FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“I'm sorry. Are you sure you have the right address?"

“Positive, ma'am. We received a call about a disturbance happening in this room, apartment 4C."

“Oh, well come right in, officer." The young siamese cat stepped aside to let the police deer in. Actually, she was a police doe, judging by her build and voice, yet she had the enormous antlers of a noble stag. Regardless, the cop stood in the center of the room, sniffing the crime scene. The cat woman continued, “As you can see, there's nothing wrong here. What was this 'disturbance' supposed to be, officer?"

“Well," the police doe took her hat off, allowing the enormous frame of her antlers to further pronounce themselves in the space of the room. “I received a call that a poor woman was all alone this mating season."

“Oh! Well that's, ahem, that's very kind of you, officer, but I'm perfectly fine spending mating season alone this year. I just got over a bad breakup and figured I'd just bring the vibe down."

The doe tilted her head. “Is that so, ma'am?" She closed her eyes and took a nice, long whiff of the air­ in the room. “Because it doesn't smell like you wanna be alone." The cat tucked her tail between her legs, blushing beneath her fur. “In fact... You seemed rather excited when you answered the door. You know, it's my job to service the citizens of this fine city."

“Y-You don't say..." The cat let out a sultry, breathy moan, feeling the doe's powerful presence as she and her antlers towered over the feline.

“I mean, I couldn't live with myself knowing a beautiful, dripping feline like you was keeping to herself... when I could have done something to save her." The deer stood tall, emphasizing the raging bulge pulsing from her pants. The cat looked down at it, licking her split lips hungrily.

“Well, I couldn't say no to a doe in uniform." The feline let out a fanged grin. Then, like a starting pistol shot off, she and the cop suddenly lunged at each other, furiously making out and ripping each other's clothes off. Soon, the doe's cervine cock stood free in the room, twitching at the presence of the fine pussycat in front of it.

“Alright, now pull in."

A cameraman suddenly entered the room, getting a close-up of the phallus and the beads of pre dripping down it.

“Beautiful, beautiful. Now look up from there. Low angle. Really get the imposing feel of those antlers."

“Sir, the house lights are gonna show."

“So what, we can always fix it in post."

The cameraman aimed his lens up at the doe's incredible figure, mixing all the best elements of both male and female cervines: slender yet built, powerful yet graceful, both king and queen of the forest. She finally inserted her cock into the mewling kitty and they began their rut. And the camera was loving it.

For this was not an apartment but a controlled set resembling one inside of a large studio lot. Lighting rigs were set all around, a giraffe gaffer held a mic over the couple to capture every needy breath and pant, the cameraman roamed within and beyond the boundaries of the fake room to get the best possible angle for each thrust and grunt from the fornicating couple. Production members of varying species watched from the sidelines, carefully hiding how hot and bothered the scene was getting them to keep the set professional.

Sitting on the director's chair was Rudd Wyler, a middle-aged canine who carefully observed the scene. The rottweiler prided himself in his work, ensuring everyone on his sets had fun, genuine chemistry, real heat. It was especially important when filming this year's mating season special. Volumes of smut films were released in that particular time of year, and it was more important than ever to stand out, give people a reason to watch when they could just be rutting.

The doe pinned her feline claim against the closet door and continued to thrust into her. “Follow," ordered Wyler. “Get in there, let the audience in on it." The cameraman, a brown-furred boar, carried his rig up to the fornicating couple like he was a participant. The doe topped the cat, riding and pounding her relentlessly. The set and the scenario may have been fake, but the heat was very much real.

“Mrow! Oh, yes! That's it, officer! Tell me I'm bad! Read me my rights! I broke the law! Teach me a fucking lesson!"

“You're under arrest for—" The doe huffed, nostrils flaring, hooves stamping and grinding against the hardwood floor. “For being so fucking tight!" She unlatched something from her belt: a pair of handcuffs. The cop opened the closet door and cuffed the cat's paw to the hanger as punishment. It only made the feline wetter.

“Nyah! Rehabilitate me, mommy! Make me a loose, dirty whore! I'll be real bad next time, I purrrrrr-omise!"

