FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Jeep kicked up clouds of dust as it drove through the arid lands. On it, there were two men, exchanging no words, seemingly focusing their minds on willing the air conditioner to not break, not with the outside temperature approaching 40 Celsius. Little mice skittered out of its path as it clumsily made its way towards it destination on a worn stretch of land that served as a road. Looking out of the window, the passenger could see little but cliffs and a few patches of trees, hardly forests or even woods, but at least clusters of shade – and perhaps water – for the local wildlife. While the car still ran, it didn't feel that bad, but both had been here before, and knew that the second they turned the engine off, a deathly silence would reign, with no human noise for miles and miles around.

Eventually, they stopped at a little building, one that looked like a cross between a cottage and a bunker. A research station, the sign near it said.

"Well, here we are. Have a fun month, Jake," one of them said, his voice somewhere between amusement and genuine sympathy.

"Yeah. Will do. You prepare for yours," he said, and got off, the heat hitting him like a solid wall of air as he stepped outside of the pleasantly cool car. He picked out a few heavy-looking briefcases from the trunk and waved the driver off. He stood there for a moment, listening to the low growl of the engine fading into the distance, but before the dust settled, he could already feel a headache developing from the utterly miserable heat. Well, it was going to a be an unpleasant job, but he always was a bit of a workaholic.

So Jake went to the bunker and nearly panicked as his keys wouldn't work. For a moment, he thought he'd brought the wrong ones, but then he realized that the heat must've warped the metal. A little bit of further jiggling of his keys finally got them aligned right, and the door opened with a creak. The inside was like a sauna, and Jake nearly sprinted to the AC controls. He slammed it on full blast, and the vents and fans began to howl, but it'd be a while before the bunker-cabin was actually liveable. He sighed, and sat down by the lone chair in the "kitchen". Well, there wasn't much actual food-making happening here, mainly warming of canned goods. As if anything needed warming in this climate.

The previous inhabitants hadn't bothered cleaning. There were what seemed like a party's worth of empty beer cans on the floor, but at least no vomit. Oh well, this was the life of a scientist. The worst part about it all would be the solitude. Jake sighed, pulling out a deck of cards for a game of solitaire, and started a journal to keep his mind busy.

Day 1:

I've finally arrived at this godforsaken desert. As far away from everything as you could possibly get, and without the industrial-strength air conditioning I have, I'd be dead in seconds. That's the kind of life you can expect if you want to become a zoologist around these parts. Oh, I'm here to look for a new species that we've had quite a few reports on. It's not entirely clear how it looks – some describe it like a damn bigfoot, others like a wolf, and some as a friggin' deer – but there's been enough reports now, from mostly reliable sources, that they sent me here.

So here I am, sitting in a little cabin with the AC on full blast, with a few cases of beer, some canned foods, a notebook, a camera, and absolute solitude as my companions. Hey, did you know that there's no reception, either? Given that I'm miles out in the inhospitable wasteland, I wasn't terribly amused when I found that one out. They'll come and check that I'm still alive after two weeks, but what if there's an emergency before that? I guess I'll leave a pretty well-preserved body at least, given this dry heat. Small blessings.

What he didn't know was that something had been keeping an eye on him ever since he appeared, staying at distance long enough to be sure it wasn't seen. The last people to come here had been too many for it to approach, but one lone person was much more likely to be suitable. Of course, the cabin was well fortified, so it'd have to lure him out, somehow. It ran its crooked fingers through the sand, pondering. It found itself wishing that it could resort to violence like a simple beast, but perhaps, with the right words, the human would agree to its proposal. After all, it'd once been human, itself.

Day 2:

Well, I guess I was being unfair calling this a desert. It's more of a wasteland, obviously. Deep canyons, red rock and sand as far as the eye can see, and even the occasional plant that's probably feeling even worse than I am right now. I forgot to pack my painkillers, and the heat is absolutely intolerable. I have enough water for strictly one shower a day, and enough to drink, but I can't really use it to cool myself. Oh well, suffer for your art.

Speaking of the art, I haven't seen anything that we haven't already written books on. Coyotes, eagles, little furry critters. I'm not really sure my bosses actually understand how this observation thing works. If there is something big that's eluded us for this long, it's not going to come to my little cabin and say hello. Similarly, I also can't go looking for it because the outside air has two settings: hotter than Satan's asshole, and colder than a witch's tits. I've taken to thinking of this as a little vacation. A boring vacation, but at least there's some time for introspection.

