FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Disclaimer - Not everything in the world makes sense. And yet, despite this fact, the human mind is always trying to put the pieces together despite the fact that many of them came from different puzzles, and half of them are missing. If you continue reading, it might help to realize that logic only goes so far in this odd world of ours, and, in this particular story, it might help to leave it at the doorstep and just let the random series of occurrences wash over you like a wave of slippery diaphanous smoothness. (This is a work of pornographic fiction. Please do not read if it would be illegal for you to do so.)

Ductile Desires

Frederick may have been just another bland guy with a mop of unruly orange hair, coke bottle glasses, and a penchant for bow-ties and suspenders. But, he had a stable job, a padded bank account, and a girl who loved him. And yet, when he found the mysterious white bottle on his desk, he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to quickly smuggle it into his briefcase. The rattling plastic was filled with the most expensive product his pharmaceutical company had ever produced. Its was still supposedly just a prototype . . . some kind of beauty pill for the rich and famous. Fredrick wasn't really sure . . . he just worked in HR, and he was happy there. So why had he taken the pills? Wendy was always telling him that he should be more adventurous, but would she want to even associate with him once she knew that he was now a hardened criminal who had pilfered company property?

The drive home had been nerve-wracking. When he noticed a police car behind him he had nearly jumped out of his skin, and when they pulled up beside him, he was already working on his story in his head: "What officer? No, I have no idea how these pills got into my case. I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding . . ." Or maybe he could try to offer a bribe . . . but he had no clue where to even begin with that. "Look, here's three hundred dollars . . . Please don't look in my briefcase." Thankfully, by the time he had begun to run out of hopeless hypothetical situations, the cop had taken a right on Belmont, leaving Fredrick alone in his car with the ostinato pounding of his heart and a spreading sense of shame.

He drove at the breakneck pace of exactly-the-speed-limit through his neighborhood, turning into his driveway and wrenching up the handbrake. He had no clue how he was going to go about this. It was probably a good idea just to get the pills up to his bedroom, and then figure out a way to bring them up to Wendy. Or maybe he just wouldn't tell her? He didn't want her to be implicated in his crimes as an accessory to grand theft medical. Such thoughts were welling up in his mind as he opened the front door to find himself confronted with a convocation of the local neighborhood women, all spread around the coffee table which brimmed with leaning towers of interlocking plastic containers. Wendy was at the far end of the circle like some kind of miraculous circus leader, showing how to properly apply a clear lid with a little muted noise that sounded like muffled flatulence in the silence as all of the lady's heads swung towards the man disturbing their coven.

That's right, today was Tupperware day . . .

"Uhh . . . Hello ladies." Frederick stumbled over his own feet walking through the door before closing it behind himself, his knuckles white as he gripped at the handle of his briefcase. "I'll just umm, pass on through." He walked over to the stairs as a few of the older women tittered and Wendy rolled her eyes, long black hair contrasting with her tight turquoise turtleneck.

"Don't worry, honey. We're just finishing up." She grinned, knocking on one of the hollow violently orange containers as if to show just how durable it really was.

"Knock em dead, dear." Frederick smiled as naturally as he could, swinging his arm encouragingly before he smacked his knuckles against the banister. Hiding his pain with a slow intake of breath through his teeth, he then hurried up the stairs into the master bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it and closing his eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous. And all for what? Frederick set the briefcase down and thumbed the latches to the side, popping it open, revealing his immaculately ordered pens and ledgers, and of course, the conspicuous white plastic bottle with a Gemmatech logo on it. He picked it up in his hand and peered at it, hearing the experimental pills rattle inside of it. They already had a professional looking label designed: "Varietas - Change For the Better ®" He carefully unscrewed the lid and looked inside. They were just normal looking glossy capsules, one half white, the other mossy green. He took one up in his fingers and inspected it, squinting as if he had any clue what he was doing, screwing the lid of the bottle shut as he contemplated.

Most of what the company made was for the cosmetic industry, and he'd seen enough of the paperwork to know that most of it was placebos. That being said, rich folks and movie stars seemed to swear by their products' strange amalgamations of ingredients: from as natural as New Zealand prong toad extract, to as incomprehensible as buckminsterfullerene. Frederick didn't really think that there would be much of an effect though, despite the impressive list of scientific and almost alchemical sounding ingredients.

