FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

As the wolverine to my left stands and places another log onto the small fire set into the round gravel pit at the center of the gathering, I find myself glad that no unpleasant smoky air is being blown by the night breeze. I feel the corners of my mouth tug up as my vision is encroached upon by my cheeks, and turn my head towards the sky. Unlike home, the stars are vivid here and dense. The Milky Way is clearly visible. Amongst my reverie, I return my attention to the group.

Mostly experienced campers, some seated in cozy canvas folding chairs, others on larger logs not meant for the fire. I ask a hare halfway to the opposite side of the ring how often he camps.

"Well, all the time these days." Most of the group laughs in understanding. "I used to camp only a little bit. Work was in the way of it." The lagomorph stroked one of his long ears, a bit of a nervous tic it seemed. "But when I decided to camp in the King's Forest, fell asleep on the cold hard earth and woke up... well... here."

There's a general murmur of assent from the group. It seems it's a common thing for the campers of the Reserve.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The King's Forest is a slang term used mostly by locals, especially in the tourist industry. Regency Park has campgrounds, nature trails, and rivers for rafting. However, it's adjacent to some wildlands that are the de facto property of a prolific predator. The locals refer to him as The King of the Forest. However, my notes from my employer refer to him as Griff. My notes also seem persistent in misspelling 'bear' as 'burr', but my employer is an eccentric.

Look at where he sends me, after all.

((Editor's Note: No Comment))

There are park rangers at Regency Park, and they know where the border is. It's only a bit of discussion before they realized I wanted to run into the bear, not avoid him. They seemed a bit confused, but gave me directions anyway.

With a pack loaded up with some snacks, extra water on my back and a pair of my best boots on my feet (woefully not actually hiking boots), I made the trek up the trail that crossed closest to the King's Forest.

My doc martens crunched on the myriad dried leaves in the late autumnal detritus of a forest path. I didn't intend to be stealthy, after all. The chill on the air left me rubbing my paws together. It was late afternoon when I heard another set of paws crunching leaves.

I turned, and beheld a large brown bear, feral in shape, standing in the shadows. He paused as he saw me turn, before continuing to approach. As he stepped into a beam of light penetrating the canopy above, I saw his eyes were expressive and warm.

I held up my arm. "Hey, are you Griff?"

Shocked, the bear sat his wide behind down with another loud crunch of dried underbrush. "Well, yes. Most people don't know my name unless I share it with them."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a late night chatting with the group of campers, I slept in a light sleeping bag on the soft ground. I didn't need a tent, and I didn't want one, spending the time until I passed out staring at the stars. Without that protection however, sunrise awoke me easily. Despite how little sleep I must have actually had, I was fully awake easily, and felt no sign of drowsiness.

The advantages of staying in a predscape are many.

Now I am sharing a small breakfast of pancakes cooked on cast iron held over the very same campfire we sat around the night before. I look around at the beautiful spring foliage on all the trees around and can't help but smile. At the other end of the clearing, a small group of feral deer walk along. Unlike previous times I have witnessed this, they give us anthros no mind. They know we aren't a threat.

After a nice time chowing down on pancakes, I give my goodbyes to the campers, as I have much more of the Reserve to explore. I pack away my sleeping bag easily, and start along a trail leading from the campsite.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After discovering my purpose, Griff bemusedly led me back to where he called home. A large cave opening stood on the rocky hillside he guided me to. Assured by my research and the bear's warm demeanor that I had nothing to fear, I strode into the cavern. What awaited me was not what I expected at all. A Cozy conversation pit sort of arrangement had been set into a basin deeper into the cave with many modern cushions. An entertainment system sat next to it, and amongst the electronics it housed were a computer tower and game console, both hooked up to a large flat screen television.

Griff, however, didn't lead me to the soft seating arrangement just yet. With a casual 'grumph' sound, he sat down next to a large pile of perfectly balled yarn. "Most people don't want to get to know me like this before I eat them." He commented casually, plopping a clawed forepaw onto the curve of his belly.

I told him that was unfortunate, before asking about the yarn.

His smile lit up the cavern, as he reached over and plucked a crochet hook from amongst the balls. "Oh, I just enjoy making things. Would you like to see some of my crochet work?"