Their panting grew more and more intense, the rut becoming less rehearsed and more genuine with each thrust. Wyler merely sat calmly in his chair, observing the scene with an almost silent remove. There wasn't a wrong note from either of his actors, and his lack of directions was proof of that, letting them play it out and get the heat out of their system. They were so close to cumming, everyone on the set could feel it, the actors' rutting noises growing more intense, breathy, grrrrowly. It was only a matter of time before—

A loud, long bleat signaled the eruption of cum being shot in the pussycat's pussy. The metal of the cuffs clacked against the hanging rod, the paws they were wrapped around spasming at the sheer bliss of being filled by their officer doe. The siamese cat purred in delight, lost in the warm afterglow of being able to participate in a good mating season rut. The doe felt the same, panting and leaning up to the cat's pointed ears to say:

“I'll let you go for good behavior, kitten." The doe smiled and her partner squirted.

“Cut!" Wyler finally stood up from his chair and everyone on set clapped for the hardworking (and hard) performers. “Let's give it up for the lovely Miss Adira!" The doe dislodged her cock from her costar and bowed for the crew. “And the effervescent Julie Chung!" The feline made a more stately bow before wiping the cum from her snatch and putting it in her mouth. Adira bumped her butt against hers teasingly. The girls laughed together, their chemistry still very much real out of character.

“Wyyyyylerrrrr!!" boomed a deep voice from across the set floor. Everyone turned to find their executive producer, a large and grumpy bull by the name of Jeremiah Stud, standing by the exit door with steam coming out of his ears. “We need to talk."

Wyler's ears drooped. He knew exactly what was on the bovine's mind. “Alright, let's take five! We'll get to work on close-ups and coverage in a bit!"

---

“Bankrupt?!" Perhaps he didn't know exactly what was on the bovine's mind.

“We will be, if you keep this shit up." Jeremiah proceeded to fan out sheets of financial records on his desk. Rudd could only sit slackmuzzled. The production company logo sign hung on the wall, Ruttweiler Pictures, managed to feel more taunting in this situation. It was hard to deflect blame when you were the face of the studio.

“I don't get it, Stud. Where's the residuals on Pack Sluts? Hell, what about the profits from Mink Stole?? We had hits this year!"

“Hits ain't enough in this era. Nobody wants to watch a rut film on mating season, they wanna film themselves rutting. With their damn phones!" Wyler tried to hide his eyeroll as best as he could. “And what's this you're doing with the sexy cop routine? That shit's so vintage!"

“It's classic. Besides it's not about the material, it's about the stars, the chemistry, the heat! C'mon, you saw the take! You don't get that kind of passion with amateurs, and there's not a better star in the biz than Doe Adira—"

“Doe Adira's clock is ticking, my good pup." Ugh, Wyler hated when he called him that. He only ever used that term for him when he was angry, or when they fucked. And the lack of hard-on in both their pants made Jeremiah's intent known. “Starpower ain't what it used to be. These days with the newfangled internet, everyone's a star. I'm not saying she don't got the X-factor, but what does that matter when she's using it to..." He digs his hoofed hand into the desk drawer to pull out piles of scripts, “...Fix the plumbing??? The boss calling her secretary into the office?? Sexy nurses??? Fucking sexy nurses???"

“Porn is at its best when it's simple! You want as little as possible to get in the way of the main attraction—"

“The main attraction's changed!! These days, anyone can search pissplay and tailhole in the tags and get 800 results!"

“Jer, get to the point."

“If we're going to survive, we need something new. Something fresh. Something that'll get butts back in seats and tails happy and wagging. I know you got it in you, pup, I really do. Otherwise I wouldn't be so hard on you."

“You don't need another reason to be hard on me, Stud."

“Very funny, pup. But save that energy for the films. Once we're out of the red, then we can participate in mating season shenanigans like we always do. Until then, give me something I can use! AND NO! I DON'T MEAN YOUR COCK!"

“Damn. I was about to say..."

“We got two weeks before mating season break starts. You don't have something by then, say bye-bye to your job!"

Wyler let out a dismissive smirk and got up from his chair. But before he could reach the door—

“Oh! And if you think you can find a position in another studio? Think again. 'Cause I don't think anyone'll be interested in the resume of the dog that bankrupted his own company."

Rudd stood still, trying not to indicate that the remark cut into him. Yet it was his hesitation to make any kind of response at all that gave the game away. Without looking back, Wyler seethed and shut the door behind him.

