FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

At first I thought that the fungal grove beyond the pit had somehow begun to collapse in on its self. I noticed the rotting trees and growths begin to nod and hunch towards that grotesque pit. Then a burst of ghastly steam and smoke, like the exhalation of a mummified body, burst forth from the benighted depths. I threw my paws over my mouth as the stench of it reached me. It was like the rotting remains of some carrion left in still, dark water for far too long. The shotgun slapped wetly into the muddy grass as I battled to breathe, my eyes watering.

As my sight returned I saw that the cause of the movement in the vegetation was several cable-thick tendrils of bloated fungal matter that had emerged from the ground. They hauled on any solid obstacle they could wrap around, tensing like obscene boa constrictors as they dragged some unimaginable bulk up from the deeps.

The cultists threw themselves onto an orgy of mad and blasphemous worship as it emerged. I screamed. Del screamed. I felt like the entire universe was screaming at the sheer obscenity of the thing that pulled its self into the light like a maggot emerging from a leprous wound.

In rough shape it resembled a monstrously obese canine, in that it had two arms, two legs and a head squatting between uneven shoulders. Beyond that existed only madness. The shape of the head, for instance, stuck with me the most. It was like I looked it in the face automatically, trying to recognise some natural, mortal features there. An expression of evil perhaps. A look of smugness, of surprise, maybe. Something that my mind could take hold of and understand. But there was nothing. Instead of a face it possessed a vaguely conical extrusion, like a fleshy screw of overlapping folds of the blubbery, bloodless matter that made up it's bulk.

I looked away, down at the rest of it it, sobbing at the sheer impossibility. The body was dizzyingly asymmetrical and as pale as only something that was never meant to walk beneath the sun can be. It looked like the vandalised offal of a particularly diseased animal, laid out like a man as some mad prank by a sadistic butcher. The stumpy legs were buried to the knee in the jiggling, distended belly as it waddled from the lip of the pit towards my howling sister. The front of the stomach was so taut that I could see shifting, semi-fluid organs knotting and coiling within.

I am not ashamed to say that I nearly ran. My sister's peril was only a secondary concern at the emergence of this globular horror. I just wanted to run until I could run no more and then, if God was merciful, lie down and die rather than share the planet with such a cosmic abortion. In the end the thing that stopped me was not, I am sorry to say, compassion for my sibling, but the fact that my foot caught on the shotgun as I tried to back away.

That contact reminded me that, in the end, I still had a weapon. I would be damned if I was going to allow whatever demented ceremony was taking place to reach the unholy climax.

I scrabbled in the mud for the gun, and paused to settle back into the rise and dab the tears of shock and fear from my eyes. I kept on trying not to look at the unfolding scene, even though it was clear that I would need to stare into the abyss if I wanted to use fight it. With my heart hammering in my chest I looked down into the circle again, bringing the gun up to my shoulder.

The thing, one of 'Them Below' I presumed, was hulkingly squatted at the edge of the ring of torches. The thick cables protruding from its back had gone slack, although other, smaller ones still writhed obscenely from its shoulders and between rolls of jiggling matter. It had one massive, clubbed paw rested on Will's head in a sickeningly paternal gesture. I felt bile rise in my throat and had to blink away tears as I realised that it was quite likely that he and the villagers were genuinely blood-relations of this thing. Will was saying something to it, his voice hushed with awe as he gestured with his own pudgy claw in the direction of my sister. Organs in the things belly writhed as it turned its screw-head in her direction, the folds quivering.

With a sickening slurp, what could only be the things member pushed through the fabric of it's belly. I gagged and watched as Del passed out in terror at the realisation of what was to come. The harpoon-like organ had emerged through a ragged and leaking slit in the monster's stomach, which was dripping rancid juices as bloated sac-like organ clusters lined up around the base of it within that cavernous gut. Will turned and raised his hands in the air, crowing triumphantly.

"Our sacrifice has been accepted!" he bellowed. The cultists threw themselves into the mud and filth, rubbing themselves in the dirt as the monster began its sloshing stagger-walk towards my unconscious sister.

He had more to say, I am sure. But I acted at that point. I tried to aim for the thing's head, but couldn't bear to look directly at it for long. My shot went wide and instead slapped into its hunched shoulder. To the cultists the effect was electric. Many looked around, crying out in confusion. A few actually broke and ran as if they believed some retribution was at hand. Against the monster, the shot had all the effect of pushing ones finger through wet dough. The slug tore right through the beefy shoulder and out the other side in a fleshy plug of matter, but the beast seemed not to notice or care.

Will looked directly at me. I have no idea if he just saw the muzzle flare of it he had some sixth sense. But he saw me and stopped his insane rant to point his dagger right at my position. I'm sure he was about to order his cultists to tear me limb from limb, rape me, or both. But I was already dropping the bead I had drawn on the monster. While I might not be able to look it in the face without flinching, there was a more vulnerable point I could focus on.

