FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Michael cursed his luck. It was cold out, very cold. The biting wind whistled through the corners of the shop, piercing in through the small cracks around the door. He was working the close shift in the second-hand store, and had been by himself for the last hour of the night. It was only now, as he was preparing to leave, that he realised that his colleague Jen had obviously left with his warm jacket. The otter did not want to go outside in just his shirt.

“Dammit,” he said, walking towards the front door and opening it a crack. The chill wind felt like a shard of ice in his chest, and he slammed it closed again with a curse.

Rubbing the exposed fur on his arm, the otter paced around the store. It was late at night, and none of his local friends had a car. He had twenty minutes to make the ten minute walk to the train station, or else he’d be stuck with no way home. There had to be something he could do.

Sucking in a breath of cold air, he turned to the small clothing section the store had. He was sure his boss wouldn’t mind if he borrowed something for the night, just so he could get home without freezing to death. To his delight, he found a thick parka style coat and, better yet, it had attached mitt-style gloves as well. It smelt old and musty, but it felt really warm.

With a grin, Michael scrawled out a quick note for his boss and slipped into the coat. It was surprisingly heavy on his shoulders, but it did come almost all the way down to his knees. He buttoned it up and put on the gloves, which conveniently buttoned onto the sleeves to keep them secure. Already he was sweltering in the store.

Glancing around once more to make sure all his duties were done, and that he had his wallet and keys in his pocket, Michael stepped forward out into the cold night. This time he barely felt the cold at all, but for around his lower legs. It wouldn’t be so bad though. Once he got walking, he’d keep reasonably warm.

Even with his borrowed coat and gloves, Michael’s hands were already numb by the time he made it to the train station. He fumbled with his wallet several times before finally managing to scan his electronic pass. Hunching his shoulders, the otter paced up and down the station platform to keep warm while he waited the last few minutes for the train to arrive.

He quickly hopped on, but was disappointed to find that the air inside was almost as cold as outside. Clearly the rail company were hoping to save money by cutting down on their heating costs. Taking a seat opposite a shivering bear, Michael kept his hands buried in his pockets and leaned his head against the graffiti-scrawl left on the window.

As tempting as it sometimes was to let himself drift off to sleep on the train, Michael never let himself do so. It was only a few stops, and he didn’t want to wake up and realise he’d missed his station. The train was quiet tonight: everyone was too busy shivering and trying to stay warm to talk to their fellow passengers. The bear opposite Michael sneezed a few times, wiping her nose on the back of her paw and sniffling loudly. The otter tried to keep his distaste hidden until the train started to slowly pull into his station.

As the train stopped, Michael hurried to his feet and nudged the door open button with his elbow. It hissed open, and the otter had to take a small step back in shock at the ferocity of the wind outside. If anything it was even worse here.

Despite the time away from the wind in the train, Michael’s hands were even worse now. He really struggled to get his wallet from his pocket, and then back in again. He flicked his tail in worry. He wasn’t going to get frostbite from this, was he?

His house wasn’t far away. Michael picked up his pace into a half jog as the first flurries of snow started to fall. Visibility was already dropping rapidly, the otter barely able to see the other side of the street.

Struggling with his keys, Michael eventually managed to make it back home. It took him almost a full minute of shivering in the snow to get the key in the lock, and then another twenty seconds just to turn the handle. There was definitely something wrong with his hands, but the otter was sure that they’d be fine once they got warm.

Thankfully for the otter, the house’s heating had been automatically scheduled to switch on over an hour ago, so it was already delightfully warm inside. He fumbled and struggled to undo the buttons on his coat, before eventually managing to shrug it off. He tossed it onto the couch before yawning wide and stretching his arms above his head. His hands felt like they were tingling and numb still, but a few minutes in the heat and they would be back to normal.

Food was next on the agenda. Michael’s stomach was growling, as he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. He licked his lips at the thought of the fish pie he’d cooked the night before, and the leftovers that were waiting for him in the fridge. He reached out for the fridge door as he looked up at the clock on the wall, but his fingers didn’t seem to want to grab the handle at all. He swiped a couple of times for the door and failed each time.

