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Unwelcome Talents

Written by Amethyst Mare (Arian Mabe) Commissioned by an anonymous commissioner

_ _

Morning was unwholesome.

Comfortably entwined within his duvet, Wayne groaned and burrowed beneath the pillows, as if by sheer force of will he could keep the sunrise at bay. The navy bed sheets, a basic choice, were cool on the skunk's fur and a chilling winter nip beckoned from beyond. Said chill rendered him less than keen to encourage it closer, and so Wayne wriggled in, forgoing the dreary task of true waking for a later time. It had been a long week for the skunk, exhaustion throbbing through his bones. In the back of his mind, he likened the work tiredness to the deep ache brought on from his eclectic transformations, the weird kink of a shape shifter. He was thankful it was not that: no one else was around to trigger a change.

Twisting on to his side, Wayne grumbled at the bed sheets, wrapped around too tightly like a cocoon. It would be too difficult to rise and, anyway, it was the weekend. Eyes closed, Wayne's lips twitched in a smile and he flicked his tail with the white stripe down the middle, stirring the sheets.

Five more minutes could not hurt.

He wrinkled his nose. Five minutes would have been fine just fine if an unpleasant smell was not assaulting his nose. Turning, he strove to evade it, thinking it would pass, an untimely passing of gas or something similar - no fur could control that, after all, though he had not _felt_anything. His body shuddered involuntarily and the stench increased tenfold, emanating from a spot too close to his nose. Screwing up his muzzle, he shot back. Had the dog had an accident in the room? Did he leave the door open the night before? Damn it, Rowdy!

The skunk toppled backwards in a bundle of limbs, scrabbling with paws that could not find purchase on the cotton sheets. His claws sunk in and ripped the fitted bottom sheet as he flew off the foot of the bed, the duvet a blue cloud on top of his head. Paws kicked out wildly with no rhyme or reason, no longer in control of his body. Something was wrong, very wrong. The stench grew worse, pungent as if the culprit had eaten something unpleasant to cause their stomach vicious distress. Screwing up his muzzle, Wayne growled, clawing viciously at the duvet that so trapped him. He couldn't get his arms over his head and his legs misbehaved, flying out in all the wrong directions. Something was wrong. As he tossed the cloth off his head with a skilful flick - what was wrong with his arms? - his cheeks turned scarlet in the heat of solitary humiliation.

The door was closed. There was no way that Rowdy could have gotten in. So, it had not been the dog that caused the mess and the gut-churning stench. It was him. He had had an accident like a naughty cub that had not been properly toilet trained. The faeces spread from the head of the bed and pillows to the worn carpet at his paws in a mucky trail that an animal should have left, not an anthro. His vision tilted sickeningly, blurring at the edges, and he dropped his muzzle, regretting the motion a moment later as it brought his too sensitive nose closer to his own disgrace. Disgusted, he turned away, shuffled to face the opposite direction and came muzzle to wall with the cream wall, paint peeling.

Why was he so close to the ground? What was wrong with his paws? He couldn't think straight. Had he had a few drinks the night before? It had been Friday, that was plausible. He was glad one small thing at least made sense, though he wished he could see clearly. It was almost as if he had undergone a transformation, but that was impossible. Nobody around knew about him.

Bathroom. Bathroom. He thought foggily. He had to get to the bathroom. Besides the mess, there was a mirror in there. He'd know what the hell was going on then.

Stumbling over his own paws, Wayne crawled from carpet to linoleum, head lifted as high as he could manage. His vision was still too low, head at the level of the door handle - he deduced that he was on his paws and knees. It was the only conclusion he could hope for, as the alternative induced far more trepidation in his churning gut.

He tried to carry in as little mess as possible, comforted by the fact that linoleum would be easier to clean than the carpet: that would be a job and a half. Thank god it was the weekend, no one would know, there would be no awkward explanations as to why he was late for such and such an event or even work. Head on the same level as the white bathroom sink, Wayne took a deep breath (which was instantly regretted) and heaved his body up so that he could peer into the mirror, vision clearing at last.

