FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Naomi stared at at herself for the longest time, panting as she tried to contain herself. The cure pill was sitting on the counter, in it's little red bottle and it's packaging still neatly wrapped. The wrapping for the 'active' pill, on the other hand, was empty.

She stared at her dark hair and eyes with pride, almost hoping they were a little more rich since taking her pill even though she knew that would be silly. So many thoughts were racing through her mind, her twin in the mirror, staring for each tiny sign that she would soon have four legs and hooves like she'd seemed to dream for years, decades. A little over two and science would give her what seemed like science fiction or the thoughts of a little girl.

No one else could know of course, but why should they? She would get to be a horse, who cared about what people would do in the mean time? She would belong the the wide open spaces and the pastures, running and enjoying the cool grass on great thundering hooves and a warm, wide nose. She would think... well... whatever horses thought. She didn't have any high hopes for her intellect when she 'crossed over' so to speak, but she would still be herself, maybe not a talking animal like the cartoon movies of her youth but she couldn't banish the image entirely. Who knows if she'd even want to go back?

She grabbed her cellphone, but when she saw the texts from her boss and a few of her co-workers with well wishes in so many emoticons she sighed and placed it down again. She felt a little woozy at the prospect. She'd never taken vacation days during her time at the firm, a major retailer's Public Relations department. She'd been told moving up to division chief at her age, with a corporation that practically PR'd itself, should be impossible, beyond ideal.

Then again, school had told her turning into a horse wasn't happening either and, well, here she was.

She'd been told she shouldn't eat, shouldn't drink too much other than water, and she was obsessive about every detail of her body. She wanted to know what was changing. If she didn't see anything in two hours the company that had sent it to her was on speed dial and she would find some way to hold them accountable for snake oil.

She kept pacing back and forth on the smooth wooden floors and glancing at the walls she'd adorned with articles of... well, 'home' she supposed? Horse shoes, posters from western movies, a little saddle shaped bar stool by her island, all associative magic, drawing her back to her beautiful, big four legged creatures.

It took her fifteen minutes before she started scratching between her legs. It was like ants were nesting somewhere in her skin and the hair was on fire.

Hair. She was clean shaven.

She shoved her panties down and stared at her pubic area, noting the warm, dark of what seemed more like peach fuzz. The hairs felt thick and foreign... exactly the sort of thing she would expect when turning into a horse. She couldn't help grinning as her fingers traced over her groin. The flesh looked a little discolored, almost bruised, but she grinned, the changes were really happening, right before her eyes.

She shredded open the packaging for the cure pill and shuffled out of her glass sliding back door, the cool breeze informing her that she'd both not put her panties back on and that it was warm enough that she'd be comfortable outdoors. Even though her own house was in a fairly quiet, unassuming little suburb, she was practically the only person in the neighborhood, as it was new. She did feel a very human spike of shame and panic as she felt grass touching her bare feet, the breeze stiffening her nipples, but then she snorted to herself in what she supposed was a horse-like fashion. Who cares if anyone sees? She'd be on four legs and trotting along with no one the wiser soon enough.

She thought simple, horses are simple, simple things will go for food, therefore no matter how simple she becomes her horse-self will look for food. Grass is food, of course, for a horse, but placing the cure pill in the grass may leave it unnoticed by a tiny horse brain and spread horse eyes. So she places it in something she's sure the horse will love: an oat bag, the pill resting right on top, nestled into the closest thing to horse-chow she could find. Even if she couldn't process why it's important she could access it easily, wedged against her back porch stairs, the house almost seeming quaint now. She put her cellphone beside it and hoped not to use it, that would be last resort, something is clearly going wrong territory.

She felt a little thrill though: what if she never came back? What if she loved being a horse so much she just kept on running? Her skin and the slowly budding horse hair between her legs prickled... And along her thighs and stomach. She couldn't wait for it to happen! The transformation, according to what she'd been told, would take roughly twenty four hours, but since she was small and so excited she expected the chemicals would run through her far faster and she'd be a horse in no time.

It was about noon when Naomi noticed the first 'hiccup' of her transformation.

