FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The dark sky and constant rain outdoors matched closely with the young man's mood. He wasn't in much of a hurry, slogging towards the building in slightly waterlogged sneakers and cursing his lack of an umbrella. Once inside, he approached the creaky stairway, summiting the four flights that separated him and his apartment.

The soft click of the lock alerted his roommate to his oncoming presence, and the man inside the apartment slowly sat up on the end of the couch as the door opened. Brandon shambled, soaked and exhausted, through the small kitchen. A set of keys rolled out of his hand onto the counter with a soft metallic clink, followed by the muffled _thump_of a jacket deposited onto a chairback.

"Another rough day?" The voice from the living room carried with it a weight somewhere between exasperation and genuine concern, and Brandon rolled his eyes.

"Of course." He slid off his sneakers, dropping them onto a grimy black mat just off the front door. "Everything's still totally out of whack, nobody around there has any idea how to communicate..."

"Wait." Carlos' head popped up from behind the couch, his unkempt mess of black hair indicative of a long day off spent mostly laying about doing God knows what. "Get yourself all organized, take off all your work stuff, take a deep breath, come sit with me. _Then_talk to me about your day."

"Okay, fine." Brandon wanted to be annoyed with his roommate, but he knew Carlos truly meant well. Still, he could never quite understand the stress - his own job, as opposed to Brandon's high-pressure office environment, was a low-key (and surprisingly high-paying) gig selling vitamins and "lifestyle supplements" out of a storefront downtown, and Brandon had never once heard him complain about his work.

Stripping off his dress shirt and tie to reveal the sleeveless black shirt underneath, Brandon threw himself at the far end of the couch that Carlos had vacated. He sighed loudly as he slowly sank into the overstuffed leather. Carlos chuckled softly.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, you don't even know." Brandon threw his head back dramatically. "The new people in the department aren't learning much of anything, and that's slowing us down...our end-of-day numbers have been off all week and NOBODY can figure out why, and that's a whole other ball of stress that we don't need right now. We've been so busy too..."

"Oof, I'm sorry." Carlos sat up slightly, leaning in Brandon's direction. "I mean, I don't really get what you _do_or what you're talking about, but it doesn't sound fun."

Brandon snorted. "Oh, it's never been all that fun. But it hasn't always been this bad."

"Damn, bud. Wish I could do something to help."

"You're fine," Brandon sighed, bringing a hand to his head. "But if you want, you could, like, order a pizza or something tonight."

"Again?" Carlos responded in mock outrage.

"Yeah, sorry. Way too wiped out to cook tonight."

"Well, that's a shame." Carlos smirked, arching an eyebrow. "Would hate to miss out on the fourth spaghetti dinner this week."

"Shut up, doofus." Brandon exhaled as he somehow managed to slump down even deeper into the couch. "Ugh, sorry. I'm just so tired and frustrated."

"No, you're good. I get that."

The conversation slowed to a halt, Brandon shifting his weight every thirty seconds or so while Carlos killed the time on a mindless phone game. The small apartment soon settled into a tired silence broken only by the consistent pitter-patter of rain on the window.

Finally, Carlos broke the silence, heaving himself up off the couch and turning to Brandon's half-asleep body.

"Y'know, I don't think it'll permanently fix anything, but I really think it'd be good for you to just...relax for a few hours." He moved towards the kitchen, his eyes trained on a plastic bag resting on the counter. "And I _think_I might have something here that could help with that."

"Carlos, you know I can't really 'relax'," Brandon grumbled, wiping the grime of fatigue off his eyes. "I'm too...wired. High-strung. Whatever. Besides, we've established that I'm not into weed."

Carlos laughed as he picked up the bag. "This isn't weed! Though I do know where to get that, too, if you ever have a change of heart."

Brandon dragged himself to a sitting position and coughed. "Okay, what is it, then?"

Carlos smiled as he skipped back to the couch, gingerly pulling out an unassuming white box and tossing the plastic bag to the floor. "A little something I picked up at work yesterday for you."

"Oh, God. I hope it's more useful than last time."

"Don't worry, this one _shouldn't_make you puke. And it's not any sort of sex thing, either."

"So, go on..."

"It's supposed to be a relaxation aid," Carlos said, beaming. "Super new. We haven't even put it out on the shelves yet."

"So it's...basically weed." Brandon shrugged and exhaled. "Thanks a ton, but please don't be offended if I'm a bit skeptical."

"No offense taken," Carlos laughed. "But yeah, it's supposed to be an all-natural supplement that, uh, harnesses your hormones and nervous system to help you relax more easily."

"Are you just reading straight off the box?"

