FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story belongs to my growing series: 1000 Words: Picture Stories. If a picture is worth a thousand words, can I paint a scene with the same limitation? The stories in this folder are self-contained, and not interrelated, other than the requirement that they contain exactly 1000 words.

What had possessed me to tell my parents? It had been the most awkward conversation in my life. I had swallowed and said, "I've decided to finally tell you guys that...I'm sexually attracted to animals." It would have had more impact if I hadn't been using an instant messenger. In fact, they thought I was joking at first. When I finally got them to realize I really meant it, I got the seventh degree from my mother - why had I come to this decision, did I like women, was I sure, did I realize the challenges I would face?

Thank God she's a scientist. From an early age she had stressed to both her children that they were completely okay with homosexuality. I'm sure she suspected I was gay judging by my apparent lack of interest in girls, but then, I had a similar disinterest in boys. I explained that it wasn't a decision, that I wasn't sure I liked women, and I was pretty sure. I knew that life would be difficult. She asked me to talk to psychologist, even though I said I was truly happy and content. I agreed, and here I was, filling out forms in the university's psychology services building.

What would it be like? My throat was dry, knowing I would soon have to explain why I had come in to talk. Would the psychologist have had other patients with my...in my situation? I doubted it. When I told him, he would be shocked. Would he inform the police? Would he try to lock me up? Could he possibly understand that this wasn't just a fetish - I truly loved animals, preferred them. It was my orientation. In no time, I was walking down the hall, following a middle-aged man with neatly-parted gray hair.

He offered me the choice of any of the chairs in office, and there were three. I took the one that seemed the most obvious, trying not to seem nervous. He sat in the chair opposite, crossing his legs and leaning back. My chair was comfortable, but I didn't lean back. I was on the edge of my seat. Smiling, he introduced himself.

I said my name, coughing to clear my throat, then was silent. Where to begin?

He helped out, "So, why are you here? I see from your survey that you're here to discuss sexuality issues."

"Yeah, sort of. My mother asked me to come in. You see... Well. It's just that, like I told her about three days ago. I'm..." I looked up at him, nervously making eye contact, but he just waited patiently, nodding encouragingly. I swallowed, watching him carefully when I said the next part.

"...sexually attracted to animals."

If he was surprised, he didn't show it, just considering that statement. I waited anxiously, until he asked, "When did you first realize this?"

Past the first, challenging statement, I found it incredibly easy to talk about. I had kept this secret for over half my life. "Since I can remember. Puberty."

He asked simple questions, like which types of animals I was attracted to, what my parents had thought when I told them, and my best friend, and my sister and her husband. I was incredibly blessed to be able to respond that all of them, without reservation, wanted what was best for me, and if that was animals, than so be it. He seemed genuinely interested, and never once implied that what I believed was wrong.

I hit another rough patch when I had to explain my sexual history. I could have lied, but I owed him more than that. He deserved the truth. It was a struggle. "When I was ten, I came home from school one day...to an empty house. And our golden retriever was there, and he...he came up to me and he wanted...well. I let him lick...my penis."

"Okay," he said, simply.

I went on to say, "It was good. So I let him do that again. Hundreds of times. I think that's part of why I'm like this now."

At the conclusion of the session, I asked him, "Have you ever had another person with my...problem?" not sure what better word to use.

He said, "No. I'm going to have to do some research before our next session. How about next week? I have a slot open Monday."

I left feeling cautiously optimistic. That wasn't so bad. School seemed easier now that I didn't have this brooding secret hanging over my head anymore. For a decade I lied to people around me, pretended to whistle at beach babes on television. I awkwardly answered joking questions to my college peers in our first group meeting when they learned I was from a Midwest state. Did I fuck sheep? No. Did other people? Maybe, I wouldn't know. Did I want to fuck sheep? No, I lied. My awkward nervousness was easily brushed off as embarrassment.

But now I had a best friend I could talk to, and my family knew as well. It was a tremendous relief. I knew I would still need to lie, and I had plenty of practice, but I wasn't so alone anymore.

I returned on Monday, and the psychologist informed me that there were resources around campus where I could try to become rewired to be attracted to humans, not animals.

"Is that something you want to do? I can set it up."

"Actually...I'm pretty happy as I am. I know it might make it hard to find a wife and raise children like I want to, but this is who I am. It doesn't bother me."

"If it isn't causing you problems, then I'm not sure there is much more for us to talk about. You're not a risk to yourself or others," he said.

Shaking his hand, I said, "Thanks."

He nodded and said, "Goodbye. Good luck."