There was indeed no way into the strange bunker. It didn't know exactly what the human was doing, but as he used the ears of the deer to listen, he heard frequent scribbling and typing. Research, surely, or an author seeking solitude. It could appreciate such things. Once, it'd been a researcher of a sort, itself. Back then, he was a respected member of his tribe, a man like any other. Now, it was something else, something better. And the more it learned of the man inside, the more secure it became in knowing how to draw him out. Eventually. The last visitors had stayed there for a month, and it suspected that this newcomer would do the same. Plenty of time to learn what made him tick, to prepare.

Day 3:

Introspection got boring. I already know almost everything about myself, as it turns out. Oh, one interesting thing. I heard something big walking around the cabin. Probably a bear – I'm pretty sure there's bears around here – but interesting nonetheless. Sadly, I was sleeping, so I couldn't manage to get the camera ready before it disappeared. Still, it's at least some excitement. I'd like to have dinner with a bear, just to spice things up. Well, maybe I'll leave a sausage outside. I'm not a big fan of getting mauled and eaten, but I'm also not a big fan of these sausages, so they're acceptable casualties.

In other news, I managed to 'improve' the television antenna. Oh yes, I have a television now. I mean, I always had a television, but now it works , somewhat. It only shows outlines, but combined with audio, I can make out roughly what they're reporting on. Apparently, there's a storm headed this way in a few days. I can't wait. It'll both get rid of this insane heat for a while, and it might drive whatever I'm looking for out of its hidey-hole. Good news all around.

No, I'm not wasting time watching barely-received TV because there's nothing else to watch, why do you ask? I keep watch eight hours a day, looking at mostly empty fields of sand and stone. There's nothing here, except whatever came to me at night. Maybe I'll have to turn my schedule around and stay awake during the nights instead, if I am to find anything.

Note to self: Next time, bring more porn. Yeah, I have one magazine, but you can only get off to the same images so many times. Something's really gotten my sex drive all wound up. Last night, I dreamt of fucking someone doggy-style, only we were actually dogs, or coyotes perhaps. It felt rather real, too, and I woke up to very sticky sheets. With the limited amount of water I have at my disposal, I should try to avoid that. Hence the porn. I'll just write it up as necessary supplies.

The human proved rather receptive to its influence. Not outright control, nothing and nobody could accomplish that. But it'd managed to intensify his most primal needs by simply being nearby, unheard and unseen in the skin of an unassuming rabbit. It observed his ritualistic self-abuse through windows as an owl, noting its preference in gender. Good. It'd be easier the less it had to change itself to seduce him. The most difficult part was that it couldn't do it as a human, not anymore.

Back in those days he'd delved deeper than the elders wanted him to into the mystic arts, guided by the whispers of the coyote. He had showed him visions of humans shedding their skins and wearing those of animals instead; men as wolves, coyotes, as anything that walked this earth, if they so chose. The freedom of form had been intoxicating to him, frequent dreams of running wild through the deserts as a canine, of soaring through the air as an eagle. It was too much for any sane man to resist, and now, it planned to give the researcher the same offer. Eventually.

Day 4:

Looking around this place I see a lot of animal tracks. Rabbits, deer, something bigger. Probably a bear, though the sand doesn't really hold any clear tracks. It's interesting. I've managed to stay up until 3 AM or so now, and there are certainly more critters out then. Still, I haven't seen anything unusual. I have a camera, so I suppose I'll set that up a few hundred meters away outside and hope it captures something. As long as the heat doesn't ruin it, anyway.

Speaking of heat, the dreams I had a day ago continued last night. I didn't realize I was so pent up that I'd start regularly dreaming about being a fucking coyote and getting all frisky. I'm going to have to sleep without sheets next night. Maybe milk myself dry before bed. Yeah, none of this sounds very professional, but I'm afraid I might be going crazy out here already. Sigh. I suppose there's nothing like isolation to make you desire physical contact of any kind, I just didn't think my subconscious would jump to animals this quickly.

Well, that's another night almost over. Hey, I think I just heard something big outside. I'll report back tomorrow.

It'd lost its human skin long ago. They burned it, those close-minded idiots, when they found it left behind while he was exploring the world through the eyes of a cougar. He'd returned home, only to find his skin in a bonfire, and then, himself rapidly chased off. If you want to live as a beast, then live as a beast, they said. Probably thought him defeated with his original body gone. Not so much, the primal magics that let him change his skin to begin with easily kept him alive, and he survived while his tribe died out, uprooted and sent somewhere else to wither away. He'd been besides himself with joy as he watched his old kin marched off, never to return. Exactly what they deserved for denouncing him like they did. Idiots. Adapt or die. Embrace the coyote.

