FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Len put the bottle down on the counter, with a warm shop-keeper's smile that was as well-practiced as it was hollow. “There you go, good sir. Your usual dosage."

“Much obliged." A short bobcat with waxed whiskers and the temerity to wear a mockery of the Duke's favorite shade of purple velvet took the bottle and slipped it into a pocket inside of his shirt. “You've no idea how much of a life-saver these drops are."

“Yes, well," Len adjusted his sleeves, feeling a bit underdressed in the presence of his customer. “As your physician, I really must stress that these drops are not fool-proof. They might stave off the sorts of disease you're liable to come in contact with, but considering Sir's… vocation, it might not be enough."

“I'm impressed," said the bobcat, with a grin. “Most people have a much harder time keeping the derision out of their voice when they talk about my 'vocation.'"

“You and I work for the same person, sir," Len replied, cooly. “Besides, how you make your coin matters very little to me. I only care about your health."

“Your concern is appreciated. I shall be vigilant." Placing his overly wide-brimmed velvet hat back on his head, the bobcat gave Len a curt salute. “Well, then, it would appear we both have a patron to please. Be well, Pox-dog."

Len smiled at the back of his customer's head, waiting until he was sure the cat was well enough away, before his expression fell back into the same tired indifference he had been sporting before he had walked in.

A voice behind him asked “Was that the man-whore your kobold has working for her?"

Len looked back, into the rooms behind his little shop front. “The bells have not even tolled sext, Irinia. You're up early."

The collie leaning against the door-frame still wore her short nightgown, this late in the day. Only the other day, she had lost the bandages that had covered the cuts from the accident. She looked a lot better than before, but Len couldn't help but notice the slight feverish exhaustion in her eyes, the slightly heavier than necessary rise and fall of her chest. He could also see the outline of her nipples. She really needed to get thicker nightgowns.

Irinia shook her head. “I bet you that he looks significantly less impressive, without all those clothes on."

“Having seen him arranged as you say," Len replied, “I don't believe you would think so."

Irinia did not respond, right away. Her eyes were fixed on the door where the bobcat had left, though her mind was quite clearly elsewhere.

Len cleared his throat, nervously. “I go to see the glassblower today. He should finally have a new alembic, for me." No response. He continued. “Once I have that, I should be able to properly work on your… your, um…"

Irinia started, shaking her head. “Pardon me, brother, but did you say something?"

“No," Len replied, with a sigh. “It was nothing important." Rising to his feet, he said “I go now, Irinia. I should be back shortly." He opened the little flap on the side of his counter, ready to head out onto the streets of Seer's Enclave.

“A-a moment, pray."

Len turned back, his face a mask of unguarded dread. His sister pulled at the hem of her nightgown, knock-kneed, ears flat against her head. She didn't have the stomach to look Len in the eyes as she said “It has… gotten worse, again."

---

This was the third time that Len had found himself here. In Irinia's room. At her bedside. Hand bewteen her legs as he massaged the half-formed canine penis that had, just a week previously, been his sister's clitoral glans. Neither of them looked at each other, as the “treatment" continued. Irinia, no doubt, was pretending to be with anybody else. Len, for his part, tried to compartmentalize this as just being a necessary medical intervention.

“Remind me again," he whispered, “why you cannot do this yourself."

“It…" Irinia panted her answer, between gasps of air and anxious undulations of her hips. “...it hurts… when I… when… I do it."

“And it does not, when I do it?" Len moved his hand in slow circles, taking advantage of the liberal amount of lubricant that issued from both male and female ends of Irinia's crotch. He had originally chalked it up to his imagination, but this time it was hard to deny the fact that her cock was growing, with each passing day. Before it was barely an angry red nub. Now, it covered half the span of his palm. “One would think you'd had experience handling things like this."

“Oh, to the devil, with you," Irinia growled, glaring down the bed at him. “For all I know, your horrid concoctions have put a curse on me!"

“A curse?!" Len bit back, turning his head to stare at her. “If you hadn't been poking around my expensive…!"