As he continued his inspection, the door handle rattled and his eyes flew wide open. He panicked, slamming the briefcase shut and sitting in front of it, looking desperately for a place to stash the pill. The door continued creaking open in what seemed like slow motion, and he turned from side to side looking for a safe place to hide his shame. In a fit of reptile-brain-desperation, he popped the pill into his mouth and tried to sit back calmly on the bed as if nothing were happening, folding one leg awkwardly over the other.

"Hey Freddie." Wendy smiled around the door as she opened it and peered in. "I just wanted to check in. You were awfully quiet when you came in . . ." Her light brown eyes twinkled.

"Oh, no I just . . ." Frederick paused for a second, his face breaking into disturbed perplexion as the pill caught in the back of his throat. Instead of continuing his sentence, he then wheezed and began to cough, feeling the slippery coating of the pill melting, and then a cool bitter powder dissolving against the back of his tongue. Wendy's eyes widened with concern as she walked in an sat on the bed next to him.

"Are you alright?" She leaned her body in against his, putting a hand on his forehead and rubbing back against his moppish hair, feeling his temperature. "You look a little sick."

"Right . . ." Frederick swallowed heavily and grimaced at the unusual taste and sensation, like Pop Rocks and Listerine sinking into his throat. "I think that I, uhh, must have come down with something at the office," he replied froggily. "We've been working really hard on some . . . new projects. It's always tough . . . trying new things."

"Oh, you poor baby . . ." She stroked her hand over the back of his white business shirt. "Sometimes its worth it to branch out a bit though," she murmured thoughtfully.

"Absolutely." He waved his hand. "This is going to be a big one for the company . . . I can feel it." He rubbed his throat. "Anyways, don't let me bother you. It looked like you really had them hooked down there." Frederick smiled sheepishly. He hated lying to Wendy . . .

"Are you sure? I could have the ladies go home and make you some soup . . ."

"Please. It's not a problem. I think I'll just . . . uhh, stay up here and relax a little bit." He patted himself on the chest and gave her his best meager smile. "You don't want to let them all get away scott-free do you?

She laughed in reply, tossing her hair before closing the door and looking through the crack. "You always work so hard. You should take some time to relax. Do what _ you _want." The door then swung shut with a click as he heard her footsteps thump down the stairs. He coughed and stood up, walking into the bathroom and filling himself a cup of water. Drinking it felt like he'd just eaten something minty, his throat cool and tingly. He opened his mouth and looked in the mirror above the sink, but everything looked pretty normal . . . almost _depressingly_normal. He was still the same boring person he had been before.

Fredrick had no clue why Wendy was even going out with him.

Returning to the bed with a sigh, he kicked off his shoes and then laid back, one foot propped up. He grabbed the briefcase and rest it on his chest, opening it up and looking at the bottle of pills again. He still wasn't sure why he had taken them in the first place . . . Still though, Wendy would probably love it if he told her. She was always so adventurous. He couldn't place exactly what it was that he wanted, except perhaps being seen as some sort of risk-taking daredevil. I mean, who wouldn't love being rich and famous . . . But even as he thought the words, they didn't necessarily ring true to him. He already had a healthy IRA and 401K, but other than perhaps helping him live longer, he wasn't sure what he was going to really_do_ with them.

Frederick was just really glad that he had her . . . Honestly, Wendy made life so much better. She was so energetic and yet understanding. And being absolutely stunning certainly didn't hurt at all. He wished that he could be the man she wanted him to be, dashing and adventurous, but more than that, he wished that he was more like her. Wherever she was, she always just seemed so comfortable. As he thought about her, he sighed, shivering slightly as his skin prickled.

Even rich -people-pills couldn't really make him into a more adventurous person. Unscrewing the lid, he took another one out and held it in his fingers, squeezing the pliant shiny green and white capsule. He looked at the back of the bottle:

"Take from two to four Varietas to achieve the looks you've always wanted . . ."

Fredrick shook his head. The company could have just made larger capsules. It was just more evidence that '_ the next big thing' _the company was working on was just more snake oil. That being said, if he was supposed to take two . . . He took the capsule and popped it into his mouth. It was amazingly easy to swallow, the edges getting slick as soon as they touched his tongue. The tingling sensation returned to his throat as he licked his lips. Perhaps it was mentholated.

Setting his briefcase down by the side of his bed, he just laid back and started to daydream. He felt oddly warm, like he was just on the edge of sleep, as he couldn't help thinking about how perfect his girlfriend was. He rolled onto his side, eyelids drooping as he envisioned her in his mind. Ephemeral darkness clouded his mind's eye, setting a perfect stage for her svelte frame, dark hair, and beaming brown eyes. Her coy smirk and the pert fullness of her breasts made his heart start beating as all he wanted to do was make her happy. But even as his heart hammered, his breaths began to feel funny, straining against his business shirt and suspenders.