Eventually, he stopped even thinking of himself as human. Now, it was something else entirely. It'd been hundreds of years ago, but time blurred into indistinguishable shapes when one no longer had to worry about death. It felt like it was only yesterday. But there was one thing it still yearned for. Company. A tribe, a family perhaps. Something beyond animals to share its existence with. So it'd begun to prowl for suitable additions, and only a few months ago it'd found this strange stone structure, never populated by the same people for more than a month at a time. It couldn't say it understood its purpose back then, but with the newcomer, it was becoming clearer indeed.

Day 5:

I caught a glimpse of something outside last night. Couldn't tell what it was, but it was moving away from me, which meant it must've been closer. Is there some kind of animal that sneaks up to the bunker at night? Maybe I should actually leave out some food for it. I was only joking before, but if I set up a camera pointing out an easy meal, I should catch something , at the very least. Of course, it's probably just going to be coyotes, but regardless I'll at least have something to show for my long stay here. I'll set that up tonight.

The dreams continue much in the same fashion. This time it didn't get on any blankets, and I've taken to wet wipes to clean myself in the morning. It's absolutely fascinating how my mind has decided to have wet dreams every goddamn night, all of a sudden. Of course, there are sudden shifts. I'm now an anthropomorphic creature, somewhat like a werewolf, but the mating is constant. Maybe it's some subconscious desires. I should look up those "furry" types when I get home. If nothing else, it'll at least be something fun and new to get off to.

Very scientific, I know, but there really isn't much else I can write about. Maybe tomorrow.

At some point between its excommunication from the tribe and the present day, it'd learned to twist its forms into more anthropomorphic shapes. Never quite human, or even that close, but enough to walk on two legs and manipulate objects with certain agility. There was always something wrong, though. A hunched posture, a bloodlust or mating frenzy arising from the warping of its physical shape, sometimes long, sharp claws. It seemed to be a constant that arose by necessity when one sought to twist a skin to that degree. Then again, it welcomed the variety. If it had any desire to be the same thing every day, it'd never have chosen this path in life to begin with.

The human had come out last night. An interesting development. Granted, it couldn't force its gift on him physically, he had to accept it. Such things made it much harder, but attempting to peel off someone's skin and slip a new one on them ended in sheer insanity, rather than a sapient being such as itself. No, just as the coyote had seduced him, back in the days it was still a he. That was the approach it had to take now, it realized, even as it peeled off the deer-skin well out of view of the human. Even the cool night air burned its bare unnatural shape, as if reality itself took offense. It was one of the few things that truly hurt it these days, the ire of nature on its bared true form, and that pain forced it to hide within the skins of others.

Not that it wouldn't have do so regardless. The freedom such things offered was just as intoxicating as it had been the very first time it slipped out of the human and into the coyote. That drunken bliss was the key to seducing the human, it knew. Soon enough. A few more days of dreams, until he was constantly aroused throughout the day and night, and it'd move to the next step of its plan.

Day 6:

A bear! How about that? I didn't know they'd returned quite yet. It probably doesn't live here, but somewhere in the mountains. I suppose it must've smelled the can of tuna I left out. Fascinating to observe, and it had no idea I was here. At least I can report that black bears have been sighted here when I go back, even if I never find our mystery cryptid. Should be enough to justify my stay.

On a more alarming note, last night I didn't dream about sex. Rather, I dreamt of shedding my skin and discovering fur underneath, until every part of my body had fallen off and I was a coyote, standing on two legs. What's with the coyotes? I know it's all mere dreams, but it felt strange. Strange, but also amazing, running through the desert fast as the wind, nose in the air, taking in the myriad scents that they surely must sense. I can't say it's unwelcome to have these super-vivid dreams every night, it makes staying here a lot less boring, but I can't help but wonder what prompted them.

In other news, I discovered a bunch of VHS tapes in a drawer, buried under garbage left here by others. I have no idea what's on them, but one of them has a label reading "DISPOSE" in big red letters, which means I'll definitely have to watch it. Maybe it's government secrets. Or it might just be porn, who knows. I'll write about the contents tomorrow.

In other news, I've started walking around naked while inside the bunker. There's really no point in wearing clothes – the AC isn't that good – when I'm alone anyway. Plus, I find myself aroused far more often than usual, which of course leaves stains on my underwear. Rock out with your cock out, as they say.

Does anyone actually say that?

The human didn't seem alarmed by the whispers of the coyote. He probably regarded them as meaningless dreams. They served a much more important purpose than that, and it was planning to keep channelling them to him as he slept. To spark an interest in being a coyote, a familiarity that'd keep him from rejecting its offer out of anxiety.