At his enthusiasm, I wasn't about to say no. He stood on all fours again, tucking the crochet hook away in the pile once more. Griff then made his way along the cave with a bounce in his step, quite impressive for his great size. It just added to the wobble of the heavy layer of pudge he wore. He was clearly well into his preparation for hibernation from his weight and round form.

Heading around the corner of the natural stone, I was graced with the sight of a display of many intricate pieces of woven yarn, many laid out, and others on sculpted forms of anthros. He sat back and beamed as I looked over the array of crafts he'd made. Despite my inexperience with the method, I could still appreciate the handiwork done by a bear with such large claws, which must have been some hindrance.

My jaw dropped when I noticed that there was another display nearby, of intricately folded paper crafts.

I heard Griff let out a happy 'grumph' as he gauged my reactions.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the end of my wandering the path I'd set out upon in the Reserve, I find myself at a familiar cave entrance. At first my mind is led astray by the heavy moss growth on the stones and the greenery encroaching upon it. However, it is clearly a replication of Griff's cave within his predscape. Some predators can reside within their own predscapes, so it must be that this is where he is, I think.

I am proven incorrect quickly. A few steps into the cavern and already, the difference is striking. While the natural surfaces of stone are precisely the same, where the conversation pit and entertainment center were in reality, sits a mass of gold: nuggets, ingots, coins, and cast items. Atop the hoard is, appropriately, a ruby-scaled dragon with his tail loosely wrapped around the base of the mass of precious metal. The way he fills the space, I estimate that he is fifty feet snout to tail, and his membranous wings drape down to the natural stone on either side of the mound.

By the time I notice him, his head is already raised at the sound of boots on stone approaching. Like the wild animals I have encountered, he shows no sign of viewing me as a threat. However, it's hard to think a dragon would think of a simple Dalmatian as such.

I apologize for the intrusion and explain I had been expecting the bear.

There is a moment of pause and I find it hard to read the dragon's expression. After a few moments, I realize it is embarrassment. The red scales make it hard to distinguish a blush, after all.

"Oh... he comes here when he hibernates." The dragon's voice reverberates through the cavern, like it was made to acoustically match his presence. "This world is crafted from the deep dreams of spring he had during his winter rests, and became... static."

I counter that the woods between places were fluid.

"Well, yes, it is still a dream. Travel through the forest will invariably take you on a different path to the same place every time," The dragon raises a wing to gesture out at the stone walls. "But the destinations... those don't change." I realize that he might be showing off his body with that gesture, as it reveals his toned and well-built midsection where it rests atop the hoard, the banded belly scales appearing orange in the reflected yellow light from all of the gold.

"The cavern you see is how it was before the King came." He coughs into a curled claw awkwardly. "You see..."

I raise a paw and tell him that I know he was devoured. How else would he be here?

The drake lets out a sigh of relief, presumably at not having to admit it aloud to a stranger. "It is... comfortable here, however." He settles his mass back to his hoard, the lowering wing sending a gust of air whipping around my clothes and through my hair. "I may not receive new tributes to my hoard, but I do not have to deal with the troublesome presence of dragon slayers."

He idly fiddles with a golden vase, hooking a claw into its decorative handle. "I know that my true hoard is gone. It is for the best, as it saves my liege the trouble of treasure hunters. The dream of my hoard is comforting, however."

I wonder aloud how long ago it was.

"I cannot be sure." The dragon says softly. "It is always spring here, and at my age, days blend together so easily."

Feeling as though I've intruded enough on the former owner of Griff's cave, I make my leave. The dragon declines to give up his name, as is the way of his kind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a wonderful evening spent discussing the bear's interests and hobbies, Griff looked me straight in the eyes. "Are you ready to go into the Reserve?"

It took me a moment to realize what he meant, as my mind had been led so far astray by the charming ursine's passionate discussion of everything from weaving to programming, television programs and film, video games... amazing that he was so cultured, living out in this cave. As I ponder my own readiness, my thoughts turned to the euphemism he used. "Shouldn't it be the Preserve?" I was thinking of wildlife preserves, and the protective energy that the bear gives off.

The bear, smiling smugly, placed both great claws onto the sides of his rotund middle and gave it an affectionate shake. "My Reserve."