Okay... He could see his head. That was a start. And there were no faeces on his muzzle. That was good. But he could not stand up tall. Every time he tried to move from paws and knees to solely his hind paws, he could not get the motion correct. He gulped and dropped to the linoleum, kicking the bathroom rug aside. He did not want to get that dirty too. So what was wrong with the rest of his body?

Looking down, he uncovered the beginnings of his answer and his stomach leapt into his throat. Wayne swallowed bile and shook his head, disbelieving the evidence.

Where his chest should have been, there was... Well, to put it politely, there was a 'rump'. Instead of a chest, he had an arse. His muzzle was just above it in the place where a tail should be, too close to a messy anus for anyone's liking. He stood on all fours like an animal, though he took no comfort in solving the puzzle. To complicate the problem, his back stretched like that of a feral - more doglike than that of a true skunk - and normal hindquarters resided at the other end of his body. It would have been what he expected to see if he had accidentally been transformed into a four-legged skunk, if not for the unwholesome double rump.

Wayne shook his head and slammed a paw into the linoleum with a thump that should have been more impressive. Anger boiled in his stomach. Who had done this to him? A crazy accident, to be sure, but who would dream up a double-arsed feral skunk in their most ludicrous of dreams. He only changed when another fur, whether knowingly or not, verbally commanded him to. He could not control it himself, though sometimes he was able to change back. Rocking backwards to peer into the bathroom mirror once more, Wayne scowled as a pair of brown eyes blinked back at him, darkened with fury.

"Fuck this," he muttered, voice whispery in the bathroom acoustics. "This is utter fucking bullshit. Useless, low-life, arsehole prankster or...just...fuck it!"

Swearing made him feel better, if only marginally. The skunk shook his head and tried to raise an arm, thinking to grab the bathroom towel off the rail, realising his mistake a second later. Instead, he grabbed it with his teeth and threw it on the floor, stepping on the towel in a rudimentary attempt to clean up. Things were a great deal more difficult without arms and paws.

It took him a moment to register the telephone ringing. It must have been one of the last remaining landlines in standard use. Torn, he hesitated with one paw off the ground. Perhaps against his better judgment, he tossed away the towel and stumbled carefully into the bedroom, avoiding the patches of excrement to the very best of his ability.

Hastily, he nosed his way to the dresser and pushed the phone off the cradle, automatically answering the call. It took a second to manoeuvre his head into position, pressing his ear to the speaker and muzzle as close to the microphone as he was able.

"Hello?"

"Hi!" A chirpy female voice answered. "What's going on?"

Wayne blinked.

"Who is this?"

"Tina." The lady's tone fell. "We met last night? At Seven Stars?"

He was at the pub last night, of course. Yet he had not drunk heavily, his head did not even hurt, so of course he had not done anything stupid. What a ridiculous name for a pub, some kind of sports bar. Wayne bit the inside of his cheek. He did not remember Tina, only a red fox. It had to be her.

"Hi...Tina," Wayne answered, fumbling for words. "How are things?"

It was an insane question to ask when caught in his situation but one that was expected all the same. It was hardly as if he was going to tell the vixen what had happened! To his knowledge, Tina had no idea that he even possessed the ability to morph and, frankly, he preferred to keep it that way. Only a handful of furs knew and none of them were close enough to use the knowledge maliciously. Wayne was careful.

Jerking back to reality, Wayne realised that Tina had been chattering on the whole time he'd been lost in thought, trying to make sense of the night and the conversation before.

"Anyway," Tina continued, oblivious. "Did you fancy meeting up later then or what?"

"Meeting up?" Wayne tried to catch up with conversation.

"Silly! We got on so well last night, I want to see you again!"

Wayne would have raised an eyebrow at that but thought better of it in his contorted position. The slightest muscular twitch may have toppled him over, at least to his off-balance mind. Tina was...forward.

"Um...yeah, sure." The skunk didn't know how to respond. "What do you want to do?"

"Just hang out...chat...get to know each other a little better." Tina giggled girlishly. "At yours, 'kay?"