Oh, familiarity, the siren's song for humanity. Certainly, men were motivated by many things. Lust, greed, love, curiosity, but nothing had the sheer force of familiarity. Should the curious encounter something that scares him, he rejects it in spite of curiosity. Should the lusty find something other than what they expect, they reject it in spite of their lust. But the familiar is never rejected. No, the familiar does not risk turning anyone away; rather, they accept it as the norm. This much, it knew. Allow someone to get used to something, no matter how heinous, and they'll be hard-pressed to reject it. And so, every night, it made its way to the bunker and gave the researcher dreams of raw, animalistic sex, visions of twisted bestial forms as his own, the joys of the wild hunt, of running or flying freely through nature with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

As for the truth, which none would ever hear but its fellow coyotes and birds, it was jealous. Jealous of that first moment of shedding one's skin and wearing another. At least thinking of giving that gift to another faintly echoed those blissful sensations, and perhaps wrapping him in the fur of the coyote would let him feel it again. It could only hope.

Day 7:

Technically, this would more accurately be called night eight. I'm awake at night rather than during day now, and it's wonderful. The air is cool enough that I can actually spend some time outside. Not that there's much to see or do; mainly, it's just silent. At least I can watch the stars. Laying on some random rock and dreaming of far-away worlds is a pleasant enough pastime. They're all so damn clear out here, I'm pretty sure I can actually see the milky way. I can't let myself get too lost in daydreams, though, since I'm actually here on a mission.

Speaking of that, something odd happened when I was moving the camera earlier tonight, to point in the direction where I last saw that mysterious animal disappear in. I felt this strange urge to drop down and walk on all fours, to really feel the warm sand and rock between my toes fingers. Not overwhelming on anything, just a mild compulsion. Following it felt good. Yeah, laugh it up, but there's nobody else around and I'm the only one who will read this particular diary. The human body is hardly designed to move like that for any prolonged period of time, but it brought back that odd warm fuzziness that I feel in those dreams where I'm an animal. I can only wonder how it'd actually feel to transform into one, to feel all my muscles bend into the proper strange shapes. Painful? Ecstatic? Probably both, like the werewolves of old.

Oh well. I'm going to continue keeping an eye out for anything interesting, and enjoy these dreams while they last. I'm sure they'll fade away once I return to civilization.

From the skies, as the hawk, it had seen the human fall on all fours. So far, nothing that it had done was permanent. If the human left tomorrow, he'd be back to normal within the day. But as long as he remained here, the effect of the dreams and urges that it was gifting to him would compound, and very soon, he'd be ready for the next step. One that would result in something more permanent.

Of course, it wasn't as simple as simply giving him the gift of the skinwalker. He had to be trained, too, or he'd be as clumsy as a new-born pup in the skins he used. Many months, if not years, of training. Still, it could set him on that path in just one encounter, and he'd become too addicted to the ecstasy of freely changing forms to ever considering turning away from it.

Tomorrow, perhaps. He was ready. It all depended on if it could lure him out of the bunker. Having studied the human for a week, just as he studied nature, it had realized that he was looking for it. Of course, he hardly knew what it was, which meant it could present itself as anything. Perhaps the coyote, warped into pseudohuman shape. A familiar myth, yet a seductive one, and it could feel a surge of arousal shooting through its loins as it imagined the encounter. How it'd simply present a canine erection and let the human debase himself with it, before slipping the skin of the coyote on him. And then mating with him like a wild beast.

Day 8:

Eureka! With the camera set up, I did catch something rather strange on it, and this has to be what people have been reporting sightings of. It looks a bit like a deer, but much larger than you'd expect, and with a long tail. It seems very shy though, and bolted away when it noticed the camera, so I didn't get much of a close-up look. I'm not sure if I dare go outside myself given the almost bear-like size of the thing – it might trample me – but I will put out some food for it. See if that manages to lure it closer.

Something about all of this feels odd, though. Living alone in the middle of the desert seems to take a toll on my psyche. Granted, I was cleared by the university psychologists, but they presumably can't predict everything. I keep myself busy with work, but I'm experiencing a mild kind of disassociation. It feels like I'm doing this for a movie, or perhaps as a character in a story, and instead, the dreams feel like reality now. It's no wonder with how vivid they feel, but I do wonder if I should abort next time they come to check on me. There's this eerie sense of artificiality to everything I do except the dreams, as if I'm actually supposed to be an animal and this version of my life is entirely constructed.

