FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

That night was the last in Rikes' working week, so she spent the following evening at home. But her 'weekend' started with her going back to her flat - listening with quiet satisfaction to the click of the front door lock behind her - and pulling off the starchy, stiff black and white of her uniform, yawning as she went. Hard vest, virginally-white shirt, sensible trousers. She walked around naked with a glove-brush strapped to one hand, brushing at the fur on her opposite arm, belly, back and legs. Reassuringly dark yellow and black, coarse texture, naturally glossy. And then swapping the brush to the other hand so she could finish the job. Right arm, tail, head. She brushed her teeth but decided against flossing: the siren call of her bed was just too strong. Finally she went through to her bedroom and pulled her bed sheets down.

The white nest of her bed. Beautiful, comfortable. She settled in. Soft.

Somewhere between too tired to think and too worried, Rikes dug her muzzle into her pillow with a ferocity that would have surprised any partner if she'd had one, and waited for sleep.

xXx

The sun rose soon after Rikes fell asleep but she wasn't aware of it. It reached the top of its arc and started to sink again, but she was fast asleep and didn't see. Eventually she began to stir as the light turned from tinted yellow to tangerine, and she rolled onto her back to stretch and gaze at the curtains as the tangerine turned to hot fire.

Singledom had its benefits and one of them was complete free rein on her nights off. I'd love to go out, have a night on the town, she thought as she lounged watching the rectangle of reddened light from the sunset on the far wall. But what if that thing happens to me again?

Perhaps it wouldn't happen. Perhaps it was just some kind of random event that wouldn't happen to her again. It was possible.

No, her mind said, the word coming unbidden from the back of her mind. It happened after nightfall both times. I think it might only happen at night.

She paused from scratching at her forehead, her eyes flicking over the narrowing band of orange sunlight. She was right!

Or am I? Who says that's how it is? After all, it had only happened twice. She couldn't work out a pattern from that.

She turned over, restless suddenly. All the same, it wouldn't hurt to wait and watch, and see if that's the pattern.

But why?

The back of her mind seemed full of things to say today.

And how?

I don't know. I don't know, she thought. She looked up at the slit of sunlight and realised with a tangible clench of her stomach that she didn't want to see it disappear. How long after sundown did it happen, anyway?

Rikes frowned - and threw the sheets to one side to march straight to the telephone where she kept a notepad and pen. Snatching them up she went back to bed. She sat, flipped onto a new page and wrote, 'Things I Know About' and then wondered what to call it.

'Turning', she decided eventually.

She bit the end of the pen and then wrote under the title, 'Time I Turn:'

She sat back against the headboard and closed her eyes. It felt good to at least be trying to gather information about this. She opened her eyes again and looked for the sunset strip, her ears angled at the paper.

It'd gone.

Worry seized her for a moment. But then she remembered that so far, it'd only happened after dark had completely fallen.

What else? On a whim she flipped to the next empty sheet and wrote, 'What Do I Look Like When I'm'.

She squinted at the page, unable to come up with a name for the thing she became. The word monster came to her but she couldn't bear to use it.

Not yet, at least.

'I get bigger,' she wrote. 'My hands and forearms turn white and the rest of my body turns a slate blue/grey. My boobs get rounder and harder. My hackles grow and my legs change so they're half like a feral's. My face changes'

Something about that last detail made her tremble, made her lose her breath. My face changes, she thought, and realised she felt at a loss.

She looked at the patch on the wall where the sunlight had been, and realised that she'd never wanted so much to see daylight again. She pressed her lips together and tried to ignore the clench in her chest. Don't cry. Come on, that's silly.

The memory of her face in the mirror came to her, from the first night. She'd been terrified and full of an anger that felt hormonal, instinctive. The face had been naturally aggressive but with a frightened and confused expression.

But it hadn't been hers.

But that's just the thing, isn't it? she reminded herself. It was my face. She realised then that she'd started chewing on the pen again and stopped.

Before the fear made her feel too lost and depressed she looked at her alarm clock. The digital numbers glowed at her, dark green on black. 7:34.

In an instant she went from bewildered to impatient, and jabbed at the clock impatiently. Just come on. Turn me.

She looked at her forearm. Soft black.

What happens if I'm drunk? She sat back with revelation. There could be all kinds of different things she'd have to think through. Would alcohol make it all much worse?

Could it prevent it?

She drew her heels up to her bottom so she could hug her knees. Her tail bunched and she distractedly swept it out of the way. Maybe I should go to the doctor. But what would he know about... turning?

No, this was up to her. She drew a couple of lines under her description and scribbled:

Effects on Turning: Alcohol Corset restraint Cold Hot Hunger Full belly Being asleep

No other ideas occurred to her yet, but she bet they would soon enough. Whether she dared try all of those Rikes didn't know yet. But at least they were ideas.

Bereft of any other ideas she put her notepad down and settled back down into bed. She watched the light fade until it was almost completely gone and her bedroom walls had lost almost all of their colour, and then she propped herself up to switch on the bedside lamp.

Come on.

She might have dozed, but she never went very deep. Her eyes kept on flicking open and no matter how comfortable she tried to get, she remained too awake to fall asleep again.

What if I can never be what I used to be again?

And then she swelled.

Her hips and legs seemed to fall outwards, lengthen and strengthen. In a sudden hurry she levered herself up, scrabbled for the notepad and nearly lost her temper as the pen fell on the carpet. She grabbed it and pinned down the notepad so she could scrawl, 'Time I Turn:'

She eyed the clock. '9:14'

TO BE CONTINUED...

Story © Palantean Writer Rikes © Rikes