FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The dream begins simply enough. I hear a noise and open my eyes. It sounds like the family pit-bull walking through the hall, but far slower and with heavier footfalls. Looking toward my partially open bedroom door, I’m already unnerved; leaving my door open is something I simply never, ever do. Looking toward the floor, I expect to see him walking by, but instead, a pair of slender, female legs pass by. The being’s feet and ankles are digitigrade and pawlike, with toe-claws that click so distinctively atop the hardwood surface. They’re legs are covered in soft fur, with a sandy coloration akin to a lion.

The sight unnerves me, but before I can turn my eyes away from the floor and focus on the being, they walk past my bedroom door. Realizing that there is very obviously an inhuman intruder in my home, I roll over and grab the pistol that I’ve left sitting between my pillows. In this night, as I did in reality, there’s my two-tone, Bersa Thunder 9 Pro sitting there, with my cheap, Synderay G01 tactical light attached to the picatinny rail. I scramble out of bed, wearing the clothes that I’d slept in; my underclothes, a dark purple t-shirt, and my black cargo pants. I have the foresight to slip my feet into my brown and black, Wolverine brand boots, before checking the chamber for a live round.

With my loaded pistol in hand, I make my way out of my room, looking for the intruder. I can hear the soft thumps and the clicking of the being’s toe-claws, knowing that they’re in the kitchen. I use my thumb to disengage the safety, readying to fire at whoever might be invading the house. Moving around the corner and standing in the archway, I’m startled by the sight of a lioness anthro. She’s clearly a Voeldahn, the anthropomorphic race from my macro universe. She turns to look at me, her amber eyes warm and inviting. Her body is covered in a humble, ruby top and with black, caprice leggings.

Her lioness tail swishes gleefully behind her at the mere sight of me. She lifts a hand and waves her clawed fingers rather seductively, before brushing her long, ebony hair away from her face and over a shoulder. She smiles, her lips curling around her short, feline snout as she flashes her pearly white teeth. I recognize her right away.

“Leona?!” I ask, lowering my pistol and stepping closer.

For those who don’t know, Leona is my girlfriend’s fursona, and recently appeared in a romantic story. (https://www.sofurry.com/view/1526504) I make my way toward her, through the kitchen, but suddenly Leona darts off. She bolts downstairs, giggling playfully.

“Hey, wait! What’re you doing here?! Are you alright?!” I call out to her.

I rest a hand against the archway and peer down the steps, but Leona has moved so fast that I don’t even see the fluffy tip of her tail disappearing around the banister at the base of the stairs. A cold breeze seems to come from the basement, and suddenly I become fearful. I gulp, unsure if I want to follow her down into the basement. It should go without saying that, in my mind, Leona and my girlfriend are one and the same, and I would be equally trusting of either. Why she appeared in anthro form and not as a human is anyone’s guess. I make my way onto the landing, turning to my right and looking at the door that leads into the backyard.

It’s shut, but the light beaming through the old 50s era blinds that have never been replaced tell me that it’s daylight outside. I gather my strength, telling myself that it’s merely my girlfriend playing a joke on me, hoping to startle me; it’s something I hate, that’s unfortunately rather easy to do. I raise my left hand, my dominant, which also holds the pistol. Using my extended pinky finger, I try to turn on the stairwell lights. The switch clicks but the lights don’t activate. I slowly inch my way down the flight of steps, unsure of where Leona could be hiding.

Reaching the bottom step, I look into the darkness. It’s nearly pitch black, and even the windows that should be letting light in seem to be blocked. In reality, they aren’t. I recall this and it unnerves me. I try turning on the other lights, but none of them are working. The basement is cluttered with all of the junk my grandparents and parents have accrued throughout the years; there are paths that allow you to traverse the basement, much like and ant farm. I use the light of my pistol, pushing the button and turning on the bright, bluish LED. I sweep the light around, looking to the left and to the right, but with all of the clutter, it’s easy for someone to hide.

I take a deep breath, calm my frazzled nerves, and make my way down the last step, planting my feet firmly atop the green and tan checkered floor. Looking around to the left, I check the small workshop area. It’s clear. I then make my way back to the steps, where I open the door to the music studio, which is directly across from the stairs. I look inside, then wander toward the drum riser, all the while sweeping the room with my tactical light. It’s clear. I lock the door and pull it shut, keeping anyone from ducking inside after I pass it.

“Leona?” I call out. I wait for a moment, but there’s no answer. “Leona, are you down here? You know how I hate being startled! Please come out! The lights aren’t working and it isn’t safe down here!”