I don't know what to make of it. I suppose I'll continue working, there's not much else to do for six days. It just feels like I should go out there and bark and howl with the other coyotes, instead of doing my research. Ugh. Deep breaths, Jake. It'll pass. All composite phenomena are impermanent. All phenomena are empty and selfless.

It wasn't easy to get the human to exit the bunker. Yes, he'd been outside, certainly, but it wasn't a god, nor omniscient. It lurked near the building most of the time, but it had to leave to eat, and not allow the researcher to see as it peeled off a skin and put another one on, or he'd almost certainly run, or suffer a mental breakdown. That wasn't what it wanted for this one.

As it had developed an understanding for what the human was doing, however, it had developed a plan. It would show itself to the cameras occasionally, appearing harmless, until curiosity – that other strong motivator of humanity – drove it outside to look, or when it next put out more food. And then, it'd come in its most comfortable form, the coyote, and take him. Right under the full moon. It felt its sheath swell in anticipation, and forced one leg into a more humanoid arm to feel his own arousal. It'd been perhaps a century since it felt this pent up – wild nature offered almost infinite distractions when one could see it from both the air and underwater – but it was time to once again engaged with those pleasures. It wanted, needed, a sentient companion.

Some days, it wondered what actually remained of the person it had once been. Was this his own will, or the spirit of the coyote that steered his various forms according to its own whims? Ultimately, it probably didn't matter. It had no human kin left on this earth either way, no relatives and no bloodline, and even if it had been able to return to human form, there was no one left of its tribe. It was a being out of time, alone except for the beasts it commingled with.

Until tomorrow.

Day 9:

Well, it's night again. I just thought I'd write this down before I forget, but that strange deer was here again last night. It knocked the camera over, though, so I'll have to go set it up again. I didn't get a good recording, it approached from a different direction than last time. Maybe it thinks the camera is some kind of creature? I'll think about sticking it onto the roof, perhaps, where it's less obvious but still points to the food I'll leave out.

I'll continue writing this entry once that's done. Wait, why am I even telling myself this? Must be too used to writing lab journals.

It returned at night, at the same time the human had put out food last, but this time, not as the deer. Slowly, it slunk through the desert, sticking to rocks like the shadow of a cloud in the darkness, ensuring that it made no noise and stayed out of sight. With it, it had another skin beyond the one it was wearing, freely traded for with a coyote. It had wanted to fly, and thus traded away its original pelt for that of a mighty eagle. Such were the magics of its art, allowing it to not only change its own shape, but those of others, should they consent. This particular skin was for its prize, the human it was stalking, but he would take a fair bit more work to convince than a mere beast.

It found the human naked, as he'd started being, adjusting the camera that it had knocked over, with the same canned peas and potatoes set out in a bowl on the ground before it. Of course, it wasn't really interested in the food.

It snuck around the research station, going around it quietly so it could block the human's route to the door, should he attempt to run. Of course, it didn't think he would, but it wasn't willing to take any chances. If the human panicked despite its best efforts, it'd have to kill him, because he wouldn't come out before the other humans came, and then it'd have entire armies hunting for it. Certainly it could hide as a mouse or a bird, somewhere entirely different, but the second someone saw it take a bigger, stronger form, the hunt would begin anew. It wasn't willing to live the life of prey. But even then, killing the human was the absolute last resort; the coyote didn't like violence, except in self-defence.

It forced its body into a bipedal shape when it reached the door on the other side. Not as good for sneaking, but that wasn't needed anymore. It shivered as its limbs lengthened with a series of muted cracks. It'd been a while since it had a reason to use this shape, but it did favour it over any others, primarily for the way it was able to manipulate things with its relatively nimble fingers, and of course, it hoped, for the help it'd provide in seducing humans. After all, most wouldn't submit to a regular coyote. Something humanoid in appearance would be easier.

It issued a low yap, and the researcher spun around to face it. His face immediately went pale, as if he'd seen a ghost, but not outright panic, because after all, he'd seen it before, in other worlds. He didn't move. It could see his muscles twitching, however, and knew he was right on the edge of running. Time was of the essence. It took a few steps closer to the frozen human, slowly and non-threateningly, despite its bestial appearance.

