FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

With a soft thud, sneakers land on the wrong side of a fence, a confident smirk upon the teenager's face as he begins to approach the mansion. Damien had been told all his life that no good ever came from this place - that it was to be avoided at all costs, that none of the people who'd been foolish enough to wander into it had ever been seen again.

It was all bullshit, right? Just a bunch of ghost stories to scare off little kids. Flicking on his flashlight, he moves closer, stepping around the empty outline of an in-ground swimming pool to make his way toward the back door of the giant, abandoned home. If they put up such a tall fence, that had to mean there was some good stuff in there, right? It's meant to keep people out for a reason, and it's sure as hell not ghosts, he told himself.

As he opened the door, a chill ran down his spine. His gut reaction was that a spirit had just passed through him, tingling him inside and out with its ethereal coldness... his more rational second thought, though, was that it was November and the building lacked heating. Steadying his nerves once again, the teenager pressed onward, waving aside a few cobwebs that had fallen into his face as soon as he'd opened the door to push on in.

Damien moved quietly, trying to avoid making too much noise on the creaky old floorboards as he walked past the kitchen and into the hallway. He wasn't sure why, though - anyone who heard him creeping around in here would almost definitely assume ghosts before they thought he was breaking into the place. He briefly wondered what had happened to the people who'd supposedly tried to break in before, if the stories were true - maybe they'd found something so valuable they skipped town with it afterward to live as a millionaire. Yeah, right... but what if?

As he walked, he pulled open drawers in some of the cabinets lining the hallway, shining his flashlight inside in the hopes of seeing a glint of jewelry. No such luck. They were completely empty. Why would someone leave all of this furniture here, but take everything out of it? As he entered the living room and shined his light around, he could see it was still fully-furnished - a large, dusty sofa, several armchairs, a radio... no television, though. How long had this place been abandoned for?

The teenage boy became a little more careless with his movements as he approached an armoire and opened it, predictably finding nothing inside but dust. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. What a waste of time. As soon as he got out of here, though, he was going to tell everybody he knew that the stories were complete bullshit.

As soon as he turned around, though, his heart skipped a beat. A woman was standing directly behind him! When the fuck did she get there? She didn't lay a finger on him, but in his shock he tumbled backward into the open armoire, which quickly snapped shut behind him.

"What the fuck, man!" he cried out in desperation as he began to pound his fists against the doors of the armoire, shaking it and banging his shoulder against it in a vain attempt to get it to open. It didn't so much as budge. His efforts couldn't even get the sturdy oak furniture to wobble, let alone open against its will. "Let me out of here!"

"Don't you know trespassing is illegal?" a female voice called from the other side of the door, amusement heavy in her tone. She was enjoying this! "Why, I've half a mind to call the police."

"D-don't do that! I'll leave, I swear! I don't have anything!" Breathing heavily, he began to lean his shoulder against the door. It was cramped inside of here... and he couldn't see anything, not even a crack of moonlight from outside. Were there any cracks? Was this thing airtight, was he going to suffocate if she didn't let him out? Damien knew he should steady his breathing, but he couldn't. He'd only been in here for a few moments and he was already on the verge of sobbing.

"I know you don't have anything, Damien Whittaker, because there was nothing left out for you to take," she answers rather plainly. "Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't have loaded your pockets and run if you'd found any shiny objects, you little thief?"

He could feel his breath catching in this throat now. Was he suffocating already? Or was he just having a panic attack? He couldn't even bring himself to plead any more, simply leaning his weight against the cabinet door with heavy, breathy sobs... when suddenly, it opened.

To his complete surprise, he soon found himself sprawling out on the carpet, scrambling pathetically in an attempt to get to his feet before he felt his entire body suddenly freezing up. "Ah ah ah, I'm not going to let you wander around like that," she said with a click of her tongue. "You'll just try to steal everything that's not nailed down and make a run for it."

