FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sky is a perfect gradient from beautiful, hazy blue overhead to bright orange at the horizon. The sea is silver, ripples in the water appearing perfectly arranged with mathematical perfection. Mirroring them, there are multiple horizontal bands of thin, whispy cloud, almost appearing airbrushed over the backing color of the sunset. The sun itself is impossibly large and easy to look at. The view matches the piped-in synthetic instrumental music of the glass elevator.

I turn away from the view to rest my hips on the railing, facing inward. Floor after floor of the lavish hotel go by as I descend. To my left I can see the attached convention center taking up the rest of the beach before the shoreline curves again.

A chime supersedes the muzak within the glass chamber. "The first wave of arrivals for this weekend's convention will be arriving-" The familiar voice was cut off with a wet belch. "Hem.. Arriving shortly."

The last time I was in a predscape that regularly got new arrivals in waves, it was Kee. The aardwolf is a size-shifter, known for going on macro rampages and eating whole townships in a sitting. But this hotel?

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

He's about the same height as I am, all told. Similar in size overall after my visit to the Fairgrounds for my last column. He wears a pair of khakis that loosen to drape down to his silicone sandals from his mid-thigh, along with a soft, baggy orange pullover hoodie. HT is a raccoon, though my sources say he's got plenty more than that in him, and his dark grey hair perpetually rests across the bridge of his snout, keeping his eyes hidden.

Even still, he seems to have no problem seeing. He smiled and invited me into his home when I came calling. My editor had informed him of this arrangement personally, he said.

I asked him, albeit playfully, if I had the right address. After all, he seemed so unassuming and cuddly, all scruffy chin and fluffy tail, chubby body and full cheeks. Each of the others I had met with had an unmistakable aura of being a predator.

He easily bandied back a volley of his own. "I had expected a skinny twig of a pup from what I heard from them."

I blushed deeply. I had made some progress in losing the weight that I had gotten in the Fairgrounds, but not much. My hips and stomach remained quite large, keeping the pear-like shape. The added tone on my upper body was easier to hide and frankly not as unwelcome. And the other gains were more inconvenient than unwelcome...

"Even after reading what Gren did to ya, guess I didn't believe until I saw you myself." HT chuckled, his fangs visible when he smile.

Huffing lightly, I told him that he should know precisely how big I had gotten if he'd read that.

"Oh, I read all of them." HT replied, paws casually tucked into the pouch pocket of his hoodie. "And I don't mind. I like downing bigger guys." His voice dropped in tone from the light, amicable, unassuming raccoon that met me at the door.

Oh. There was his predatory aura...

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

The hotel soars high above the convention center. Above the roof of the secondary building, the structure inside is what one expects: suites and rooms in halls radiating out from the elevators. On the lower floors, however, the structures are far more merged into one, despite the external look of two buildings butted together.

Wandering around, there are large meeting halls of varying sizes, each set up for a different purpose in the off-season. Tables set up with board games and card games in one, consoles and CRT monitors set up in another for gaming. Yet another hall is filled with big soft cushions, with suspended projectors on the ceiling pointed towards pull-down screens.

Having been in there since arriving, I know that you only hear which movie that's playing you want to, and generally nothing else beyond your own cushion. Announcements pause playback, thankfully.

On the ground floor, beyond the lobby checkin and meetup area, is a large arcade. The entrance is decorated with a cartoonily drawn image of a big fat skunk in a hoodie that looked like it was made from bowling alley carpet, long bangs covering his eyes. Within are a mixture of old game cabinets and more physical arcade games like skee ball and air hockey.

The convention floor of the center attached doesn't get any use in the off-season, so it is left closed off for the time being. The rest of the space is available for guests at any time. Everyone has their own hotel room, even at peak occupancy. Though of course, meeting up to share rooms or just have room parties is common.

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

"Before I get you 'registered', would you like to know anything?" HT asked me while I was still blushing from his sudden shift in tone, already returned to his innocent-seeming façade.

I asked him how the convention thing started. How does one set up a convention where every single guest consents to being eaten?

Fangs glinting, the raccoon chuckled and leaned his weight to one side. "I must have some kind of predatory charisma, huh?"

Fluster or no, I would get my answer. I ask if that's all.

HT pondered this for a moment, before removing his paws from his pocket. "Well, word travels fast when there's a pred who isn't just out to keep prey safe before release, but actively trying to help their prey."