Thus far she'd been right: her fingers were growing thicker and keratinizing, darker, smooth and harder to move, her toes doing something similar as they crunched heavily into the grass. She had a thick bed of horse hair near her crotch and thinner hairs budding out of her, darker skin warmer and easily preserving her body heat in the spring sunlight. She could feel a little pressure at the base of her spine and her stomach as she was a little larger. She almost didn't notice the changes when they were happening, having to gauge them in reflective surfaces every so often. She used her glass door sparingly: she didn't know how much longer she could easily navigate the porch steps.

Then, her hands... cracked at the wrist.

It wasn't one of the minute 'pops' she was used to when she stretched in the morning, it almost sounded like something in the joint had snapped, her wrists twisting toward the palms rather than out, toward the knuckle, as she was used to.

She felt a little wave of nausea running through her as she considered that, perhaps, something was wrong. She wasn't just getting over a cold, she was changing species. Images unbidden came to her head of, oh gosh, falling apart at the seams, being a pile of twisting organs and undifferentiated flesh instead of a whole creature, oh what if-

She felt another twist and growth at the base of her spine. She took a few deep breaths, deeper breaths as it turned out, and chuckled to herself. No pain, everything seemed to be following the order it was supposed to, nothing to worry about. She kept trying to play over the instructions in her mind but.... nothing seemed to register. It was the sort of thoughts she had when she was looking over user agreements for software: why both reading? None of it's going to matter. It's not some kind of hocus pocus, it's science. Biology. Comforting reality. Chemicals would just tell her body to do something a little different and nature would take over.

Another hour or so and she felt another heavy pulse at her tail. She gasped softly and tried to turn, to stare around her bulking hips and noticeably thicker shoulders to see but her neck ached, like the worst sleeping position she could imagine had taken hold last night. But of course, what did she expect? She could feel the way it stretched at the back of her head, the vertebrae wider and heavier. She could even feel curls of a mane dotting over her shoulders, her normally short hair budding out and seeming to flow up her neck. She would have giggled but her voice felt scratchy, a little... hoarse. She gave a twitchy smirk at that, stretching herself, feeling the dwindling range of motion and growing tension of her muscles.

She felt a heat of a different kind. She thought the images coming to her would be that of her mare sex, her thick mare hips and the swollen, juicy, mouth water horse flank, but the more she thought about it the more she felt like a teenager. Would she be... into mares? She'd heard about homosexuality in the animal kingdom, of course, but she just never considered that she'd want thick, dark mare lips now that it was happening. Her sex was curiously dry, but she licked her lips with a thickening tongue and felt the air puff out of her nostrils.

That was fine, just one more thing that she wouldn't worry about, she couldn't imagine animals being particularly picky the way humans are. It was just one more thing that thrilled her, made it all less of a dream, more real.

She does find herself curious, but bending her neck is becoming a bit of a pain. She should be able to at least look down, past her stomach at the way her own... well... lips were progressing shouldn't she? Bending her neck seemed to be troublesome. Maybe she just needed to wait for herself to grow more? The muscles might have been stretching a little slower than the bones.

Thoughts like these were racing through her head as she found herself hunched by her back, the hips seeming to emit a few odd pops and cracks. Her shoulders felt... thick, but not as muscular as she'd hoped, a little wobbly on either side of her head. Somehow it seemed familiar to her but...

...But mares.

Her thoughts looped back around to the warm, split plum shape of feminine horse ass. How the muscles tensed so easily, the dark winking flesh between the bouncing flanks. Her tongue felt so thick in her mouth she had to let it slide out between her lips and lap at them. She'd barely ever felt this horny in her entire life, much less for a female. It felt so sharply wrong but the logical part of her mind said it was just the horse part of her starting to take hold, her brain shrinking and simplifying, it was totally normal. Maybe.

She just prayed to every power that had influence over equines that she would find a mare soon, one that she could thrust her tongue into and taste every warm crevice, she couldn't help imagining the slick leathery skin, the way her tongue would spread open and fill the mare with sticky, warm... saliva?

She was amazed how long her simplifying brain could stand to focus on strange, strange fantasies. Was this the sort of thing horses thought about? She tried to think of a few other things: her first kiss, her job, her face in the mirror, but all of it came around to mare ass. She supposed she would just have to chalk that up to 'thinking with her dick.'

