FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Four hours and eighteen minutes. That’s how much sleep Jeremy got last night. He knew the exact number because he’d seen 3:42 glowing off his alarm clock in the brief instant before he passed out. What had almost been an all-nighter was spent working hard getting those documents filled and sent. Hours in front of his desktop, the lights of his apartment turned off, the ghostly blue glow of his monitor singeing his retinas beneath which the skin darkened into bags. He'd never taken off his work clothes. The shirt reeked of a day’s worth of sweat. When everything was finished and he hit SAVE there was no celebration. He lurched out of his rollie chair, turned around, then promptly collapsed onto his bed and crawled underneath the covers. 3:42. He was supposed to be at work in a little more than five hours.

Breakfast was a banana. He peeled out of his dirty clothes and put on an exact match before wheeling on a healthy amount of deodorant and waltzing out of his $1800 a month 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom apartment. He hadn’t brushed his teeth; he simply didn’t have the energy. Only halfway down the elevator did he realize he’d forgotten to make coffee. They had some at the office, but the energy to just get there required the extra kick a shot of espresso provided. It would take only a few extra minutes just to go back up and make pour himself a batch, but his commute would not allow anymore leeway, not after he’d spent so much time on the snooze button.

Out of the complex and into his commute he went, the bustling and blurring sea of people on the sidewalks but a murmur to him. He clutched the briefcase handle limply, squeezing it every so often to stay awake. The office was only four blocks away. On every street along the way he would stop among a clot of fellow workers waiting for the walking signal to appear. The white walking man would flash, and Jeremy would march forward along with everybody else.

One block to go. He could see his office building on the corner. The invigorating smell of coffee wafted into his imagination. One more block. One more walking signal. Into the lobby, up the elevator, then right to the coffee maker. It almost made him smile. His eyes were only partially open, but he could-

HOOOOOOOOOOONK

Jeremy didn’t remember walking into the street, but there he was turning his head to the sound of the screeching truck siren. His face, now fully alert and alight with terror, greeted him in the warped reflection of chrome steel. There was the screech of tires. The rush of wind. People on the sidewalk screamed. The last thing Jeremy saw was the Peterbilt logo fading into the shadow of his head before all went black in a full body-flash of crushing pain.

***

There was an explosive ping in Jeremy’s ears as the world went weightless. Numbness carried him through the air until he struck the road with his shoulder and went tumbling through the dirt. Dizzy and in pain, he came to a stop on his back, limbs splayed out, the open sky above him. His heart hammered away in his chest, ready to spring out through his ribs and tumble down his chest. The ringing was omnidirectional, radiating from the core of his severely rattled mind and humming through his bruised bones. Stars danced in his eyes. He sat flat on his back like a stone mattress. He was alive.

Too deep in a state of shock to move, he fist clenched his toes and fingers. Sensation filled into them gradually and then the rest of his limbs. His head was too heavy to lift. Only his jaw could open and close. What the fuck? What happened? He knew what happened of course. He saw it fly right at him in a terrible moment of clarity. The truck’s horn still echoed inside his skull. I never saw it coming. How am I alive? Am I in heaven?

Panicked voices cried out beyond the ringing in his ears. He felt a dozen footsteps thundering towards him. His view of the sun in the sky was eclipsed by several bodies looming over him, their faces and features obscured by their own shadow. “Get back! Get back!” hollered one voice. “Give her some air!” A large shape shoved the others aside and kneeled closely. Inches away, and Jeremy could barely hear them. “Ma’am? Are you alright?”

Jeremy, in his concussed delirium, managed a frown. Did he just say ma’am? He licked his lips. A weak cough sputtered out of him, and he spoke. “Y-yeah… I think so.” Does my voice sound different? Jeremy lifted his head. His eyes squinted from the effort. “I got to get to work...”

His attempt to sit up was halted by a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “Whoa! No ma’am. You’re not going anywhere until you see a doctor.”