My second shot shattered the cartilaginous member at about the midpoint, and tore a massive gash in the taut fabric of the thing's belly. This wound was clearly a lot more effective. I would liken it to accidentally kicking the side of a rotten pumpkin; the fungal matter parted in a great rush, and the liquid and jiggling tubes within came with it in ropey coils. As I began to frantically reload a deathly hush fell on the congregation below.

The thing reeled, bulbous arms dabbing ineffectually at the hole in its stomach that, from the look of things, was widening as the pressure of the beast's unthinkable anatomy was focussed on the wound. Its face...unfurled. I have no other word for it. The flabby folds separated out like petals unfurling, revealing a shockingly meat-pink interior lined with jagged barbs. It's face now resembled a starfish with too many and too abnormal arms. It began to emit a sobbing, gulping noise, stumbling back from the altar and towards the pit with shaky steps. I could see that the thing was beginning to deflate in places, as if the semi-gelatinous mass inside was the only thing giving it solid form.

The cultists went insane. Well, more insane than could have been gathered by their actions to date. Most were overcome by what could only be described as convulsive fits, flailing in the mud until bones shattered and broke. Others ran full-tilt to the pit and hurled themselves in. Most, however, simply began screaming and clawing at themselves, the air, and each other. Will and his thugs ran to the stricken monster as it tried to escape the fatality of the would it had been dealt.

I slapped a fresh pair of shells into the shotgun and ran down the incline. A figure in robes rushed at me, gibbering and throwing his malformed arms up in the air. I shot at them, and didn't stop to see if the round had been fatal. I was determined not to let the moment of supreme confusion pass by while my sister was still in danger now that I had a chance to rescue her.

I wasted little time in getting to the altar and began yanking at the restraints holding her in place. The thick, leather buckles were soon off her hands and legs, and I began to try and bring her round. "Del!" I cried into her face. "Wake up! We have to get out of here!" The things trumpeting death-cry was getting softer. I looked around and saw the horror sagging like a deflated carnival float. It had turned its back to me and was rocking back and forth near the edge of the pit, like it was trying to use its remaining bulk to flop forward another step. I could see where its heavy, flabby folds had crushed one of the men that had gone to help it, although Will and the other seemed determined to render what aid they could.

I slapped Del smartly across the face and she came to with a cry. She fought me for a moment until she saw that it was not some deranged madman or monster set on attacking her. I hugged her to my chest as she sobbed, then dragged her to her feet. She winced at the touch of the cold ground, and I dragged my jacket around her shoulders to give her some protection from the cold, damp night air and restore a modicum of dignity to her.

She looked over my shoulder and cried out. Instinctively I pushed her towards the house and turned. One of the thuggish men was running at me with a look of hate and a drawn sabre. I shot him in the chest and stepped back as Will suddenly came out of the confusion with his knife. I parried the first wild, venom-filled slashes with the now-empty gun. I tried to back away, but stumbled into Del, who had stopped dead like a rabbit in the headlights. In that moment the little maniac stepped in and slashed me across the face.

I actually thought he missed at first, but then my mouth filled with blood and my eyes went blurry with pain. An icy shock slid down the side of my face in a diagonal slash across my lips, and I could feel the heat of my blood leaking down my neck and across my clothes. I wanted to reach up and see the extent of the damage, but I forced myself to focus.

Will backed off a pace and smirked at me with his inhuman visage. "You cunt," he hissed. "You were going to get away easily just servicing my boys. Now I'm going to make sure Those Below fuck your holes ragged before you're allowed to die..." Del chose that moment to scream again in horror, possibly at the sight of my wound, but maybe because of the situation in general. Will flicked a hatefully possessive glance her way. "And as for you..." he began, turning the dagger to point in her direction. I used the opening in his guard to land a heavy kick on his freakishly deformed leg.

It gave way with very little protest, bending at the knee in a sickeningly anatomically incorrect manner. Gelatinous semi-bone tore right through the flesh as white fluid that stank of open graves and flourishing mushrooms sobbed from the holes. Will, for what it was worth, seemed merely discomfited by the strike, cursing up a storm as he fell to the ground and tried to pull his limb's sutured supports into some semblance of working order. I didn't give him the chance. Swinging the shotgun like a club and letting out a yell that aspirated my blood across his deformed features I struck him twice. It seemed that his more canine parts were just as susceptible to damage as any mortal man, and he fell back into the mud, his skull laid open.

Delilah and I fled from the folly as fast as we could, both of us supporting the other. I was feeling woozy with shock, pain, blood-loss, and she was shivering with revulsion and horror over what had happened. The shotgun fell from my hands at some point, but the only time I noticed its loss was when we reached the garage and I found it was not there. We both almost collapsed in a faint when we got into the car, but with an effort of will I started the engine and drove us back down the tattered drive, through the rusty gates and into the safety of the night.