I blushed deeply as I realized that implication, swallowing. If I wasn't ready before that, I certainly was with that little display of his appetite. I nodded my assent, unable to keep from squirming in place.

Griff wrapped his strong forelegs around me and held me close. I could hear the bass pounding of his great heart and the low rush of air in his lungs. "Now..." He paused, as if he was going to ask something.

As I looked up, I found myself staring into his jaws. His mottled tongue pressed out and stroked along the side of my face, guiding my head to turn to one side as the darkness of his hot maw descended.

I squirmed a bit, but I just can't help being fidgety when I'm being devoured.

To my astonishment, I spotted a micro peeking between the rows of omnivorous teeth in front of my eyes, back to the inner cheek flesh. The tiny raccoon waved, smiling brightly. I wonder if he'd been there the entire time the bear and I were talking.

"Welcome to Griff!" He called out merrily.

I was too baffled to respond, and found myself buried in the powerful, pillowy muscles of the bear's throat. I could feel the broad claws gently scooping under my hips, and couldn't help giving them a little wiggle. The powerful predator pressed and swallowed again. I felt my whole torso sink into the yielding passage, as around my form I heard the ribs creak and pop to make way for my body, a short percussive riff against the backbeat of the large heart.

Griff adjusted his grip with practiced ease. I never felt his long claws prod or scratch, as he expertly eased my legs in after my hips. The widest part of my body and the center of my gravity long past, he had no trouble packing me away. The valve into his stomach opened smoothly, and I began to sluice through.

I felt the broad mottled tongue pressing on the soles of my boots and momentarily wondered if those would give him trouble to disgorge. Dropping into the viscous slop that filled the big bear belly, my clothes were properly soaked through with the enzyme-rich juices. A bear preparing for hibernation indeed. I curled up easily; given the space I was afforded.

Outside, Griff let out another satisfied 'grumph' sound, slowly rolling up onto all four paws and starting to walk.

I swayed with each lumbering step, and thankfully didn't feel myself drag at all against the stone floor. The big ursine stopped and lied down. Instead of stone, I only felt softness through the belly walls. It seemed that he had relocated to his pile of cushions. I felt the weight of one of his strong forelegs curling around my bundled form, and the walls tightened.

He let out a bassy belch, removing most of the air from the already snug chamber. I liken this step of consumption to becoming sous vide. The juices were forced against more of my body with the walls closed in tighter, and said muscular flesh began its possessive grinding.

"Now just relax and let me get you situated..." Is the last coherent thing I heard before the powerful bear's body claimed me fully.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Coming up to a vista view spot, I find myself in the company of other hikers. A lady goat with a heavy looking pack and a walking stick waves me over. "Hey, haven't seen you on the trails before! You new?"

I chuckle and explain my purpose in the Reserve, and the lot seems rather surprised. I ask how they came to be here.

A stoat with a walking stick taller than his head uses it to lift himself onto a small stone wall that prevents just walking off the edge into the river below. "Oh, the King snagged me right off the trail. I knew it was a risk and, well, it wasn't nearly as horrible as the park rangers seemed to think."

The rest of the group laughs at this, and I can't help but chuckle. The goat sits onto the short wall as well. "He may be kind and gentle, but deep down he is still a hungry beast. If he sets his sights on you... well I'm sure you know what happens, you're here."

I casually mention that I got in some interview time before my journey inward, and a heron chuckles. "That's far more restraint than I usually hear tale of. I'm sure you've met the campers who were eaten right out of their tents as they slept."

I nod the affirmative and the goat continued. "The wildlife you see here? That's not a creation of the Reserve. Those are feral animals who were devoured as well."

At my surprise, the heron nods firmly, running a feathered finger along his beak. "Before he caught me, I saw him finishing off a bull moose that would have towered over him. I didn't see a single bulge."

The stoat points at the avian. "I'll one-up you on that. As soon as his jaws were around me, I was laying on his tongue, the whole mouth like a cavern! And I don't mean he curled me in a ball and suckled on me like candy, I mean I was lying out like his tongue was a mattress! A very wet mattress, admittedly."

I nod, and am curious. This kind of hammerspace isn't uncommon with predators, but the fact that it appears to be a conscious choice, with some experiencing it and others not, is a rarer thing to find. I also have a much clearer understanding of how the dragon found himself here. I ask if any of them are repeat visitors.