The two of them paused, in their tracks, when they realized they were currently making eye contact. Irinia was the first to balk, staring off at the wall in shame. “Just… stop talking, Len. I'm almost…"

Len's ears flattened against his head, as he returned his focus to his work. He certainly knew what to do. Working with Kal-Lee necessitated a certain amount of specialized research. He knew the bodies of men and women, inside and out. What was before him was certainly… rare, but if the sounds his sister was making… not his sister. Len shook his head, even as he redoubled his efforts. He was just treating a patient. That was all that was happening. This was all perfectly natural and normal and…

Suddenly, the mass of flesh in his hands began to kick and writhe. A thick stream of pearly seed sprayed forth, with force enough to make Len all but jump out of his seat. “Gods above!" He stared down at the streaks of white, soaking into the sleeve of his robe, hopelessly trying to steer the thing away as it continued to flutter.

Irinia's chest rose and fell in hard gasps. Every orgasm wrenched from her swollen proto-member was among the strongest she had ever experienced. They stole the thoughts from her mind and the strength from her limbs. She'd had lovers, before, but none of them had ever given her a clear image of what it felt like, to have fingers around a knot. Naturally, just before she had gone off, her thoughts turned to what it must feel like, lodged inside something warmer and wetter. Slowly, however, the fog began to lift. She lifted her head, almost drunkenly, only to find her brother batting at the stains on his sleeve.

“Gods, Irinia," he muttered. “You could have warned me."

“I was doing nothing but warning you," she replied, slowly curling her legs in to try and regain her modesty. “Are you such a virgin, that you couldn't tell?"

Statements like that seemed to consistently get a rise out of Len, but to his credit, he always collected himself almost as quickly. He cleared his throat, all but willing his ears to stand up straight. “Was that enough? Are you feeling better?"

Irinia nodded, slowly. “Yes. If the last few times were any indication, I should be fine, for a while."

“Good." He turned towards the door. “In that case, I now go to the glassblower. Once I have my alembic, we shall be able to find a cure for this… affliction."

“Perhaps you ought to wash, first," Irinia replied. Her eyes trailed southward. “Maybe tend to yourself, before you stab someone."

Len quirked an eyebrow, at that. Then, he looked down. The tent in his breeches suddenly reminded him of sensations he had been trying his hardest to ignore. “Gods…" He turned himself away from his sister, mortified. “'Tis nothing! A primal reaction, nothing more!"

Irinia put a hand to her mouth, laughing openly. “Oh, there's no shame in it, brother. I'm just surprised to learn your little friend can even get hard, in the first place."

“Oh, now you go to the devil!" If Len was trying to look indignant, he had failed to come across as anything other than scandalized. Turning on his heel, he made a beeline past his workshop to the kitchen, where water was waiting for him.

Irinia watched him stomp out of the room. She inhaled deeply, through the nose, as she felt something stir, below her waist.

---

Seer's Enclave was a cacophony. On any given day, hundreds passed through the little walled-off community. Anybody with the barest inkling of magical aptitude, and anybody who sought the services of those with aptitude, funneled in through its two gates in a never-ending river of people. Len usually paid them no mind. He was often too wrapped up in calculations, or plans for his next experiment, and those rare times he recognized one of his clients, they were always of the sort that would pretend to have never met him, afterwards.

Today, he found himself paying just a bit more attention. Throngs of people and a crate with expensive glassware did not generally go very well together, and right now the alembic in Len's hands was worth more than anything. He guarded it with a cautious fervor somewhere between a dragon with its hoard, and a mother with her child. His eyes roved the crowd for anybody going too fast, too slow, too engrossed in a book or a conversation or an item of dubious magical provenance. As pointless as it was to stop them from brushing against him, in the crowded confines, but he would be damned if he would let them trip him up.

Because he was paying more attention than usual, he saw a middle-aged shrew heading down the road, opposite him. This would have been perfectly usual. As was said, he was prepared to move on, tactfully pretending that she was a complete stranger to him. However, to his surprise, she actually waved to him. He slowed, for a moment, and a question or two must have been in his eyes, because she responded by waving him over to one of the little alleys between buildings. Such a turn of events was so unexpected, he found himself following her regardless of the importance of the thing in his hands.

“Just the dog I wanted to see," the shrew said, once they were far enough away from the bustle to be heard. “I was just coming 'round to your shop, as it were."

“Is that right?" Len's brow crinkled, in concern. “Has something happened?"

“What?" She waved the thought away with both of her tiny paws. “No! Heavens, no, sir. Quite the opposite, in fact. My boy's been fitter'n he's ever been, thanks to you. Those pills you offered have worked almost like a miracle."

