FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A golden ring. That was all the dungeon had, the whole stinking dungeon. Just one golden ring. You kicked a rock and sent it tumbling off into the brush. You couldn't believe your luck.

Where had you gone wrong? Your sources had told you it was the last resting place of some kind of mage or demon or something. Apparently he had a cult following him and everything. You'd THOUGHT someone like that would have riches.

Of course not. Nothing of the sort. Piles and piles of dust and a single measly ring. No piles of shining gold, no hoard of enchanted artifacts. Not even a Gods-damned raggedy robe you could maybe sell to someone.

Nothing. Just a ring.

You squinted at the thing, examining. You might be able to sell it for a handful of gold. At most.

More, if it was enchanted. If it was a mage's ring, it would be, right?

Only one way to find out.

You pulled off your glove and slipped the thing onto your finger. You squeezed your fist, and wiggled your fingers. You didn't really feel any different.

Suddenly, the ring flashed brightly, and tightened. You flinched and gripped it, tugging it and trying to twist it off. It was stuck fast, too tight to turn. Except, it was more than that. It was as if it was fused to your skin, attached to you in such a way that you could still twist it and move it as if it were part of your skin.

You tried to stop yourself from hyperventilating, and think rationally. Okay, it was enchanted. Cursed, to be exact. That might not be a bad thing. In fact, you weren't feeling any effects. For all you know, it could be a good curse.

You looked back down at your hand, and felt your breath hitch as you saw a slowly spreading black shininess coming from the ring. You gripped at it again, tugging and pulling as your skin slowly changed into a shiny, rubbery substance. You hastily pulled your dagger from your belt, pressing your hand against a tree.

It was spreading so quickly now, nearly all of your hand was encased - no, replaced - with a shiny, smooth, black substance. Panic was overtaking you. Thinking quickly, if you could cut your ring finger off, maybe the curse would stop where it was. You saw no other options. You grit your teeth, screamed, and thrust the dagger toward your finger.

Your dagger had no effect. Whatever made up your body now, it was far too tough to be harmed by your little cheese knife. The curse had spread to most of your arm by the time you were able to get your sword from its sheath one-handed.

Your awkward, panicked blows against yourself merely bounced off the black, rubbery substance. You realized too late that you'd have to cut through what part of you were still you. The curse had reached your shoulder. You couldn't touch it now.

You hyperventilated and sat, ripping open your shirt as the curse spread over your chest. It was changing you as it went, reshaping you, giving you shiny, smooth muscles that weren't quite your own. You whimpered as it spread up your neck, approaching your jaw.

It was a slow, cold feeling as it covered your head slowly from the bottom up. It reached your muzzle, and reshaped it into a sharp, canine one. A jackal.

You winced and tried to shut your mouth tight, though of course, the curse was uninhibited. The feeling of it coating the inside of your mouth, washing down your throat, reshaping your insides, was surprisingly... pleasant.

It was only when it started shaping your ears into tall, pointed jackal ears did you realize that it was also coating the inside of your ears, the inside of your head.

It was reshaping your mind, too. You could feel as the cool sensation washed over your memories, the most recent disappearing first. You couldn't remember how you'd gotten into this situation to begin with. Then, you couldn't remember where you were, what you were doing. Then you couldn't remember who you were at all.

Thankfully, just as the curse reshaped your body, so too did it reshape your mind. You had new memories. A new identity.

You cracked your rubbery latex muscles and kicked off your boots to wiggle your familiar, rubbery paws in the cool air.

It had been too long. Too long, sealed away. Defeated, the heroes liked to say. Defeat was, of course, relative.

You looked over and smiled as four figures in familiar robes emerged from the wood around you, approaching you with noticeable fear and reverence. Each of them took their place, kneeling before you and bowing down.

"Master." One said, looking up. "You've returned."

"You've done well." You said, reaching down and placing your mark on his face - a black brand of your royal emblem, a mark of your favor. He trembled.

"Now. My throne awaits." You said, your loyal followers rising to their feet, though their heads remained bowed to you, as was proper. They presented you a royal set of robes to drape over your rubber skin. You'd have to wear them eventually, as you gathered your followers in secret, but for now... you decided you'd rather flex this new body of yours.

It was perfect, after all.