Reaching up and scratching against himself absentmindedly made him moan, his flesh feeling oddly pliant and sensitive. It took him a moment before he even realized it was strange, opening his eyes slowly and looking down before and sitting bolt upright. His shirt really was straining, his chest bulging out against it almost like . . . breasts!? He stood up and looked at the mirror next to his closet. Not only was his white pressed shirt oddly tight, but his face looked strange as well. Breaths heaving as he panicked, he returned to his briefcase and took out the bottle of pills.

Was he having an allergic reaction? There was no way the pills could contain peanuts . . . He scanned down slightly on the label. "Make sure to have your trainer help you focus on the form you want to take! Concentration is the key to your new perfectly toned body." Trainer? What kind of pills required a trainer . . . Wait, did this mean that the pills actually worked? He shook his head in disbelief, leaning in and looking closely at his face. His cheekbones were a little higher, and perhaps his lips were just slightly fuller. Unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, he also found that instead of manly rock-hard pecs, he had the soft pliant bulges of budding breasts, swollen nipples incredibly soft under his roughly probing fingers, just like Wendy's when she was getting aroused . . .

This was all wrong though . . . The fact that he was changing seemed impossible, but if he was changing, it was supposed to be into something that Wendy would like. He furrowed his brow and thought of his form becoming stacked with defined muscles, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Almost obstinately, it didn't change in the slightest, his half-open shirt revealing his still swollen chest, and his frame remaining scrawny at best.

There was no way that he could stay like this . . . What if Wendy were to see him? She would think he was some sort of freak! He desperately scooped up his briefcase from the side of the bed, pills rattling as he fished out the bottle and tossed the case with all of his most important papers aside like it was garbage. He could fix this. All he needed to do was take another pill and think of the way he used to look. Focus. That was what the bottle had said. Who was better at focusing than him? He could go through seven company policy requests in an hour. Surely just focusing on himself for a few moments wouldn't be that hard . . .

He took out another capsule and slammed his hand against his mouth, tilting his head back and swallowing the cool slick pill. He stared at his face in the mirror, focusing on his freckles and glasses. He couldn't really see anything move, even as he reached up to tug at his cheek. So instead, he tried closing his eyes. Who was he? He imagined himself at work, typing out a requisition request. Yes, he looked normal: just a regular unassuming guy. He thought of the cubicle around him, sniffed smell of stale coffee and saw the bland vaguely bluish carpet on the floor. His computer was in front of him, and, as always, a picture of Wendy was smiling back at him, taped up on the wall next to it.

She was sitting back against a tree in the park, orange and red leaves tumbling down around her. Her legs were splayed and kicking, face a laughing joyous grin. She made a walk in the park into a moment that he would remember forever, and that image was seared into his mind. He could see every curve of her legs through her tight jeans, and the way that her hair brushed over one eye. Panting breaths slowing, he remembered the days and days in the office that he spent just staring at that picture, remembering the times they had together, both in the park, and in the bedroom . . . He could feel her soft skin against his fingertips, and saw the faint smirk that she always seemed to get when they made love, blood pulsing through his veins as his pants began to feel tight as well . . .

His fantasy was so engulfing that he didn't hear the telltale thumping on the staircase, still lost in his thoughts of Wendy's body. When the door handle rattled again, he found himself with his hands through the open front of his shirt, cupping his increasingly prominent breasts, staring into the shocked face of his girlfriend, a plastic bottle of apple juice falling from her fingers to thud on the carpeted floor.

"Freddie?" She stepped into the room, tilting her head to the side as her jaws hung open.

"Oh god." Frederick slipped to the side of the bed and turned his back to her, his cheeks immediately flushing almost cherry red. He looked down to see that his thighs were pressing out against his slacks as if he'd been poured into them, and that his hips had widened as well. "Wendy . . . I can explain." He held one of his hands up over his shoulder as he turned back around, looking down at the floor and panting before the words spilled out of him.

"SomeoneLeftABottleOfPillsOnMyDeskAndIGuessTheyAreForMovieStarsOrSomethingAndITookSomeOfThemThinkingThatI'dGetLikeBetterLookingForYouOrSomethingButICan'tStopThinkingAbout YouAndNowI'mJustGettingWeirdLookingSoPleaseDon'tHateMe." He panted, finally taking a breath, new breasts pressing against his shirt and suspenders as he panted.