---

“The old bull's just getting under your hide." Pete the cameraman took a shot of bourbon, being careful not to scratch the glass with his tusks. Wyler sat beside him, dejected and nursing his drink. Even with the lights flashing, the music thumping, and a cavalcade of bovine strippers shaking their money jugs for the whole club, the rottweiler couldn't shake the fact that his boss—once a friend, a partner, and a bedroom companion—threatened his very career in the name of profits. He remembered when they both got in this business for the love of well-made smut. But the bull was right about one thing. The industry was evolving. Maybe he'd just been in denial of the danger his studio was in.

“Hey, your phone still got charge?"

“You know it."

“Type in 'skunk ladies muskbath dom/sub' for me and pull up the first result." Pete did so with nary a snide remark. He held his phone out to the rottweiler to show what he found: a group of three skunks spraying their stink on a gagged and bound tiger, moaning and purring as she was bathed in their musky juices. Wyler was already half-hard just five seconds in. “Fuck, that's not bad... Think we should do that?"

“Eh, part of the appeal of this kind of stuff is how outside the mainstream it is. It doesn't play as well with professional cameras. Stuff like this is actually hotter with those crushed pixels. Makes it feel like it was made by real naughty sluts with no sense for good taste... Precisely because it is." Wyler was always in awe of Pete's formal expertise. That's why the boar was the best cameraman in the biz.

“But like, what's the equivalent of that that we can do? I mean, obviously we don't wanna sacrifice production quality, but I'm sure we can do something that feels this... raw. Filthy. Primal. Fe—"

“Don't say 'feral', I swear to god."

“Well, why not?! What is the spirit of mating season if not that?? Returning to our base instincts, to mate and breed not because we want to but because we're bound to. That shit just hits at our evolutionary core, man."

The boar snorted. It was ironic. It was the kind of noise his feral counterparts would make eons ago. And here he was now, in a bar talking about smut that would make him want to oink like a beast, to take part in equal parts taboo and tradition, reverting into a creature of pure need. Fuck, he was getting kinda leaky just thinking about it. “Okay, you have a point. But I don't think you can beat the wealth of content on the internet with this one. The masses got us beat. We're dinosaurs."

“HEY!" shouted a drunk fox in the corner. “My coushin'sh a dinoshaur. He'sh adopted."

The fox passed out. Pete and Wyler sighed, both lost... until they looked out at the door and saw Doe and Julie enter the club. Doe waved at the counter and pulled Julie with her to join the two mammals.

“Why haven't you answered your phone?" Doe said, out of breath like she ran all over town looking for him.

“I'm out of juice. Why? You sound fuckin' parched." He slid his drink over to the doe. She needs it more than him. Doe downed the glass in one shot and continued.

“I was just talking to Julie here, and we may have thought up a way to save Ruttweiler Pictures!"

Pete snorted again. “Well, that was quick." Wyler agreed with his dismissive tone.

“You and Julie??"

Doe scoffed. “Yeah! So?"

“Why's Julie so attached to the fate of our studio, she's not signed with us."

“Well, if you'd just let her explain, maybe you'll find out! Jules?"

Julie took a deep breath, taking in the gravity of what she was about to tell her director. “Well, we were talking about the kinds of things we had never seen in porn but always wanted. You know, the usual appreciation-of-the-craft kind of shit. And, I kinda accidentally blabbed about something I shouldn't have blabbed about."

Wyler clacked his claws against the counter impatiently. “And...?"

“And... Please know that I am not under the influence and I am, in fact, fully cognizant when I disclose that... I wasn't always a feline." Pete and Wyler's brows raised. “In fact, I was... born a human."

Wyler... didn't know what to say to that. This concept of “humans" had been a conspiracy as old as UFO sightings. Many claimed that not only was there a “default species" that served as the evolutionary blueprint for all bipedal mammals, reptiles, avians, amphibians, and aquatics... but that there was another world populated entirely of them, like a kind of dimensional counterpart of this one.

Further still, there had been multiple conspiracy theories claiming there were “gateways" into this world of so-called humans. One famous online post was from a husky in the arctic who encountered a gravitational anomaly that opened up a portal to the human world. When he returned, one of these “humans" found the rift on the other side and entered this world. The post got even nuttier. The husky posted pictures of this human living with him. Obviously, they were photoshopped. They had to be. The human looked so strange, unrealistic, like a CG creation designed to resemble as little from any source species as possible. They soooorta looked like primates? Almost? But that was beside the point. What mattered was when authorities came to his arctic base to verify this discovery, what they found was the husky and his friend, an arctic fox... but no “human" to speak of.