Jeremy scowled up at the man. He saw how huge his arm was, covered in dark skin and a whole lot of hair. “OK, OK. Um… I’m not… Ahh…”

The man hushed him. “Shhhhhhh, it’s alright ma’am. Help’s on the way. Just relax.”

Jeremy lowered his head back onto the road. It was firm, but not rigid like asphalt. Where am I? Am I still on the street? The ringing began to fade and immediately he noticed the absence of city noise. No traffic, no chatter, no footsteps, nothing. He could’ve written it off as people shocked by his accident, but not even that would have made a whole block silent like it was now. His eyes adjusted to the light and lost their squint. The fellow helping him grew in clarity, and his features materialized out of the shadow.

The man was a bull. Big and broad, his neck and shoulders were thick with muscle and crawling with veins. That was not hair on his arms but coarse brown fur. A snout grew from his kindly face from which a nose ring hung. Horns (How the hell did I not notice those!?) sprouted into a masculine semi-halo around his head, their deadly black points aimed squarely at Jeremy who was thrown into a panic.

He scurried back from the beast, adrenaline resurging, heart ready to explode. The bull, himself frightened, stood up and backed away to reveal a gang of people all representing various animals, none human. A wolf, a fox, a raccoon, a gorilla, and too many others. They stood on two legs and dressed in medieval wear like would be seen in a castle. Jeremy scuttled on his back until he was out from between the bunch, holding his arm up to defend himself amidst a fog of dust. Dust? What road is this? Who are these people? WHAT’S GOING ON?

The many questions racing through his mind and pouring fuel onto his episode fell flat upon the sight of his arm hovering above him. It was not covered in the sleeve of his business suit, leaving the pale skin bare. Something else was off too. The black hair that used to cover his forearm was all gone, leaving it completely smooth and without blemish. Turning his palm towards himself revealed how dainty his hand had become. The nails were shiny and perfectly trimmed. Not a spot of callous textured the skin. When he closed his fist there was a severe deficit in strength from when he was holding onto the briefcase. “What the fuck?” he said quietly to himself. His onlookers gave each other confused and concerned glances.

Finally, Jeremy looked down at himself. What he saw made his eyes nearly pop from their sockets. The suit was completely gone, replaced by a form-fitting scarlet dress woven by an elaborate stitch design. The bust came well below his collar, revealing an ample pair of breasts and a long line of cleavage between. They rose sharply when Jeremy gasped out of shock then frantically scurried to his feet. He kicked up another storm of dust and frightened the people around him into backing away. His panicked breaths came out in stuttering syllables. “What-? Why-? How did-?” There was his voice again, lighter and dainty. It possessed the same timbre but was unmistakably more feminine. As he hung his head to gawk at his new, womanly frame the hair on his head spilled into his peripherals. The curls were longer now, reaching several inches below his shocked visage.

No one else had any idea what to do or say. Had she been knocked senseless? “What’s wrong?” demanded the bull, concerned.

Jeremy snapped his head back up and saw the folks still crowded around him. Their background was a medieval town, the castle at its center towering alone to create a skyline of granite turrets and ramparts. As far as Jeremy could see down the street, he was on there were houses with sharply pointed thatched roofs. A few of the windows had people- animal people -leaning out of them to see what the commotion was. The city where Jeremy had lived was gone. There was no truck. There was no office. This was a new world and a new body for him- no, for her -to explore.

All of it piled on her senses in a barrage that had her ready to faint. A hand went to her throbbing head. She felt the soft caress of her curls tickle against her fingers then fall onto the side of her head after she ran her hand through them. The hammering pulse in her chest started to die down, if just a little. “N-nothing. I’m fine,” she said. She readjusted her dress and dusted it in a few practiced motions like she’d been wearing it her whole life. She stood tall, bosom held forward, ignoring the distant ache from whatever had sent her to the ground. Definitely not a truck. “Just a tad shaken, is all. Nothing broken.”

A collective exhale was had by everyone. “Well, that’s good to hear. I think Patrick and his horse should be coming back any moment now.” said the bull.