I asked him if he could elaborate, taken aback at his earnest delivery.

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

I ask my representative within the hotel the same, about the longer term occupants.

The cat smiles warmly. "Outside of the convention itself, this is a space for people to support one another."

I confirm that was something akin to what HT had answered.

"A majority of those who stay here in the 'off season' are between homes or need financial support." The feline explained further. "When you don't need to pay rent, utilities, groceries, it's easier to give yourself some time to put your life back together. We also share our experiences with one another to try to give a bit more help for those who came to us looking for answers."

I comment on how fast and stable the internet connection is in the hotel rooms, leading back to the real world.

The cat laughs. "It wouldn't be that helpful for finding somewhere Outside to live if you didn't have that."

I agree with that. My next question is about for things that you can't do online that you need to do for that sort of thing.

"Residents of the hotel can go whenever they please, to wherever they need to be. Only barrier to re-entry is a pair of raccoon jaws." The representative chuckles.

I confirm that prey can be reformed anywhere Outside.

"Yes. And wanting to come back in, HT can get to where-ever you are."

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

I told HT I thought that was all I needed for the interview with him.

"Does that mean it's time for dinner?" The raccoon took a few steps closer to me.

Blushing deeply, I nodded. I confirmed with him that now that that duty was completed, I was clear to enter.

His hoodie must hide some strong muscles, because the moment his hands touched me, I was being lifted off the ground. He showed no sign of strain, or even having to shift his stance to keep balance.

I let out a bit of a yelp in surprise at that, myself.

With that, HT opened his mouth, and just as simply stuffed me inside. Instead of pressing directly into the throat as I had with many others, however, I found myself being curled up against the violet inside of one of his chubby cheeks. I could feel his hands crossing over one another down my body, tucking my enhanced hips in. Then he used both hands to tuck my feet against my thighs and shoved my knees into his opposite cheek.

I could barely squirm as I felt his lips close around me. Somehow, he had squirreled me away entirely past his lips without an inch of me crossing under his purple uvula. I could feel him tilting his head back, since I was rotating with the space compared to gravity.

Then I felt his hands grasp me through his cheeks, broad palms on my head and my rump, grasping and pushing towards one another. I somehow found myself getting bundled up tighter, and the throat began to creep around my balled up form.

All at once, a threshold was passed, and I heard his swallow all around me. I plummeted through tight flesh rippling to pass me downward. I cannonballed into the chamber at the other end of the snug tunnel and felt the rugae distend and stretch to slow my descent. I had no idea how far I had dropped before his elasticity took over, rocketing me back up. The ceiling of his stomach was just as soft and stretchy as the floor. The cardia stayed snugly closed, allowing me to bounce back down in a less violent wobble before coming to a halt.

There was enough space for me to uncurl from my impossibly tight bundling once I finished moving, trying to get my bearings. I felt around the yielding walls, occasionally feeling familiar hands pressing back against mine.

The stomach walls tightened up, then a loud belch resounded above me, rolling out like thunder. In amidst the eructation, I heard several wet splats, like soaked fabric hitting the floor.

It was at that point that I realized that I was no longer dressed, his stomach walls clutching onto my bare body.

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

The convention chair is a short, feminine skunk with a tail at least three times her size. I interview her in one of the lounges overlooking the currently empty con floor.

I ask her what happens on the con floor since the convention is within a predscape and all.

She smiles. "Well, the products on sale are like free trials." She adjusts her glasses with the heel of her palm, using her fingers to brush the white fringe out of her face in the same movement. "They only exist while you're here... however, returning guests have a stored 'inventory' of sorts. Anything they acquired is kept in 'memory' for them should they return."

I ask if there's anything you can get at the convention that can be taken Outside.

Pondering a moment, she nods. "Yes. Multiple booths each convention offer transformative services. Changes you keep until you leave will translate to your body when you reform."

Noting that down for later, I ask her about panels. Plenty of conventions have panels on many different topics.

The chair nodded again. "Panels are held by guest presenters. It's an extension of how we pool our knowledge here, scaled up for the convention season. We get plenty of registrants offering to give panels, whether it's just for recreation, something they find interesting, or important help. I give one on writing and editing, usually."

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

"Would you like the quick way in?" HT asked me, his voice reverberating through the snug chamber. "Or would you rather stew for a bit?"