With a frown, the otter looked down to see what he was doing, then yelped and jumped back, crashing into the countertop and crushing his tail against the drawers. His hands were wrong... all wrong.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow down his racing heartbeat, Michael slowly looked down at his hands once again. His fingers were gone, there was no doubt about it. His panicked mind immediately thought he’d lost them to frostbite, before his more rational thoughts caught up and said that was ridiculous. He hadn’t been in the cold for that long.

Instead of hands, his arms appeared to just end in a smooth, rounded stump. It was as though his hands were gone entirely, but no... his wrists were still there, in the normal place. The otter tried to tense what was left of his hands, to move anything at all. Something shifted, but it didn’t feel normal at all. It was like his bones and muscles were all still rearranging.

His eyes flicked back towards the lounge room. Abandoning plans for dinner just yet, Michael hurried back to awkwardly pick up the coat. He struggled to find any label or some identifying feature to work out where the coat had been made, but nothing gave it away at all. Was it some charm or curse on the fabric that had caused this?

Even as he tried to work things out, a sudden surge of pain ripped through his arms, radiating out from his altered hands. He gritted his teeth and hugged his arms close to his chest, doubling over in pain. It lasted only a few seconds, but by the time it was over there were tears in his eyes.

Panting slightly, Michael closed his eyes and groaned. What was he going to do about this?

With a grimace, the otter opened his eyes and looked down. They were different again. Their shape had changed, looking oddly familiar, yet he just wasn’t quite able to place it. He hissed in discomfort as a small seam opened up around the tips. It took all his willpower to resist moving his arms, wanting to just let this change finish before attempting to do anything about it.

With one, final flash of pain, Michael cried out and whimpered, before staring down at his former hands again. They had moved, and the seam had opened for a moment. Inside he had seen... teeth?

Realisation hit him suddenly. Of course he knew what that shape was. They were muzzles.

Rolling his wrists around so he could look at them from all angles, Michael couldn’t deny what he was seeing. Somehow, on the end of his wrists he had muzzles, not hands. His right handmuzzle shook as he slowly worked to open the mouth. He was surprised it wasn’t too difficult; just like unclenching his fist.

With a little effort he stuck out the tongue, opening his new jaw as wide as he could. As far as he could tell, the handmuzzle had a normal throat. He certainly couldn’t see how deep it went, and rubbing his other handmuzzle over his arm didn’t do much to tell him. He didn’t appear to be able to talk or breathe through them, despite his attempts to do so.

Sighing and leaning back on the couch, Michael closed his eyes. There wasn’t much he could do about it today. He could only hope that his boss kept track of where all their stock came from, and they’d be able to trace the cause of this transformation. Until the morning though, he had to accept he was stuck like this. At least nothing else felt like it was changing.

“Ugh, let’s see what I can still do,” he muttered as he hauled himself up again. He didn’t know how he’d be able to deal with preparing his dinner, but his stomach wasn’t going to be sated by sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

Now that he knew what was wrong with his hands, it wasn’t so much of a hassle to open the fridge door, though he did grimace at the taste of the plastic as he was forced to bite into it with his right handmuzzle. The ceramic dish was no easier, and the otter almost dropped it several times before getting it to the safety of the counter top.

Dishing up his food was a challenge, and it took him several minutes of awkward attempts of manipulating his utensils to spoon out some of the fish pie. Then it was into the microwave and clumsily pressing the buttons with his handmuzzle nose. By the time he’d got the dish back in the fridge, the microwave had already dinged.

The steaming plate was a challenge to move, but eventually Michael was able to bite down around enough tea towels that he didn’t feel like he was about to burn his mouths, while still providing enough grip not to actually drop the plate. Eating was just as clumsy. Unsure where his new throats actually led, he didn’t use his handmuzzle for eating, instead trying to manipulate his cutlery and ignore the taste of stainless steel on his new tongues.

The fish just didn’t taste as nice as it had the previous night. It was bland and completely unsatisfying, not at all helped by the metallic tang transferred from his handmuzzles. He decided to forgo the washing up for now, leaving the dish and cutlery on the table. When he had his hands back, then he could deal with it.