"Yeah...so?"

"Here, just let me take a look." Brandon reached across the arm of the couch, taking the box from his roommate. It was quite a bit lighter than he'd expected, and he almost tossed it behind him as he grabbed it.

"Natural Harmony Rest and Relaxation Aid," Brandon read, enunciating each word. "Our patented formula, with elements taken directly from nature, is specially engineered to relax and soothe your body and brain, allowing for enhanced relaxation and a more refreshed version of you."

"So?"

"Hmm," Brandon turned the box over a few times in his hands, glancing at the minimalistic, silver-and-green Natural Harmony logo that he vaguely recognized from a few visits to see Carlos at work. "That's a lot of buzzwords, but I'm not really sure what it's all trying to say."

"Come on, just give it a try, okay?" Carlos sat on the edge of the couch cushion, eagerly gesturing towards the box like the salesman that he was. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, it could kill me," Brandon deadpanned.

"It's not going to kill you!" Carlos almost looked angry now. "Come on. Worst that'll happen is it doesn't work...it's not gonna hurt you."

"You sure?"

"I promise."

Brandon motioned to talk again, but instead returned to scrutinizing the box. The listed ingredients, outside of a couple of long science words he couldn't parse without a chemistry degree, were nothing out of the ordinary, and the packaging guaranteed a gentle and painless impact on the user's brain and body. Something still seemed a bit fishy, but Brandon had to admit that he didn't have much of a _real_excuse to say no.

Finally, he snapped to attention, holding the box out towards Carlos. "Okay, you know what? Fuck it. I'll give it a try."

Carlos' face lit up as he took the small package and tossed it between his hands. "Yes! Finally. We're gonna mellow you out, my dude."

The next couple of minutes were spent examining the box further, looking to see if the directions said anything about taking with food or potential drug interactions. Once it was clear that nothing of the sort was present, Carlos went to work cracking open the container.

"You, uh, need some help there?" Brandon chuckled as he watched his roommate struggle mightily with the box, attacking it from multiple angles and getting almost nowhere.

"Nah, I'm good," he grunted. "There's just so much tape..."

Another minute. Carlos nearly made a dent, but couldn't do anything more than scratching the logo a bit and bending a fingernail, which he responded to with a mock scream of pain. "Okay, Natural Harmony. I admit defeat."

Brandon laughed. "I'll get the scissors."

A few haphazard slashes later, the two friends finally had the box open, if more than a little destroyed. Inside, Brandon retrieved a small, opaque bottle, watching the dark liquid inside slosh around as he rolled the glass container in his hand.

"So, uh," he said, squinting to read the small text along the label. "Do I just...drink it?"

"Not by itself," Carlos responded, looking at the torn-up box again. "You gotta mix it with water...that's what my boss said. I guess you can take it straight, but she said it'd taste like shit that way."

"Well, we can't have that happen, can we?" Brandon rolled onto his feet and ambled into the kitchen, grabbing a maybe-dirty glass from near the sink and filling it half full with tap water. He brought it back to the couch, setting it onto the coffee table next to the small bottle of liquid.

Carlos twisted off the lid, taking a quick whiff of the stuff and recoiling.

"This smells like...what's that shit? Rubber cement?"

"Oh, gross," Brandon groaned, but not before taking a sniff for himself and immediately wincing. "Good thing we're watering it down."

With that, he dumped the foul-smelling liquid into the cup. It came out of the bottle a burnt-orange color that lightened slightly as it came into contact with the water, the resulting mixture looking a bit like a particularly artificial glass of orange juice.

"You ready for this?" Carlos leaned forward.

Brandon exhaled. "Sure, I guess. You sure this won't kill me?"

"I'm, like, 98% sure."

"Oh, perfect. I'm so relieved." Brandon rolled his eyes, swishing the mixture together more before setting it back down on the coffee table.

"...Well?"

"Oh, sorry." Brandon picked up the glass. "Just wanted to take another deep breath. In case it's my last, you know."

"Oh, come on!" Carlos mock-yelled, punching Brandon in the arm.

"Man, don't make me drop this! I don't know if it'll stain!" Brandon laughed again before turning his attention back to the cup. "Anyway, here goes nothing."

"Bottoms up!" Carlos clapped as he watched his roommate drink down the mixture, his facial expression gradually growing more disgusted as he got further down. A few seconds later, the glass was empty, Brandon grimacing as he set it down.

"God, even watered down, that shit's foul." He coughed a couple times before leaning back.

Carlos looked at him expectantly. "Well? Feeling anything?"

Brandon shook his head. "Not really, no. I mean, the inside of my mouth feels a little buzzy, but that's probably just the flavor sticking around."

