FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Charitable donations, mission trips, and glowing reviews from previous churches make Father Oz practically a saint. Everywhere he goes, he experiences a revival, with many claiming such things as “He's made me a new man" and “I've never felt so alive in the Spirit."

Sandy coughs and grunts, shifting in her seat. Her tank top rides up slightly, and she scratches her midriff. Maybe there's something on the preacher and his time in seminary? Oh, but such things aren't easy to find. It's all just newspapers from small towns like Gensville and social media posts from people twice her age and then some.

She lies on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. Absentmindedly, she scratches at her arm, coughing and clearing her throat again. Her legs kick back and forth, and suddenly, she feels a warmth bubbling up into her.

She passes by a picture of a relatively robust man shaking hands with Pastor Oz, and she bites her lip as she looks at the guy. He's the manly dude she'd often imagine in her alone-time sessions. She would, on everyday occasions, imagine this man pinning her down against the bed and roughly pushing his cock deep inside of her, pounding away as she played with her dildo, keeping her voice soft so as not to disturb the family as she fucked herself.

That's what she would typically have done. But for some reason, her fantasies traverse to a completely different locale. Instead, she sees this man, big, muscular, and hairy, bent over himself, and now it is her at the reigns. She's the one thrusting into him. She's the one pressing her chest to his back. She's the one calling him a 'good girl' for taking it like a champ right before the two of them blow their collective loads.

Sandy adjusts her top. She's pretty sweaty, and the top has started to cling to her. It doesn't want to move when she pulls to get it to unstick. She blinks, shifting, but as she does, she places a big paw of a hand on the bed to push herself up. She wobbles, but not for long. There's something much more sturdy about herself, broad. She begins to move, but she stumbles forward, her shorts so tight, and her movements are so effortless. When she crashes toward her vanity, she grips the chair so hard that the back cracks.

“What the fuck…?" she groans in a deep voice. Coughing, she tries to clear her throat, but she can't seem to get whatever's stuck in there out of her. She's so itchy, too, and she scratches at her hairy, hairy arm. She looks at it and yelps in that same deep voice, stumbling back and falling onto her well-toned butt, her legs spread. They were so itchy, and no wonder! They're basically forests of hair, almost like fur! And they're so right against her shorts that they tingle. Because the muscles are so developed and immense, she might as well be the Incredible Hulk!"

Clasping her hands to her mouth, Sandy scoots herself back up against the bed and pushes her way up. Then, slowly, all so slowly, she turns her gaze toward the mirror.

The eyes that greet her are her eyes. Of that, there is no doubt. But the rest of the face there as she lowers those manly hands is not her face. Her nose is big, her jaw is broad, and her lower face is covered in a perfect-length beard. Had she not waved her hand in front of her face, she would have thought some gigachad had come to mess with her in her house.

“The fuck…" Sandy grumbles in her new masculine voice. She stumbles up to the mirror, touching the glass and her visage.

And the daydream hits her again. It wasn't Sandy, as she was fucking that man. It was another man, manly as can be. A chill hits her, running throughout her body, tears running down her eyes.

What has happened? She cannot say! She wishes to scream, but a low chuckle comes from her throat. Does she want to scream? No, she wishes she could enjoy this new form. Become this new man. A brand new man for a new day sounds like the right thing now.

And besides, there's the little matter of the raging arousal coursing through her. She steps back and looks at her tight tight shorts where inside, a massive bulge fights not to break itself or her garment apart. With deep, heavy, gorilla-like breaths, Sandy grabs her button, undoes it, and the thing pops open, providing significant relief to this new man's broad, muscular frame.

He grabs the edges of his shorts and pushes them down. They are tough to get off, but once they are entirely down to her knees, the thing that she had seen only as a bulge shoots up and tall, a massive, throbbing member, veiny and with low-hanging balls connected to it. Sweaty and ready for action, Sandy licks her lips as she stares at herself and himself in the mirror.

Whatever has happened—it is so fucking HOT.

Sandy, or could this figure standing in front of the mirror actually be considered Sandy anymore, stares at herself, no, himself in the mirror. Hands move over the rough stubble of his face and down to the broad pectorals of his chest. Clothing is tight over his massive frame to the point where he swears he can hear some of them rip, and his cock, which throbs with want, hangs out over his pulled-down shorts.

“Fuck… fuck…" he repeats, shaking his head, running a hand through his much shorter hair. “I'm… I'm a…" he can't say it out loud. He doesn't have to say it. Instead, he collapses onto his bed, the thing creaking gently under his newfound strength and weight. He lifts his legs and rips his shorts off, throwing them aside and then sitting, legs spread, his cock and balls flopping free. The balls dangle between his legs, sitting on the bed's edge while his cock sits up high, hard and ready, as the thoughts of men being emasculated by his dick run through his mind.