The pauses in Tina's reply did not go unnoticed and a slow grin spread across Wayne's muzzle. So that was how it was going, was it? Not bad for a busy skunk: she was hot.

"Of course! That sounds really great."

The words sounded cheesy to his ears but Tina gave an enthusiastic 'mmhm", so he assumed his keenness came off as intended, which was one less problem. He would never mind getting to know a sexy, hopefully slutty, vixen.

"What's your address?"

"Address? Oh..." Wayne went blank. "Flat 2A, Rainford Avenue, up the road from the post office. Should be able to find it."

Was that overkill?

"Fantastic!" Tina trilled. "See you at seven then! Surprise me!"

And, just like that, she was gone, only a dial tone in her wake. A slight smile tugged at the corner of the skunk's lips and he nosed the phone back on to its stand, letting it settle on charge with a beep.

His eyes widened. What had he done?

Why on earth had he said it was okay for Tina to come over? It was insane! True, she had practically invited herself and not given him time to say no, but he should have done something else, should have thought of something to say! He could have smoothed things over! If the skunk had been able, he would have clapped his paw to his forehead at his own folly.

He had to transform. And quickly!

As if to exaggerate the desperation of his situation, his 'additional' rump chose that very moment to demonstrate its incontinence, depositing a fresh, steaming load on to the carpet beside his dresser. Shaking his head, the skunk nipped his lip hard enough to draw blood, hustling backwards from the pile and tumbling on to his rump with an undignified thump that he was sure the neighbours heard.

He would find a way to put things to rights before he wooed the vixen.

*

Nothing worked.

No matter what the skunk tried, he was well and truly trapped. Not that he actually knew of any tried and tested way to revert back after another fur commanded him to transform. He ground his teeth together and slammed a hind paw - were they all hinds now? - into the carpet.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He asked the empty room.

Cancel his date? He had time to fix things, he reassured himself, albeit tentatively. It could be worse. He didn't want to think how things could be worse. The sensuous sway of the vixen's hips played in his mind as if clattering off an old movie reel, images jumping in blurred memory. Wayne groaned. There had to be a way to sort everything, there had to be.

He struggled to clean the bedroom and bathroom with minimal to moderate success, using a damp, soapy cloth clasped between his teeth for the surfaces, hurling the bed sheets forcibly into the hamper where they could be dealt with later. The cloth tasted of old soil between his teeth and the skunk would only be able to smell soap for days. He shook his head vigorously enough to make a wave of dizziness rock his body as if the ground moved beneath his feet.

Wayne grumbled and stumbled into the shower: there was only one thing left to get clean. However, working the shower took greater persistence and tactical strategy in such a form. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he rose back on the 'normal' set of hind legs, kicking backwards at the wall tiles and scrabbling with the other. His paws fell short and he dropped to all fours again, tail shivering as he geared up for another attempt. The stench of shit enveloped him from head to tail and he would not go another minute without making himself feel clean!

Hauling his front half up against the wall, Wayne braced himself as if he was scaling a crevice, using his hind paws (admittedly scrabbling) to push himself high enough to hit the switch with his muzzle. A blast of icy water hit him in the face and he dropped with a yelp, shuddering and half-leaping out of the shower. Halfway into the body of the bathroom, the disgusting stench slapped him upside the head, reminding of the matted stink upon his black and white fur. Wayne shifted, water steadily soaking into all fur still under the frozen stream. What could he do? He had to get clean.

Shivering, the skunk gritted his teeth and endured. Some discomfort for cleanliness was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He made a half-hearted attempt or two at swiping the dial to 'hot', water streaming into his eyes in the process, deciding it unwise as a coughing fit convulsed his lungs. Pausing, Wayne nosed at the wall, rubbing off waste to be washed down the drain, fur slowly but surely washing clean. The muscles in his underbelly twitched and he started, looking down at his paws as if he had never seen them before. His stomach, elongated, felt as if he had strapped something beneath it, so that it bumped and hindered his walking. Twisting, he strove to see what was thumping his stomach, only succeeding in sending peculiar warmth through both abdomens. A familiar pleasure that he could not make sense of washed over him and he moaned.