I reminded him that I only had a week before I had to be on to my next assignment.

"The fast way, then." The raccoon confirmed, before the walls pressed in even tighter on my body. The force drew a squeak from my throat as the heat picked up. I could hear his heartrate spike as his body got to work. His voice surrounded me, a low groan of indulgence as I felt his hands adding to the mechanical digestion of the pillowy rugae's motions.

It was as he was rubbing into me with his hands that I passed out from the intense heat and pressure.

I awoke under the covers of a bed, seemingly moments later. I relieved my warmth by pushing the covers back, still a bit flustered from my consumption.

The bed I woke up in was within a well-furnished, modern hotel room. The eggshell white wallpaper was textured in a steady variation of zig-zagged grey stripes spanning from the ceiling to the floor. A television was set up in the cabinet opposite the bed and the side table had a courtesy phone.

Rolling to one side in the bed, I was revealed the beautiful sunset view out the window taking up the rest of the wall. Drapes were there, in case one needed to block the light, but it was not unpleasantly bright, despite the angle of the sun. A side-table was set up by the window, a large laptop set up on it.

A small kitchenette was placed by the door and the shower room. A pleasant hotel suite all together.

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

The convention is in full swing. The floor isn't as large as some I've attended in the corporeal world, but the crowds are similar. Each of the booths is run by someone with long bangs covering their eyes, familiar colorschemes all around. It's only now I realize that they are all aspects of our host, rather than cosplayers or residents.

I sniff at a teabag on offer at a booth that's run by a tanuki version of HT. The herbal scent washes through my mind, and I can feel tension fade in the moment.

"If you like I could brew you that up." The raccoon-dog offers. "Each of these is a blend that you can get Outside as well. If you like something, I can direct you to where to get it."

I happily accept the offer of brewing the bag.

HT takes the bag from me and sets it into a cylindrical ceramic mug, pouring from a metal kettle straight over it. Not moments after the water is done pouring, I see the color change, darkening unnaturally fast. The tanuki daintily removes the bag, then squeezes it against the lip of the mug. "There, all steeped." He offers the mug warmly. "Don't worry about the vessel, it's ephemeral."

I nod my understanding and take a sip. Hot but not scalding, tasting like the bag's scent but so much... more. The relaxing effects rumble through my body in a far more deliberate and less fleeting surge.

I notice other guests of the convention are gathering and make my way along the floor, waving back to the tanuki.

He waves back, before starting to pour again for others.

As I sip further on my tea, I come across a booth that appears to be mostly empty apart from a banner at the back with the text "BE A MOUSE" sprawled across it in messy brushstrokes. Rather than behind the counter, a grey three-inch-tall mouse wearing a tiny orange hoodie and little else stands, hands on hips. His fluffy bangs confirm his identity.

This HT loudly espouses the benefits of rodenthood to anyone who would pause to listen, squeaky voice surprisingly carrying well through the general chatter of the crowd.

I can't help but notice a feral grey serpent in the next booth, orange jacket hood covering his eyes. That booth has "Get Eaten by a Snake" in a far neater calligraphy as its banner despite the proprietor's lack of limbs.

Across the aisle, one of the few non-HTs is behind a counter. The slender zebra wears an asymmetric halter top and his mane is styled hanging straight down off one side of his face past the shoulder. Beside him, however, stands a massive hyena with now familiar mop-top hair. This HT is smiling broadly, arms across his broad chest with an exposed belly. Eschewing the hoodie entirely, the hyena is only wearing the lower garb of the host.

My attention drifts to what this booth is selling. Intricate carvings of ivory and bone are laid along the counter, with a bust displaying a necklace made from individual bones strung together. At the other end from that display rests a skull with scrimshaw carvings done along the cranium. The banner on the front of the counter reads "Bone Art. All bones ethically sourced and used with permission."

I shortly realize that the materials at that booth are from sentient creatures.

Upon a closer look, the bust has a sign pinned to its base. "Ask about CUSTOM bone jewelry."

Unable to withstand my curiosity, I do as the little sign asks.

The hyena chuckles warmly. "Well, in your case, you'd get to see when you reform what kind of jewelry I make from dalmatian bones."