Now that he was out of the wardrobe, he could feel his body... relaxing. His frayed nerves suddenly went calm, his eyelids wavering slightly as he found himself steadying upon his hands and knees. Now that his senses were returning, he noticed that the carpet wasn't gray and dusty, but rather a vibrant red... the sofas no longer covered in sheets and cobwebs, but instead brilliant violet and soft. "Wh... where am I? What are you?" he managed to ask, trying to turn his head to look up at her only to find that his neck lacked the strength.

"You're in the same place you broke into, I've only removed the enchantment that hid my valuables away," she answered plainly, walking around him in a small circle. He couldn't get a good look at her, but he could only make out a pair of fuzzy pink slippers and knee-high socks from where he was at. "As for what I am... well, I'm a witch. Not as exciting as a ghost, I know, but you villagers are much more willing to believe in ghosts than witches and I just want to be left alone. My name, though, well... that's not for you to know. As far as you're concerned, my name is Mistress."

His eyes widened in surprise, his lips opening to speak - but no sound escaped but a strained grunt. It was only now he noticed his arms beginning to change beneath him, his body hair thickening... or was it? It looked less like hair now, and more like fur. A brownish-red hue, creeping down his forearms toward his wrists. His fingers curled up as he attempted to make a fist, to raise some kind of resistance, but he couldn't lift his hand... nor could he uncurl his fist once he tried. Too late, he realized that his fingers had shrunken down, the nails forming stiff keratin claws as his palm covered in a coarse, thick pad. A paw?

Too late, he realized that his knees had begun to lift off of the ground as his legs shrank to match his arms. His shoes slipped off as his body shrank, his weight shifting onto his toes one foot at a time as his knees could no longer reach the ground. The same change took place along his feet as his arches lifted, his heels taking on the form of digitigrade hindpaws. He could hear his bones cracking, creaking, shifting... but he felt no pain, only a dull tingle. Some small act of mercy from the witch who was taking his humanity away. His back arched with a grunt - or was it a yip? - as his spine extended, the same waves of fur following it as it took on the shape of a long, fluffy tail. "I thought one as mischievous as you would make an excellent fox," she said with a giggle, still walking slowly around the changing form. He couldn't be called human any longer, but he wasn't quite a fox yet.

She had saved the best change for last, though... between his legs hung his cock, the lone part of his body that wasn't covered in fur once he'd wriggled out of his too-large clothing. It looked quite pathetic by now as it lifted up toward his body, between his hind legs... wait. This change didn't feel right. "But boy foxes are notoriously hard to handle," she continued. "And everyone loves a vixen..."

What remained of his cock became almost painfully stiff as it pulled between his hind legs, the fox lifting up a leg as a surge of sensation - he'd fight against calling it pleasure, but that's what it was - suddenly flooded his body. Semen fired out of his dwindling cock at an alarming rate as his testicles emptied themselves out, splattering the useless seed onto the carpet as his genitals began to invert themselves.

A wave of nausea crept over the former human, though he couldn't say if it was from losing his humanity and his manhood all at once or if it was from his internal organs shifting themselves around to make room for his new ovaries and womb. Once his balls and shaft had created a tunnel to his newly-developed womanhood, his vulva formed, a spade-shaped triangle of warm blackish-brown flesh that stood in sharp contrast to the rest of his red fur.

Well... Damien was hardly a "he" now. Nor was she a human. The vixen was panting for air with pathetic little whimpers as her tail lowered in an attempt to hide herself, cowering as she attempted to hide underneath one of the sofas. "Now, now, there, I'm a good Mistress," the witch croons with a smile as she bends over, grabbing Damien by the hips and pulling her back before lifting her in her arms. "I know everything there is to know about you... or was, anyway. You're some punk kid from a bad home, parents don't care about you? Planning on getting something valuable so you could take it and run, live a new life somewhere far, far away? Am I wrong?"

The fox could hardly answer, but regardless, her Mistress wrapped her hands around the vixen's midsection to lift her off the ground. Damien resisted for a moment, paws scrabbling at the carpet frantically, but eventually gave up. Why fight back? She was absolutely at this crazy woman's mercy, and as crazy as it sounded... better to be a fox than dead. Soon, her furry little body was cradled up against the woman's chest, the vixen surprised to see a pair of lush, soft breasts. Looking up, she saw a beautiful young face framed by brunette hair, elegantly-applied makeup despite the fact that she was wearing what looked to be a nightgown. Damien had been expecting an old hag, but his captor was gorgeous.