Instead the otter trudged his way upstairs and into his bedroom. He wrinkled his nose as he stripped down, getting the taste of his sweat from his clothes on his tongues. Taking a drink from the taps in the en suite to rinse out the taste, he then collapsed straight into bed.

Lying on his back, the otter held his arms up and just stared at the unfamiliar appendages at the end of them. His handmuzzle jaws opened and closed several times, before he dropped them down to his sides. There was nothing he could do tonight.

The otter switched off the light and closed his eyes. He had to do his best to forget all about his handmuzzles for now. Tomorrow would be another day, and he would be able to fix things. Until then he would just listen to the wind howling outside and do his best to sleep.

***

It was even colder the following morning, and Michael was shivering beneath the covers as he groggily returned to consciousness. At first he had completely forgotten about the confusing events of the previous night, his bleary mind dismissing them as some bizarre dream he’d been enduring. It wasn’t until he licked his cheek instead of scratching an itch there did he realise it had all been true and real.

Crawling out from his bed, the otter huddled his arms close to his body and slinked into the shower. Taking a few moments to work out the best way to grip the taps, he eventually managed to turn the water on as hot as he could tolerate. Anything to chase away the night chills.

Soap was a definite problem. Michael didn’t really want to put a bar of it into his mouth. With a sigh, he just let the water wash over him, splashing it across his face. He wouldn’t be too dirty, and the water would wash away most of it anyway.

If the day had been warmer, the otter would have wandered around the house naked, but even with the heating on full the bitter wind was finding its way through the cracks in the windows and doors. It chilled him the moment he stepped out the shower. He struggled to dry himself, but putting clothes on was a little easier. They were clean, and other than the fabric itself, the only taste on them was a lingering hint of the detergent he used.

From there, it was just waiting around until he knew his boss would arrive at the shop. He didn’t do much. One unpleasant ordeal in the bathroom aside, it wasn’t too bad. He wouldn’t admit that he was getting used to his handmuzzles, but they didn’t restrict him too much in some tasks. All he had to do was lie down and watch some tacky morning television, and he could almost forget that they were there at all.

As it happened, the otter didn’t need to call the store. His phone rang, tearing Michael out of his soporific reverie as he stared at the numbing television. He fumbled to switch the television off, then struggled to answer the phone before it rang out. Using his tongue to put it into speaker mode, he waited for Kier to start speaking.

“Hey Michael, did you get home fine?” the naga asked, a little worry in his voice. The snake had always been an early riser, not possessing the cold blood some of his other reptilian cousins had to deal with. His voice had no signs of the grogginess the otter still felt.

“Uh yeah, fine I guess,” Michael replied, with a nervous glance down to his handmuzzles. “Listen, about that coat...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kier interrupted. “Things were rough last night, so I don’t mind at all. Just bring it back when you’re next in. That’s... tomorrow evening, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, tomorrow evening. But... there was a problem with the coat,” Michael replied, trying to get a word in between the manager’s.

“You haven’t broken it, have you?”

“No, not at all. I just think... do you know where you got it from?” the otter asked, aware that he was starting to babble and flirt around the subject, scared of revealing just what the coat had done to him.

Through the phone, Michael could hear the naga rummaging through something on the desk. “Uh, probably got something around here somewhere, yeah. Why?”

“I think it was cursed or something. I have... ugh, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I’ll have to... I’ll come down to the store. You’ll be there all day?” Michael said, his words all streaming out at once.

Another small pause at the other end of the phone. “Are you alright?”

“No... yeah... I don’t know? I’ll... look, I’ll just come and see you. It’s the best way, I think,” Michael said. He could hear Kier hissing softly in concern, but eventually the naga agreed that would be the best way. He hung up, and the otter leaned back on the couch with a groan. Out of instinct, he tried to rub the sides of his muzzle. In doing so, he managed to accidentally kiss his handmuzzle’s lips.