As if it couldn't get any weirder, the husky explained that he had developed a romantic relationship with this supposed human and had sexual relations with it. Relations that seemed to have “transformed" said human into the arctic fox lady that now lived with him. It was all a bit convenient. As soon as authorities came, an arctic fox claimed to be some former human with a human life and all these recountings of a human society... but no evidence of said society. This theory had been debunked by everyone and their mother. Only the most fringe of the fringe believed it to be true. Now here was this siamese cat, claiming the same thing. Wyler, naturally, was hesitant to believe her.

“Alright, lemme guess. You found a portal to our world, got fucked by some stud, turned into a cat with a fantastic pair of tits, and neglected to tell anyone as you pursued a career in the porn industry."

The cat smirked, half-expecting this dismissal. “I know how it sounds. Believe me, that's why I don't bring it up with anyone. I knew no one would believe me."

Pete chimed in, “And you expect us to believe you?"

“Okay," Wyler stepped back and downed another shot before continuing. “Let's say this information is true... What does it have to do with saving our studio?"

Doe came in to defend her feline friend. “Well, we were talking about something new to show people, and Julie just came out with this story about how she was transformed. Guys, I don't think she's lying. She has memories and stories of things that make no sense! You don't just lie about this stuff. Either it really happened or she's insane, and Julie is definitely not insane."

Julie smiled, happy to be believed by a colleague and a friend like Doe. She added, “And I just wanna say, I've always loved your work, Rudd." Rudd scoffed at the compliment. “No, really! I do! That's why I sought out your studio. Your stuff is so hot and well put together it... it reminded me of when I was first claimed in this world. And of my transformation. It was the... most beautiful and sensual experience of my life. I knew after becoming... this... that I didn't want to go back to my old self. And for so long I imagined all sorts of hot scenarios of similar kinds of transformations. All the different species a human could become and open themselves up to. I even contacted that fox, Allison Frost, online. I could tell she wasn't lying about being a former human either. And we started writing all sorts of smut together. Pages upon pages of text detailing various kinds of transformation... When I heard you guys were desperate for new ideas, I knew I'd be remiss not to take this chance to bring these fantasies to life."

Wyler and Pete were at a loss for words. No matter how insane it sounded, the feline was so damn sincere about this fetish that they almost had to respect it. “You know," the canine finally remarked, “There's something there. I mean, it's nutty, but it's just the kind of nutty that could get us attention. Of course, the main obstacle would be the budget. I mean, how would we even accomplish this effect? CG? Make-up? Costumes?"

“No! No, you don't understand," interjected Julie. “It wouldn't work with effects."

Pete groaned in frustration. “Dammit, woman, what do you want from us?"

The feline's fur bristled at his tone. “You know what I want? Fine. What if I told you I know where to find a portal to the human world and we could get a human to be in our film??"

The two men went silent on this... before breaking into howling laughter. “Ahahahah! Right! Then I'll get my dragon and unicorn friends to costar with them! Heheh, think about it! The first porno with all fantasy species! Hahahah!"

Pete cackled with his canine friend. “Heh, you're right, transformation is real! I mean, you tell me a story like that and before long, I'm now a hyena! AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH!!"

Julie just sat there, unsurprised and unamused. Doe was right there with her, glaring at the two mammals with utter disdain. She decided to just drop the bomb then and there. “Yeah, and wouldn't it be real funny if sh already showed me this portal as proof she's telling the truth?"

It took a moment for Doe's words to register with them, but eventually their laughter died down. They stared at the girls in silence, waiting for the punchline to her joke... but it never came.

“......sorry, what?"

---

The trek to Julie's apartment was worth it. Right there, in her closet, was a strange... tear in the fabric of reality? Rift? Opening? Fold? The cunt between worlds? Wyler didn't know what to call it, but it was definitely real. Pete stood behind him, sobered by the sight before their eyes. Doe and Julie were behind them both, standing by the doorway with smug “told ya so" looks.

“And you just... walk in?" Wyler asked shakily.