Horse? Is that what hit me? “Yes, yes. It’s all fine. Like I said, no injuries here.” She casually dusted herself some more and noticed something in the distance down the street. There, on the side of the road, was an abandoned cart left sitting at an awkward angle with one of its wheels gone. There was no driver, nor a horse strapped to it. I guess that’s this world’s version of a truck. She took another look at everyone. And these are this world’s version of people.

At the end of the street came Patrick running with a horse in tow. He was a snow leopard with his horse’s reins held tightly in his fist. Upon reaching Jeremy and the crowd he came to a stop, out of breath and soaked in sweat. “Huhhh! Huhhh! I’m so terribly sorry! Are you alright? Huhhh… Huhhh…”

“Yes! I’m fine,” Jeremy assured him. If at least in this world. I’m probably nothing but a pink mist in the other.

“Oh, thank heavens,” huffed Patrick, his paw over his heart. “Lost control of my steed after a wheel gave way. Spooked him good and he tore free of his restraints. I’ll know to tie him up better from now on, I swear. Again, we apologize with all our hearts.” He looked at the horse. “Don’t we?”

Jeremy thought he was talking to the horse the same way an owner might talk to their pet. Then the horse spoke. “Yes, yes. You have my sincerest apologies,” he said in a polite, almost posh tone. “Don’t know what came over me. Damn my nerves.”

That was almost a bigger shock than encountering the other animal folk and discovering she’d turned into a woman. Seeing the horse’s mouth move to the cadence of his speech and gesticulate with his eyes was another layer of surreal atop what was almost a nightmare. “Um… No worries. Like I said, I’m fine.” She gave a nervous chuckle, one that squeaked with uncertainty and confusion. This has got to be some kind of purgatory.

Patrick humbly bowed his head. “If it’s alright, ma’am, I’d like to make it up to you.”

Jeremy snapped to attention. “Oh? You do?” His heart resumed a rapid thump.

“Aye. Perhaps I can buy you a round at the tavern tonight or some other? Purely to make up for our mistake. If I can recompense some other way, please, let me know.”

That had Jeremy back in the spotlight. “Erm…” Her natural response was to decline and say it wasn’t necessary, but here lay an opportunity he would loathe to let slip. I can learn about this place and fit in better. It looks like I’m the only human here and I don’t know anyone else’s name. “That… sounds lovely. I’ll take you up on that, good sir.”

A handsome smile split the leopard’s face. “Oh, thank you!” he chimed with an emphatic bow. “When is best for you?”

“Tonight, I suppose.”

“Lovely. Can I have your name?”

‘Jeremy’ was on the verge of her lips but quickly tumbled backwards. Jeremy wasn’t her name anymore, was it? An entire lifetime spent with the moniker and suddenly it didn’t feel all that right, like it had been shed from him along with everything else by the truck. Jeremy. It doesn’t even sound right in my head. I don’t think it will when I say it out loud, especially not to everyone else. She realized Patrick and everyone else were waiting for an answer. A name floated from the recesses of her mind, idly plucked from the imagination. “Jesamine,” she said finally. That’s close enough to Jeremy, isn’t it?

It satisfied her new acquaintance. “Jesamine! I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I think there are better circumstances to ask for. I’m Patrick.” He tugged the rein on his horse. “And this is Marco.” Marco bowed his head. Patrick offered his white, fuzzy leopard paw for her to take. She accepted, but instead of shaking it he turned it over and laid a polite kiss on the top. The smooch of his lips and the tickle of his whiskers sent a shivering bolt up her arm, prickling the flesh and tightening her nipples.

The red of her cheeks matched her dress. “Why… thank you, Patrick. Aha…” She cleared her throat into her fist. “It is a pleasure.”

He stood up straight and let go of her hand with a casual smile as if the gesture weren’t anything. “I’m happy to hear. Please excuse me while I go fix my carriage and tie Marco back to it.” He then led Marco around and towards the ruined carriage, leaving Jesamine and the crowd which finally began to disperse.