She didn't so much totter forward as she fell rather unceremoniously. Her shoulders wobbled on either side of her, her ever increasing stomach and chest wiggling. Her neck kept twisting in a funny way, her mane kept twitching, she was surprised it wasn't playing over her ears. At least her tail was wiggling a little, stretching and warm. She could hear an odd sound behind her, but somehow it didn't stick out much in her mind. Maybe that was why her tail was lifting.

She supposed some part of her should have been horrified at the idea, but like the horse indecency for her had no meaning. Not that her thoughts weren't coming, it's more like her processing speed was slowly clocking down, every thought taking a few extra seconds to cue up, then nearly a minute. The nothingness between was filled with thoughts of how grass must taste and how much she wanted to get inside a female. When had she started thinking of them as 'females.' Her legs under her seemed to shuffle slightly.

It took some effort to glance down at them. They seemed... off... Even for being human joints warping into equine. It seemed more like she was dragging her knuckles, the elbows bent in entirely the wrong direction, the joints for her shoulders on either side of her head.

Some part of her just didn't feel comfortable with this. She could probably get to her phone if she needed to. She slowly shifted her bulk and trotted toward the feed bag, everything about the little walk felt off, especially how her legs seemed to take the extra time to paw at the ground.

When she made it to the bag, her fingers were nearly useless. She tried bending her new foreleg up to grab it, but her shoulders felt almost dislocated or wired incorrectly: she couldn't even give them the command to go higher than a certain point. She would even seem to tilt slightly if she did, her entire world wobbling. Her face was actually stretching and bouncing, a little too slack to her skull.

With great difficulty, she ended up licking the phone into speed dial, her tongue feeling a little too thick and spongy. It could barely taste, she had the briefest sensation of plastic and musky, sweaty skin mixed in with that odd, hair taste of horse fur. While she couldn't see it, her tongue was thick and wiggling, barely able to bend or curl, just hang out of her soft lips.

Just standing there waiting for the phone to finish ringing she could feel her legs pawing at the ground, twisting almost backwards. She hadn't managed speakerphone but she could hear the click on the other end.

"Hello? Ovid Industries customer service how may I-?"

What Naomi had intended to say was 'Help me I think something's wrong' but all that seemed to come out was "Hulph, muh, wroh."

"Okay, ma'am, I've pulled your cellphone number, you're Naomi Gardner correct?"

"Yuph, h-hulph muh."

"Okay, ma'am, you've taken... EQ-34, were there any problems with insertion?"

"N-nuhph, aeh ih."

"What was that ma'am?"

"Uh... ahe... ih."

"You ate it?"

"Yuph."

The line went silent for a moment, she could hear what sounded like frantic clicking. She heard an intake of breath and for a moment was sure the man on the line was going to say something awful. The aching in her neck abruptly abated as she hear a thick, twitching pop. She suddenly found it easier to look at the phone, her head slowly lowering and making her shiver slightly as it's very much out of her control.

"Ma'am... Uh... Don't move from where you are, we'll be sending people over immediately."

"Whuh? Huh lonph?"

"It may take... some time, please just don't leave the cell phone! Stay nearby and our technicians will help ma-"

The voice cut off. She tried to angle her head down to see why but her neck twitched in funny ways. The phone went dark, not even the little blue blinking light to show that it was turned on. It was dead.

She felt a little spike of panic running through her form and with it a new series of tremors and twitches. Something was wrong, she couldn't put together what exactly but she was sure she needed that cure pill. She ate it. Why would they worry about her eating a pill?

She felt her legs sliding together, the slit between her legs didn't... seem to exist anymore, smooth flesh that didn't pinch in the normal way or grow moist when she rubbed the wrong thing. She tried to stir her legs to feel her hips wiggle but they barely seemed to, the thick and awkward thighs only able to bend the legs back or upward in entirely the wrong direction. Her stomach wasn't so loose anymore, seeming instead to be wrapped in thick muscles as her chest was far more the sagging bag of organs she'd hoped would be there.

Then it came to her mind unbidden: what kind of pill don't you want to eat?

Suppository.

She'd eaten a pill that was meant to go up her ass, she guessed. But, if that was the case, wouldn't it just dissipate or affect her as normal? Surely something as simple as choosing the wrong hole shouldn't have so dramatic an effect.

And yet, as she saw herself in a reflection through a window, she couldn't deny it: the tops of her hands clopping into the ground, her elbows crunched sharply in the wrong direction, her shoulders fat and bulging on either side of a head that was shrinking rapidly between them. Fat, dark, plum like. An ass. A horse's ass.