Blushing deeply I excuse myself, only to find myself staring at an even larger belly of another HT. The alligator's hoodie doesn't reach very far down past his chest, the hood up to cover his eyes in the same way the snake's does. This leaves his horizontally banded belly mostly exposed, bouncing with his every movement as it sags over his khakis.

His booth is far less morbid than the last. He has racks of shirts extending out into the aisle and back into the booth. There's no counter separating guests from his scales, and several who are shopping get a good press from them as he moves from person to person.

As I get closer, I see that the shirts are mostly novelties. Amusing graphic prints, funny slogans, things alluding to being food for one of the species of HT present...

Around the corner into the next aisle, I spot the skunk whose visage is printed above the arcade. His fur and bangs mark him as an aspect of HT as well, though his hoodie is far more patterned than the standard straight orange of the others. He's about the same height as the original raccoon, but he's far rounder, with a pronounced belly that keeps the hoodie from seating against his trousers.

The mephit's booth is stocked with vintage handheld games, from the old single-game electronics toys to millennium portables. Most, however, are those from the mid-ninties, sixteen and thirty-two bit consoles that could be carried by hand.

I see the con chair chatting with him as I pass the booth, coming to another open one without much of a front counter.

A massive, muscular horse with a soft paunch is there, standing beside a massage table. The banner at the back of the booth describes the service as "Reshaping". The draft horse's mane covers his eyes just the same.

Continuing on, there's a far more open booth, larger than some of the others.

Tall and mostly pink, the flamingo's head-plumage being grey and draped to the top of his long, curved beak helps alongside the hoodie to show this is yet another HT. This booth has many different cushions on offer. No small throw pillows here, ranging from body pillow to ones the size of a sofa, similar to those in the movie-watching halls upstairs.

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

My first time exploring the hotel after awakening, I was struck how... well, how much like a hotel it is. The hallways stretch on and on, identical doors on either side. Before the flood of denizens for the convention arrived, they were silent, as well. A very empty place in most areas, except for the activity halls and a few chance run-ins in the elevator.

Many predscapes I've visited have attempted to feel 'homey' in some way. Those predators seemed happy to keep a base population of sorts, those who actually live there. However, the hotel is liminal. It truly feels like a place between. From my discussions with the representative and the con chair, I've come to the conclusion that it's not meant to feel like a home at all.

The hotel exudes safety, and a certain level of belonging, but doesn't really fit. It is a sanctuary, yes. But you are meant to find your way somewhere else in time.

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

As the convention ends, most of the floor is empty, with guests having gone back to their rooms to prepare to leave or off at room parties.

Myself, I have taken advantage of the equine version of HT's services to get compressed back down into the body type I sported before I visited the Fairgrounds. Some of the muscle tone stayed, and I'm sure my hips are still a bit bigger than they were, but I'll certainly be able to fit into my old clothes.

Thinking back to the process, I can't keep a blush off my face. I had certainly been surprised how much of the forming was done off the massage table, and hands-free...

I am distracted from my reminiscence by a loud squeak. When I turn, I see the mouse bouncing happily in place, looking up at a tall ferret. Seems like someone agreed to be a mouse.

As I watch, the tiny HT suddenly jumps up into the air, jaws spread impossibly wide. The mouse's maw closes over the mustelid's shoulders. Loud swallows fill the mostly emptied hall as the dangling rodent drops back towards the counter, the tiny predator making foot after foot of the guest vanish into his small body with nary a trace.

He settles back onto his rear on the counter as he slurps up the last of the ferret's tail, swallowing one more time. His already round belly suddenly surges in size to make him look nearly spherical. He pats over his gut where it's forced his hoodie up and belches louder than the raccoon had when I was brought in.

Approaching, I ask him if that's really what he meant by being a mouse this whole time.

HT rocked his gut back and forth, the ball already audibly sloshing. "Oh, he'll be a mouse when he reforms." He licked his lips and slowly got back up onto his paws. "This is just how I do it!"

I ask him how big of a mouse the ferret will be.

His gut churns loudly, contracting back down with a loud burble to nearly as big as it had been to start. He sighed contentedly, stretching. "Oh? Oh right." He transitioned his stretch into indicating height... only an inch or two taller than himself. "Up for it, spotty?" He smirked, swaying his tail behind him.

I respectfully decline, as I just got back into shape.

The mouse bounces his belly with his paws, a playful tone lilting through his voice. "Coward~"