Sharply breathing in, Michael recoiled his arm away, a blush burning his cheeks beneath his fur. That was something he didn’t want to dig too dip into. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, before hauling himself up to his feet. If he was going to see Kier, he may as well get it over with.

Of course, there was just one problem. He didn’t particularly want to go wandering outside with his handmuzzles exposed. He sighed as his eyes fell on the coat, still draped over the side of the couch where he’d discarded it the night before. At least there wouldn’t be any more harm in it. The curse had already done its damage. It may even reverse things.

Hoping for the best but expecting nothing to change, Michael slipped the coat on and slowly started to button it up. It was a very slow process, as his thick handmuzzles didn’t provide any sort of small manipulation like his fingers could have. He simply gave up on half of them, before hiding his handmuzzles away in the gloves.

Making sure he had everything he needed, the otter went back out into the cold. He was nervous as he made his regular journey to work. He couldn’t make eye contact with anyone and, despite the gloves, was sure people knew that there was something different about him. He stayed hunched over, positioning his body away from everyone on the train so no one looked at him. At the same time he was sure it was all in his head, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was wrong.

By the time he made it to the shop, those concerns had grown to a physical sensation. The back of his neck prickled and his handmuzzles kept twitching in their gloves. He pushed open the door to the shop and hurried inside, glad to be out of the cold and the public eye at last.

The naga was behind the counter, and the moment the door closed behind Michael, he slithered out to greet his employee. “Are you alright? You sounded worried about something,” he asked. The naga was impeccably dressed as always. His green and gold scales shone in the light, and he was fortunate that the shop’s uniform matched his colours nicely. Though, given he was the manager and owner, that was probably no coincidence. The naga wore a skirt around his hips, as was normally favoured by nagas and those without legs.

Michael was always entranced by the naga’s natural beauty, and it took him a few seconds to realise that he’d even been asked a question. He blinked a few times in an attempt to clear his head, before nodding. “Yeah. I, just... please don’t freak out, alright?”

“I’m getting close to it now, really. What’s wrong?” Kier asked. The tip of his long, sinuous tail was twitching as he coiled up in front of the counter.

With a sigh, Michael shook his arms and wiggled his handmuzzles out from the gloves and held them up to show the naga. He then staggered and almost fell back as his balance was thrown entirely off as he stared at his manager in triplicate.

The otter squawked in distress, ignoring the shocked reaction from the naga as he looked down at his former hands in shock. And looked up at his face through them. It had gotten worse. So much worse. Instead of just muzzles, there was an entire head on each wrist now.

Closing his new eyes to try and prevent feeling too disorientated, he looked up at the naga, who was staring down at him in shock. “Yeah, I can see why this would be a problem,” Kier muttered, before slithering other to Michael and gently placing his smooth-scaled hands on the otter’s wrists. “Do you need help getting the coat off?”

Michael was about to shake his head, before reconsidering his predicament. He nodded and let the naga undo the few buttons he’d been able to secure, before taking the thick coat from his shoulders.

While Kier scoured through the coat to find some identifying mark, Kichael began to experiment a little with his new headhands. He tried opening and closing his eyes and moving his arms around in a way that didn’t make him dizzy. It was difficult, not least because he was trying to process vision and hearing from three different sources.

By the time the naga was done, Michael felt confident enough to walk with his arms swinging by his sides naturally, and keep his headhand eyes open. He stumbled occasionally still, but he’d been able to do a few laps of the store without feeling like falling over.

Momentary hope faded from Michael as he looked towards the naga. His scaled face was grin. “Yeah, I traced the buyer back to an old shaman,” the naga said, scratching the back of his head idly. “Seems like he had a habit of putting spells on clothes and accessories. Usually sold his services out, but sometimes they were given for free. There was one thing he was always sure about though. Nothing could ever be returned back.”

Michael leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes, yet still looking down at the floor. He lifted one headhand up to look at the naga, who seemed torn between keeping his distance and slithering closer. “So I’m... stuck like this, am I?”

