FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The darkness of the cave was almost absolute, the only light penetrating the gloom a lone torch bobbing near the slick floor. The owner of the torch was a diminutive weasel, an explorer whose bravery had been considerably greater before he had realized he was hopelessly lost. There was no sign of life in these massive caves, no sound but for his echoing footfalls and the constant drip drip drip of a trickle of water falling from the distant stalactites.

Alistair crept on, clutching his torch in one hand, and grasping the tip of his bushy tail in the other. On his back he carried just a small pack of supplies, enough food and water to last maybe another day, if he was frugal. Of course, this far from the light of the sun, the passing of time held little sway.

“Just keep moving up,” Alistair whispered to himself, making sure that with every step he took, the ground was sloping up slightly. Up meant back towards the surface, and the surface meant safety.

What the weasel hadn’t relied on was the life of his torch. It took a while before he noticed, but the light was certainly getting dimmer. He bit his lip. These were his last batteries. Once they died he would be plunged into total darkness. There was no point switching the torch off to preserve the batteries for when he needed them. Without the light he would have no hope of getting out. He had to find an exit before his torch faded.

There was still no change when the light finally faded to nothing, no tantalising breath of fresh air to tease his fur. Just the ever-expanding darkness that squeezed tight against him, threatening to choke him as effectively as a thick blanket.

Alistair slumped to the ground, perching on a jutting rock. He didn’t even care that the dampness on the rock soaked his trousers in seconds as he held his head in his hands, tempted to fling the now-useless torch into the darkness.

There was little more he could do, but as he lifted his head up, he caught sight of something he had missed before. A tiny pinprick of light glowed in the gloom, so faint the torchlight had probably overwhelmed it. It was not the white light of freedom, but any light was a welcome one to Alistair.

Carefully moving forward through the darkness, Alistair picked his way over the rough floor towards the light. The damp floor threatened to trip him, but his feet were steady and sure.

Alistair splashed through several puddles, one so deep it soaked him up to his knee, his tail getting drenched at the same time. No matter how hard he shook his tail, he couldn’t get rid of the wetness that clung to his fur. The water was surprisingly warm, despite being hidden so far from the sun.

For what felt like quite some time, the weasel scrambled over rock and through shallow water, the little light seeming to get no bigger or brighter. He didn’t know how long it took, but finally he reached some sort of passageway, lightly illuminated by the soft red glow beyond. It was very narrow, Alistair able to reach out and touch the slick, damp rock on either side. There was a strange scent in the still air, making the weasel’s nose twitch. The smell was especially prevalent on his damp fingers.

The ceiling slowly sloped down until even the diminutive weasel was forced to crouch to avoid smashing his head against any unexpected protrusions in the rock. The weasel’s breath became short and rapid, the darkness and close confines adding to his sense of claustrophobia and hopelessness. On more than one occasion he thought about turning back, but the tunnel was so tight he couldn’t even turn around with ease.

The passage continued to tighten, growing so narrow Alistair was forced down to his hands and knees, groping forward blindly with the faint pinprick of light always tantalisingly in the distance.

In a sickening moment of panic, Alistair’s hand found nothing but empty air. He briefly teetered, trying to find some grip on the damp rock, before slowly toppling and plunging into the inky black void.

A shriek of terror tore itself from his lips, leaving his mouth open to inhale a mouthful of vile tasting water as he splashed into a deep underground lake. He quickly kicked hard and resurfaced, spluttering as he fought to stay afloat, his clothes heavy and sodden. The guiding light had disappeared from view, leaving nothing but the splash of water on rock to give the weasel any idea how large the lake was. Taking a guess at where the closest shore was, he slowly started to swim, the water somehow thick and resisting of his movement.

At the edge of the lake was a steep, smooth cliff. Feeling around the edge, Alistair eventually found a small ledge to pull himself on to. For a few moments he lay still, breathing heavily as his heartbeat returned to a normal rate. He shrugged off his soaked backpack before rolling over, peeling off his sodden clothes one at a time. Bundling them all up into a ball, he threw them to the ground before hauling himself up to his feet. His tail arched up to cover his groin, preserving his modesty from the pervasive darkness.