"Ah, okay." Carlos shifted his weight, a look of slight disappointment on his face. "Makes sense...probably takes a while to kick in."

"Well then...might as well make myself comfortable in the meantime," Brandon sighed, sprawling out on the couch and lightly kicking Carlos in the process. He stretched slowly, the soreness of

stress and long hours still stuck in his muscles.

"Well, don't mind me then," Carlos groused as he slid off the couch.

"Oh, come on," Brandon laughed, one eye open as he rested his right arm behind his head. "You're the one who said it, let me relax!"

"You look like you're melting." Carlos dusted himself off and sat on the ratty recliner that made up the rest of the living room's seating.

"I_feel_ like I'm melting."

"Think it's kicking in?" Carlos leaned forward, a suddenly interested look on his face.

"Ohhhh, yeah. At least a bit." Brandon's level of sprawl was almost comical - one leg dangling towards the floor, one arm halfway up the back of the couch, eyes closed, nothing moving. A dazed, unfocused smile spread across his face.

"Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Yeahhhhhh." There was a hint of a giggle in Brandon's drawn-out voice as he opened his eyes slightly, following the patterns of the popcorn ceiling and lazily twitching one leg.

The next few minutes were largely silent, outside of the spitting rain and an occasional hard exhale from the couch. Carlos sat, almost in disbelief of how quickly the stuff seemed to be working. He'd never seen Brandon in a state like this before...he hoped that at least some of it would linger well past the night.

He looked at his roommate, all six-plus feet of him sprawled out on the fading leather, skinny and angular. He certainly wasn't unattractive, and truthfully, it wasn't the first time Carlos had had that thought. He wasn't sure if Brandon was gay, and he hadn't ever really managed to find a good time to ask, but he'd never seen him with a significant other of any gender. Carlos himself hadn't had great luck romantically since moving to town a few months prior, and he couldn't help but wonder sometimes if the best answer had been right in front of him all along.

Carlos' thoughts were interrupted by the couch shifting, Brandon pulling himself up into some semblance of a sitting position as he groaned.

"God, I feel so warm." He pulled at his waistband before looking back towards Carlos. "Uh...is it OK if I..."

"Feel free."

Brandon gingerly slid out of his slacks, tossing them aside and pulling at his grey boxer briefs. "Ah shit, I forgot how sore my legs were."

He stretched and flexed each leg, creating a chorus of popping sounds as his joints creaked.

"Jesus, I would have gotten something like this for you earlier if I'd known you were that tense, dude."

"I'm usually not..." There was a hint of concern in Brandon's voice, but the feeling passed quickly. He slowly moved himself back into the most relaxing position he could muster, melting into the overstuffed leather once again.

The warmth that had compelled Brandon to take off his pants still lingered, but there was something unusual about it. It wasn't quite the sweaty, humid warmth that Brandon was used to from summers past - this feeling came more from inside his body, emanating outward and buzzing at his skin. It definitely wasn't unpleasant, per se, but something about it seemed a bit off, and Brandon found himself disappointingly restless once again.

The apartment's air conditioning kicked in with a dull thud, sending the stale air circulating through the room. A soft breeze hit Brandon's stomach, exposed slightly by his tank top riding up on his torso. He absentmindedly felt at the skin, then suddenly recoiled, sitting up.

"What the hell?"

Carlos only half-looked at Brandon, noticing that he seemed intent on thoroughly examining his navel. "What? You good?"

"The fuck is this...hair?"

"What?"

Brandon pulled up the shirt farther, gawking at the lower part of his stomach. There, slowly coalescing, was a patch of fine, tawny-white hair, sneaking below the waistline of his boxers and up towards his chest.

"That's...huh." Carlos scooted forward, squinting. "I'm not sure what that is."

Brandon tentatively reached down a hand again, brushing his fingers on the hair. The sensation sent a shiver up and down his body, and he had to bite back a quiet moan. He felt at it a couple more times, wondering at the sensitivity of the patch and its slow expansion.

"Does it...hurt?" Carlos asked, preparing to search 'sudden unexpected hair?' on his phone.

"Not...not really," Brandon mused. "Honestly...it feels kinda good?"

"Weird. Just, uh...keep an eye on that, okay? I don't want to see you have some sort of nasty allergic reaction, especially 'cause it'd be my fault."

"I think it'll be fine," Brandon said, the concern slowly lifting from his face. "But sure. I'll just make sure..."

Brandon went quiet, focused on feeling at the patch of hair again. He breathed heavily, trying to calm his adrenaline down after the sudden burst of energy. Soon, his eyes were closed, and he leaned back once again.