Len exhaled, through his nose. “Your son was fortunate. The affliction which ailed him was common, and so was its treatment. Any physick worth their salt should have the necessary herbs, in spades."

“Aye, perhaps so," the shrew replied, hands on her hips and a matronly scowl on her face, “but I went to you. You'd do well to speak with some confidence, when you're talkin' to your customers."

“Um…" Len shuffled to his other foot, bemused. “I'll... take that into consideration, marm."

“Good." Her face went from severe to beaming in the blink of an eye. The latter was a look she wore a lot more comfortably, if the wrinkles around her beady eyes were any indication. “Know a thing or two about business, I do. Ran a tavern with my late husband, down closer to the valley. Of course, that was before the war with..."

Len found his face settling into the usual state of placid, feigned interest, as she launched into a rambling story. He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering, but the shrew didn't seem to notice. Further in the alley, a tall and imposing gray wolf leaned against the wall, fiddling with the buttons of her simple peasant's blouse as her head roved left and right.

“...o'course, you magic types don't think there's much you can learn from humble workin' folks. But I ain't never seen a magister who kept a decent counter. Oh, your's is better 'n most, let me not offend, but…"

Len scowled, lightly. What was the wolf doing? Was she waiting for somebody? Why did she keep looking around? Why wasn't she looking down at her buttons, if they were giving her such a hard time?

“...I served the Duchess of Lorelan, you know. Her and her retainer. He was a strapping young colt, let me tell you. If I wasn't spoken for… you know, it's strange. I'd have thought the Duchess was thinking much the same thing. But, that's me spreading idle gossip…"

No, something was wrong. The wolf's outfit was strange. It seemed almost… too normal. He squinted. Was there some kind of magic afoot?

“...he's a sweetheart, my boy. You must think me an absolute beast for being so flippant about his sickness. Even if it was something he brought on himself. Him and those harlots down in…"

He and the wolf made eye contact, just as things clicked in his head. The illusion around the wolf began to falter. The collie was suddenly seeing a lot more gray, the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Only now did his brain register that his fingers were nowhere near the buttons of her now-translucent, ethereal clothes. They were further south, between her legs. Her thighs covered up their final destination, but nothing could cover up the puddle that was forming in the stones below her.

The wolf's eyes widened, as it dawned on her that she had been discovered. She was off, deeper into the alley, with nothing but a scraping of her fur against the stones to mark her passing.

“You don't think that, do you?"

Len started, turning back to the shrew. “No. No, of course not."

She nodded. Her expression had gotten a fair deal more strained, in the time since she started talking. “Too right, good Doctor. 'Tis a special kind of hell, listening to your own flesh and blood suffering. You've saved me and my boy a lot of sleepless nights. I don't even know where to begin to thank you."

“I…" Len shook his head, adjusting the crate absently in his hands. “You do not need to do anything, marm. Just make sure your son takes all his drops, so the infection is purged from his body entirely." After a moment's thought, he added “Perhaps also tell him that he should take better care of himself, if he decides to engage in any more… youthful folly. Ka-Lee could direct him towards things that might help."

The shrew's lips curled into a bright, conspiratorial grin. “There we go, good doctor. That's how you run a proper business!" She chuckled, at her own acumen, before sighing and shaking her head. “Ah, but here I am witterin' away, and you here with a package in your hands. I'll not take up any more of your time." With a wave, she turned to rejoin the crowds. “Be well, Doctor, and I hope we never have to call on you, again."

“Nor I," he called back. Len watched her go, vaguely confused. He was sure he had not just imagined that exchange. It had been so long since anybody had anything nice to say about his business. Anybody normal, that is. He could count on the other people in Ka-Lee's orbit to appreciate him, but the rank and file? The villagers who thought him nothing more than a peddler of smut?

She called him “Doctor."

The thought made him almost giddy.

She called him “Doctor."

He was resolved not to let this turn of events change his behavior. His walk back to his shop was not accompanied by a bounce in the step or a jaunty hum. Despite his best efforts, however, he couldn't stop the smile from creeping up his snout. The exchange between him and that mother would stick in his head, the rest of the way home.

---

“Irinia?"