"Don't you worry, little one," she coos, cradling the surprisingly compliant fox in her arms, fingers scratching in all the right places. Oh, that did feel nice... "You don't need to go far away to find a new home. You can stay right here, with me. I've got everything you need. Including a new name... 'Damien' is hardly suitable for such a pretty little vixen, is it? I think you're more of a Daliah now."

Damien - no, Daliah - began to relax against the witch's chest, even as she was turned to lie on her back. Being cradled like a baby was surprisingly comfortable for her, paws curled up along her front in a cute manner. This wasn't all bad. Maybe she could get used to being Daliah after all.

What came next surprised her quite a bit, though. As the witch's right arm cradled her body, the left snuck its hand between the vixen's hind legs, a pair of fingers caressing over that puffy virgin mound that had recently been granted to her. Naturally, this caused the fox to squirm in protest, whines and squeals sounding out from her lips before her Mistress quieted her with a few clicks of her tongue. "Tch tch tch, it's okay, darling..." she whispered, caressing her fingers across that sensitive vulpine spade, tracing a fingertip along its shape. Daliah's protests were quieted as the arm cupping her head brought her closer to one of those gorgeously rounded breasts. Her left hand took a moment of pause from stroking her little pet's vulva to open her nightgown just a bit wider, exposing a bare breast to the fox with a tender and loving glance downward. "Drink up, little one. Everything will be okay."

Daliah appeared to be in no hurry to comply with such an odd command, but before she could think of trying to squirm away, the witch's fingers snuck right back in between her hind legs to press against her tri-fold pussy-lips once again. The sensation was immediate and electric - nerves that hadn't been there ten minutes ago lit up within her, her hind legs kicking out with a breathy yelp as tight, virgin walls clamped down like a vice around the finger sliding inside of her hot sex. The witch was unimpeded, though, simply smiling peacefully down at Daliah as she begins to work that digit back and forth, up and down, each stroke of her hand manipulating her skin across the clitoris hidden just inside that puffy vulpine mound as she cradled her pet's head against her breast.

Panting lightly, Daliah suddenly found herself leaning into that breast, mouth agape as her thighs squeeze involuntarily around the sorceress's wrist and hand each time it slides back inside. She was gentle, but she was also going deeper with each press... and with no sign of stopping. As new hormones flooded her small body, the fox caressed the woman's exposed nipple with her tongue once, then twice... cursory tests before leaning in to latch a pair of furred lips upon it to nurse like the newborn, overgrown pup she was.

Little did she know when that warm milk began to flow into her mouth that she was sealing her fate. The Mistress's magic was fleeting at first, lasting only an hour or two before the changes would begin to revert... but the ingestion of her milk would seal the deal within Daliah's stomach. Damien would be no more. And as that finger began to pump faster and faster inside of her, the fox suckling as much of that warm, delicious milk as she could fit into her mouth before swallowing, she couldn't care less. If this was her life now, so be it. Maybe it was something else in that milk, but as her first female orgasm washed over her body, her animal pussy gripping tightly around the witch's finger to grasp a knot that wasn't there, Damien faded into oblivion and Daliah was happy to bid him farewell. Her drinking had to pause as she came, her mouth hanging open with a breathless howl as leftover milk runs down her chin and into her fur.

Knowing how important it was to make her little fox happy, the sorceress continued to slide her finger back and forth against the resistance put up by that wet, wanting cunt, not stopping her steady, rhythmic thrusts until she could feel Daliah's body relaxing into her arms with the gentle thrums of a satisfied fox's purrs. "Lovely little thing you are now," she coos, bringing her still-wet finger to stroke the vixen's cheek as she resumes her thirsty drinking. "We'll have to get you a mate soon, I think... but that can wait until tomorrow. That rambunctious boy woke me up, and I think it's time we went back to bed together..."