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Disclaimer – Don’t you just love it when your reality shifts into a warped parody of itself intent only on turning you into a sexy, synthetic drone? No? Then this story is definitely not for you. (This is a work of pornographic fiction. Do not read if it would be illegal for you to do so.)

Perpetual Theater

The grandiose halls of the theater seemed endless: spotless, new, and almost antiseptically clean. Plush red carpets with geometric spiraling designs spread out into the distance, the patterns seeping down to a minuscule infinity. Brass banisters rose from the floor like great acupuncture needles piercing the plush carpet, red velvet ropes draped between them. Posters hung on the walls in gilded yet simplistic frames. They all looked normal, but lacking in detail, like a copy of a copy. The halls lacked the smell of popcorn or spilled soft drinks. Instead, the air was vaguely sweet, warm and cloying.

The group of five show-goers huddled in an alcove for one of the auditoriums. The ostentatious gold and black door in front of them was locked shut, just like all the others.

“Are you sure you saw something?” Ross asked one arm wrapped around Sarah’s shoulder. They’d been going out for almost a year now, but he still tried to impress her with new places to go and things to see. The red fox was dressed in blue jeans and a loud Hawaiian shirt with pink and green tessellated flowers. He gave the rest of the group a small, almost apologetic smile. Coming to this place had been his idea, after all.

Sarah rolled her yellow, vulpine eyes. “Yes.” She stared up at Ross. Though her fur was the same orange color as her partner’s, her ensemble was muted in comparison: dark grey capris and a green turtleneck: a librarian to Ross’ beachgoer.

Her fluffy fur was disheveled, still sticking out at odd angles.

“Look, it was like someone in a straightjacket, but the arms were like . . . dragging behind them. They were coming straight for us.” She shuddered.

“Maybe they were just in costume for an escape room or something . . .” Ben mused. The tawny bobcat was the least dressed up amongst them, wearing khaki shorts and a white T-shirt that read ‘Tell My WIFI I Love Her.’

The short and stocky, dusty colored feline checked the wrought door again. It didn’t even so much as shake as he pulled. The gold handle felt oddly warm in his paw. “Are we sure this place is even open?” he asked the others.

“It wasn’t a costume.” Sarah scowled at Ben’s back. The bobcat was Ross’ friend, but she had never really understood why. He overanalyzed everything. “You saw it too, right Jen?”

The lanky doe leaning against the wall looked up from her nails. “I saw something. I don’t know. You grabbed me before I could get a look,” she answered with an air of bored detachment. Her white tail poked from the back of her tight jean shorts, red halter top leaving little to the imagination. “Sounds freaky as hell though,” she shrugged. “Let’s just get out of here. This place sucks.”

“It is kind of weird though,” Tina chimed in. The badger looked like an extra from some bygone musical, her heavy frame draped in a branch and cherry blossom linen skirt and a ruffled white blouse. “It feels like we should already be at the back exit. It didn’t seem this big on the outside.”

Everyone nodded. Driving here, none of them had expected such an opulent neon building so far outside of the city. It looked like it had just burst from the ground in fully formed, art deco glory. There were no telephone poles or anything connecting it to the rest of the world, just a clear line where the forest suddenly turned to asphalt.

“Yeah . . .” Ross nodded. Maybe we’re underground?” He looked up at the ornate blown glass chandeliers hanging from the high molded ceilings.

“I don’t remember going down any stairs.” Jennifer stashed her emery board in her purse. “Did they even tell us what theater we’re supposed to go to?”

“Sure they did,” Ross responded, still hugging and rocking with Sarah. “It was just . . .” He licked at one of his sharp canines as he thought. “Ben? I’m sure you remember.”

“Not really.” Ben scratched his chin “We parked the car and walked in . . .”

“I had a coupon,” Ross recalled suddenly. “From the paper. We got a good deal.” He tried to replay the thoughts in his mind, but it felt all jumbled. He remembered being surprised by the polish and the sweet smell. “It was a promotion, because this place is new.” The details felt hazy, but he was sure they’d received some kind of bargain. They were lucky to be here.