She needed the cure pill.

She tried to 'squat' with her arms, but they weren't really obeying. Her anatomy was all wrong, and that aside it didn't seem too keen on obeying her. She did manage to do so, the mane behind her lifting slightly and she prayed to any gods willing to listen that her body was clean enough. She shoved her face into the oats after the cure pill, her mouth seeming to gum for them, tongue long and wiggling and burying itself into the flakes and chunks. It was turgid, almost useless for taste. She could feel the little hard pill roll against her tongue and flap against the softened, numbed lower jaws but she quickly lost it in the shifting oats. She tried to swear and all she could manage was a pitiful moan, not even quite an animal sound.

When she raised her rear and tried again the tongue felt a jab of pain as it jammed roughly into oats and the entire flank jumped up and shuddered. She felt her tailbone twisting and heard... something behind her. She thought she'd been breaking wind at first but then she heard something like a wet snort. There were two holes behind her, rapidly growing distant and larger that was responsible. What of her ability to see remained was focused on the reflection in the window.

She would have screamed.

It wasn't quite a head that rose up behind her, but it was the beginning of one, skin tight around cracking and stretching bone and muscle. A milky, protoplasmic eye seemed to stretch out of a bulge and jaw muscles worked. It was a horse, a real horse head, one that was twitching and flickering without her command.

She needs the pill... or mare ass. Stronger than ever she needed to shove herself into some thick, dripping, winking mare sex. She needed to fuck and really bad. She felt little quivers of fear that her thoughts had degraded in a thick heat that churned along with her brain. Rather than the normal smooth dome of her skull, her head seemed to be disintegrating, sliding apart into two distinct, fleshy orbs at a painfully slow rate. So far those dwindling thoughts were filled with swollen images similar to her own. Fuckable images. There weren't even words for her most of the time, just the image of herself diving into hot spaces and spurting, spraying.

But males do that.

But she didn't care. Who cared if she was male.

Some small human part of her screamed that she wouldn't be male, she'd be male horse parts, she would be less than male she'd be a thing.

That small part would have screeched again if it weren't rapidly fading into the movements of the horse's legs. She could feel it moving at a natural canter, her arms picking up and casually slamming what used to be the backs of her hands into the ground, her former chest wiggling and wobbling with organs and lacking any sort of solidity that wasn't her sheer wiggling mass. Her neck, above and behind her head, wiggled with the long, stretching hairs independently of her head and fluffing against the nearly black flesh of her brain's... sacks. Her breasts, sensitive at best and annoying at worst, seemed to be gone in the rounded shapes, just tiny nubs of nipples shrinking in the bare wind. She could even feel her legs drawing up, like proper forelegs should and neatly clop, her 'tail' rising high above what used to be her ass, filled with bones and muscles and sharp angles.

She tried to dig her hooves in, to pull herself back toward the house. As she did the horse seemed to tip toward her lifted leg and her whole world shuddered.

She wondered for a moment if her body was seizing but she could still move a little. It was just her head wasn't... solid. Her vision rippled and wriggled along with the thick, fat, wobbling. She could no longer deny that she was well on her way to being a horse's ass.

The horse, of course, not being in on the plan of no longer existing, decides to respond as it does to all irritants: it pushes up with the right rear leg and kicks, spilling the oats and, she supposed, the pill throughout the grass. Her world jiggled again as she was just trying to regain her bearings. Her brain seemed to tense up and squeeze out her ideas that didn't involve being shoved into a mare's slit. She tried to do something with her tongue, pull it back or bite down so it wouldn't end up being rubbed along her weakening sternum or flopping in the maddeningly sensitizing air. Her jaw was impossibly flaccid. Her tongue stretched out further, the taste almost entirely gone and throbbing, stretching harder as she could feel it flatten out, a ring of muscles and flesh budding halfway down the length and an opening, dripping with... something that wasn't saliva. Just the thought of succulent, warm mare sex sends it flopping and bouncing against the beast taking her body.