Doe was having too much fun with seeing her coworkers be put in their place. If only she could film their faces at this moment. “Bitches first," she teased. Wyler couldn't even come up with a clever retort, he was too flabbergasted. Carefully, almost afraid it could hurt him, he took one trepidatious step after another toward the rift.

“Agh, fuck it." Shaking his fears away, the rottweiler clenched his paws and just marched forward.

One second, he was in Julie's closet, the next, he was in an alleyway. Wyler examined his surroundings. It seemed to be beside an abandoned factory of some kind. The buildings looked just like buildings he'd see in his world, and ordinary-looking cars could be seen driving by at the opposite end of the alley. Okay, the canine was getting his mental bearings back. This could still just be an admittedly neat parlor trick. But that still didn't bolster the cat's earlier claim that there was—

“Hey, man..."

Wyler's fur stood on end. He spun around, looking for the source of the voice. “Over here," it echoed. It seemed to come from below. What he saw was a homeless man in a bed of cardboard... an almost furless man with a scraggly beard and bushy eyebrows. Between the beard and brows, he had pink, fleshy skin, wrinkled and weathered with age. “Yer one of them hybrids aintcha."

Shit. The fleshman was talking to him. Wyler stuttered. “Er, I—"

“I knew it. Guv'rment's testin' on us. Makin' supersoldiers outta dog DNA."

Wyler was taken aback at that last sentence. “You guys... have dogs here?"

RUFF RUFF! An all too familiar barking echoed down the alley. Padding down the pavement was a skinny greyhound walking on all-fours. A feral. Wyler's brain went numb. It was like seeing a caveman from prehistoric times. “Hey! Down boy! Down!" the homeless man yelled. With his attention turned back at the creature, Wyler hurriedly backed up to the rift...

...and found himself back in the closet, with Pete and the girls waiting for him. “Well?" the boar inquired. “Is it legit?" Wyler could only stand in shocked silence. Pete scoffed at his reaction, “Yeah right," before stepping into the rift himself. Wyler was now alone with the girls.

“So. Was that homeless guy still there?" Doe asked with a teasing lilt to her voice. Wyler could only shakily nod his muzzle in response. “Yeah, I saw him. Showed me his pooch too. Very interesting to say the least, huh."

“Doe... You won. No need to rub it in my snout anymore."

Doe chuckled to herself. Julie just sat in silence, all too familiar with the disbelief. Hell, she once felt as bewildered by her new home too. Finally, Pete returned from the rift with the same glassy eyed stare. “He... He tried to poke me with a fork... called me Bacon..."

---

It was morning in Julie's apartment, and the four mammals were still wide awake and in the throes of passionate discussion. After the initial shock of the reveal washed off, it finally dawned on the males: Julie was right. This wasn't just something new, it was guaranteed publicity. Questions about the human world turned into brainstorming sessions. Brainstorming sessions evolved into drinking sessions. Drunk brainstorming sessions brought back levity to the group. Everyone's creative fires were sparking. Ideas for storylines, scenarios, kinks on top of kinks, all began to flow.

“Alright," Wyler began with a drunken sway to his voice, “Answer me this: what about— what did you call us?"

“Anthros," Julie replied. It was the best she could come up with. She was familiar with the furry community back in her home reality. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she'd end up a real-life furry herself. That said, she was a little uncomfortable using the term 'furries' considering all the scaled and feathered friends she made in her new life. Anthros was a better generalization for these purposes.

“Right, so, what about an anthro transforming into a human?? Is that sexy?"

“Eh, I dunno. You must understand, where I'm from, people are like, scared of sex. We're not open about it the way you guys are. It's not really as sexy."

“What, you humans don't rut?"

“Yeah, no mating?" Pete chimed. “No packs and herds with full-on orgies in the park?"

Julie laughed at the thought. “Heh, I mean, humans have orgies, but almost always behind closed doors. They also don't really deal in packs or groups like we do. Humans are very—"

“Boring, apparently," Doe interrupted. Julie sat there, trying to think up a better term:

“...Careful. We're—They're very careful."

“Pfft, 'careful'. They don't even have a mating season! Apparently their idea of letting off steam is making crime legal one day a year."

“Doe, I told you, that was a movie."

“A very dumb movie, I bet."

“All I'm saying is, becoming one of you guys was like awakening to a world of sexual discovery I never thought possible. If one of you became a human, you'd just be like 'That's it?' Not that I don't think there are some folks here who wouldn't develop a human fetish if that's their thing."