"Honey . . ." Wendy strode forward and pulled him into a hug, patting her hands against his back as their breasts squeezed together. "I don't think you look weird . . ." She giggled at the oddity of their situation. "Actually . . . You're kind of cute like this."

"Don'tWorryIThinkICanChangeBackIf . . . Wait . . . really?" He stopped mid garbled sentence. He was expecting a horrified reaction. Not for her just to think he was . . . cute.

"Sure. You know that I used to date women in college before we met." She laughed. "This is actually kind of hot." She looked him up and down as she shrugged. "And this was just all from the pills? How many did you take?"

"Only three of them, I swear. I took an extra one to try and change back. I'm sure it doesn't last forever . . ." Fredrick Stammered.

"Then maybe you should explore for a bit. That could actually be kind of fun . . ." she chuckled, shaking her head and looking up at the ceiling with a grin showing her pearly white teeth.

"Like . . . do what?" He ran a hand over his slightly changed face, suddenly feeling like he was in another world.

"I don't know. You can decide." Wendy shrugged noncommittally. "You've done a good job so far. Just keep doing what you want to do."

At this point, there was a shout from downstairs. "Wendy? Are you okay up there? Do you still have those salad crispers from last month?"

" Back down in just a second, girls!" Wendy turned and shouted over her shoulder. "But seriously, honey, you can do whatever you'd like. Have a little time to try new things, and maybe when the girls are gone, we could have a little adventure . . ." She leaned in against the crook of his neck and whispered the last few words, making Fredrick swallow heavily, the tented fabric of his slacks throbbing almost painfully.

She was about to close the door before reaching down and picking up the forgotten bottle of organic apple juice and handing it back through the crack in the door. "And this is for your throat." She winked back at him as she closed the door quietly, trotting back down the stairs and going back into her saleswoman tone of voice.

Frederick stood there in disheveled shock, an almost manic chuckle escaping his lips. How could she be so calm about this? He reached a hand up to his chest again . . . She did have a point of sorts though: it wasn't like it felt bad. In fact as he grabbed at his own soft warm flesh, his entire body tingled, especially as he rubbed his thumbs against his nipples. Well . . . if Wendy wanted him to be adventurous, who was he to decline? He went back and retrieved the bottle of pills. The recommended dosage went all the way up to four, so it certainly wouldn't matter if he took one more.

He took out another glossy pill and twisted off the top of the apple juice, washing the capsule down with a wave of sweetness that made the chilly tingles blossom in his throat before he found himself staring into the mirror again, breathing heavily. The only problem was . . . he didn't know exactly what he was supposed to do . . . He absentmindedly unhooked his suspenders and wriggled out of his shirt, staring at his revealed curvy feminine upper body, freckles dotting his pasty skin. Taking of his glasses, he squinted at his reflection. It didn't seem quite right, the little light brownish freckles suddenly seeming like a glaring flaw as he pretended that he was Wendy looking in at himself. Surely he could do something to cover up the blemishes . . .

He concentrated on his skin, rubbing a hand in against his belly. His mind flickered to the skin of the women in glossy magazines, and he groaned slightly. It felt oddly satisfying to rub in at his taut pliant body. Closing his eyes again, images flashed in his mind, the ideal female form, blemish-less, silky smooth, posed seductively. As he opened his eyes again, he watched in amazement as a smooth sheen seeped up his torso, his very hairs seeming to melt back into his increasingly smooth skin. He tilted his head to the side as the wave of tingling sleek glossy texture crept up to his neck. It made him look almost like a mannequin . . .

Memories bubbled up in his brain as he ran his fingers over his impossibly perfect skin, little echoes following after his fingertips as if his flesh were some kind of glossy rubber. They were walking into a store and his cheeks were burning. There were mannequins all over the place with purple and pink lights angled up at them. Wendy led him by the hand, laughing as he bumped into a display and looked up at it, seeing the contrapposto form of a white plaster female statue, clad in skin tight glossy leather gear, a riding crop dangling from its synthetic hand.

It was the first time Frederick had ever been inside of an adult shop. Wendy had dragged him into one on a whim. "Heh. Do you like what you see?" Her voice echoed in his mind. "You think I should wear something like that?"

"N-no, of course not!" His own voice sounded strangely pathetic.

"Aww . . . You're no fun." She chided, picking up a rubber wobbling length from a nearby shelf and squeezing it nonchalantly before setting it back.

