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When Jeff found himself awake at 3:00 AM, he knew in his gut something wasn't quite right. He had always slept soundly, never had any problems with insomnia... but on that night, he couldn't quite coax himself back to sleep. He looked at the digital clock on the wicker nightstand and watched it count up to 3:02, 3:03, 3:04... The green numbers glowed and shimmered in a fevered haze as he became dimly aware of a steady throbbing pain in his head. He was sweating; his auburn bangs were plastered against his forehead with cold flop sweat. "Did I catch something in town?" He muttered to himself, quite certain he was perfectly healthy when he went to bed... how long was it ago? 7 o' clock sounded right.

He wiped his brow, feeling the sweat smear like grease on his hand. He was seized by a coughing fit, which riled his headache into a drilling pain. With a low groan, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and dragged himself to his feet. There was a dot of black on the back of his hand where he wiped the sweat off, but he dismissed it as the light, he wasn't going to dignify this sudden illness with worrying.

He let out a low, groaning yawn as he shuffled into the bathroom. He didn't even bother with the light as he groped around in the medicine cabinet; taking bottle after plastic bottle out and trying to read the labels in the dark. Finally, he found a white bottle with the word 'COLD AND FLU' and breathed a murmur of relief as he got it and turned the childproof cap... and his grip slipped. He tried again, another slip. His hands were too slippery to even get a firm hold of the fine grooves on the edge of the lid. It felt like he had just shoved both his hands wrist-deep in a trough of vegetable oil.

He fumbled and fought with the wretched cap, cursing heavily under his breath, until he finally wrenched it off and dropped the black-stained cap in the sink and rattled three shiny little capsules into his palm. He popped them in dry and threw back his head and swallowed. He scratched his belly through his pajama top as he made his way back to bed, his fingernails were longer and quite a bit sharper than he had realized. He returned to his bed and was immediately greeted with a sharp pressure just above his rear, his skin felt tight... stretched out. He got up and adjusted his pajama pants until a black, glossy tail fell over the waistband.

He closed his eyes, hoping to salvage some precious REM sleep; until a strange sensation woke him back up. It felt something like a kitten standing on his chest. He opened his heavy-lidded eyes and sure enough, there was a dark shape on his chest... like a large rat. It was only there for a split-second before scurrying away into the shadows, but it was definitely there.

"Fever dream. Nothing but." Jeff mumbled as he turned over and lay on his side; he shut his eyes again... and was immediately awoken by a throbbing warmth that started in his belly and flowed down, down into his crotch. An instant later and the throbbing turned into a persistent ache, a need for release. He wiggled out of his pants and boxers and grabbed his member, shuddering under the cold sweat and the black latex that slathered out of his pores. He stroked and worked the shaft, slowly at first and then building up into a mindless frenzy. He forgot the fever and everything else but his self-abuse. He had to cum, needed to... but the more he stroked the farther away his moment of release and relief felt. His mouth, now growing into a pointed muzzle hung open, his dark-colored tongue lolling out as he took deep, panting breaths as he arched his back, thrusting his pelvis as he jerked.

Finally, the moment came and globs of oily black latex ejaculated from the head of his penis. It lay flaccid and small in his hands as he let out a low, animal groan. He was only barely aware of the rubber soaking into his skin, reshaping his body. He just laid back and rubbed the black rubber ejaculate into his skin. His male organ, having served its role in the latex's plan, drew back into his body centimeter by centimeter. Jeff's socks felt sticky and cramped so he peeled them off, letting his big feet, his long grasping toes wiggle free. He threw the black-stained socks onto the floor as he felt around his shifting nethers with his other paw...hand.

In but a moment, what was six inches became one half-inch and that half-inch pulled itself up into his body, leaving a sensitive feminine cleft that she clumsily poked and fingered at.

She... He gritted his sharp needle-like teeth as he fondled her...his self. He was certain this was just a dream. She was sure of it... why was she so confused about her gender? It was obvious she was a woman... no a man... no.

Her ears felt funny. They were ringing like she was on a high-altitude flight and they felt higher up than they were. Bigger too.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the forming of her pouch, nestled tight in her belly and waiting to be filled with cute little spawn. She had decided that she would name any girls she had Amy... no wait, this was not right.

She shook her head. Jeff, who was Jeff? This was a dream, she told herself that. It was a dream and all she had to do was to pinch herself. She took a bit of skin on her arm between her finger and thumb and squeezed, only to hear a squeak like a wet tire. She was wide awake now, sitting upright, panting.

She looked down at herself. She was now a bipedal opossum thing; covered in... no made out of glossy, smooth black latex. He tail swept back and forth on the mattress as she looked down her muzzle at her chest. Something was wrong.

She took a deep breath and focused her mind. She strained internally as the latex on her chest rippled and shifted, a pair of perky breasts bloomed from her formerly washboard-flat chest. She squeezed them in her claws, how sensitive and soft they were. They continued to grow and swell in her hands, filling up with latex-infused milk. Her hands migrated down to her hips as she felt them grow outward with her belly into a set of thick, huggable curves. She giggled in a self-satisfied way; this was her favorite body type... what was the word for it? Zaftig? That sounded right.

Jem hooked her thumb on the rim of her pouch and stretched it open, watching it snap back and send ripples all throughout her rubber body when she let go. And then her big, round ears perked up. She got up off the mattress and pulled open the window. Her body and mind were being steered by an unspoken force of instinct, she threw her body over the edge of the window and crawled down the side of the building head-first, claws digging into the vinyl siding.

She needed to mate. And if she couldn't find a mate, then she would just have to make one herself.

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