“Buuuuut it's not the hot-ticket idea that'll save our studio," Wyler added.

“More or less, yeah."

Pete finally sat up from his beanbag chair and leaned in to get serious. “So we have a handful of hot scenarios and a fresh new idea to bring it all together. All that remains is the, er... casting. How exactly will that work?"

Everyone went silent. That, everyone knew, would be the hard part.

Wyler was the first to respond. “I say we divert all human interactions to Julie, since she's the expert here."

“Hell no, you can't pay me to go back there!"

Everyone stared at her. “Well, why not??"

“I heard what happens to transformed humans who return to their world: they turn back into humans. I don't wanna be a crummy human again."

“What, you don't turn back into a cat when you come back?"

“That's the thing: I don't! I'd have to reset and do the whole transformation over. And don't get me wrong, I've thought about it, it would be hot, but I like being a cat! I can't guarantee I'll turn back to my fluffy feline self." She exaggeratedly licked the back of her paw to emphasize her point.

Doe sat up on the bed. “So that leaves the rest of us. We certainly didn't turn into humans when we stepped in."

Pete took another shot of bourbon. “And I'm sure humans will love to see us. 'Hey guys! Come to our alternate dimension where the creatures you eat for fun can walk and talk! Also, we want you to do porn!"

“Heh, if all humans are as conservative as they sound, it'll be hard to find one who'll agree to our offer."

Wyler was deep in thought, scratching his chin as ideas came to him.

“Well, there is porn in the human world too," Julie contributed. “If there was a way to contact a human professional who's open to certain kinks, it would save a lot of time. I mean, I never did porn in my old life, but I'm sure a porn set there isn't too different from one of ours."

“Hmm, I guess," Doe said with a light resignation. Meanwhile, Wyler remained lost in his head in the background. “But, I dunno. It feels like something's missing."

“I got it." Everyone turned to Wyler as he finally spoke up. They'd seen him with that glint in his eye before. He was really in tune with all his naughty creative rhythms now. “Julie, what you said before, about how coming to our world was like opening oneself to a new realm of sensual delights and so on." Julie nodded. “That was the whole appeal of your idea. Showing these silly, inexperienced humans how we do things. When seen through that lens, it makes the familiar new."

Pete nodded. “Okay, I like where this is going. But what does this have to do with casting."

“That's the thing. There's something... real here. Genuine. To hire professionals in this role could dilute that." Everyone's ears stood in attention at what he was implying. “We need to transform an ordinary human. The more ordinary we can find, the better. Male, female, whatever. Their reactions have to be genuine within the heightened scenario we construct. That's what grounds it. Reality within fiction. Something true discovered in the confines of artifice."

“Oh my god, I haven't seen him like this since film school."

“Let me get this straight," Doe replied. “You want to pluck a random human from their world and, what? Convince them to do a transformative porn with us?"

“Not a random human," Wyler clarified. “We'd have to do a little field scouting. People-watching. Find someone completely unhappy with their lot in humanity, who could maybe be more perceptive to our offer. Someone who, quite frankly, could use the pleasures our world provides."

“In other words, emotionally manipulate them."

“Well, they don't have to accept if they don't want to."

“And if they refuse? They'll go back to their world with strange anecdotes about our world! We could be playing with some, like, bigger shit we shouldn't mess with."

“Oh c'mon, did any of us believe Julie when she first told us about this place?" Doe tilted her head. The canine had a point. “Listen, if we do this right, we won't just be making good porn. We'll be documenting a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Something that can change a person's perspective. Isn't that what the appeal is supposed to be, Julie?"

Julie thought about it for a moment before adding, “When I was changed... It was like I found my place. I became more confident, more adventurous, more... myself. It was fucking hot, yeah, but I also stayed this way for a reason. When I messaged that fox girl in the arctic, we both wondered, what if there are more like us? More humans who are so repressed and not open to their true selves? Hell, what if it was simpler. What if there are just some humans who wanna explore their kinks more freely? Frankly, there are times where I wish I stumbled into this world earlier. I always thought, as part of this fantasy I constructed, 'Man. How awesome would it be to share this gift with someone else... to find someone like me...'"

Everyone was oddly moved by Julie's take. Wyler wanted to press further. “And what would you call this gift?"