The shop was silent, when Len walked in. He kicked the door closed behind him. “Irinia?"

No response. Not when he stepped behind the counter, not when he stepped into his lab, not when he put the crate down and fished out his new piece of glassware. Once he was sure the alembic was set up, in the furnace, carefully made sure it would stay right where it was, and triple checked it one last time for cracks, he finally got around to checking his sister's room.

She… wasn't in. Her gown lay in a pile on the floor, by her bed. Len stared at the empty spot, and he wasn't entirely sure how to feel. It was all well and good, that she was finally out and about. After an entire week of huddling in her room, it was nice that she felt confident enough to be seen in public. Len sighed, as he picked up the stained and not-so-gently used nightgown. He just had to hope that she didn't suffer any more… incidents, while she was out.

For a moment, he rolled the fabric around in his hands. The smell that wafted up to him from her used garment was… he wanted to say “disturbing," or “diquieting." He would insist that that was the case. The racing of his heart was down to the seriousness of what he had inadverdently done to his sister. It had nothing to do with the smell itself, the mingled essence of male and female, the potent aroma of need and desperation that conjured to mind images of a half-naked collie, writhing on the bed in ecstacy.

No, he thought to himself, as he tossed the gown back onto the bed. What a silly thing to even consider. He had an important job to do, and now that his lab was back in full operation, it was high-time that he got himself to work.

With the last of the sunlight, and for a candle afterwards, Len was all work. Meticulously copying the properties of every ingredient he'd used in his potion, he tried to work through what, if anything, might have caused the problem. The result of this once-over was exactly the same as every other once-over he had done, since his glassware exploded. There was nothing. None of the reagents were especially volatile, none of them released gasses in any quantity when heated (and the alembic was open, anyway, so none could accumulate), and he had worked with these materials dozens of times before, with nothing more disastrous than stained clothes and the occasional burned plant-pulp. Whatever destroyed the alembic, the last time, its contents were completely unrelated. It could only have been a failure of the glass itself, some kind of problem with how it experienced heat.

That was one mystery solved. Now to the question of why a half-finished beauty potion would cause his sister to… Len shook his head. He had no idea where to even begin trying to figure out how to tease an answer out of that question. Short of recreating the potion to the point where it failed, and then testing it (somehow), he couldn't think of a way to do it. Maybe he could isolate the ingredients, find out if any of them behaved especially strangely, but…

Suddenly, he was left in the dark, as his candle burned out. He stared up at the curls of smoke coming from the still glowing wick, growling in the back of his throat. It was no use. He was trying to solve a problem, completely blind. Tossing his book back onto the table, he rose to his feet. He would try again, later. Perhaps the morning would allow him to tackle it with fresh eyes. In the meantime…

He took one more look around the dark lab. It was silent. He was alone.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt, for him to find a distraction. Clear his head a little.

---

Irinia had actually been home for quite a while. Among her brother's many peculiarities was a tendency to put his head in a book, and then to not come up for air until starvation or exhaustion pulled him away. Though she'd never really tested his focus, she half-imagined that charging drakes wouldn't have shaken him from his seat. Not unless they threatened his precious glassware, at any rate.

As it happens, she had reason to leave him alone, tonight. At least, at first. Quietly, she slipped into her room, where she opened her night stand drawer with all the care of an intruding burglar. She pulled a nearly empty glass vial from it, replacing it with a new one that was filled almost to the stopper. Then, with one last look at the door, behind her, to make sure it was closed, she climbed out of her dress.

She hadn't bothered to wear anything under her skirt, for her walk. Simply walking around made her nether regions buzz and ache, and she didn't dare imagine what the addition of linen would have done. Spreading herself out on the bed, she lay on her back, looking down at her body. She had never honestly considered herself to be beautiful. Her body had always been straight lines and gentle slopes, closer to her father in physique. Now? Well, now the angry knot of raw flesh between her legs was something of an obvious issue, but… in every other respect, she found she like what she was seeing.