She stood alone in the middle of the road, suddenly feeling very alone. Well? Now what? Like a child lost at the mall she looked around aimlessly at the people who were going about their daily lives. The lone human in a city of animals, two-legged and otherwise. Have I lived a life here? Is this some kind of heaven created for me? Kind of an inauspicious start.

If she didn’t just materialize out of nowhere and had been walking down the road like everyone’s reaction seemed to suggest, then she had to have been headed somewhere. Work, maybe? That’s where I was headed before. But what was the point of showing up in a fantasy world if you were going to slave your ass off there too? I hope it’s not some bum-ass office gig. That was if she had been going to work in the first place. Home was another possibility. Judging by her exquisite crimson dress she probably lived somewhere nice. Now I just gotta figure out how to get there.

Asking someone didn’t seem like a viable route. It didn’t seem like anyone knew who she was, let alone where she lived. She gazed at the castle ahead, its bright red banners whipping in the wind. Maybe I shouldn’t get my hopes up. An idea fell into her head. Maybe I should try retracing my steps like you’re supposed to do when you’ve lost something. Of course, there wasn’t any recollection of what she might’ve been doing before being railed by the wagon, but there was when she was still Jared. I know the way to the office like the back of my hand. If what I was doing here was the same as what I was doing there…

Jesamine didn’t waste any time. One foot was put in front of the other to begin a slow and casual trot down the street. Don’t even think about it. Just walk. Muscle memory, muscle memory. Part of her suggested closing her eyes entirely, but that was quickly shot down. I should try not to get run over again. Where would it send me this time? Hell? She tried not to think about it and instead focused on the town as it passed her by. More houses lined the street, some of them with their anthropomorphic occupants hanging out in front or leaning out of the windows. A big, burly rhino chatted with his lemur friend. A sloth hung her blanket out the window and beat it free of any dust. Some people saw Jesamine walking past. She would brace for some harsh words or a strange look but got nothing but smiles and waves. Courteously she would do the same, if a tad nervously. I suppose a human isn’t the strangest thing people see in a world like this.

Jesamine grew closer to where the castle loomed in the city’s center, and at last she got the feeling of having traveled the right distance. It landed her in what looked like a merchant district, a large traffic circle which looped around a granite fountain. There were stalls in front of buildings where people hollered advertisements for their wares. The circle was busy with buyers and people passing through. Before Jesamine flowed the lifeforce of this town’s economy, creatures of all shapes and sizes, exotic and plain, spending their hard-earned cash. Is this where I was going? Do I live here or do I work here? She made a slow trot around the circle to get a good look at each stall and building. Any of the latter that didn’t have a stall in front was hung with a sign that signaled what it was. A mortal and pestle signaled an alchemist, a bed for an inn, a hammer and anvil for a blacksmith. Jesamine eyed them all curiously while ignoring all the business owners desperately trying to sell her something.

Then she came to a stop. It was the sign hanging from a small, red-roofed house that caught her attention like an explosion. Diminutive compared to its neighbors, it looked more like something she would stumble onto in the middle of the forest rather than a bustling town. Vegetation grew from the surrounding earth with impunity and climbed up its dainty façade. It had a unique charm even amongst the surrounding medieval architecture, but that’s not what brought Jesamine to a halt. Painted on the sign which hung from the front porch was a glowing crystal ball, one that rang with such familiarity that she could not bring her eyes off it.

Is that it? Muscle memory brought her forward again. Crossing the footpath which led to the house felt like a journey oft taken, daily, even. The trepidation of approaching a place never explored did not pull at her heart. Standing on the porch there came no fear of reprimand for being where she wasn’t allowed to be. Here was where she belonged. Jesamine opened the front door and stepped inside; there was no need to knock.

The house was much more spacious than it looked on the outside, an illusion that made her recoil with surprise. Portraits of fruit were hung on the wall nearby where a kitchen contained a cast iron stove and a pantry. A candle chandelier hung from the ceiling. To her left there was a sofa against the wall with a wooden table and a vase full of red flowers in front. A staircase led to the second floor. Beside it a room was hidden behind gloomy violet curtains. The air was heavy with the pleasant aroma of flowers.