Cautiously, he paced around, working out how large the ledge was. He felt rock just a few paces in all directions. Trapped by water and stone, Alistair sunk to his knees, despair filling his eyes with tears.

“Kneeling to me already?” a voice boomed out of the darkness, eliciting a horrified squeak from Alistair. There was a presence in the gloom, an almighty and terrifying force that filled the weasel with dread.

“It has been so long since a mortal wandered into my domain,” the voice crooned, quieter this time but no less powerful.

Alistair shrank back until he was pressed against the cliff with nowhere else to go. He flung his arm in front of his face as a dazzling light flooded the chamber, flashes of luminescence piercing the inside of his eyelids. Only once these sharp spears of light faded did he feel comfortable enough to open his eyes.

He was in an almost perfectly spherical chamber, the domed roof high above his head. Just below him was the lake, stretching from wall to wall with only his little ledge breaking the otherwise complete circle. Curiously the water remained inky black, not reflecting any of the sourceless light. There was no sign of the ominous speaker, but Alistair could still feel their presence.

“Who… who are you?” he squeaked, his voice echoing several times off the rock.

The voice chuckled. “You wish to know my name? The temerity of your kind knows no bounds.”

Alistair gulped. “Are you going to let me go? To show me the way to the surface?”

Again the voice snickered, a small bodiless shadow forming in the exact centre of the cavern. “When I am ready for you to leave, I can show you the way to the surface.” The shadow paused, drifting slowly closer to the lake of black water. “You are to be my servant. My emissary. Bound to my will, you will do my bidding in the mortal world, in places where I cannot tread.”

Alistair’s throat was dry as he shook his head. “And should I refuse?” he stuttered, his fists clenched by his side. His fur still dripped, sodden from his excursion in the lake.

The shadow’s voice took on a sinister edge. “It is already too late for that, mortal. Take a look at your hands. The corruption has already begun.”

At the shadow’s command, Alistair glanced down at his hands, noticing for the first time the drops of black liquid that clung to his fur. He tried to brush them away, but they just smeared, leaving long streaks of black on his brown fur.

“What’s this?” Alistair yelped, but there was no answer coming from the shadow. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against rock, the lake disturbed by an unfelt wind.

The weasel’s eyes widened as the black droplets started to move and spread, coating the fur on his hands with a fine film. He shook his hands vigorously, unable to dislodge the moisture from his fur. He tried to brush it off on his chest, but that only ended up staining his fur there too. Before long his hands were completely coated like he was wearing tight black gloves.

Slowly the moisture started to creep up his arms, nothing Alistair did was able to prevent its advance. He rubbed his hands against each other, freezing at the curious squeaking the movement made.

“What?” Alistair whispered, staring at his fingers. They were completely smooth, no trace of his fur left beneath the black liquid. His claws had been blunted, leaving behind curiously soft nubs. Even stranger, he could still feel everything as though his hands weren’t coated in the clinging substance.

Gradually the smoothness ran up his arms, following the dirty trails left behind by the black droplets. He could only stare in confusion as his fur was flattened and covered by the glossy black liquid, seeming to solidify and contract to a skin-tight layer almost immediately. It looked like he was becoming one with the dark lake.

The process came to a halt at his shoulders, leaving his arms completely smooth and black. Tentatively he pinched his arm and gasped in pain, still able to feel everything like it was his own skin. He rubbed his shoulders, trying to find any ridge or divide between the smooth layer and his skin. There was none. The two blended together perfectly. Confused, he lifted one paw to his face, his muzzle wrinkling. The smell was the same as the moisture-laden rock had given off. Without thinking he licked his hand. Tasted the same too.

Alistair looked up, trying to find the shadow and demand an explanation, but the apparition was nowhere to be seen. He could still feel the immense presence close by, but visually he was all alone.

Before he had time to ponder this, and what was happening with his arms, he doubled over as a fierce heat erupted within him. Not with pain, but it took a moment for Alistair to recognise it as intense arousal. His cheeks burned with blushes as his cock started to emerge from his sheath in response to the unexplained pleasure. Alistair quickly tried to hide it with his tail, unsure if the shadow would appreciate seeing the signs of his lust.