Only then was Wayne able to see exactly what had happened.

Two cocks ground together, situated too close for comfort. Having one slipped from a feral sheath would have been bad enough and he was stuck with two. The fleshy rods bounced against his fur, pre cum drooling from the tips of both as if from a tap. He frowned. His, ah, 'fluids' were over productive. Another 'side effect' of the specific transformation. How annoying. Wayne rolled his eyes and spread his legs apart, curiosity overruling common sense with a desire to experiment. He had felt pleasure just a few seconds ago...could it be replicated? Excitement blossomed in his chest, a network of sparks bursting outwards. If he flexed his stomach muscles at both ends just right, he could slap them against his belly in animalistic masturbation. Surprised by his own control, he repeated the action and stifled a soft moan that echoed off the bathroom wall.

Wayne jerked back into the far side of the shower, eyes wide. What the fuck was he doing? He had more important things to take care of! Getting clean was one thing but he had to find a way to revert before Tina arrived. Or cancel his date. Wayne shifted, skin trembling beneath the water. Whether or not he reversed the change, work would come on Monday, however, and the financial department would need him. He couldn't fake another sick day. Did a transformation count as sick?

Only one small detail needed consideration. He had never tried having an orgasm to revert back to his normal shape. To be frank, with the crazy transformations forced upon him in public, it never had been something at the forefront of his mind.

It couldn't hurt to try, surely? Curiosity aside, of course. Wayne ignored the crimson burn in his cheeks and stroked the dual lengths.

"To hell with it," he muttered.

No one would know. Ducking his head, Wayne shook himself vigorously, shaking out the wet fur so that it stuck out at odd angles before flattening down beneath the shower once more. Contemplating escaping the shower, he decided against it - he did not know what would happen if he did manage to, well, get off. With two members and no way to control their direction bar his body angle, he anticipated a mess.

Smiling with an edge of smugness - he had pre-empted a problem - the skunk sat down against the back wall of the shower, folding his hind legs under his body like a domesticated canine. They fit perfect and, oddly, it was the most natural position he had found since the entire transformation happened: walking certainly had never been on the cards. His tail squashed uncomfortably against the shiny white tiles and his mouth twitched, shifting to find a more comfortable position while one of the now 'upper' paws, closest to his muzzle, tentatively reached down and pawed along the length of a cock.

It felt better than he could describe with mere words. Every sensation was heightened tenfold and electric sparks ran down his spine. The cocks throbbed and spat globules of pre cum on to his white underbelly, though they were quick washed away by the shower water, a fact he was grateful for. Cum was a pain to clean out of fur in its viscosity. Emboldened, he repeated the motion with both paws, lips parting in a sharp inhalation at the unprecedented pleasure. The shafts were shaped like a human member, from what he had seen, with the distinctive, rounded head, and the skin moved along the length as he pawed, eyes riveted upon the thick, pulsing rods. The dark-furred balls rested heavily against his crotch, churning with fresh cum. If he was to imagine beyond his own body, Wayne would have said that his cum in this form was eager to be spilled, need burning in his belly.­

There was only one small problem.

Paws without fingers or thumbs were not the easiest to control and Wayne ground his teeth. He had it, if he could just keep going... The skunk craned his neck at a vicious angle, holding his balance as he brought both of the natural (if they could ever be called that) hind paws up to the lower, gently bouncing member. With some measure of skill, he pawed at both in unison, the soft, unworn paw pads teasing with the most sensual of caresses. The skunk's head fell back, tongue lolling out of his muzzle, for a few, blissful instances. Too swiftly, his balance slipped and he fumbled to not fall, cocks bouncing and slapping his belly with the force of his motion. The stimulation could not be said to be unpleasant, yet it was not enough, far from enough. Wayne growled under his breath, tail stiffening, and fought the urge to slam his paw into the wall. He could not keep up the strokes, as wonderful as they felt, consistently and his frustration mounted with every cruelly missed swipe.