So, this is where I live? Looks way better than that tiny-ass apartment I was living in. Jesamine headed upstairs, hiking up her dress on instinct along the way. There was her bedroom. Though small, it featured more than enough with a heavily padded bed plus a dresser and mirror. Walking in front of the latter introduced Jesamine to her image in full. It was a startling moment, one that made her gasp. Gawking back at her was Jeremy in a dress, albeit much daintier and effeminate. What had been relatively heavy and masculine features had gone soft and fair. Her eyes were brighter, the cheeks rosier. The lustrous curls in her hair spiraled all the way down to her shoulders. She demanded the most attention with an immaculate hourglass shape replete with bountiful chest and hips.

Jesamine approached her reflection cautiously as if it would reach out and grab her once she got too close. That’s me. That’s Jesamine. Not Jeremy. Jesamine. ‘Jeremy’ meant nothing anymore. Jeremy was an office worker and wage slave who spent nights cranking out documents for his manager. Jesamine was a beautiful, petite woman in a world of magic and fantasy. Had she the option between them, it would’ve been easy. Getting hit by that truck was the best thing that could’ve happened to either of them. It got her wondering. If Jeremy was an office worker, what’s Jesamine?

“Hello?”

Jesamine nearly jumped through the ceiling. She whipped towards the doorway where the voice had hollered from downstairs.

“Hello?” they called again. “Is anyone here?”

Shit! “Coming!” she called back before hurrying her way down the steps. Waiting for her in the doorway was a short racoon gentleman. Jesamine had forgotten to close the door. “Hello there!” she said gaily, not quite how she would greet an intruder. “How can I help you?”

The raccoon held his hat in front of his chest nervously. “Hi, erm… Are you a soothsayer?”

A what now? She had to claw through her mind to figure out what that was until she recalled the sign out front. A fortune teller? Is that what I am here? Only one way to find out. “Yes! Please, come in. Close the door behind you.” It came out of her normally. I’ve probably said it dozens of times already.

The raccoon smiled. “Wonderful. Thank you.” He did as he was told, still holding the hat tightly in one paw.

I guess I should just go through the motions like I did every day at work. Autopilot this shit. How hard can it be to make up someone’s future? She gestured towards the curtains. “Please, follow me.”

Instead, he raised a paw. “Ehm, sorry, but how much will this cost?”

Shit. I don’t even know their currency. The first thing she could think of was what came out: “Three gold.”

That seemed fair to the raccoon who promptly reached into his pocket and produced three small, glimmering coins. “Here,” he said kindly.

Jesamine felt a flutter in her heart. “Thank you,” she all but wheezed before taking the three heavy tokens and clenching them tightly in her fist. “Now, if you’ll follow me.” A quick 180 towards the curtain hid her saucer eyes. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Past the curtains she found her clairvoyant corner of the house, a dimly lit room barely the size of a walk-in closet. Her crystal ball sat in a cradle atop a table draped in violet. Two tall, half-melted red candles flanked it. “Have a seat,” she said gesturing to the closest chair where the raccoon promptly sat. Jesamine sat across from him and laying her arms flat on the table. “So, you’ve come to have a gaze at your future?” I’m just making shit up as I go, aren’t I?

The man gulped. “Actually, no. It’s my son’s.” He laid the hat on the table and opened it to reveal strands of gray hair collected on the inside. He plucked one of them and held it up. “I fear for his future, that he might be on the wrong path. Perhaps you can tell me where he is headed now and if I can correct it if need be?”

Jesamine’s heart plummeted. Oh no. This isn’t fun anymore. There was no turning back, not after she’d taken the man’s money. “Yes. I’ll look upon your son.” Jesamine calmly took the strand of fur from the father and held it to the flame of one candle. Wait. How long have those been lit? The fur melted into a curl with the resulting whisps of smoke peeling into the air. Once strand was all gone there came a swell of light from the crystal ball. Her attention snapped to it like a magnet, and before her very eyes played the tale of the raccoon’s son. She recited what she saw in a trance, the words coming out with all the precision of a machine with hardly any pause or mitigation. She saw the tale of a young man turned dutiful worker by the diligence of his loved ones, but also that of a dastardly criminal should those loved ones abandon him. His father listened to every word, his son’s hat clenched tightly in his fist.