Unbeknownst to Brandon, as he lounged, the hair was slowly creeping its way further up his chest, poking at the fibers of his cheap shirt. The accompanying physical sensations were subtle, a calming warmth spreading and bringing with it a vague itch that didn't bother the young man much.

Before too long, though, the foreign feeling of hair on fabric roused Brandon from his sprawled position, and he motioned to pull off the shirt as well. Reaching towards one shoulder, his touch was met with a thicker and softer patch than before, one originating under his arm.

Brandon scrambled up again, removing the tank top and maneuvering himself into a position where he could clearly see what was going on. The area in his underarm was a creamier color than the off-white of his chest, and he watched, shocked, as hair now covered his entire chest.

Carlos shot a quick glance at Brandon, transitioning into a double-take as he took in the new growth. He exchanged concerned looks with his roommate, then grasped at his cell phone, fumbling to unlock the screen.

"I'm calling a doctor," he said with authority after finally managing to pull up the call screen. "Something's wrong."

Brandon looked up again. "Wait, don't. Not yet, at least."

"What? Why not?" Carlos wheeled around, his eyes wide. "Brandon, look at you! You're...you're basically growing a coat of fur! What the hell?"

"Yeah, but..."

"But what? Isn't this exactly the type of thing you were so paranoid about? The stuff doing something weird to you?"

"I guess. But...it doesn't feel wrong." He rested a hand on his chest. "It feels...good?"

"Shit, is this stuff fucking with your brain, too?"

"I...I don't think so?" Brandon straightened up and rolled his shoulders back. Along with a few popping sounds, a heavy stretching sensation set in, pulling at his muscles as they solidified and grew with a pleasantly strange numbness. He winced, expecting a pain that was never quite there, then opened his eyes again. "Whoa."

"What?"

"I don't know. I just tried to stretch and...something grew."

"Something_grew_?"

"Yeah, I think so." Brandon reached a hand over his shoulder, feeling at his upper back. "Seriously, like...my back all of a sudden felt super tight, so I rolled my shoulders back and..."

"No, yeah. I can see it. Dang." Brandon's shoulder and back muscles certainly weren't bulging, but there was a rounded definition to them that hadn't been there just moments ago. It looked a bit out of place on his otherwise skinny frame, but Carlos couldn't help but admire at least a bit. "How...how does it feel now?"

"It feels...good. I don't know if I have more than that to say, it's like - I'm still trying to figure it out, I think."

"Well, this is still weirding me out. A lot. But if you're fine with it, I won't call anyone yet."

"Yeah, no. I'm good." Brandon rocked his shoulders back and forth, exploring the sensations that came with the growth he'd experienced.

He relaxed, licking softly at his lips a couple of times. The feeling was a bit rougher than he expected, but he didn't think much of it, instead leaning back and letting the air in the room run across his chest again.

Brandon opened up his mouth again, taking a deep breath that was interrupted by an unusual burst of something wafting through the air. He sniffed, his nostrils flaring out ever-so-slightly as he did.

"Did you put...cologne on today?" He looked at Carlos, who was still obviously unsettled.

"What? Uh, no?" Carlos looked confused, casting a sideways glance. "Why?"

"I just - wait, shit." Another intake of air through his nose, and all of a sudden it was like a bomb going off in his brain. The scent carried with it a staggering amount of information - places, people, foods, and so on - and it was all rushing in at once. Brandon's eyes went wide. "That's not your cologne. That's_you_."

"That's...what are you talking about?"

"It's you. I'm smelling you." Brandon sat up with a burst of energy. "I'm smelling you, and the sushi place you stopped at for lunch, and the mud you walked through, and the guy from a floor down who always catches you in a conversation."

"I - what? How?"

"I don't know!" Brandon's nostrils flared again and his face went temporarily numb. "It's just there - on the air and in the couch."

"Brandon, stop fucking with me."

"I'm not!" His voice cracked as he went on the defensive. "Tell me - you did get sushi today, didn't you? You had to step through mud because of the construction outside, and that dude stood way too close to you and tried to talk about his cats or whatever. Right?"

Carlos stopped himself, a defeated slump in his shoulders. "I mean, yeah. But how on earth did you -"

"It's...something's changing." Brandon felt at his face, meeting with a foreign moistness as he grazed his nose. The front of his face pushed out ever so slightly with the contact, his jaw stretching and reshaping itself. It was a bizarre sensation, one that Brandon knew _should_hurt - but he only felt that warm buzz yet again.

"Your nose is pink."