Julie let out a fanged smile. “Wildness."

Wyler grinned back at her. He knew exactly how to do this. “Julie, you'll be in charge of the vetting process. You won't need to step through the rift, but you can sift through our casting choices and find the right person for the role. I know you can. Pete, you take pictures. We'll come up with a disguise so you won't get noticed, just make sure you get us good shots of our candidates. I'll cross over too and I'll sniff the humans out. Find one the old-fashioned way."

Everyone's spirits lifted. This crazy, stupid idea was looking more feasible by the second. Doe and Pete began to nod, envisioning it all coming together in their heads. “This may just save Ruttweiler Pictures yet," the boar said with giddy enthusiasm.

Doe nodded in agreement. “This'll be fun. Just one problem: we got a time limit. If we don't have a finished product in time for mating season, this'll all be for nothing. How easy could it be to find this fabled human we're looking for?"

---

“I'm saying it's over, Terry."

Terry could only stare in disbelief. “Like... Over over?"

“Yup. Over over."

Well, this was just perfect. Of course Carla teased him with the promise of a quiet date in their favorite cafe only to springload a breakup underneath it all.

“You do realize the optics of this, yeah?"

Carla shook her head in confusion. “What... What fucking optics?"

“Breaking up with me right after I lost my job. Looks pretty fucking bad from where I'm standing."

“Ugh, see, it's shit like this! Who the fuck cares if it looks bad! And for your information, no, it's not because you lost your job, it's about why you lost your job."

“Great. I'm all ears. Why do you think I got fired? What stunning insights does Carla Thornwood have to offer on this hotly debated subject??"

“Oh, I dunno. How about yelling at my uncle, who was kind enough to get you this position, believed in you from day one, even after all the times he caught you sleeping through every shift!"

“Alright, why don't you try juggling grad school and an almost full-time job."

“You said you could handle it!"

“Well, I couldn't! Chalk that one up as another disappointment I couldn't live up to."

Awkward silence laid heavy in the otherwise busy cafe. Terry could sense some other couples and families staring at them. It was embarrassing. She had to pick here to do this, of all places.

“Look, I-I know you're trying, Ter. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry it had to go down like this... But I don't think either of us are happy together while you're trying. I can't just sit here while you set yourself up to fail— expect it, even."

Terry... nodded in agreement. He knew she was right, deep down. Perhaps he always knew. “Maybe this'll be good for us. A break while we... I get my shit together."

Carla let out a weak smile and rested her hand over his. “Just don't give up, Terry. For what it's worth, I know you'll get there."

Terry turned away, unable to look her in the eye. “Tell your uncle I'm sorry." And just like that, he stood up and left her, not looking back.

---

Terry rubbed his hands for friction. Just his luck that he lost his gloves when it started snowing. The cherry on this shit sundae. It's not like he didn't know grad school would be tough. He was well aware of the risks that came with working on your Master's during such a fraught period. Terry just figured he had to come out on top. The 26-year-old was trying, dammit. He figured as long as you tried, your efforts would be recognized eventually. But that's just not how the world worked, it seemed.

He didn't mention it to Carla as he didn't wanna sound like a full-on pity party, but this now meant he wouldn't be able to pay the rest of his tuition. Or his rent. All those years of studying and working could go down the drain, all because of his damn pride. It was that same stubbornness that killed his father five years ago. Perhaps it was in his genes. Times like this, he wished his mother was still around. Fuck, just thinking about that made it all sink in:

Terry was alone now. His life didn't turn out as planned and he had absolutely no one to commiserate with about it.

A strange sense of calm overwhelmed him, like admitting it to himself made it seem less crushing than it actually was. Still, there was a weight in his chest. Something holding him down. And rather than fight back, all he could do was accept it.

The man couldn't wait to get to his apartment and just binge a bunch of weird documentaries with a big bag of peanuts. He had reached rock bottom, and all he could do was ride it out until the shovels came in so he could dig deeper. He shivered in the cold, turning to the abandoned factory across the street from his building. It seemed everything around him was a husk of its former glory. Heh, how arrogant Terry thought himself, to think he had any glory in the first place. All he had was a useless Bachelor's Degree he wasted 5 years of his life on.

Terry reached into his pocket for the building keys. He could hardly do so while his damn hands were shivering. Fucking no gloves, he thought to himself.

