FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The filter alert warbled like an old European police siren, filling the cockpit with far more decibels than were warranted to notify them that a charcoal sheet needed replacing. Simmons looked at Julius, a humorless dead-on "not more of this shit" expression that they'd both been mimicking from each other so long neither remembered who'd started it. They were in the middle of monthly diagnostics and each pilot was surrounded by three screens overfilled with the flowing readouts and wavering diagnostic lines of the ship's systems. The last thing Julius, a lanky brown hare with ears that drooped down past his shoulder blades when at rest, wanted right now was to go down four decks on the space freighter and dick with one of the last manual checks the machines couldn't run for themselves. But Simmons, a potbellied black bear who'd barely passed the company physicals by a percentage point and would take at least twenty minutes longer to waddle down to the air handler and fuck with the filter, was going to get a pass.

Julius knew he was the better candidate but burned behind his sizeable ears at being interrupted to go play fetch with the testy machine. Simmons shrugged and seemed genuinely apologetic but Julius said "Yeah I got it" much harsher than he'd meant. He unbuckled himself from his harness and floated free, hand-walking himself in zero gravity the mere ten feet to the airlock out of the tiny control room. At least it would be cooler in a part of the ship where all the computers weren't pumping out an extra five degrees of ambient heat.

"Have fun," Simmons deadpanned just before the airlock whizzed shut.

"Yeah, fuck you asshole," Julius snarled as he began pulling himself along the rungs in the ceiling of the crawlspace. The mining corp had spared no chance to trim costs and the tubes between decks were barely large enough for Simmons to feasibly fit through anyway. The lighting was dim as hell too, casting far more shadows that should be possible in such a small and uncluttered space. Julius clambered unhurriedly toward the central tube and swooped through the airlock. Yeah, they were supposed to keep them all closed. It was the company's fault for making the readings on the safety sensors so easy to spoof.

Just for fun he grabbed a rung and launched himself toward the air-handler deck, nailing the feet-first flip that slid him into the proper corridor tube in one swift flex. He bumped along the ceiling and floor, completely fucking off now out of spite at Simmons. The dipshit could sit there and run a few extra tests. Make it harder on himself, conserve some fucking energy...

Julius grabbed the nearest hand rung and tugged himself to a stop. Ahead of him, where the room opened up to contain the air handler unit, the filter in question indeed had a red blinking light. But a small trickle of black goo was forming in a bubble just beneath its latch.

That could mean debris had punctured a critical system. That could mean fuel had mingled with some part of the air supply. That could mean some part of the payload was leaking into the air unit and could catch fire if the wrong handler activated. The image of the ship exploding soundlessly in the vacuum of space filled his mind. Jerking off would have to wait.

With a flick of his wrist Julius launched himself toward the hatch in question and grabbed ahold of the sides of its frame. He'd always marveled at the thing. It looked like a dingy sheet-metal box covered in copper tubes and sprouting numerous insulated ducts winding their way to all the areas of the ship deemed suitable for air to be provided to allow himself and Simmons to survive in. It looked like a really shitty mutant industrial spider. He poked the unproductively small red button by the readout screen to call up the diagnostic and realized he had none of the protective equipment one was supposed to wear when possibly handling poison fuel or such.

Silly weak boy... a voice hissed in his ear. Of course you forgot. You're not in your right mind, weak little rabbit...

Julius froze, his finger over the cursor pad for the diagnostic screen. The white DOS code was flickering the returns against the black background. Sweat began to bead up under his fur and float away, darkening the sheet metal of the air handler where it landed.

"Hello?"

Such a weak boy, it hissed. Such a scared little rabbit, just a rodent running from the predator. Not even a big bad wolf. But a she-cat will do...

Julius looked down to the hatch of the filter. The black gunk had vanished.

You would be so much cuter as a girl,_the feminine voice said bluntly. No sultry come-hither hiss, jut the voice his mother had used when she had said his test performance was sub-par. The voice of a knowing superior. _Let me in little bunny boy. Not like you have a choice. But you'll make such a fine girl...

Julius felt something the consistency of dish soap splash against the connection of his left ear and his skull. Both adrenal glands dumped their full load in milliseconds and he coughed, spraying a film over the still-sputtering diagnostic screen.

Oh yes, such a weak little boy. So angry and impotent. Fronting so hard to his big friend in the control room. Yet down here you came...

The splatter was spreading. It was creeping, cold and slick and millimeter by millimeter down the base of his skull. It did not seem to climb his ear but rather squelched its way around the base of it and began to subsume the significant length of it into its spreading mass. Like it was feeding.

So smart you think you are. Out here in space, all that training. All those screens you can read. But you take all the orders. You don't know freedom. How much happier you will be when you have felt me over you and in you, making you soft in the right places and strong in others...

Julius' heart was thundering in his chest so hard he could feel his pulse in both thumbs. But to touch the goo would be to spread it. He tried to shout but it died in his tight throat, coming out as a coughing shriek. To push away from the air handler would be to abandon his grip and would require turning his head and feeling the thing on his neck moving. It was already moving, of course.