"Fuck, is it?" Brandon reached towards his discarded pants on the floor, valiantly ignoring a growing restlessness in his legs. He opened up the front camera and involuntarily laughed a bit when he saw his face. "Wow, I'm all kinds of fucked up right now, aren't I?"

As Brandon examined himself, he didn't notice his friend creeping closer. Unable to stop himself, Carlos planted himself close to Brandon on the couch and placed a hand against the still-growing fur on his chest. It was almost impossibly fine and soft, and Carlos gasped as he felt it.

"Whoa!"

Carlos pulled his hand back, red-faced, at Brandon's interjection. "Shit, sorry. I just -"

"No, no. You're good. That just..." Brandon blushed. "That felt really good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Go ahead if you really want."

Carlos gingerly returned his hand to his roommate's torso. His fingers danced along, mussing up the thicker areas and setting off firecrackers in Brandon's nervous system.

Brandon's mouth slipped open, accompanied by a low, quiet growl, and he gripped at Carlos roughly with a hand.

"What was that noise?" Carlos withdrew his hand, feeling Brandon's leg twitching against him.

"What?"

"You growled."

"I_growled_? What?"

"Yeah. I was -" Carlos looked down and jumped. "Brandon. Your legs."

"What?" Brandon flexed his legs, reaching them out as far as they could go, and gasped. The same sense of fullness that had accompanied his stretching shoulders was back, filling in under the skin of his thighs and testing the fabric of his boxers before creeping down towards his feet.

Brandon moaned as each muscle flared in succession, pointing his toes straight up in the air. It was like he was getting a massage from the inside out, muscles pressing, twisting, and expanding into new shapes. His feet twitched, joints snapping, as the balls of each foot swelled and thickened. His toenails darkened to a blackish brown, shifting their position and quickly sharpening. He dug a proto-paw into the fabric of the couch, pulling out growing claws with a satisfied pop.

"H-holy shit," he exhaled, fur now slowly creeping up his neck and chin.

"Brandon, you're -" Carlos stopped. He could _feel_the hand still gripped to his arm changing - swelling, thickening, settling into a shape that was somewhere between human and beast. Brandon's grip strengthened, and Carlos winced and tried to pull away without much luck before the hand suddenly released, Brandon grabbing at the couch cushion.

"Fuck!" Brandon's voice was rougher now, muffled by his face pushing out further, ears dusted with tawny fur and sliding up the sides of his head. He pulled his legs toward his chest, biting at the arm of the couch with newly sharpening fangs and leaving indents as a sliver of drool rolled off of his dangling tongue. Another moan.

Carlos saw all of this from behind and instinctively jumped to his feet. "Do you need help? What's..."

As if to answer, another growl escaped Brandon's lips - this one louder and noticeably more aggressive-sounding. A pressure built up at the base of his spine, and he arched his back, exhaling sharply as creamy fur raced down his still-unstable legs. The pressure suddenly burst outward, Brandon stretching even higher.

Carlos was treated to a perfect view of the tawny-furred tail unspooling from Brandon's rear end, the thick muscle catching the weakened fabric of his boxers and tearing them clean in half. The new limb stretched out to its full length in seconds, twitching back and forth as if given a mind of its own before settling down as Brandon went limp.

A few seconds of silence followed, even the rain gone now. Carlos sat back in the chair, slowing his breathing, before choking out a question.

"Brandon? Are...are you okay?"

The shape on the couch languidly rolled over, the unmistakable face of a cougar meeting Carlos' own. Brandon yawned, his feline tongue rolling out, and twitched his ear a couple of times.

"I've never felt better," he announced, rolling all the way over onto his back, adjusting slightly to allow his tail to fall off the edge of the couch. "This is amazing."

Carlos swallowed. Brandon, along with no longer being human, was also totally naked, his penis on full display against his thigh. The cat traced Carlos' gaze downward and laughed.

"Yeah, sorry. Didn't quite cooperate with the tail."

"No, you're - you're good." Carlos sat down, hands on his head. "Holy shit."

"Wild, isn't it?" Brandon flashed the closest thing he could to a smile. "I don't know what I was expecting from that stuff, but it wasn't_this_."

"Does...does it wear off?"

"You're the guy who gave it to me." Brandon chuckled, a sound closer to a chirp than human laughter. "I mean, I hope it does, I guess. Eventually."

"Jesus." Carlos didn't know what to say, and he wondered to himself what he'd ask his boss when he went back to work.

Meanwhile, the skies outside were gradually clearing, and a beam of sunlight found its way through the living room window, hitting the couch almost perfectly. Brandon stretched out to his full length, shifting onto his side as he closed his eyes and dozed off.