The human watched the approaching creature with morbid fascination. Terror freely mixed with curiosity and perhaps even lust. He recognized the creature; he, himself, had been in that very shape in his dreams. But now, with waking eyes, he could truly see all the details illuminated in the moonlight. It was much like the werewolves of legend, but skinnier, more like a coyote. It walked towards him, hunched over, and although the front limbs stretched into arms with hand-like paws at the end, it looked as it could've dropped down on all fours to run almost as well as any canine. Yet, there was something about it that made his eyes tear up, like he was looking at an optical illusion, something eldritch, where every part of the creature was individually natural enough, but the way they were attached wasn't. Its furry pelt looked smooth as silk, but hung loosely upon its frame, in places looking like a taxidermy waiting to be stuffed, and in others, overly muscular and bulging with obvious physical strength. The moonlight scattered off it as if in distaste, unwilling to stay for long on the creature, and yet, its eyes glowed yellow in their sockets, with a sinister light of their own. Jake felt his muscles twitch, wanting to run, but the creature locked eyes with him, and he went rigid, his legs feeling like leaden facsimiles. It approached, almost close enough to touch him now, and the scientist knew that if it did, he'd scream and run, overwhelming panic locked away just beneath his calm exterior. This, he instinctively knew, was both the source of the strange dreams and the creature he'd been looking for, and yet, now that he was face to face with it, science was the last thing on his mind.

He could smell it, now. A rich mixture of desert sands and an animalistic musk with a sweet, cloying, almost rotten undertone that clung to his nose like oil. Yet, there was a familiarity to it, and it sent his head spinning, threatening to blur the lines between dream and reality. In those dreams, he'd taken this creature's role, and it'd felt amazing, every single bestial second of pleasure purposeful in and of itself. The comforting familiarity of it was all that kept him from running, an underlying, nearly subconscious desire to embrace this disgusting being, to become like it in reality, like a coyote rolling around in a scent it wished to carry. What it wanted was obvious. Despite the sharp fangs lining its jaws, despite the monstrous claws tipping each digit, it didn't want to eat him. No, he knew what it wanted. Just like he had wanted it in all of the dreams it'd shared with him, it wanted to mate. He could smell the earthy fragrance of masculine lust on it, surrounding the creature like a mystical aura. He couldn't look away from its eyes, but he knew that if his eyes wandered down its terrifying form, he'd seen a deeply red, pointed canine cock, jutting out, hard as rock and ready for breeding. After all, he'd used that very cock in his dreams, yipping and howling as he plunged it into his mates. Now that it was on someone else, some part of him wanted to just submit, a bestial arousal simmering just underneath his consciousness, demanding that he submit and give himself over to this... beast. But it wasn't a beast, not only, at any rate, and Jake knew that too. There was a bright shimmer of intelligence, of very deliberate scheming that shone through its eyes, and a tricky cunning.

Was it something else, merely wearing the skin of a coyote? Was it the coyote, having swallowed and subsumed the human beneath? Perhaps they were both willing servants of the other, at least for this particular purpose. Only after observing Jake for a good minute or two, examining his body - and what felt like his very soul - thoroughly, did it go further. It reached out slowly, deliberately, with one of those arms - like the limbs of a tree in a stormy area - and tenderly, with obvious care, touched the human. The effect was instantaneous, electrifying. No words had to be spoken, but Jake's knees buckled as his cock lurched, rapidly swelling, as he understood just what the being wanted. It didn't just want to mate with him. No, it wanted him as its mate, wanted him to become like it. The images flooded his mind, even more vivid than they had been in his dreams, like a flood of alien yet familiar pictures, of himself peeling his skin off and revealing his bared soul for the skinwalker - for that was what it called itself - to mould like clay, to dress in the fur of a coyote. A gift, shared freely, so that he could be anything he ever wanted, from the lowliest rat to the mightiest bear or fastest eagle. And all that Jake had to do was submit, to let it mount and breed him. Such a simple, seductive decision.

It watched the human closely as it shared part of its mind with him, watching with both curiosity and lust as the researcher's eyes glazed over, a look of blind desire and lust. Oh, it could smell his arousal, too. It knew he was hard to the point of desperation, hole clenching and balls tightening with utter lust, but yet he resisted. It needed to have him accept its gift freely; the coyote never wanted violence, only trickery and seduction. No, it couldn't lay a finger upon the human unless he openly invited it, by either consent or an attack. So it looked away, breaking their connection, and from the corner of its vision, watched as the human's eyes fell upon his sizable, eager maleness, bobbing obscenely under his scraggly bellyfur, leaking strands of watery coyote precum, much of it sticking to his dirty fur, and much seemingly waiting to be licked up, glistening and slick, promising a flavour of pure, raw arousal. It was so close to his face, pointing at him lewdly, and Jake couldn't look away. Even as the coyote-thing brought its impressive length closer, so close to the human's lips that he could sense the heat radiating from it. He found himself salivating at the very idea of simply sticking out his tongue and letting some of the beast's stringy precum drop onto it, but the idea felt, in a strange way, final. There'd be no going back, he knew that. The taste would inflame his desires to the point he wouldn't be able to control them. Just like in those dreams.