Again, there’s no answer. I move to the right of the staircase, moving through the maze of paths, formed out of old electronics, piles of boxes full of knickknacks and memories, and passing a large, wooden box with a door built into it, an artifact from my past that I’d dubbed the “Death Box”. I make it to the other end of the basement, looking carefully for any signs of Leona. However, there aren’t any. It’s as if she was never there at all. None of the hanging clothes sway, as if brushed by her attractive frame, nor are there any footprints from her cute, pawlike feet, which were bare.

Looking around, my light passes by something that makes me jump; a standing figure in the corner. I turn my light back to the figure, but it’s gone. I’m now thoroughly rattled.

“Leona?! If you’re down here then PLEASE come out, damnit! This isn’t funny!”

I turn away from the corner, heading for the other end of the room. As I do, I can hear what can only be described as a scurrying. It’s as if a Voeldahn’s toe-claws are dragging across the floor, before they shift their feet, as if to maintain balance. I turn back, seeing nothing in the corner I’d just left. I move my light along the wall, passing the furnace, and then I see it. What looks like a person’s back, bent far forward, is illuminated by my light. It’s as if they’re trying to hide from me.

“Leona?” I softly call out.

“No...” A raspy, guttural voice replies.

The creature’s body shifts, and I can see that their fur is white. Standing tall, I see a bushy tail, like that of a wolf or husky. Pointy, canine ears shift as the being slowly turns their head. I can see its bloody maw as it turns, moving slowly and menacingly, like a monster or villain from any horror movie. Piercing eyes look right through me, and the creature turns. Her uncovered chest points toward me, and I can see that blood on her hands, and splattered across her belly and ample breasts. She steps closer, and I can smell the decay. It causes me to wince.

I immediately recognize this anthro as well. She’s the same, zombified husky girl who appeared in a previous dream (https://www.sofurry.com/view/1419749) and tried to assault/rape me, not long before my actual white husky, Kira, passed away. I step back, bumping into whatever junk is piled up behind me. Unsure of what to do, I try to side-step away, knocking objects over.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me, my mate?” She asks, stepping closer.

“I-I’ll be back! Promise!” I assure her.

“Come here!” She roars.

Leaping at me, she bridges the admittedly modest gap, slamming into me and knocking me backward. I fall painfully into a stack of old electronics, likely reel-to-reel players or old radios my dad had collected over the years. I cry out in pain, but she doesn’t seem to care. Instead, she tries to grab my throat.

“It’ll all be over soon.” She says with a sickening grin. “Then we’ll be together.”

I struggle to push her off of me, hoping to make my way toward the staircase and back to the main floor. At least it was daylight, and I’d be able to see her attacks. I lift my pistol, which I hadn’t dropped when she pushed me back; the intense pain in my back only made my grip on my weapon tighten. I turn the pistol, the tactical light sweeping her form and beaming up. Some of the light crosses over her breasts, which I can see gently swaying as she straddles me, trying to crush my larynx. I’m briefly frozen by how utterly horrifying she looks. Blood seems to ooze from her lips, as if it was her saliva, and her eyes glow a sickly, pale color. The smell of rot is nauseating.

Her frightening presence, the horrid stench and the pain in my back almost causes me to forget to defend myself. Soon, though, I snap out of it. I shift my wrist and aim generally for her chest. BANG, BANG, BANG! My ears ring as the gunshots echo in the basement. So painful and disorienting is the ringing in my ears, that I can hardly make out anything as the creature appears to scream and fall back, landing on the tile floor by my feet. I struggle to rise, taking aim with my pistol. The zombie anthro writhes, and I can see the already coagulated blood dropping from the gunshot wounds like jelly.

It nearly causes me to vomit. I turn back and run, only to nearly trip over myself. The hearing damage has affected my balance. I land in a pile of old toys and a foosball table. Crying out in pain, I push myself up, run past the Death Box, back around the music studio’s exposed drywall, and reach the stairs. I turn back, wondering if she’s still coming after me. My eyes grow wide with horror, seeing her pale, bloody and absolutely awful visage shoving things out of the way as she races toward me. She’s barely fifteen feet away. Lifting my pistol, I fire again. One, two, three, four, and then five shots. Each shot is quieter to me than the last, showing the extent of my hearing loss.

She screams and writhes, though I can hardly hear any of it. I race up the stairs, falling forward from my disorientation. I’m forced to climb on my hands and feet, like a small child or a dog. Reaching the top step, I turn back, horrified to find the zombie husky girl still coming after me. She’s only a few steps behind; she drags a horribly wounded leg, which prevents her from walking or even standing. I kick at her clawed hand, only for her to swipe at me. She digs her claws into my right calf, shredding my pantleg and cutting me deeply. I cry out, just as my hearing begins to return, and much faster than normal.

