind crawled up to the front and stayed there. His hands shook as he untied his shoes and took them off with his socks. He sat down on the plush mattress and hiked the legs of his jeans up as he slipped the stockings on, delicately pulling them up his angular male legs. The feeling of them on him was positively electric, so warm and smooth. So what if he looked silly in them? Nobody was around and they felt good... so good he left them one for a while as he sat back on the bed, wiggling his toes and enjoying the embrace of the silken stockings.

When he had enough fun, he sat up, slipped his shoes and socks on over the stockings and went for the door... only to find himself back in the room, with his shoes and socks in his hand, his stocking feet feeling pleasantly tingly on the beige carpet.

This... this wasn't right. Chet let out a confounded sigh as he tried to go over the events of the last couple of seconds. Something was missing, that little he was sure of. There was a gap in his memory; the feeling was like waking up from anesthetic and knowing you were out for a while. And on top of that, he felt... sticky in his head, like his thoughts were obscured by a thick fog and receded back into the mists when he grabbed for them, for clarity. He reached into his jeans pocket, all he had to do was check the time on his phone and he could figure out how long he was out and...

Then Chet realized he was no longer wearing his jeans. His hands came to rest upon a black linen knee-length skirt with a ring of white lace around the hem. "The fu..." Chet muttered as he lifted the skirt to see a gauze-thin white petticoat beneath, and beneath that was a pair of soft white lace panties tightly hugging his nethers, his modestly-large member bulging in the front.

He lifted his shirt up to see that the skirt was actually part of a bigger garment. As he yanked off his coat and t-shirt and threw them on the floor, he looked in the mirror and saw he was wearing a full maid's dress, with a plunging neckline and a big blue ribbon around the collar, the only part of the dress that wasn't black silk or white lace. He reached to touch one of the short, poufy sleeves silently praying to several deities he hadn't believed in before that he was just dreaming, that he would wake up in his vehicle pulled up in front of a seedy rest stop and forget this... but it was real. It was real and he wasn't crazy.

At least, he didn't think he was. But he was in an empty house in drag, which was pretty crazy. Then a sudden, bristling warmth flashed over his body, sending his pores into an ecstasy of tingling. He watched mouth agape as a short, velvety coat of copper red fur spread down his exposed skin, gently tickling and pricking his soft skin as it spread. Chet moaned, blushing like a school girl as it turned cream white as it reached the front of his face and his chest.

The young man heard his own moaning and panting grow muffled as his ears went up, up into furry orange points atop his head, then a pop and his hearing returned more clear than ever, the little vulpine ears perking up to listen at her... his surroundings.

As the fur spread down Chet's arms, the red fur turned a soft, deep brown. Fingernails became thin black claws and he could feel soft pink pads form on his palms as he explored the odd swelling sensation that began at his chest just beneath his now-furry skin.

Pressing against the chest of his... the maid dress were a pair of blossoming breasts. He let out a little gasp and they seemed to grow as he exhaled. In moments they grew full and perky, with a surprising heft. With a sound not unlike a ball being inflated, they grew cup size by cup size until Chet was the not-so-proud owner of a pair of D cups tightly nestled in his slinky maid outfit.

He opened his mouth to say something, but he was caught breathless by an ache in his jaw as his face pulled out into a short, pointed snout. His nose was reduced to a cute little black thing on the end of the muzzle, and that's what it was; a fox's muzzle with white around the chin and lower jaw connecting to the white going down his belly. Chet staged back, bracing himself against the wall as his mind reeled like a ship in a monsoon. He was furry from head to toe, he had tits, and he was dressed up in a maid outfit in a house he didn't know. This was not good, so very not good, and yet he couldn't really muster up any substantial outrage or panic. Confusion he had plenty of, but no fear.

Then he found plenty of fear when he felt, at the same instant, a sharp pressure going out his lower back and another feeling of pressure in his crotch going in. Now he was hyperventilating, his muzzle open like a panting dog as he watched the bulge in his panties shrink and shrink as a fluffy, white-tipped fox tail gracefully sprouted out from a little hole in the back of the dress, wagging a bit as it reached its full length just as his manhood disappeared into what was unmistakably a feminine cleft.