The words stung, making him wince even as he heard them in his head: "No fun . . ." In the actual past, he had stammered and mumbled and they had left shortly after, but in his revised version, he found himself looking back up at the mannequin, rubbing his hands over his tingling smooth breasts. He didn't want her to have to do something like that for him . . . He wanted to do it himself. As he thought of the idea, his flesh started to darken around his arms and legs quickly bleeding into a deep glossy black that made it look like he was wearing impossibly tight form fitting leggings and sleeves that rose all the way up to his still-white fingers. The rest of his skin faded from peachy flesh, to flawless snowy white, making his glossy form look more like a doll than any kind of real human being.

He opened his eyes, not even surprised to see the changes, looking at the glossy flesh that rose all the way to his neck, where it faded back into human-looking skin. He was still himself . . . just better. A small giggle escaped his lips, and his brow furrowed . . . Was that him? He sounded like some kind of ditzy glamor girl. But wasn't that what he wanted to be like? He rolled the idea around in his slightly foggy mind. There was something vaguely off about it, but he couldn't decide what. Wendy had been the one to take him into that store in the first place. She was bound to like what he had done with himself.

Squeezing his snowy white breasts together, Fredrick shivered, tiny ripples shuddering over his increasingly malleable body. He felt slutty. And it was . . . kind of nice. He wanted to be looked at, to have people's eyes follow him as he walked down the streets . . . But he needed to do just a little more work. Almost instinctually, he reached for the bottle of pills, popping one in his mouth and licking his perfectly smooth finger with his tongue, laughing as he fell back on the bed, his hips making the waist of his slacks creak as he unbuttoned them.

Letting his pants fall to the floor, he looked down and was almost surprised to see his erection tenting the tight white fabric of his briefs. With odd anticipation, he peeled off his underwear as well, looking down at his cock like he was seeing it for the first time. In a sense, he really was. His shaft looked more like some kind of marble art deco statue, bone white with two featureless smooth rounded bulges of his balls beneath it, more like the toy he had seen Wendy hefting in the store . . . He turned his head to the side, scooting back on the bed with a creak, slowly reaching down and prodding the smooth tip of his dick. It wobbled, sending little shudders of pleasure through him, making him take in a deep breath as his breasts heaved, growing impractically large.

It felt . . . different: like the pleasure was echoing through his whole body. He thought about making love to Wendy. She always encouraged him to explore her entire body, and he was always too timid to let her do the same to himself. He had always wondered though . . . what it might feel like to be her as he ran his hands over every inch of her body. He cupped one of his breasts, his other hand gripping around his shaft and squeezing. There was squeaking contact as his flesh bulged, but no pain. Instead it was only lances of sensation as he began to pump his hand over his rubbery pliant shaft. The bed creaked under him as he began to buck his hips and squeeze in harder around his cock.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking back to the first time they had actually had sex. She rode him and it was all he could do to grit his teeth and let his hands rest on her hips. He was so happy for her, so glad that she had something that she was enjoying so much. It was good for him too . . . but not that good. Not as good as she made it seem. He was always jealous of her in the strangest of ways, not that he'd ever admit it. He wanted her to feel good . . . but at the same time, he wished that he could be as confident as she was in enjoying this kind of thing. His hand grasped in tighter and tighter as it squeezed in against his pliant shaft, making the skin bulge between his fingers as he thought about sex in the rawest of ways. With every pump, the details simplified further and the rubbery pulsing mass throbbed back slightly shorter, sinking into his twisting form.

It wasn't just that he wanted to be the center of attention . . . not that the idea of an audience bothered him and his increasingly perfect body. But he wanted to be in control. Not just of himself, but also of others. He wanted to please them, and also make them please him. A rumble built up in his chest as he thought about it. His fingers tightened their grip further around his snow white shaft, squeaking as he ground down at it, imagining holding the leash attached to someone pleasuring him, their face buried between his legs, tongue scraping over his exposed cunt . . .

Something seemed odd about the thought, but he couldn't quite remember what. His fingers couldn't wrap around his cock at all anymore, instead they massaged a dwindling nub as the two mounds of his testes pulled in tighter, quivering as a thin slit formed in the middle, blossoming out into an idealized white female cleft, crowned by the rounded button of his dwindling shaft.