There must have been some truth to the rumor that orgasm brightened one's pelt, the collie thought, as she ran her fingers through her fur. In the dim mixture of starlight and lanterns, coming in through her window, even she could see the lustrous shine. Had her breasts always been this full, this round? Or was she just now noticing, now that she had spent so long looking at them, and touching them, and hefting their weight and rolling them around…

Irinia bit her lip, as another spasm siezed her from waist to knees. They'd stopped hurting after the first day or so. Now they felt strangely intoxicating. They reminded her of the first blush of heat, whenever it would wake her up on a spring morning. But that was a dangeorus thing to think about. Already, her hand was trailing south. She whimpered, knowing that if she started, she wouldn't stop until it hurt. And then she'd be staggering over to Len, to finish the job.

And now she was thinking of Len and his deceptively skillful fingers. She pulled her snout up, bumping against the headboard, as she growled, sub-vocally, in frustration. “Gods…" she whispered, “...I pray that she knows what…"

“...ohhhh…"

The sound of a tiny, plaintive moan two rooms over was almost silent, but to Irinia's ears it was as clear as the church bells (when she was awake). Her ears pulled in that direction, quickly followed by her head, then her upper body. She recognized that voice, but… it couldn't be. She hadn't heard that sound since the last night they'd shared a bedroom. It was the same timbre, even, as in those days. Hesitant, probing, trying and failing to go on under the nose of its neighbor.

It rang out again, longer and just a bit more luxurious than before. Irinia pulled herself off the bed, not even bothering to dress, as she crept out into the main room. A light came from her brother's bedroom, and on the bed in front of her…

Len panted, as his hips descended another millimeter closer to his matress. It had been too long, since he had last done this, and he was no longer as prepared as he used to be. The solid glass inside of him stretched his hole, the tapered tip just starting to press at his prostate. Another inch and he would be touching its artificial knot, already slick with alchemical lubricant and ready to bury itself within him.

He had wanted it to be anything other than a dog's cock, tonight. After days of staring at one particular cock, as it grew and throbbed and spat in his hands, he would have liked his imagined lover to be as far removed as possible. Unfortunately, he only had the one… device, and even commissioning the glassblower for the one he was using had nearly killed him, from the sheer embarrassment. Still, at least he could imagine something beneath him that was sufficiently different. He tried to picture himself straddling the waist of a wolf. A male wolf. A clearly, definitely, unambiguously male wolf. He found himself rattling off parts of his fantasy's anatomy, all the things that set this wolf apart from, say, his sister.

Irinia watched, wide-eyed, as Len lifted himself up, and then lowered back down. And then up, and then down again. Soon, he was fucking himself on his toy with a sensual roll of the hips, rocking forwards and backwards with each “thrust." With his back to her, Irinia had a front row seat as he started to pant, to groan… oh, those noises. Her cock throbbed, and she had to lean her elbow against the doorframe to keep it from reaching down towards that greedy organ. Why was it so hard to find somebody who voiced their pleasure like Len did? He was guileless. Vulnerable. Irinia stifled a moan. Gods above, he was beautiful.

Len didn't need much practice, to get back into the rhythm of things. Once he had bottomed out against that knot once or twice, his legs remembered the exact way he liked them to flex and relax. His hips quested around until they settled on just the right angle. Soon, every invasion from his imaginary wolf carried with it fresh sparks of pleasure, as he rubbed against the dog's prostate. Len threw his head up, with a luxurious groan, as he paused to let the toy sit inside his rectum. He stirred it around with lazy circles, closing his eyes as he imagined nondescript words floating up to his ears from the muzzle of a dog… no, wolf. It was a wolf, he was fucking. A big, strong, grizzled he-wolf. He was not normally fond of such things, but tonight he felt like making an exception.

Irinia should have left. She should have retreated to her room, put a pillow between her legs, and tried to convince herself that what she was seeing was nothing more than a bizarre dream. However, she found her feet were rooted to the ground. The rest of her could move. Her thighs could rub together, abortively trying to pleasure a buzzer that had long since outgrown her labia. Her chest could rise and fall, with the ever increasing strength of her breath. Her eyes could rove over every inch of her brother's bare body, see the flex of his stringy muscles, the slight jiggle of his rear, the lazy wags of his tail. And her member, larger now than it ever had been, could throb and tremble with implacable intensity. No. Her body only wanted to go in one direction, and it was certainly not away from Len.

The first thing Len was aware of was a creaking of the floorboards. Then, before he could turn around, there was a shifting of the mattress behind him. A pair of hands wrapped around his chest. A pair of soft, small breasts squished against his back. He froze, a thrill of panic taking the depth out of his voice. “I…Irinia?"