The vapors drifted, and the image in the ball went with it. Jesamine blinked back to reality and found the father in joyous tears. He wiped them away with the back of his paw. “Thank you so much. My family and I will do everything we can to keep him on the right path. Thank you. Thank you.”

She was still recovering from the trance she’d been in. “Er… You’re welcome.” Jesamine blew out the candles before they both exited through the curtains. Jesamine walked him to the front door and wished him a good day before closing it behind him. What the fuck just happened? Walking home was one thing, but performing magic and seeing the future was too much to take in all at once. Her heart was pounding. The startlingly clear images she’d seen in the crystal ball replayed in her mind. I think I need to take a nap.

Jesamine went back upstairs in a mild state of shock. Back in her bedroom she prepared to remove her dress and lay down until she saw herself in the mirror. A frown furrowed her brow. Do I look different? Her face was slimmer, the nose more pointed. The hair was shorter and the curls had softened. She saw how slim her wrists had become with all her hand having become darker and rougher. While rubbing her hands in front of her tummy she saw how her bosom had swelled into another size, pulling the bust of her dress out with it and drawing out the cleavage. Curious hands groped the soft woman flesh, eliciting a soft hum of delight that rippled down her core and into her chalice. Blushing, she dropped her hands quickly. Maybe I shouldn’t do that. But her appearance was too curious not to explore. Turning around in the mirror she inspected every part of herself. It was undeniable that she had changed, but how and why? Far from perturbed, she wanted to see how much further it would go and exactly what she would become.

Another knock on the door made her jump. She ran downstairs expecting a return from the raccoon father but was greeted instead by a goose woman. “Hello,” she said shyly. “Are you a soothsayer?”

Jesamine was happy to inform her that she was, then invited her inside. Back at the crystal ball the goose provided her own feather to burn. This time Jesamine paid attention to the candles and witnessed them coming alight on their own by magic. Am I doing that? Without thinking any more about it, she burned the feather and read the goose’s future.

Another trance, more visions, and three more gold coins to pocket. The moment Jesamine was alone she darted upstairs to look at herself in the mirror. Yes, she had changed some more this time. Her breasts weren’t visibly larger (somewhat to her disappointment) but there was a more dramatic swoop to her hourglass figure. The texture of her hands was rougher, the nails longer and sharper. The curls in her hair were all gone after having flowered into a slight plume around her scalp. Looking back at her were a sharper color of eyes, speckled by a gold like the coins she charged her customers. What is this? I’m… beautiful.

Her self-admiration could last only so long until the shadows started to grow long and she remembered her promise to be at the tavern. She darted out of the house, following the path several other people took now that their obligations for the day had come to an end and they could finally get a drink in their bellies. It wasn’t far until Jesamine saw a sign that depicted a pair of frothing mugs clinking together and she knew she’d found it. Inside was the hum of townfolk chatting, laughing, playing, and drinking. The air was thick with the smell of drink and tobacco smoke. Plump women were hard at work behind the bar, administering refills and delivering them to wherever they were needed. Jesamine had to be careful how she walked, both to avoid slipping on the beer-moistened hardwood and stepping on someone’s tail.

“Jesamine!” hollered a familiar voice from across the floor. She looked and saw Patrick sitting at a center table with friends of his. Jesamine waved back and flitted over, weaving between each table as light as a bird. She plopped down on the unoccupied seat and found herself boxed in by three beefy men: Patrick across from her, the bull who had woken her up after the accident, and a towering rhino who had also been there and who she had seen on the street. She felt extra small but not unwelcome. Patrick gave a curious head tilt. “You look… different.”