He licked his tongue over his still-human lips, long slender fingers squeaking against his developing gash as it leaked out a clear slippery pleasure that beaded against his perfect plastic skin. Squeaking out in a high pitched moan that fell to a deep gravelly growl, he slid a finger inside of himself and was lost in a blazing kaleidoscope of pleasure that rocked through his whole body like he was a liquid and the sensations were a jostling wave. In his mind, he had a more refined image than his wanton sexuality from moments ago, and his breasts receded slightly back into pert jostling mounds: exaggerated, but not unrealistic, his form becoming toned and slender.

The door handle rattled before the door creaked open again. "Frederick, are you okay? We could hear . . ." Wendy stood there with eyes as wide as the Tupperware containers she was hocking downstairs.

"I uhh . . ." Fredrick was immediately brought back from his hazy revelries, black stocking-patterned legs spread, and his body looking completely covered in glossy flawlessly smooth black and white. He slid his fingers out of himself almost like a child with their hand caught in a cookie jar. "I was just thinking about what you said, and thought I'd try . . . you know? I'm sorry. I didn't really think about it, so please don't be mad." He reached down and laid a hand over his breasts apologetically.

"Mad? Mad!?" Wendy looked down at him and shook her head.

Fredrick swallowed. She was going to say she was angry, furious, disappointed, disgusted . . .

"I love it!" she ran over to the bed and hugged him. "I'm so glad you're willing to try stuff like this. You know that I've always been into things that were a little . . . wild." She stroked a hand over his impossibly smooth white breasts, looking at how her fingers dimpled his artificially malleable form.

"Really?" Frederick wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

"You have no idea . . ." She leaned in a whispered softly in his ear, following her words with her warm tongue running along the inside of his lobe.

"I think we're ready, Wendy. Marge and I both want one of those Flavr Savrs . . ." The croaking voice of the two older women in his living room slithered up from the living room.

"Look, I've got one last thing to take care of downstairs." Wendy stood up reluctantly, letting her fingers trace up his shoulders and down his slim black arms and white fingers. "But when I'm done, I'm coming back here, and we are going to have some _quality time_together."

"Do you mean . . ." Fredrick was interrupted as she put a finger on his lips.

"Yes." She winked at him. "Keep up whatever it is you've been doing. Go wild." And with that, she slipped out of the door again, closing it behind her as she went back into her saleswoman song-and-dance.

Frederick smiled with the weird lopsided grin of someone who had just found out that their greatest fear was actually just a comically misunderstood shadow. In fact, his whole life felt kind of like a wasted opportunity. He didn't know what he had ever been afraid of. He shook three more of the pills into his hand and popped them into his mouth. From now on, he was going to be the way that he wanted to be . . . which might also be the way that Wendy wanted him to be . . . but just a little bit.

He squeezed at his body and his hand returned to between his legs, where his pleasure still smouldered. He could do whatever he wanted . . . Rolling the idea of total freedom around in his increasingly accepting mind, he raised up one leg, crossing it over his other and reaching forwards to grab at the black glossy appendage. It was odd. He was still solid, but every single part of him had this pleasant give, like all of the room his bones had taken up was replaced with squeezable rubbery flesh. The very idea excited him, and as he kneaded, his feet began to swell slightly. Switching feet with a single graceful motion, he pinched at his toes. They were so stubby and awkward shaped, seeming completely out of place next to the rest of his supple sinuous form. As he squeezed them together, they began to merge, forming into a single rounded point that looked more like he was wearing opaque black socks with white soles and toes. That was nicer, but they still weren't quite right.

He rubbed the smooth white soles of his still growing feet against the carpet on the ground, a rumble building up in his chest. They were so much more sensitive this way, and as he focused on them, they tingled more and more, making his body wriggle and his flawless pussy clench and glisten. They were still oddly sleek, yet rounded and simplified, looking almost more like the suggestion of paws, or rounded shoes that were actually a part of him. Wendy's whispers played back in his mind as he rubbed his increasingly sensitive white soles over the floor.

"G_o wild . . ._"

Looking up at his black and white body in the mirror, he stood up and stretched his hands over his head. He just looked so . . . synthetic. There was some kind of spark missing. He could be anything he wanted. Why was that so stifling? Focusing on his raw black and white patterns, he stroked his hands down his sides, watching the colors bloom from snowy porcelain into a vivid electric yellow. He could feel the pigmentation wrapping around to his back, sinking down to his hips and rising up to his shoulders. It left his crotch, belly, and breasts gleaming white, but as he thumbed at his wide stiff nipples, they became canary yellow as well, standing out on his pert pillowy female mounds.