A skunk, who had stayed silent until now, raises his hand. "Oh, yeah... I... uh... I come here whenever I have vacation time." He bashfully admits.

The stoat gasps, "You came back after leaving? How many times?"

The mephit bashfully fiddles with his bushy tail. "I've sort of lost count? I know most people in here either stay or go, but I just can't leave the outside world... but I can't just stay there either."

I ask him if he's experienced being eaten different ways.

He fidgets and nods, looking like he wants to bury his face in the stripes of his caudal appendage. "Y-yeah... he's swallowed me down where it's very tight and cramped, but he's also made me feel small in the... might of his insides..." He looks dreamily into the middle distance, tail fluffed up.

The heron laughs. "So when you say you can't decide, you mean you want to take the ride again and again."

The skunk squeaks and buries his face into his fluff while stomping his hiking boots in a flustered little jig.

I change the subject in deference to his bashful distress, and ask the others if they want to leave.

The goat crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, eventually. Hardly in a rush to, however."

There's a general murmur of assent. I ask why.

The stoat pipes up. "Well, we have internet access in our cabins. We can pay our bills from here so our apartments will still be there when we do get back. Not having to eat or pay to stay here means whatever we have in our savings is keeping longer..."

I mention that I unfortunately have a deadline, declining to explain that it was because of the extra time I took leaving my previous host's predscape.

The hikers understand, though still seem bemused by my occupation. The group disperses, and I decide to head back to my cabin for the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When I first woke up, I was in a comfortable bed. Pleasant and warm blankets piled high, making it hard for me to get the motivation up to move. When I remembered how I had gone to sleep, however, I realized that I had to get up.

Looking around the room, I found it was a nice, comfortable natural wood chamber, with windows looking out at the vibrant green of spring foliage. It was initially striking to me, considering the yellows, oranges and browns that I had experienced before encountering the great bear.

I found the space of the room cozy, but large enough to host other people should they come around. There's a small kitchenette with basic appliances for if a guest were to want to cook. In the cupboards I discovered a variety of foods that I expect are the sorts of things a bear would steal from a campsite after first stealing the campers.

On the walls were hung large expressive landscape paintings, mostly rolling hills and flatter areas. Each showcased a different season or time of day. The landscape depicting winter was the least detailed.

The bathroom in my cabin was fully plumbed, with a large soaker tub, complete with massage jets, as well as a shower cubicle on the opposite wall. Good options both, I thought. The towels hung up were warm and fluffy and, most importantly, plentiful.

Notably contrasting most hotel suites I visit in the material world, the cabin had no television set up, and there was no telephone.

However, sitting on a desk at one side of the room was a simple laptop. When I opened it up and turned it on, it gave me access to the internet. From that terminal I was able to access my research files and update with my findings.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few days after awaking for the first time in the Reserve, I feel as though I have collected enough information for my write-up.

The trips from place to place are never too long, but always substantial. Distance and relative location are extremely mutable in this forest, and it is impossible to get lost. Walking with a destination in mind always leads one down the path that will take them there. Walking without destination, however...

I set out to explore, and am met with solitude. Long trails lead through breathtaking vistas at the top of ridges where you look out over the canopy. I see the remains of old farmhouses that my host must have seen in their dilapidated state and had become part of his mind's vision of the woods. Little hollows piled high with nettles and leaves and other forest detritus. Whole stretches of forest where the deciduous trees give way to conifers, tall pines littering the ground with needles. Burbling streams lay at the base of a gully that is spanned by thick wooden bridges to connect two sides of the path. One can walk hours without seeing anyone other than the feral animals who have been brought here. And meeting a single hiker on the path, it feels wrong to stop and engage in an interview. They too must be seeking the serenity the Reserve can provide.

It is a cozy place, and wonderful if one likes the great outdoors. But many I feel would grow tired of it. The only way to get around is on foot, for one thing. While you never grow physically tired, it leaves one alone with their own thoughts, and that might not be the best experience for everyone. Thankfully, if one wants to find people, walking over the next hill you will inevitably find a gathering of others who wish to be social.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Next to the door in the cabin, on the side table placed up against the wall, I found a small travel booklet. I sat on my bed for quite some time thumbing through the guide. It was written simply and thoughtfully, with an occasional tell that it was my host's words.