Jesamine was pleased he noticed. “Don’t I? I noticed it too after working with two clients today.” She looked down into her bust and the exquisite figure which swerved and blossomed below. “It may have something to do with the magic I’ve been performing. I kinda like it.” That was putting it lightly. Jesamine had become obsessed with her image in a way she never had as Jeremy. What was there to appreciate about a milquetoast office worker? Here she was a paragon of beauty growing more stunning by the hour.

“And what is it you do?” asked the rhino on her right. “I’m Thomas, by the way.” He plucked a cherry wood pipe from his shirt pocket and chomped it between his teeth.

“And I’m Bruce,” said the bull on her left.

“Nice to meet you both. I never thanked you for coming to my aid, Bruce. Thank you.”

Bruce nodded his head. “No worries about it. Glad that you’re alright, is all.”

“Me too. Anyway, I’m a soothsayer. Got two clients today.”

“A soothsayer,” repeated Patrick, mystified. “And you didn’t see my wagon coming?” Chuckles around the table. “I’m kidding.”

Jesamine was laughing too. “No, not if it wasn’t in a crystal ball. All I do is burn an artifact and the visions come to me.”

Thomas was packing his pipe with tobacco. “Sounds interesting. I’d be too afraid to find out my future. It’s asking to find out something you don’t want to know.” He fished a pack of matches and swept one across the tabletop. There were sparks and fumes, but the match didn’t catch. He tried a second time and failed again. A curse grumbled through his teeth before he tried lighting one on the bottom of his boot. One, two, three strikes and it still wouldn’t catch. “Confound it! I think they’ve gone damp.”

“Here,” said Jesamine. “Allow me.” She snapped the middle finger of her right hand. Out spewed a dozen sparks and a small teardrop flame that hovered an inch over her thumb. It happened without so much a thought and without error, leaving her to stare at the jittering flame with eyes ready to pop out of her head. Did I just do that!?

Crazier still was the lack of reaction from the table. “Ah, thank you,” said Thomas who maneuvered the pipe in his teeth so that the bowl was close to her flame. Jesamine, still in a mild state of shock, kindly tilted her thumb forward until the fire was in the bowl, crackling the tobacco. Thomas puffed on it thrice before retracting his head and taking a long, satisfying drag. “Ah, much better.”

The conversation continued as normal, mostly about what the three men had done that day and had planned for the following. Jesamine, meanwhile, sat there with a flame she had created out of thin air. She stared at it like a pyrophile with tiny glimmers in her retinas. I can make fire? Are you fucking kidding me? Whatever excitement and wonder she could experience from that fact was put on hold when she realized she didn’t know how to put it out. Muscle memory. Don’t think about it. Letting her mind go blank, she stuffed her thumb into her fist. The flame went out with a hiss and a transparent wisp of smoke billowed off her hand. While her three companions chatted about nothing in particular, Jesamine sat with the goofiest, most childlike grin on her face. I can make fire!

The hours rolled on with a giddy Jesamine being a more active participant in the conversation. Drinks and laughter were had. At one point she began fidgeting with her hands, flicking each finger and generating more sparks. She could transfer the flames from finger to finger like they were matches or cigarettes. So enamored with her new powers she offered to light whatever cigarette, pipe, or cigar someone at the tavern was ready to smoke, leaping at them before they could even produce a match.

She went home with a proud smile and a belly full of drink. It was dark when she stepped inside, and automatically the candles which decorated her windowsills and the chandelier came alight. I can create light in darkness wherever I go without thinking about it. Passive magic. She clenched both hands, feeling the energy which surged through them both. Doing so made something prick her palms, and in the dull candlelight she saw talons from the ends of her fingers. Her heart leaped; she had forgotten that her body was changing.

Jesamine flew up the stairs and landed in her bedroom where once again the candles greeted her with light. The Jesamine that had regained consciousness on a dirt road that morning was not what she saw in the mirror. Before her was a resplendent avian, the mere hints of which she’d seen before leaving for the tavern. The black curls were all gone, replaced entirely by a fiery frock which exploded into a mighty crown around her head. Red feathers encroached on her visage and the sharp yellow beak that extended from it, over what had been her mouth and nose. The gold glimmer she had spotted before was now a full-on glowing iris which reflected in the mirror like headlights.