"Wild . . ." There was something appealing about the concept. He looked at the collar where the rubbery white and yellow flesh of his body met the still seemingly human flesh of his neck. He reached up and ran his slender fingers over his face. Although it still _looked_mostly like he had before, he found his flesh was pleasingly pliant under his fingertips. And yet, even as he tugged and prodded, he couldn't quite get the skin to change the way it should have in his mind. Habitually, he grabbed the bottle of pills and tilted it back against his lips, letting a mouthful of the miracle substance slide down his throat in a cool mentholated cacophony of bliss.

Almost immediately, the latex sheen began to creep up his neck. At first it followed his form, coating his skin, polishing away any imperfections into either charged yellow or chalky white below his chin. But he didn't want to be himself, he wanted to be something better.

As he closed his eyes and let the thrumming energy from the pills wash through him. He thought of the times they had wandered through the mall. Every single trip had been punctuated by a stop to the Humane Society's shop that they had set up in the old husk of a Honey Baked Ham restaurant near the entrance. They always had little puppies in the front windows that most onlookers would fawn at, but Wendy would go straight towards the back, where they kept the cats. Despite the signs that warned people not to handle the fickle felines without the help of a cat wrangler, she would simply scoop one up and hold it against her chest, cooing and cuddling with it.

Frederick was always blushing by this point. It was a little awkward to be breaking the rules . . . but also, deep down, he was always kind of jealous. The furry little thing would always be purring and nuzzling against her. Even as he imagined himself looking over, the fuzzy little bastards would always just smirk over at him with their slitted eyes, just the hint of a catty smile on their lips. The scene began to warp in his mind as the slippery coolness began to creep up his face. A purr rumbled in his chest as he massaged at his cheeks with his fingers, feeling his head stretch outwards, nose flattening, pressed out into black huffing animal nostrils at the front of his growing white and yellow feline muzzle. His pink tongue licked over his sharpening fangs as his eyes blazed golden, with stylish thin black brows painted over them.

This was better . . . His hands continued to knead, almost of their own volition, reaching his ears and tugging at them, flesh stretching out, skin becoming smoother as the outsides darkened and the insides faded to white. He tugged them towards the top of his head, stretching them longer and wider into triangular points rising up from amidst his mop of orange hair. He let go, and twitched them experimentally, watching them fold and twist like the sails of little ships. It was nearly perfect . . . but his scraggly hair looked so out of place.

Frederick ran his fingers through his lackluster hair, which smoothed out as he combed over it. He thought about making his head look as smooth and sleek as the rest of him . . . but that wouldn't be quite right. If he was going to be a cat, he needed at least a little bit of fur. As he scrubbed at his hair, it became glossy and silky, brightening into thick yellow fur, pouring back down his neck and around the wide bases of his ears, stopping a few inches above his shoulders. His now thin-lipped animal mouth pulled up into a smile, the points of his fangs barely visible as he ran his hands over himself and looked back in the mirror at his svelte body, a loud amalgam of yellow with pitch and cream highlights.

He licked his lips with his rough pink tongue and shifted his weight, orgasmically sensitive simplified feet grinding against the floor. He watched his rounded hips rock and then tilted his head to the side. It was odd that the sultry motion just sort of stopped there. It seemed like one last thing was missing. Running his white fingers and black hands down his sides, Frederick reached back and squeezed in just below the small of his vibrant yellow back, teasing at the point where a tailbone would be if he still had any bones at all. Frederick groaned as he leaned forwards . . . but the changes were beginning to slow, the cool tingle from the pills subsiding.

This was no time to stop though. He wasn't done yet . . . Taking the half-full bottle one last time, he upended it and let all of the capsules rain down into his feline mouth. He licked his lips, a visible bulge traveling down his throat as the thrumming chemical contents sunk into his homogenized insides. He leaned down against the bed, concentration moving to just above his rounded exposed rump. He reached back and grabbed at his back, white fingertips sinking into his synthetic yellow flesh as it began to swell into a heavy rounded protrusion.

It felt amazing, his flesh wriggling along with his thoughts as he moaned, feeling his body tense like coiled rubber bands as the growth surged forwards. The stocky base was vibrant yellow, but the head-sized tip quickly darkened into a glossy petroleum black as it surged out from him. He didn't care that it was thicker than a cat's tail, it just felt so good that he couldn't stop, one hand reaching up to grab at his taut breasts. He growled, body quivering as he tugged out harder, drawing the bulging length out foot after wriggling writhing foot, the corded strength of his pliant body making it undulate as it brushed against the carpet, and then the dresser, and then the wall.