As it spread across his fur it pulsed forward with an oily sheen, leaving spiky black cat hair in its wake. It crept agonizingly slowly but transmogrified the flesh it touched with great speed. It was savoring the meal. His skin felt hot and tight after it passed, and it was spreading under his jacket and tee shirt over his chest and neck, down the breadth of his upper back. It was not creeping up over his face. It was saving that.

How far away from home you traveled, little rabbit. Out here in the dead of space to prove yourself. Wanting so bad to be taken seriously. So desperate to be seen as an adventurer or an engineer. But you were the weak one all along, and so you fled...

Now he tore both hands from the filter frame and scratched at the goo with fingernails gone brittle from a lack of exercise and a diet of dehydrated meals. The goo did not spread to his hands as he clawed desperately, but none of the inky black hair scratched free. It felt spikey and cool under his fingerpads, almost plastic. He began to drift slowly away from the air handler, scraping at the infection consuming his flesh.

The slime had spread over the top of his skull and both of his ears were being sucked into its inky mass. As they were consumed like noodles sucked into a mouth. Their base was broadening, and as they were consumed a flat pyramid of midnight-black fur was forming in their stead. He tugged at his precious ears desperately, but the steady eating of the goo pulled them from his grip millimeter by millimeter. His neck had narrowed and lengthened, becoming a slender stalk sprouting from two narrow, pointed shoulders. His red insulated crew jacket hung in a saggy droop off his new upper frame, sliding around atop his still-transforming flesh like the sheet of a ghost.

The slime was spreading under his armpits and down both arms. As it crawled it left thin but fiercely muscled flesh that tensed with tight veins. The flesh it conquered was still, for now, responding to his control but felt distant and sluggish despite burning warm with a hot feeling of new strength. He clawed and wiped and tugged at his transforming pelt to no avail. He'd let himself go to seed out here, not in the heft that Simmons had ballooned with but in the avoiding-cardio-due-to-the-incessant-work-schedule way. But this new power felt hot and tight under his skin. No, its skin. This was not him. He was being eaten. He was being...

Consumed, yes, it hissed. You are being freed, little bunny boy. You failed to be of much good out in the world, and all the years you had to prove it, too. But now you will be strong and beautiful, such a sexy huntress. Such a beautiful kitten...

It was slithering over his chest, and when it reached his pecs, sunken from their time in zero-gravity, it lingered. Now he could really feel the heat seeping into his flesh. He's expected pain, or tendrils, or the little tubes that rot sunk down into its food or something to be eating into his body. But it was just a hot, tight feeling that vibrated his muscles with the pounding of his still-hammering heart. And as it settled over his chest it seemed to lavish heat and care on his flesh, summoning a vibrating warm pulse from some unknown reservoir within. His cheap company-issue tee began to tent, then stretch, under the push of his new breasts. Fat, heavy knockers like sacks of water that drooped and sloped down abruptly from his clavicles to their fat settled bases with wide, fat nipples. He remembered Susan, the only girl he'd slept with, and how odd he'd felt when she'd pulled her shirt off and exposed her 300 plus pound frame, how odd he'd felt that her breasts were not the size and shape of sports equipment. But now he felt his own tits swelling and settling, fat and strained under his shirt, swelling and pushing up ward now under the limited real-estate of his thin shirt. He tugged at them as best he could with their being stuffed into his thin shirt to the fabric's capacity, but they felt heavy and soft and utterly inseparable from his body.

Yes, it feels good, doesn't it, bunny boy? The voice cooed. New flesh. Pretty flesh. A new life as part of me, such a good frame for my form. Such a good use for such a weak little boy...

"I'm not weak," Julius croaked out, but his mouth and throat were bone-dry from his labored breathing. He was suddenly aware of how long his heart had been pounding and how dry and phlegm-crusted his throat was. His voice croaked and cracked and tears formed at the corners of his eye before drifting out into the chilly air. He thrashed against his predator in the empty space between the air handler and the airlock, a marionette on loose strings.

_Oh silly boy, then why am I eating you?_It said.

His tits now fat enough to satisfy the thing it began to creep down his belly, toning and defining his abs and causing his gut to churn as his waist and hips slimmed. He was being molded into the body of a svelte distance runner or an overly-scrawny gymnast. All this new muscle seemed somehow closed off to him as he raked his fingers over what had been his skin. All this new strength betraying him, reminding him as he struggled only that it was not for his use. Its transformation was widening and broadening his pelvis, but it paused again as it reached his cock.

_ Oh weak little bunny boy. Not for much longer..._

It began to spread over the base of his cock. His ears were now two pert black cat's ears, already twitching under some alien need to show displeasure at gusts of wind or errant keyboard noises, but his cock was different. As the goo began to spread around the base, it stung. A cork popped somewhere in his pelvis and a stream of hot, violent power rushed into his member. It began to grow, the blood pressure building and lengthening it to his usual puny erection. But it continued to fatten and lengthen, the veins dilating and then still growing as the black shiny slime flowed up his growing cock. Like a snake feeding, fattening and crawling forward it pushed further and further, burning in pain against the zipper of his cargo pants. He thrashed at the zipper and tangled his pounding erection loose. Then he froze and watched it swelling before him, iron-hard and three inches longer than it had been and still filling and morphing from a sickly pink to a shiny black. His cock head fattened like a massive mushroom blooming in slow motion. It was so stiff and erect and the duct on its underside so swollen with the thing's evil seed that it burned. Finally the black goo flowed over his tip and he stared at the massive ten inch, veiny pornstar cock. Like all the new assets it was something he'd longed for, failed to achieve and was now forever out of his reach despite being a part of his body. No, her body.