“Len…" she whispered, pressing her cock in the space between the dildo and Len's tail. “Oh, Len. Don't stop, I beg of you. I'm burning up tonight."

“W-what are you doing?" Len put a hand down, abortively trying to cover up the half-erection he had just managed to whip himself into. It did nothing to preserve his modesty, but he could do nothing else, with Irinia clamped onto him, like this. “Irinia, please… I can't…"

“Just keep going," Irinia cooed, adjusting her hips so they were fully flush with his soft ass. “I'll take care of myself."

Len bit his lip. This had to stop. He knew that this had to stop. He could try and talk her down. Call her “sister," remind her of what she was doing. And yet, he could feel the heat coming from her nethers, felt the juices from both male and female ends of her as they leaked into his fur. He could feel them moving against him. He knew that he was the one doing that. Before he could even talk himself down, he found himself leaning forward, and continuing with what he was doing.

Every rise and fall of Len's ass dragged soft, slick fur along the underside of Irinia's cock, and pushed hot flesh against the outside lips of her labia. It was an ungainly process, certainly not as directed or as dextrous as when Len used his hands. But combined with the warmth of his body, the feeling of his fur against hers from chest to thighs, those sweet, breathy moans… Irinia was unsure how she had ever been content to just let Len use his hands. She gasped into his ear, savoring the feeling as his movements teased out the first squirt of pre from her member.

“Moan for me," she begged. “Moan like you used to, when we slept together."

Len whined. “You heard those?"

“It was hard not to. When you were just becoming a man, there was a time when I could not sleep unless it was to the sound of you playing with yourself."

“Are… are you mocking me?"

“Never." Irinia's hands reached up, digging around the fur of Len's chest. “I loved hearing those noises from you."

His voice went up half an octave, when she found his nipples and began to play with them. “N-no!" he whimpered. “Don't touch me like that. It's too mu…" One of his ears bumped against Irinia's snout, as they flattened against his head in humiliation.

“Too much?" Now Irinia's voice was teasing. “But touching these is finally making you sound right."

Despite his protests, Len continued to impale himself on his glass lover. He kept his eyes closed. He didn't dare look back and see who was rubbing themselves on him. Perhaps he was hoping that he could just pretend this was all a terrible, but incredibly potent sexual fantasy. Unfortunately, all closing his eyes really did was make every other sensation that much more potent. The heat of his sister's body against him, the feeling of hot precum streaks as they soaked into his fur, the pleasurable ache as he edged ever closer to an orgasm. Before he knew what he was doing, his mouth was open, and a chorus of noises filled the room. Needy, charged, almost pathetic in their submissive ecstacy. Irinia was pleased. Len was confused. He had never heard himself sound like this. Not in all the times he had experimented with himself.

“Oh, that's it." Irinia's voice had an edge of desperation to it. Len knew she was getting close. “That's it, brother. Such a beautiful boy. Such a beautiful… fucking… boooooyyy…"

His ear was tickled with a series of sharp, staccato pants. Something blasted through the fur of his tail, painting his back with streaks of heat. He knew what it was, even before the musky smell hit his nostrils. His eyes widened. His body froze. For a moment, all he could do was take in the feeling of his own sister's seed as it marked him. As it claimed him.

His body trembled. The only noise he could manage was something between a moan and a question mark. Suddenly, he was doubled over. Cum dribbled out of his half-hard cock, his lower body fluttering and clenching around the glass intruder still lodged in him. He made no sound. There was no sound he could make. All he could do was lay there, mouth agape, drooling into his pillow and spilling into the sheets, waiting for the storm to pass.

When it did, he felt breasts against his back, once again. Arms clenching him even more tightly. A tongue rasping against the top of his brow. He felt his body being pulled onto the bed, lying on his side. The glass dildo, no longer held down by the bed, slowly slid out of his still twitching ass, where it lay forgotten on the sheets.

He wanted to say something. Anything. He didn't even know what it was he was about to say. All he knew was that his mouth moved, that words tried to happen. But in the end, nothing came to him. Before he could find the words to say, his eyes fell closed, his breathing became easier, and he felt the weight of sleep descend upon him.

The cock between his cheeks grew, just a few millimeters more, and then slowly began to retreat back into Irinia's body.