"How the hell am I meant to do this..." He muttered, tilting his head to one side. "Come on, you can work this out. Just a bit more, we'll get this."

The skunk narrowed his eyes, striving to ignore the fact that he did not have the most pleasant of views for his fun. Wedging his shoulder into the corner (or as close to his shoulder as he could manage), the skunk brought all four paws to both cocks, stifling a moan as delectable pleasure crashed over him. He glanced at the wall, expecting a disturbance, but his neighbour must have been out for the day; he had been screamed at more than once for singing in the shower. What would the crazy possum lady have to say about fapping in the shower? Wayne smirked, folding his paw pads around the length of the lower dick, using copious amounts of pre cum as lubrication.

Hissing between his teeth, Wayne furrowed his brow. It did not take more stimulation to set his sweating and panting, thankful for the shower to cool him down. Bracing himself helped, only requiring the skunk to kick out against the opposite wall to prevent himself slipping every minute or so. He had no way of keeping time and was focused on arousal rather than seconds ticking by. His paws slipped slickly along his lengths and his rate of breathing increased, balls tightening up closer to his body - both pairs. He licked his lips and imagined the mess he would cause, spurting cum down his fur and all over the interior of the shower.

The skunk huffed hotly, pumping his paws. He didn't care that he slipped down the wall a bit - he had to cum! The room seemed to blur as orgasm approached with the thunderous warning of a tidal wave. Wayne panted, paws slipping awkwardly as he struggled to climax, not to fall flat on his back, to do anything he could to reach that racing peak in what little time he had remaining. It was too good, too late, to stop and he clamped his tail up against his back as ecstasy rushed upon him.

Yelping, the skunk's release echoed off the bathroom walls, cries reverberating as if to enhance his orgasm. Long, thick spurts of cum splattered the walls and coated his fur, painting it with white streaks on the wrong side of his body. Howling, he arched his back and pushed his hips out from the wall, sliding down to the floor of the shower as orgasm continued to ravage him. Holding more cum than they had appeared to, his stomach fur and muzzle were entirely covered with the mixture. Pushing his head under the shower stream to clean the gooey mess, Wayne held his breath, warmth enveloping his whole body. Looking up, he gave an involuntary chuckle at the sight that awaited him and blinked. He had not expected quite that much mess. At least easy clean up.

With that in mind, he relaxed, lying on his back with his legs in the air. The release had not brought on the reversal of transformation that he had hoped for but, in the moment, it did not matter. Curiosity never hurt the cat, after all, and he had come out clean.

The skunk was so caught up in the afterglow that he did not hear the first knock on the door. A few hammered notes later, someone rang the bell, sending a shrill tune through the flat.

Automatically, Wayne leapt to his paws, half-darting for the door. The parcel with parts for his car? It had to be.

"Just a minute!" He shouted, falling over his own paws.

In his excitement, Wayne forgot his current form and tumbled through the bathroom door, still wet with splashes of cum, into the bedroom. His cocks had softened and receded into their respective sheets without him noticing, but he could have grabbed a towel if he needed. Reality snapped within his skull and the skunk skidded to a wide-eyed, stumbling halt in the living room.

He couldn't answer the door!

Stuck in the living room, Wayne hunkered down on the carpet and pretended not to be there, a childish response to an unwelcome visitor. But the fur knocking the door was insistent and, to Wayne's horror, the handle pushed down and the door swung inwards a few inches. Wayne reacted instinctively, hurling his body behind the main door where he could lean against it, forcing it closed with his body weight. By some stroke of luck - if you discounted the fact that he had left the fucking door unlocked - the safety chain was still on the door, preventing it from being opened further. Watching with bated breath, Wayne shrank back as a bristly, grey muzzle poked through the gap.

"Mr Puer?" The postal worker called, ferret's muzzle twitching. "You've left the door unlocked. Is it okay if I drop this here for you? Can you undo the chain? Mr Puer?"

"Not right now!" Wayne all but yelled. "Come back later!"