“'Scuse me," a voice muttered behind him. The young man turned around to find someone bundled in so many coats and hoods he couldn't see their face. “Do you, er, have the time?"

Terry was weirded out by the figure. Though, maybe they were homeless and didn't have a watch or phone. Hell, when Terry thought about it, he may very well end up homeless himself if he didn't come up with a way to pay the bills soon. Terry reached for his phone. “Yeah, sure. It's, uh—"

As he looked down at his phone, he felt his body get wrapped in a powerful hold, fabric being pressed into his mouth and nostrils as a strange, sleepy scent was forced into his lungs. Fuck! Fuck, I'm getting fucking chloroformed! What the fuck did I do to you, God! Could this fucking day get any... any...

Before he could finish his thought, darkness filled his vision, his mind lost in a haze as strange voices surrounded him...

“God damn, he's still not fully out."

“Fuck, okay. You grab the legs, I'll do shoulders."

“You sure no one's around?"

“This whole town's dead, I don't think it'll be a problem."

“God, this guy better be the one, I don't think I can do this again."

Terry drifted in and out of consciousness, the words he just heard already escaping his memory. All he knew was that this had to be the end. He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him. Wherever he was headed, it had to be better than here...

---

Light finally cracked into Terry's eyes. The young human male was beginning to come to.

“Alright, he's coming up. Everyone be chill."

A blur of shapes filled Terry's vision. He seemed to be in a room, slumped on a chair, surrounded by what seemed like about a dozen figures.

“Good morning, Mr. Slate," uttered a masculine voice. Terry blinked repeatedly to clear his vision. He seemed to be in front of a large desk, all the figures sitting behind it. He'd seen this kind of thing when passing by the film majors' classrooms. Was this... was this a casting office? Well, hopefully this meant it wasn't a debt collector or a bunch of perverts.

Spoke too soon. As soon as his vision fully cleared, all Terry could do was stare frozen and wide eyed at the figures before him. Sitting by the casting table were... animal people. That was the only way he could describe them. At the center was a rottweiler man, surrounded by a crew of various species. A doe, a boar, two different breeds of cat, a fennec, a giraffe, a lizard, a hawk, and a pair of gator twins, all wearing clothes and on two legs.

“I'm gone," the human uttered like a brick sinking into ice water. “Ahhhh shit, I'm finally cracked."

“You're not cracked," said the siamese cat woman. “There's nothing to worry about. We're all here for you, Terry."

“God, he looks so... squishy," remarked the lizard. “Like the inside of a lobster shell."

“I think he's kinda cute. Like a hairless chihuahua," added the fennec.

One of the gator twins opened her long muzzle, “Told you we speak the same language. Pay up." The other twin handed her what looked like cash.

Terry was utterly bewildered. These animals were talking and acting like regular people. He looked down to see, much to his surprise, he wasn't tied up or anything. A show of good faith, perhaps. Still, he felt it best to not stand or make sudden movement, especially while in the presence of some of the more dangerous-looking species.

The rottweiler spoke to break up all the chatter surrounding this new creature in their midst. “Everyone save your comments for later, we're conducting a business deal here. Let's ensure our guest feels comfortable. I'm sure this is stressful enough for him."

Terry stared at the rottweiler. Maybe it's because he had a dog when he was a boy, but there was a friendly light in the canine man's eyes, not to mention the lengths he was going to make Terry feel as welcome (or at the very least, not completely freaked out) as possible. The human shook his head.

“I'm not dreaming. I know how it feels when I'm dreaming and this isn't it."

“Very perceptive, kid. You catch on quick."

“Are... Are those costumes?"

“I can assure you, we're the real deal. Come over and touch us, if you want. We won't bite." The rottweiler smirked at his own wordplay.

“I-I'm good, thanks. I, uh, I believe you." A long beat of awkward silence filled the room. “Wait, sorry, you said something about a business deal earlier?"

“Yes, let's just get to it. Now, don't take this the wrong way but we've been watching you, Terry." Terry gulped at that. “We scoured your town as much as we could in our limited timeframe, and based on our acute vetting process, we've concluded you're the best candidate for the role."

A million thoughts swam in Terry's head. He started with the first one to come out of his mouth. “Wh-What role?"

The rottweiler smiled at the innocent human. “I'm glad you asked."