In doing so, Alistair noticed the same droplets coating his tail, the smoothing process already beginning at the tip. He tried to pull at the glossy liquid before it solidified, hand squeaking against tail to no effect. The same was happening to his legs, his feet already coated in the sleek and shiny substance, his ankles and calves quickly converting as well. Even his chest was changing, becoming short of breath as the liquid constricted around his ribs.

Alistair squeaked as the liquid reached the base of his tail, momentarily probing against his tailhole before solidifying. It was all over quickly, his whole body coated in sleek rubber, leaving just his head and genitals exposed. Slowly he breathed in and out, gently rubbing his hand over his chest before reaching down and cupping his furred balls. He moaned in ecstasy, rubbing one finger against his cock as all thoughts of modesty fled from his mind.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” the strange voice asked.

Alistair could only nod as his hand grasped his cock firmly, each stroke leaving a thin film of black rubber on his aching shaft, making it larger and thicker with every layer. He whined as the rubber slowly started to creep again, gradually starting to move up his neck, as well as slipping inside his tailhole at last. He could feel its warmth spreading through his body. His balls too started to swell, only stopping once they had expanded to twice their original size.

Arching his head back, Alistair closed his eyes as the liquid rubber overtook his muzzle. There was a brief moment of discomfort as it coated his mouth and nose, blocking his airways before realizing he didn’t need to draw in another breath. The taste of rubber on his tongue soon faded to nothing more than a light tang, and when he opened his eyes every last inch of him was black and glossy.

His hands squeaked as he stroked his cock and fondled his balls, writhing around on the hard rock floor as he felt more pleasure than he had ever felt before. Every touch was amplified a hundred-fold, his moans deafening in his mind. His cock and balls had doubled in size, their hefty weight noticeable against his crotch. He squeezed his balls with one hand, finding them firm yet supple, moulding themselves to the touch of his hand. His mind exploded in pleasure.

Just as he thought he was about to reach climax his body froze, solidifying into unyielding rubber. He shrieked mentally, caught right on the precipice of orgasm. Right before him the shadow formed out of the light.

“So, mortal. You seem to enjoy your new body. It is a generous gift. You are immune to most harm and cannot tire, and you have already found some parts have been… enhanced. But this comes at a price. Are you willing to accept my terms and serve me?” it asked.

Alistair found himself trapped between two choices, his sex-fogged mind making it difficult to choose.

Choice One

“I will serve,” the rubberised weasel whispered, finding his jaw able to move again.

Alistair could feel approval emanating out from the shadow. “Then you shall be rewarded.”

The invisible restraints that had immobilised Alistair’s body fell away, and immediately he returned to his self-pleasuring. Grunting with pleasure, the weasel’s cock throbbed and spurted small amounts of a thin dark fluid onto his smooth chest. His orgasm, so cruelly denied before, quickly built again as he thrust into his hand.

With a loud cry Alistair came, thick ropes of liquid latex seed splattering against rock and rubber. It was pleasure unlike anything he had ever felt before, his tongue lolling out of his muzzle as he closed his eyes until it was all over.

The shadow gave Alistair a few minutes before speaking again. “So my servant. Are you ready to go into the world and spread my pleasure?”

Alistair smiled. “I am ready, my master.”

Choice Two

“No. I refuse,” Alistair gasped, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. Instantly he felt the disapproval from the shadow, the anger and the fury.

“So you refuse my gifts? Then let this be your punishment. Never to feel relief from your ever present need. Goodbye, mortal,” the shadow hissed, before fading away into the light.

Released from his invisible bonds, Alistair quickly returned to his self-pleasure, but this time he knew something wasn’t the same. His orgasm was close, he could feel his balls churning with need, but as he ran a finger over the tip of his cock he realized what the shadow had threatened. His cock had completely sealed over, robbing him of his ability to cum and release.

Whining with futile desire, Alistair frantically pumped at his enlarged cock, his hips thrusting into his hand. He writhed on the ground, desperately trying to find release but aware at the back of his mind that it was hopeless. He was doomed to forever struggle with a cock that demanded release and yet was never able to provide it.

His howl of dismay did little to drown out the constant squeak of rubber on rubber.