"Mr Puer? Could you open the door, please?"

"No! No, you can't come in!"

"What the fuck is his problem?" Another voice muttered: there were two working together, clearly. "Just leave him."

The ferret's muzzle retracted.

"Yeah. Fucking psycho."

Wayne exhaled, releasing trapped breath.

"Call us to deliver," the first postal worker, the ferret, spoke slowly and loudly as if to a fur that could be described as 'slow', "when you are back to normal."

"Will do," Wayne said, voice trembling. "Thank you!"

He dropped to the carpet with a shaky breath, watching as the door bumped into the frame. Crawling closer, he nudged the door closed and listened to the conversation in the hall through the wood.

"Jeez, what's with that guy?"

It had to be the ferret. Wayne looked down, guilt swallowing his stomach. He shouldn't have scared them. What else was one to do though? His form could not be easily explained.

"Yeah," the second fur replied. "I wish he would just be his normal self again. Weird one."

Wayne's spine twisted, bones cracking and muscles convulsing as the extra set of hind legs shot back into his body. His tail stayed where it was, but one pair of balls, along with the sheath, retracted into his body, replaced with his chest as hand-paws snapped into place where the backwards hind paws had been. Collapsed and panting as if he had run a marathon, Wayne stretched with a low groan, popping the bones back into place. The naked skunk rolled on to his back and rubbed his face, moaning through the aches in his body. Shifting back was never a pleasant experience.

Rocking on the floor as he became accustomed to his usual form, Wayne caught a last snippet of conversation as the postal workers walked down the hall, away from his flat.

"Yeah, normal. Crazy bugger."

*

The date did not have to be cancelled. Having torn around his flat in a frenzy of cleaning, it was spotless with not a scrap of evidence remaining of the earlier 'accident'. It was simpler to call it that than a transformation. Frankly, he preferred to forget about the shifting at all. It was not a part of his life that he wanted to revisit and it was not who he was by any stretch of one's imagination.

The clock was ticking and his vixen was soon to arrive. Dressed in smart black trousers, dress shoes and a neat, pinstripe shirt, Wayne finally felt himself ready. When the doorbell rang, he rushed to answer, undoing one button on his collar - you know, just for style. The skunk smiled widely and swung open the door.

"Evening!" Tina chirped, ushering herself in the door. "How was your day then, honey?"

"Uh, well, it was great," Wayne gulped, tugging at his shirt: was it tucked in properly.

"Really?" The vixen, clad in a jaw-dropping sapphire blue dress that fell above the knee turned on the spot, a bottle of expensive wine cradled between her paws. "Because I thought you'd be needing a drink after the day you've had, darling."

"After the day...I've had?"

Wayne pursed his lips, buying time. He hadn't the faintest idea what the vixen was on about. Had he said something the night before? Entirely possible.

Unless... Oh no. Wayne took a step back, his eyes narrowed.

"What do you know?"

The warmth disappeared from his muzzle and the skunk brought a paw to his head, hoping against hope that the sinking feeling in his gut was unprecedented. Would someone really do such a thing to him? It had happened in the past...

He looked between Tina and the bottle of wine, nervously licking his lips. The vixen's eyes glinted wickedly and she tapped a finger against the side of her muzzle.

"Well, well..." Tina grinned, showing off her canines in a sly smile. "Now look who's changed their tune. You were all over me when you thought I didn't know, when you thought you could hide your dirty little secret. Don't you fancy a little more fun with me, skunk-boy?"

Wayne paled, the implications of her words sinking in. She couldn't mean... No. Tina had to be concocting a lie, something to wind him up. Yet it was not true. This was not playful flirtation. Drawing himself tall, the skunk fixed her with a steely glare, recalling the humiliation of being transformed to give himself strength. The conniving bitch.

"Not at all," he said firmly. "I think it's time you left."

Tina's smile wavered, barely noticeable.

"Not so quickly, little skunk."

Tina smirked and flicked her red tail, casting her eyes around the flat as if evaluating its potential.

"Let's play a game."