She tried to call out for help, but her lungs were expanding and contracting counter to her desires. There was the matter of her tongue blocking her mouth and the lack of teeth, she didn't even know what her mouth was anymore, much less if she could cry out. Her lips were, in fact, thick and rubbery, greyish colored along with the rest of her face, she could barely move them or make any kind of expression. Her eyes were finally turned upside down, barely able to blink as she, rather literally, felt the blood rushing to her head. All that answered her weak attempts to speak was a tepid little "Mmmnnhhh!" and all that was met with was the horse squishing it's flanks over her, feeling her shoulders roll in and somehow press at her dangling, bouncing brain, her thought crushed out and her tongue shooting back into full erection.

She couldn't stop trying to push down or take control of her arms and legs but each time the horse met with a thrash, the tail brushing seemingly at her brain, her world wiggling so badly by the time she knew what was happening the house had grown further away.

"Mmnnnhhh!"

She was trying to shout... She wasn't sure. Her words were taking longer to come to her mind. She had 'home' and 'sex' and 'fear' and a few others but her brain kept bouncing and tripping over the same. She could feel sharp anxiety twitching through what remained of her control before evening out into the smooth movements of the horse. She was starting to feel her brain drawing back to the comforting notion of being shoved into a female horse.

But... that wasn't right! She's not supposed to be in a horse... she thought... for some reason. She tried to think of who she was before this, what she could do, and all that came back to her was seeing the stallion jumping onto the mare's back and-

Her brain became a mash of blue-green below and the twinkling above, the body moving without her and every two steps it was getting harder for her to imagine what she could do about her predicament other than hoping the horse would find a mare soon. She didn't even think on terms of mouth water, of sex moistening, there was only thrust and thrust and the promise of release. Her mind didn't think in words or high concepts as easily, there was only sensation, bright and vibrant and indescribable and yet somehow her entire world.

The worst part was that everything was in total clarity. What left of her brain was like a camera: each blade of grass, watching what used to be her toes crunching into the grass ahead of her numbly, the even trot that became a nightmarish whirl of her vision spinning.

The horse paused. For those few merciful seconds the... not horse... the... She didn't know what she used to be! She kept straining for the word but all that came to her mind was the feeling of her sex pushing up against the horse's belly, the need for dark flesh. If she could just touch it, rub it away. If she could just release she would solve all of her problems.

Both rear hooves tried to leave the ground. The horse pushed down with it's powerful flanks and kicked sharply into the air.

She could feel her face stretching, tugging around the shaft, her thoughts literally stunned with a slap between the thick, wiggling thighs and the bounce as the muscles came back down. She tried to speak but it was choked around her tongue, made a sick, faint gagging sound. She could feel her lips becoming even less mobile as they squish and fuse to the bottom of the horse's belly. There weren't even vocal cords to make the normal, muffled gasps and groans. She could feel her immediate remains of herself straining, but the rest of her body seemed firmly compliant of the horse. She's lost her sense of taste and smell, mercifully, as all she had before was a faint hint of musky, sweaty hair.

The horse gingerly tilts it's head and sets to the destruction of handfuls of grass. Even though she doesn't know what came before this, simply sitting here is agony. She needs to thrust into warm dark and spurt and spurt and spurt and she doesn't know why but this is all she needs, it will save her, it will make everything right. The perverse, flaccid motions of what used to taste is her weapon, her purpose. There is no significance to the action, there can't be, it's just the pleasure, the thrust, the twitch. Her thoughts crushing into simplicity are forming a pseudo-religious desire in churning, almost-but-not-quite testicles. Just cum and it will transcend these problems of not knowing, of losing.

She tries to urge the horse. Time doesn't have meaning, there's only her pressing need and her ability to twitch. The legs aren't hers anymore, the flanks can move but barely, it's just the cock, the one jutting out of the flaccid, boneless lips and nonexistent jaw that can get what she needs.

Where the horse would normally kick, it seems as though it's listening to her erection written prayer, ears flickering. The horse was not urgent, not from experience having just been made, having little understandable sense of time beyond the moment. This works in her advantage in the sense that so long as she can make sex the most important thing in it's mind, it would seek it out. What little is left of her is making a lewd, sucking sound.

The horse feels it's cock jostling in a peculiar way, thrusting it outward, making it think of what it could do with females. It was a lewd sucking action but, really lewdness was no longer a concept the horse or it's ass could really fathom. There was simply an agreement of need, her panicked misplaced desire colliding with the horse's and growing stronger.