"No! No! Simmons! Please!" Julius tried to call. But his voice was weak and creaky and his fingertips, now black and thin and tipped with vicious claws, were numb from clawing helplessly against himself. The red filter light still blinked on the air handler. The fucking filter. If it was actually failing after all this maybe the whole thing would still end with them all blasted to smithereens in the vacuum of space.

Don't count on it, little girl, it said. Do you think I've survived this long being ignorant of all your metal and electric current? How may eons do you think I've fed?

"Let me go..." Julius sobbed. "I don't want to die. I never hurt you. Please! Please!"

He snarled the new dark fur atop his head in his black, clawed fingers and twisted. He kicked his legs and they thudded dully against the wall of the air handler chamber. Still the goo spread.

No, little girl, the huntress hunts. It is her way, her existence. She walks the lands and sometimes she floats in the void. But like you she hungers. And unlike you she does not fail when she strikes or feeds. Silly little girl...

His... her ass was fattening a bit now, but pushing up and becoming more pert and squeezed like two melons in her cargo pants. Her thighs were slimming but firming, taking on that taught heat she was feeling under almost all her black fur now. It still almost felt like her, felt fiercely warm and close to her, but there was a drifting. Like there was a layer of blankets being piled between her and her own body. Like she was sinking back into herself.

Yes, kitty, you are delving. Being eaten, cleaned. You will make a fine vessel, if I may say...

As the long claws sprouted from the end of her lapin feet, as they shortened and the pads on their undersides fattened and they became the feet of a jungle predator rather than a rodent of prey and the claws snarled inside her steel-toed boots painfully the thing did not pause. Even in its custody of her body it did not care, did not seem to acknowledge pain or mistakes or need.

I have no need, little kitty. I always feed, I always hunt. Out in the depths of space, no air and radiation that would fry you to a crisp except your cold frozen corpse would be unable to be heated, I hunt. And such delicious prey too...

A wiry black catgirl tugged desperately at its alien skin in the space between the air handler and the exit, still beading sweat from the rabbit's face poking out of the midnight fur. She was dressed in sagging too-large clothes that hung like kid's hand-me-downs except for where her fat tits ballooned under the thin corporate tee. And the rabbit stared out, his buck teeth pointing from lips frozen in a grimace of fear.

You feel the violence and power and sex under my skin now, little kitten, it said. But this is my power. And your meat is delicious, but I need the meat inside your skull too. Silly little boy, so soft and delicious. But at least you were a fine meal...

He tried to yell, but the smothering heat came from inside this time. Billowing up and catching in his throat before his words could escape. It spread, sadistic in its slow creep across his face, and when it touched the edges of his eyes he felt it tug and spill into his irises. His brow widened and curved into a smooth palate of black shiny fur with tight severe eyebrows. His eyes curved lethally at the edges, and as his irises turned a deep metallic blue he felt his vision dimming. Slipping from him, as another was looking out the same eyes. His lips slimmed and darkened, and his teeth grew and sharpened to points one by one.

As his muzzle was growing to a slightly more pronounced point, it was his history he felt being eaten. Like book pages in a hurricane they whipped by with barely a flicker of recognition: his father scolding him over a bike tire, or a broken swing set, or some other unimportant thin he'd been given the belt for breaking; the kiss with Susan and their awkward struggle to make love as his small dick kept popping out from between her fat thighs; the long hours alone studying for the company's technician's exam and the terse tone his father's voice had still taken during their calls.

"I'm not weak... I'm not weak..." Julius wanted to say. It was the candle flame guttering in his mind, whipping in the hurricane, almost enough to persevere in the gale.

No, little girl, it's my time now. To hunt and feed. But I will say... thank you for filling my belly.

Julius remembered being small, no more than three, and wearing his mother's billowing dress. How happy he'd felt. How different. And the flame guttered out.

Simmons let a fart go in the cockpit. The asshole had been gone long enough he could come back and smell it. Fuck him. They had work to do, and as happy as the bear was not to be squeezing his fat ass through the tubes down there he was getting as worried as he was pissed. Julius wasn't that hard to get along with but he did like to jerk off when he could find a place to anchor himself in the zero G. Even so, he was worried the filter thing might be a real issue. Space was fucking cold and sadistic. He didn't fancy what a rescue would look like this far out.

Warm, slender fingers tipped in black lethal claws gripped his shoulders. "Oh my, what a big boy you are..." a husky, feminine voice breathed in his ear.

Sweat began to bead instantly along Simmons' brown and the underside of his chin. The readings on his three screens whipped by unheeded. Outside the unending vastness of space sprawled cold and empty.

"All that sweet flesh..." it said. "You'll make such a pretty fat girl."