“I think so, yeah,” Kier replied. This time the naga did approach, holding his arms out and pulling the otter into a hug. Michael returned the gesture, resting his headhands on the naga’s back as he leaned into the scaled shoulder in front of him. “But... if it does mean anything, and I’m sorry if it’s an inappropriate time to say it, but you do have a cute face. Having three of them isn’t a bad thing.”

Michael frowned and leaned back, just staring at the naga with his mouth slightly agape. Kier turned away, the scales around his cheeks darkening to red.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have said it,” Kier muttered, but Michael reached up and brushed a headhand against the naga’s cheek to push the scaled head back around to face him.

“You... think I’m cute?” Michael asked. His ears flicked. All six of them. He was still trying to work out how to control one head individually.

Kier smirked. “Ever since you walked in for that interview. You’ve seriously never caught me checking out your ass? I didn’t think I’d been that subtle.”

Michael laughed and shook his head. “I... I would never have known. I knew you liked guys, but I thought you preferred them with scales.” I smile faded as he looked down at his headhands. “I guess I’m too weird now though, hey?”

The naga didn’t answer at first. Instead he just slipped back, curling up his tail and turning away from Michael. The otter’s ears flattened against his heads. Of course the naga wouldn’t find him attractive now. He shook his head and turned aside, folding his arms in front of his chest and hunching over, tears starting to form. He then heard the snick of a key in a lock, and peered back with one headhand to see Kier at the front door, turning the sign over to display ‘Gone for Lunch. Back in 1 Hour.’

“Actually, I can think of something those mouths could be very good for, if you’re willing,” the naga said. He smirked as he started to slither back towards the stunned otter. Scaled hands brushed over the backs of his headhands, making the otter shiver and gasp. “Well? Are you?”

Michael nodded nervously. “I... I am, yeah.”

“Good,” Kier replied. The naga slowly coaxed Michael’s arm up higher, until he pressed his scaled lips against the otter’s headhand. He kissed it gently, forked tongue teasing at the otter’s lips before pulling back with a smile. One hand pressed against the otter’s chest, gently pushing him back towards the staffroom behind the counter.

Michael eagerly obeyed. Never once did he wrest his eyes away from Kier’s, using his headhands for guidance around the counter and through the mercifully open door. The naga pushed it closed with his tail as he followed.

Barely had the latch clicked closed before Kier’s hands slipped beneath Michael’s shirt, helping the otter ease it off. Michael tried to return the favour, but he couldn’t pull the naga’s shirt off despite getting two mouthfuls of the fabric. He huffed and struggled, before Kier took over, easily slipping out of the shirt and undoing the skirt around his waist. As it fell away, Michael let off a soft groan as his eyes drank in the golden scales that ran down the naga’s belly and crotch, then all the way down his long tail.

The tip of that tail brushed against Michael’s legs, giving a little pull and tug on the last remnants of the otter’s clothing. Gripping the waistband of his trousers in both headhand jaws, the otter eased them down and kicked them aside, standing nude for the first time in front of the naga.

“You really are beautiful, you know,” Kier said. The naga licked his lips as he gently wrapped his coils around the otter’s legs. Before Michael could offer any form of protest, the naga place a finger against his lips. “Now. Why don’t you give me those hands of yours.”

Michael obliged, holding his arms up and lightly nibbling on Kier’s fingers as the naga’s hands softly stroked his cheeks. The naga then gripped softly around the otter’s additional muzzles, guiding them downwards. All six of the otter’s eyes widened as his headhands were manipulated down to the naga’s smooth crotch.

As Kier’s hands released him, the otter started to nuzzle and lick, finding a small slit that made the naga groan in pleasure. The two locked into a kiss as the naga’s fingers brushed down Michael’s back. Already, the otter could feel his sheath stirring from the attention, and judging from the movement he could feel beneath his headhands, the naga was feeling much the same way.

Michael teased and nosed at the naga’s slit, slipping one tongue inside in an attempt to coax out what lay within. He was rewarded with the tip of Kier’s cock pressing against his lips, which he eagerly parted. The naga groaned and pressed into their kiss a little harder. One hand reached up and gripped into the back of Michael’s original head, before he leaned back and grinned. “And the other,” he whispered.