But, he realized, that was what he wanted.

Without much hesitation, he gave that intriguing maleness a lusty lick, gathering up as much of the precum as he could. A faint hint of tangy sweetness was the only thing he had time to taste before the arousal swept away most of his coherent thoughts, leaving him panting with need. He grabbed the coyote-thing's loose fur and hungrily wrapped his lips around the length that he freely offered, suckling on it lewdly and openly.

It was pleased at how quickly the human submitted to his advances. There was much still to do, but it luxuriated in the feeling of a warm, wet mouth around his hardness for the first time in perhaps a century, growling and yapping in the coyote's voice to make sure the human remembered it was a half-animal he was pleasuring. The human's nimble tongue and its own pent-upness had it panting, too, with primitive lust and arousal, each little feathery lick the human gave him sending shivers through its body. It'd be so easy so just let myself cum now, it thought, to embrace this one moment of lust fully and fill the human's belly with his unnatural seed, but that'd waste this opportunity entirely. No, it had to inflame the human's desires further, until there were no human thoughts left in that mind of his at all, and then it'd reshape him. But there was no reason it couldn't savour the moment a little longer. A small thrust of its hips buried its heated erection deeper into the researcher's open mouth, an inch of red, slick flesh passing through his pursed lips, occasionally twitching and depositing more of the slime of his canine arousal onto his tongue, setting his tastebuds alight with sensations.

Jake couldn't help it, squirming and fully baring himself to the seductive canine. The intense eroticism of the situation was making his very skin itch, feeling uncomfortable, like something that he should be able to take off and change like any piece of clothing, and he found himself rubbing his erection without even thinking of it. The creature feasted on the fact that it was still able to so easily turn a human on to this point. Of course, before the night was over, he'd hardly be a human anymore, which made it all so much sweeter. No, he'd finally have an equal, someone willing to learn his ways and accept the gift of the skinwalker, just as he had, from the coyote.

It felt its swollen balls tightening, the pleasure threatening to become too much to contain, knot already swollen and instincts telling it to tie with the wet heat around its cock. Instead, it gave the human a shove, sending him falling onto his back in the dirt. It gestured at him to present himself, and for a moment, the two simply stared at each other, Jake's eyes fogged with lust to the point he seemed to not fully comprehend what the coyote was telling him. Finally, it seemed to get through, and he turned around, first on his knees and then down onto all fours, his shapely and vulnerable rear on lewd display for the beast.

Jake couldn't believe he was doing any of it. Yes, there wouldn't be anyone around for miles and miles, but still, fucking in the open like this, like wild dogs or something, felt intensely wrong for him. Even then, it only aroused him further, any true ability to reason suppressed by the skinwalker's presence. But he couldn't blame it for finding himself in such a compromising position, no. While he might've been incapable of logical thought, these were still his desires, the kind of forbidden urges the dwelled deep in the average man's mind, never to surface, except in situations like this. No, this was what he wanted, not something he could blame on anything else. His body quaked with anticipation as he creature approached his rear.

He felt its heavy member rest against his pert cheeks as it leaned over him, but rather than sliding into him, it began rubbing – even massaging – his back, drawing pleased whimpers from the dazed man. Its rough padded fingers felt amazing against his smooth, naked skin, and he was kneading the tension right out of each muscle. It felt as if the fingers weren't merely touching his skin, but sinking underneath it, painlessly slipping through his body and pressing against every tense muscle directly, working a kind of sensual magic that left Jake limp, barely able to steady himself even with four limbs touching the ground. The fingers traced over every inch of his back, his neck, even his head, every nerve ending singing their own tunes of pleasure.

Jake never realized what was happening, even as the creature worked his very skin off his body with slow, deliberate movements. He felt lightheaded, naked even, but more discomfort than that never manifested. Finally, his lover pulled the coyote pelt over his head, the enchanted skin stretching easily to accommodate him. For a moment, he couldn't see anything at all, nor could he breathe, and he instinctively attempted to get away, clawing at the fur. It was as if it was glued to him, however, and he had no luck in loosening it, not before he suddenly realized that he could feel his fingers, as dark magic knit his nerves to his new skin. He opened his jaw and inhaled the cool desert air thirstily, too grateful for the oxygen to really question what was happening. His vision returned, perhaps a little less sharp than before much brighter, easily able to discern what had previously been vague shapes barely illuminated by the moon.