As I drag myself from the landing and into the kitchen, the sunlight strikes her hand, immediately burning her. She peers around the corner from the stairwell, glaring at me but one eye. For some reason, I find this to be the most terrifying image yet. I crawl away, and as I near the den, opposite the stairwell to the basement, she slithers back downstairs, into the safety of the darkness. I push open the door to the den and head for the garage, wondering if anyone else is home, and if there’s a car I can use. At that moment, I realize that I don’t have any keys, not even to my own car, my 2000 Cadillac Federal Hearse.

As I turn back, the sunlight briefly flashes; something large has just moved across the large window to the backyard. I turn and see a horrifying sight. In the backyard, a large monstrosity wanders back and forth. It appears to be searching for something. I lean closer to the window out of sheer curiosity, examining the beast. It’s the very same bear-like monstrosity that has terrorized me in previous dreams (https://www.sofurry.com/view/1531493), though these dreams I may not have posted, as they didn’t involve anthros. The grey and red, two-tone bear, with the fangs of a Chinese demon and golden claws, turns around one more time.

That’s when it notices me in the window, leaning over the line of potted plants. It narrows its glowing, crimson eyes, and that’s when I realize what it was looking for. It races toward the window, making the most horrifying roar I’ve ever heard. It lifts and arm and smashes its massive paw through the window, but as it stands even larger than a grizzly, it struggles to climb through; it’s not even remotely dissuaded by the glass that slices it’s arm as it reaches through, but stops only because it’s simply too big to chase me through the window. I stumble back, avoiding the golden claws by mere inches as I fall back into the kitchen.

Turning around, I see the zombified husky Voeldahn as she stands atop the landing. Clouds gather and the sunlight is partially blocked; a thin stream of light is all that keeps her from rushing me. I race through the kitchen and back through the living room, my hearing finally returning to me. I can hear her claws clicking on the kitchen floor and her sickening roar.

“You can’t escape!” She screams in her raspy voice.

I race through the hallway and toward my still opened bedroom door. A tall mirror affixed to the wall at the end of the hallway, an artifact that has been in the house since my grandparent’s lived there, reveals a terrifying sight. She reaches out for me, only inches behind me and with the most terrifying, psychotic smiles. She bares her bloody fangs and I feel her icy hand gripping my shoulder. It throws me off balance. I panic, give a manly scream (yes, it was manly), grab her arm and swirl around, stumbling back. I slam into the wall, between my bedroom door and another, as she tries to strangle me to death in the hallway.

Somehow, I find the strength to overpower her, and swiftly shove her into the mirror. As it shatters, I race into my room, close the door, and lock it. It isn’t until I step back that I remember that the door is basically made out of particle board covering a door-like chunk of Styrofoam. In moments, I can hear her rising to her pawlike feet, before she roars again and tries to turn the knob. It jiggles. I look around for a better firearm, looking toward the shotgun stuck between my bed and the dresser. I race for it but pause when I hear splintering wood. I turn back and see her claws poking through the door. One slash and she’s already done that much damage.

As she pounds on and slashes her claws against the door, I pull out the shotgun. I turn my Mossberg 500 over, remembering that I leave it unloaded. I yank open a drawer of my dresser to find the Ziploc bag of shotgun shells, only for the window beside my bed to shatter. I turn back, horrified as the demon-bear tries to climb through, managing to somehow squeeze its head, shoulders and upper arms inside. Looking toward the door, the Voeldahn zombie has made short work of it; a chest-height hole, just big enough for her arm to squeeze through, lets me see her mangled body on the other side.

She gives the door another slash or two, while I struggle to open the bag and grab a handful of shells. I slip a shell into the magazine tube, clicking it into place. Just then, her arm reaches inside, grabs the knob and unlocks it. I try to get a second shell in, but the bear slashes at me with its golden claws, cutting my left arm and causing me to drop the shells. I cry out, fall to my knees, and try to gather my wits, but the fear is palpable. I’m barely able to shuck the shotgun and ready my only shell. With the bear to my left and the zombie girl throwing my door open, I feel as though I’m doomed.

“Oh God!” I cry out.

She steps inside of my room, her pawlike foot striking my ruby carpet as she eyes me like a piece of me. The glass from my broken window clicks as the bear somehow pulls the majority of its bulk atop my bed. They both ready to strike, and as I lift the shotgun, unsure of exactly who I should fire my only shell at, I wake up.