Guests of the Reserve are offered more than just hiking and camping. River rafting and kayaking are available, as well as renting more simple boats out onto the lakes for fishing. The guide speaks of the occasional more standard establishment. A lodge type restaurant where one can be social without the pressure of providing their own sustenance. An informal library (more of a small shed, really) where guests can leave or take books at their leisure. A tavern for libations to be enjoyed within and so forth.

At the back of the booklet, I read that the way to leave the Reserve is to be found out in the paths. If one were to hike with exiting at the forefront of their mind, they would find a cave opening. Walking through said cave to the other side places them back in the material world, in whatever state they had been when Griff caught them, outside his cave.

The writing had one more way to leave the Reserve listed however. The bear included the option to awaken within his belly once again and be physically disgorged from his form.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Finding myself curious about second option to leave, I sit down on the bed of my cabin. I close my eyes and think about the instructions given for this method in the booklet. Slowly, the world of the cabin around me fades, and all is warmth. Then, I feel the heavy beat of his heart, familiar and reassuring.

Gradually, I regain my senses. I am curled within the warm slimy chamber I blacked out in days ago, as if I had never been broken down and absorbed at all. The only sign of the truth I find is that I was formed up naked within his body. I'm hidden behind his navel, and slowly I feel his claws caress through the heavy flesh.

It's a relief to hear his voice again. "I don't get many takers for this method. It feels far more... personal than just being gone and away from me." He speaks affectionately. I feel him roll onto his paws and start to walk, swaying me gently.

I half find myself wishing to just stay bundled up and warm within the handsome ursine.

But I have a deadline, and I'm sure he knows it too. The stomach walls clench in on me, but not in the way they did when they were prepared to break me down. I feel my snout press to the cardia from the inside, and I am starting my ascent.

Once again the sound of his heart grows louder as my head passes through his chest, and as my shoulders press up inside, I hear that gentle creak of his ribcage making space. Gradually my face peeks up over the back of his broad tongue, and I feel the weight of his uvula settle between my closed eyes. I'm going to have to open them soon, but it's still too dark to matter.

Griff seems to know this, his flexible tongue curling and wiping the digestive juices from my face and off of my eyelids, saving me from the danger of a stingy experience so soon after regaining physical form. He 'grumph's around me gently, and flexes his throat and stomach walls again, pressing my head forward. To my right I hear a quiet sound of something small snoring. I suppose that micro is still tucked in his cheek.

All seems normal, until his jaws open, and I slowly open my eyes. His tongue is cradling my chin, and I can see the light of the inside of his cavern. However, I have the oddest sense of vertigo as the television in front of me looks no larger than a postage stamp. Did Griff become enormous? Wait, why would his size change that? I'm just as tightly held as when I came in.

The odd spatial conundrums just compound as my snout starts to slip out between his jaws. Even though I easily fit inside his mouth, I can tell that his maw is gaped as wide as it can, and it is still hardly clearing the top and bottom of the very tip of my muzzle.

Griff lets out a startled noise, and rubs his throat with a claw. I feel his tongue curl against my chin and pull warmly.

I have to hide my instinctual elation of being dragged back into the comforting bear, especially with how distressing the outside world is seeming at the moment.

He closes his jaws once again, and swallows firmly. Once again I am sinking down. My hips, which didn't even get to leave his stomach, settle against one of the pillowy walls behind me as I curl back up in the safe hammock between his four legs.

As the cardia closes back up tightly, I hear him chuckle, clearly embarrassed. "Ah... uh... I'm not as practiced with this method of release. I miscalculated your scale. If I had let you all the way out, I would have had a thirty-foot tall Dalmatian in my cave. Not that that's a bad thing." He rubbed over his belly.

I remember the way he had devoured an enormous dragon, and how the skunk spoke about sometimes feeling so very small and other times being almost too large to handle when being gobbled up...

"But I think that you'd prefer to come out the same size you went in the first time." Griff says, apologetically. I feel the walls start to clench and squeeze once more. This time the muscular sac again seems like his body was preparing to claim me all over. "Let's try that again..."

I find myself conflicted as to whether I want it done right quickly or to take many, many attempts...