His lover gradually peeled off the rest of his human skin, all the while slipping his new one on, and it was starting to feel good. Perversely, Jake only found his arousal growing further, and he begun to grind his fuzzy rear against the other coyote's heated length. Soon enough, the coyote threw the human's old skin aside, all of it replaced by fur that was rapidly becoming one with him. The skinwalker willed it to stay in humanoid form, knowing that his partner would still need plenty of training before he could manage it himself, and it didn't want to wait, turned on the point of bursting by the transformation he had witnessed.

It pulled Jake's tail up and prodded his entrance with his pointed tip, seeing if the new coyote had regained sensation yet, and going by the way he yipped at the sudden but pleasurable stretching, the answer was yes. And so, it was time to enjoy the fruits of its labour. It thrust forward, fiercely, with a high-pitched coyote howl towards the nightly skies, drooling and growling, almost immediately climaxing as the newly minted canid squeezed down on him with impossible tightness and heat, eagerly accepting the intrusion, almost drawing him in, deeper, until his swollen knot bumped against the stretched ring. Despite the chill in the air, the both of them were panting at the sheer intensity of the sensations and the sexual heat that bloomed between them, their breaths visible in the air. For a moment, that was all they did, but instincts soon spurred them to do more.

Jake, not used to the animalistic instincts that suddenly had his consciousness in a vice-like grip, couldn't help but yap and howl, lowering his upper body to the ground to raise his ass further, tail flagging wildly with obvious excitement as he was mated by the creature. He'd experienced all of this before in dreams, and having it happen in reality was almost too much to handle, constant electrifying shocks of pleasure shooting through him with each movement of his lover's hips. Something snapped, broke inside him; a primitive wildness, even beyond the physical pleasures he was receiving. Jake's mind filled with images of himself stalking, hunting prey, as a myriad of species, with the coyote as the central one. It wasn't merely his body that changed; the feral influence of it seeped into his mind, into his very soul, and he howled.

It was more than he could handle, and his new, beautiful knotted cock jumped once, then again, spurting a wet, messy load of new coyote cum onto the dirty ground, the fragrance hitting his sensitive nose immediately, instincts telling him to lap it up even as his lover's knot finally slipped inside him, the whole length buried deep inside him, pointed tip dilating even as the more dominant coyote shuddered, yapping and barking, teetering on the edge of release. And then he crashed over it, clamping his jaws down on Jake's scruffy neck, twitching and growling as his hips ground against the freshly minted canine's lanky rear, driving his breeding rod just a little deeper into his wide open body, and then he erupted like a volcano, coating the former human's insides with a deluge of thick coyote cum, several years of pent-up sexual tension relieved gush by gush, the warm sticky load seeping deep into his mate's body while his magnificent knot made sure not a drop of it could spill.

Jake felt incredibly full and warm, a fuzzy sensation happiness radiating through his entire body, his tail twitching beneath the other coyote's heavy body, as he kept pushing back against it. It'd be a long night, full of pleasures. He hadn't even gone soft despite spilling what felt like a gallon of his own seed.

Day next?

Oh.

Never realized something could feel like this.

Witnessed a miracle.

I'm not sure what to write.

If I'll ever write anything again.

Maybe tomorrow. Oh, I'll take to the skies and scale the cliffs and run wild over land and river, mate in the scent of nightfall, my cup runneth over.

It was hard for Jake to even stay in his own skin when the others came to check up on him, particularly with coyote cum leaking out of his well-used ass, soiling his underwear with a scent absolutely luckily not strong enough for the humans to notice. That, and the desire to take to the skies and fly wherever he pleased was strong enough to make talking about scientific pursuits difficult, particularly when he had to stay quiet about his actual findings. And he wanted more. More frenzied bestial mating, more hot sticky cum bloating his body, more forms to try out, to the point he tore his clothes off, hopefully for the final time, the second that his colleagues left.

Needless to say, he wouldn't get much work done, at least not of this kind. There was simply too much to do, too many corners of the earth to explore, endless pleasures and thrills to delight in, in whatever shape he desired.

And wherever he went, whether as a coyote, a hawk or an otter, his mate came with him in a matching form. They'd start their own tribe, one day, sharing their wonderful gifts with whoever else would accept them. Until then, though, it'd be a wild few years or exploration and mating. Even for the centuries-old coyote who had seen most of the world, exploring it with an eager partner was an altogether new experience.

For a pair of abominations enabled by forbidden, primal magics, it was about all they could wish for.