Frederick turned over and fell back onto the bed, massive almost lizard-like tail draped over the edge of the bed and slithering against the floor. He curled it back up between his spread legs, grabbing at the bulging end the size of a basket ball, white fingers sinking into the dark malleable rubbery flesh that was impossibly sensitive even as it continue to twitch and grow. Grasping it between his hands, he mashed the tensing thrashing mass between his thighs, grinding the protrusion against the glossy white flesh of his cunt, high pitched squeaks filling the room as he grunted out and moaned. His sensitive feet pulled back at the carpet on the ground, sending shivers through him as he squeezed his tail which wriggled against his perfect molded feminine cleft.

He looked up at the mirror on his closet unabashedly, watching his glistening form rocking as he ground against himself like an animal. It felt good to both lose control and also be a master of his own body. As he met his own golden-eyed stare, his lips curled up, and he watched as a band of solid matte black wrapped around the yellow and white of his slender neck. It looked like a collar, just the perfect fit for the animal he had become. It made him feel even hotter, and he yowled out, leaning back as he tweaked his nipples and ground his tail against his blazing snatch.

The bed was creaking so loudly underneath his rocking form that he didn't hear the door open, and didn't notice anything amiss until he opened his eyes and saw Wendy standing there and staring, watching him pleasure himself, flesh squeaking to a halt as he sat up and met her confused and yet obviously aroused eyes.

"Still like what you see?" He didn't wait for her to begin this time. His now rumbling feline voice purred as he got to his shapely legs on the white soles of his oddly simplified feet, body quivering in pleasure though he still wanted so much more.

"Yes." She replied breathily, shaking her head and then looking back as if to prove that he was real. "Oh, honey . . . You didn't need to do all of this just for me . . ."

"I didn't." Frederick smiled, walking towards her slowly, heavy tail swinging behind him, glistening with his own heady lust. "But if you really want to repay me for the favor . . ." He reached his arms around her and pulled her turquoise clad body close, locking his feline lips against hers, ravishing the insides of her mouth with his slightly raspy tongue as he unzipped her jeans. His black palms rubbed against her as his white slender fingers combed though her muff towards her already moist pussy, rubbing against the edges of her labia in just the way she liked it. Now he knew exactly how she was feeling, and reveled in making her shudder against him.

They rocked together, as he led her step by step towards the bed in a slow swirling dance, their chests bumping together with every controlled wave of motion, his taut yellow nipples grinding against her vibrant blue woven shirt. Wendy laughed as he guided her to lay back on the bed, stroking her hair gently. "Freddy . . . I don't know what was in those pills, but I like it . . . And I think you should know something." She ran a hand over the smooth skin of his side. She cleared her throat and looked slightly guilty as she continued. "You know Emma, right? Her husband Daryl works in the lab, and I may have asked her . . . to get him to leave something on your desk for you . . ."

"So you're behind all of this . . ." Fredrick raised a penciled brow. "I should have known." He grinned, stepping up onto the bed and falling forwards so that he straddled her legs with his knees, tail bobbing about behind him mischievously.

"I just thought that it was going to be . . . you know, boner pills or something." Wendy panted, looking down at his svelte smooth body, huffing in his almost vinyl-like scent. "But I think I like this better."

"Well, I think I like this too . . ." He rubbed his hands over himself slowly, twisting his sinuous body on top of her, making her moan in need. "But I think maybe you need to pay for your transgressions a bit more." He turned over languorously, flipping himself so that his back was to her, tail wrapping around her neck. "Don't you think?" He pushed his luscious rump towards her head, white cleft inches from her face.

"Mmmhmm." She rumbled in approval, inching forwards and lapping out with her tongue, feeling his entire body clench and quiver while she tasted his bitter slick sweetness.

"Good girl . . ." Frederick smiled, panting as she began to work at his pussy. She'd obviously had some experience before . . . The thought made him shiver even as she lashed at his feminine slit. "And all good girls deserve a reward . . ." He leaned down and nosed against her crotch, huffing in her feminine reek before lashing out with his tongue and scraping against her own folds.

For the first time in his life, he was completely comfortable, in charge of each and every one of his own actions, just as he had been completely in charge of his own form. It was true he wanted to please her, but now he owned that, and shivered in pleasure as she moaned and leaned forwards into his rear while his tail slithered over her shoulders down against her back.

He could figure out what exactly had happened to him, and how he would explain it later. For now, he was going to spend the rest of the night just being himself while making sure that Wendy got exactly what she deserved . . .