“Huh?” Michael asked, before seeing a second wet cock poke out from the naga’s slit. The otter gasped in surprise, eagerly lapping the second shaft up with his other headhand.

“Aaah, that’s good... never had them both sucked at once,” Kier said, before pulling Michael back in for a kiss. His forked tongue curled around the otter’s and his fingers gripped in tight, entwined in Michael’s fur.

Kier’s cocks were both unlike any Michael had felt before. They were smooth and tapered, with just a couple of small ridges towards the bases. A couple of flicks with his tongues proved that they were very sensitive, making the naga’s tail squeeze that little bit tighter around his legs, and their kiss to be more forceful.

Finding his headhands didn’t possess any gag reflex, the otter was able to push down deep onto the naga’s twin shafts. He couldn’t quite press his muzzles right up against Kier’s slit as his heads got in each other’s way, but he could feel the two shafts sliding into his throats inside his wrists. It was such a strange sensation, especially when he swallowed down some of the leaking pre. He didn’t know where it went, but with all three mouths busy with cock and tongue, he didn’t really care now.

Instead the otter just focused on the two cocks in his mouths, feeling the naga gyrating beneath him. The shafts slid deeper into his throats, coating his tongues with copious spurts of pre. The otter’s own cock pressed into the naga’s scales, feeling as hard as it had ever been. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He didn’t want it to end.

The delicate touch of fingers on his cock made Michael groan. He pushed back into Kier’s mouth as the naga’s tail gripped his legs that little bit tighter; still not uncomfortable but preventing him from moving anywhere. Not that he even wanted to move.

Michael didn’t think he could hold back for long. He didn’t know if it was a side-effect of not having any of his own anymore, but the naga’s fingers on his cock felt amazing as they stroked over him. He whimpered and wiggled his hips, completely at Kier’s mercy. Judging from the naga’s hisses and pants, he was in a similar situation.

The naga pulled his head back for a moment. “Oh, Michael... that’s amazing... d-don’t stop,” he whispered, before sinking his tongue into the otter’s waiting mouth again.

Michael had no intention of stopping. Kier’s pre tasted wonderful on his tongues, but he wanted the full thing. His headhands suckled on the twin shafts, teasing them relentlessly with his tongues and tight throats. All while feeling his own orgasm building as the naga’s fingers explored his shaft.

“Oh I’m gonna...” Kier moaned into their kiss, before his fingers squeezed tightly into Michael’s back. That was all Michael needed, and his hips thrust forward, pressing his cock into Kier’s hand as he came, his seed spurting out onto the naga’s smooth scales.

Kier took just a few more seconds before he broke the kiss and arched his head back, hissing in pleasure as his twin shafts plunged deep into Michael’s throats. He came hard and fast, with the otter struggling to swallow it all. Cum leaked from his lips from the third spurt, and then came the fourth and fifth. A couple of smaller thrusts and spurts followed, before finally the naga was sated.

Michael swallowed a few more times with his headhands, the taste of the naga’s cum strong on his tongues. Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his arms and let the naga’s cocks fall free. He nosed them both, getting a good look at them before using one of them to lick up the cum he’d spilled over the golden scales.

That made Kier giggle, whether in amusement or slightly ticklishness, the otter couldn’t be too sure. Either way, he didn’t stop until he’d licked it all up.

Once the otter was done, Kier leaned back and rested in his coils, keeping the otter close. The two shifted, getting comfortable in each others’ embrace, before kissing again.

“That was... incredible,” the naga said. His cocks still hadn’t retreated back into their slit yet, so Michael gave them both a teasing lick with his closest headhand. Kier groaned, his coils writhing around the otter’s legs.

“I could certainly do it again,” Michael replied, stifling a little giggle at the naga’s reaction to his sensitive shafts.

Kier flicked his tail tip against Michael’s nose. “Mmm, so could I. But we’re only on lunch after all. Perhaps when Jen gets in we can find some time to explore what else those ‘hands’ of yours can do?”

Michael shivered in anticipation. “I’d like that, yes,” he replied eagerly, before giving the naga three quick kisses in succession.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.