Then she... Chet was aware of a male presence behind him... he could smell him, a strong yet refined male musk.

"Well hello, Charlotte."

Charlotte... no Chet perked his ears up at the voice, it was warm yet had a youthful cockiness to it. She turned to see a fox man standing in the doorway, wearing a fine tailored suit and his fur styled with some sort of sweet-smelling gel that gave his coppery pelt a bright, smooth sheen. He was a bit taller than Chet, six feet tall with a bushy tail that contrasted nicely with his wiry build. His muzzle was more angular than her own, his whiskers longer.

He approached her... no no him and Chet found his body reflexively stand at attention, her clawed toes wiggling, the feeling of the stockings on his new paw pads was making him feel giddy in his new... lady parts. The fox fellow definitely sensed this as he shot Chet a sly grin. "I'm happy to see you too."

"What did you do?" Chet said, and the foxy guy just put a finger to his lips and gently shushed her.

"Just relax, Charlotte. Relax and listen to your new boss."

"New... boss?" Charlotte... no Chet felt her... no his thoughts get all sticky again, this time the feeling was stronger, thoughts and memories turning into a senseless slurry of color and sound. And the handsome fox kept on talking, his voice was so soothing.

"Of course, you've been hired for housekeeping. You were so eager to work for me..." A smile spread across his muzzle, he pet Char...Chet's head in a sweetly condescending way, "It was just adorable seeing you so excited and ready to work for such a handsome master."

Chet's fur bristled as he put his arm around his now-hourglass shaped waist."This isn't right... My name is..."

"Charlotte, I know. Silly girl, didn't think I'd remember the name of a vixen as pretty as you?"

Charlotte... no Chet blushed. "Thank you..." This was wrong, but it felt good to be praised, it felt good when his grabby paws migrated down her hips and felt of her amply butt. It felt good to be such a pretty vixen... but that wasn't her... his thoughts. There was something happening to her... she wasn't a vixen but she was.

"Now.... Why don't you pay me back for those pretty little stockings I got you?"

Charlotte's mind said no but her voice, her now breathy, feminine voice said "Yes, Master" He pushed her onto the bed and crawled on top of her, giving her a lusty little growl. He unzipped his trousers and his throbbing red shaft bobbed out fully erect at eleven inches. Charlotte gasped and blushed beneath her fur. Her legs raised up, like her body knew what she was supposed to do more than she did. She put her stocking feet on his organ and he gave a shudder of excited approval.

"Oh you're good." He huffed, "You've done this before, haven't you my pretty little vixen?"

"Pretty... little vixen." Charlotte repeated as she ran her stocking clad feet up and down his length gently, feeling his pulsing warmth red-hot through the fabric. She went from timidly running her paws over his cock to stroking in a steady rhythm, her confusion turning into a gooey complacency.

"Silly girl, repeating everything Master says..." the fox grunted, thrusting forward in time with her strokes. "I guess its okay, not like you have to do much thinking as a maid."

"No master." Charlotte said, she didn't agree with it, at least she think she didn't... those two years in college were becoming a blur. Her major was.... was it something to do with cleaning? It had to be, she was a maid after all.

Her rhythm grew more brisk, a little faster as she pressed his shaft harder between his turgid cock and he pumped away harder and faster in turn, he repeated his name over and over, pulling her tail playfully as she moaned and growled in shameless lust. All that was left of her earlier confusion was a nagging feeling that something had been forgotten, doomed to be drowned out by the vixen and her master's act of copulation.

Then, Charlotte's master pulled his cock free just in time to blast his hot, potent seed all over her face. Her first, most natural reaction was a giggle, and then she licked her lips, enjoying the salty taste more than she probably ought to. Like the gentle Charlotte knew he was, the fox took out a handkerchief and wiped her face gently with it. "That's a good girl." He said in a loving way that also told Charlotte she wasn't quite his equal. She giggled and gave him a loving little kiss on his muzzle and he returned it, their tongues finding each other. Charlotte's tail thumped happily against his leg as he drew the covers over them.

In seconds, they were back to rutting like newlyweds, with him always on top. Charlotte was just a maid, after all, and that's all she ever was or would be. And the foxy little maid knew in her heart she didn't want to be anything else.