A timid hand came up to touch her transformed face but stopped when she saw what had become of it. The hand had become a bird claw, reptilian digits with leathery casing and needle-sharp nails like scythes. That texture carried down the rest of her forearm before transitioning into more scarlet feathers until stopping midway up the bicep where there was human skin again. She hurried to peel out of her dress, leaving her in the nude. The cold air made her pale human skin shiver into gooseflesh, but not what was covered by feathers. The same change to her arms had come to her legs: leathery shins and thighs half covered by more plumage. Up to her hips and trunk she was still human. Her breasts hung heavily, the round and rosy nipples staring back at her in the mirror.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. She ran one claw down from her collar to her tummy, adding more shivers and making her nipples toughen into beads. Turning around revealed the plump nature of her buttocks. What’s more was the tailfeather branching out from the root of her spine into a broad fan of red. She tickled her fingers on it and made herself smile. So fucking cool! She imagined herself back at the tavern, wildly offering her light to everyone while transforming into the beauty she was now, every flick of the finger adding another inch of encroaching feathers on her body. And I was totally oblivious to it. I’m surprised nobody said anything. Then again, this is a magical place. Weird shit must happen all the time.

But Jesamine didn’t feel weird. She felt beautiful, and that’s because she was. Less than 24 hours ago a man named Jeremy was struggling to meet his quota at the dead of night, struggling to stay awake so he could please his masters. He couldn’t have dreamt up the woman he would become, she who could see the future and control fire. She could go to bed that night with the comfort that she would answer to no one tomorrow, providing fire and future to those she chose and who chose her.

And so, in the morning when she rose Jesamine was not a half-awake zombie who struggled to cook breakfast and risked their life just walking to work. She lit the logs beneath her cast iron stove with a simple but jaunty point of her finger and cooked herself a hearty meal of eggs and bacon. She wore not a business suit but a loose silky robe with nothing underneath. She didn’t go anywhere but her front porch where she watered the plants. Her first customer, a young, spry rabbit and budding entrepreneur, came and asked how his business would fare. His first investment would be Jesamine’s advice.

What the rabbit saw when he came in was the woman Jesamine saw in the mirror the night before. What he saw upon leaving was something marginally different, a woman even more piercing with that avian pointedness which accentuated her feminism and blinded with red feathers. There came another client who was whisked away to her fortune telling room, the candles coming to life as Jesamine’s supple litheness droned past and then sat in her chair. The tail feather was visible inside her robe, pressed up against the fabric as it continued to grow. Her collar was wrapped around in feathers which lightened into a softer white fur atop her bosom and tummy. The next fellow who showed up would not have guessed the soothsayer a human at any point in her life, but a phoenix born from ashes not long ago, the youth emblazoned in her eyes and growing crown of head feathers.

A day of telling the future passed and Jesamine retired to the tavern after changing into a more proper dress, that which blended with her colors seamlessly and nigh lit the place aflame with its brilliance. She wowed everyone there, especially Patrick who failed to recognize her at first. “Drinks are on me,” she declared suavely, punctuating it with the clunk of her coin purse hitting the table.

Jesamine returned home to the automatic bloom of candlelight. Back inside her bedroom she shed her dress and made note of her beauty one more time. A bountiful figure, the longest and brightest feathers, a slender beak, sleek arms, and eyes like the purest gold wove together to make the phoenix she’d become, a magical creature free of the burdens that had been hoisted on her as a man and relinquished by an oncoming truck. A chuckle bounced her chest when she thought about thanking the driver. Patrick might be his equivalent in this world, she realized. I’ll reward him properly.

Jesamine then slinked off to bed. The candles went dark, leaving her in only the moonlight through her window. Wrapping herself in her sheets, she would have another day of soothsaying and lighting fires when she woke up. There were no more offices, no more suits, no more trucks, no more documents. Jesamine the phoenix closed her eyes looking forward to tomorrow and the life she would live after it. She was happy.

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