As the horse continues to trot she notices the sound of grass becomes more and more faint, soon she can barely hear the outside world other than resonant thumps and crunches traveling up her former arms, the sensations of which were growing more distant. The loudest sound to her wast the thumping of the horse's blood, her own heart having faded away into a slurry of digestive organs. She no longer has a discernible sense of balance, feeling the world pulling at her and merely taking in visual information as the horse wobbled on regardless of her new state. She was too simple to comprehend this, only that her world was fading and if she didn't get to fuck very soon it would be gone entirely. She could remember that word. It was her highest aspiration in four letters.

She squirmed harder and pushed up against the horse's stomach. She needed warm, concave, encircling her and tightening and squeezing so she can spurt forth and save herself. She could see what she needed to see, she hoped for it to come. It was all that she could hold as the horse reared up and threw itself, the bounce as it landed making her shiver and wobble and the panic was throbbing through her, stretching herself tightly against the horse's underside.

She could hear the throbbing again, faster. She couldn't hear, her vision was growing less distinct, rimmed with red with sharper contrasts that were starting throb in time with the beating around her.

It was growing lighter. She could feel warmth around her form along with heat, nearly white in the shining spots as shadows melted away. It centered on her vision, the plum shape, the long trails of hair similar to those that had been on her neck. The flanks were pitching and the round, dullness of eyes and thick teeth gazed back, seemingly straight at her. Just under that long, wiggling tail was her kiss of life, her savior, she felt warm and happy feelings just thinking about it as the length of what used to be a tongue slapped against the stallion's stomach like a gavel.

Horse courtship, as it turned out, was exactly the sort of business neither stallion nor woman turned cock was hoping for: the first female was skittish, the body jangling thumps against his stomach seemingly not enough to entice her. The cock's vision swam and kept shrinking and simplifying rapidly. It was watching a black and white silent film, a cock's eye view of horse penetration. The stallion bounced onto his back legs to thrust into the mare but she seemed to jump and kick away shyly. She could feel, no longer hear, something of a neighing from the stallion as she thumped against it desperately.

She was nearly done for. She had no words anymore. There was sensation, tightening, slapping, panic. There was need to fuck and nothing else. There was horse ass. Couldn't it see this is what she needed? Didn't it live in a world where there was infinitely pressing desire that wouldn't be fulfilled until-

She almost hadn't noticed. The dappled form, the colors running together to her tiny bulges of simplified eyes, one of the only human features of her face left. The round plum shape, the gentle quivering, the flagging of a tail. It would be hers. Her thoughts churned in excitement. The horse would take this mare. Her panic solidified in joy as she thumped her tongue again.

As though in answer, the horse jumped and it's hooves balanced precariously on the mare's shoulders. His legs locked up tight for a moment as the cock would have screamed, made any noise in joy if it had the capacity. The warmth encircled what had been a tongue, the length sinking. Blessed warmth, tightening, the cavernous depths perfect.

She could feel what used to be her shoulders pushing her forward, what had been her arms and hands holding her tightly as the muscles worked so fast, so businesslike. She could feel every desperate thrust as though it were the last, bobbing and wiggling in hot flesh and tightening her thoughts and simplifying them to a sharp point and pressing deeper and harder and every thrust seeming to collapse her in on herself and straighten. The horse kept thrusting, barely any movement as his hips caused her microcosm of a world to shudder and twist and the red filled her vision until it was gone. She wanted to scream and cry and spread and felt herself coming to life-

The horse held itself close. Both snorted and huffed. The horse's balls were tensed and it could feel it's cock throbbing and pulsing, spraying deep and sputtering into the mare. It had no idea that the last of a human brain went with them, thoughts and ideas turned into so much cum and smearing, dripping. It softened, the mass guiding him almost gingerly to the ground. The stallion snorted and, having mated, took a moment to take a bite of the grass, just inches from cooling, dripping remains of what used to be Naomi Gardener's sense of self.

Just then it's nostrils stretched open, it took another sniff. A moment later it could feel the insistent pat-pat of it's stallion-hood. The horse raised it's head and saw that there were many like itself, with the exception of a certain musk, a scent that quickened it's pulse and made it lick it's lips in a paradoxically predatory way.

The horse knew, somewhere deep in it's loins, there would be much breeding to be done.