“But what kind of theater is this?” Tina asked. “If they do live shows, this is . . . she looked down the hallway, dark eyes losing focus slightly as they followed the complex pattern of the carpet and the repeating pools of light from the chandeliers. It felt like she was falling for a moment, sliding down a twisting, brightly polished hole that closed in on her from every angle. She staggered back into Ben who caught her and looked at the others with a raised brow.

“Sorry,” Tina stammered, blushing as the others looked at her. “I just think we should get out of here,” the badger finished, stepping forwards and straightening the sleeves of her blouse.

“Alright, let’s just keep going. We can slip out the back.” Ross unclasped Sarah, looked at his friends, and nodded. “Sorry this place is kind of weird. I thought it would be cooler.”

He peered outside of their cramped alcove around the door to their auditorium, looking either way down the hallway. Both possibilities looked the same, each path ending in a 90-degree angle: not another person in sight.

Ross checked his watch. It read three in the morning, but that couldn’t be right. They hadn’t been there that long . . . He shook his wrist up near his ear and sighed before walking out into the hallway like an elk moving from the safety of the forest into an open field.

“It’s kind of a weird aesthetic.” He looked at one of the framed movie posters. The background was a slanted cityscape with beams of yellow streetlights. The figures embracing under them were not what he expected though. Two matte humanoid figures with no details: blank pointed muzzles with no eyes. They weren’t even wearing any other clothes, just skintight paleness. Although they were positioned like lovers, there was no passion, like they had copied movie poses without understanding the meaning.

“Like, super high art . . .” Ross looked down the hall. All the posters had the same faceless figures, always in blank solid black or white, like they were holding the place for actual stars.

“Yeah.” Ben walked up next to him, trying to make out the title: “W@e#l$c%o^m&e”. The letters seemed to twist around. As soon as he was almost sure what a letter was, he took his eyes away and lost it. “It must be European.” He mused. “I bet this stuff is really pretentious.” He shook his head, rubbing his eyes as if the process had exhausted him.

Sarah took a deep breath, the cloying spiced odor of the place making her lungs tingle. “Okay, let’s just leave.” She looked either way down the empty, yawning hallway. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

They all stepped out onto the plush red carpet, making their way down the hall as all the blank figures on the posters seemed to follow them with eyeless gazes.

Ben let one of his fingers trace along a red velvet rope, following the curve down and up to the next banister. Where the red velvet had been in the usual blocky spirals for queuing before, they now seemed less deliberate, draped about the middle of the hall as well like the stringy insides pulled from a pumpkin.

They rounded the corner. Another yawning hallway opened before them, full of bright hanging chandeliers, velvet ropes, movie posters, and closed auditorium doors.

Ben paused and scratched his head. “Are we going the right way?”

“There’s only two ways. We’re going to end up at the front or back.” Ross shrugged. “It’s hard to tell though.”

The posters were even harder to understand, the specific backdrops abandoned for geometric swaths of color and the movie titles even harder to comprehend. One featured two faceless white mannequins peering out intently from a jagged grey and yellow background. A twisting title hung above them: “ u^o)y e_r+a d}e/t~na$w ”

Tina stopped to look up at it, eyes glazing over. It almost made sense, the symbols containing meaning in the corner of her vision, but then falling apart when she focused on them. She wanted to understand, and felt like she was so close.

“Come on.” Sarah pulled on the badger’s heavy hand, physically pulling her away from the strange poster. Tina blinked a few times like her eyes were readjusting to the brightness of the hallway, but she followed wordlessly.

“Hold up.” Jennifer stopped in the middle of the hallway and pointed one trembling, manicured finger back towards the rest of the group. “What the fuck is that?”

“What do you mean?” Ross turned around with the group and went silent.

A black-taloned foot rounded the corner, claws digging into the plush carpet. The faceless seven-foot-tall bird-thing’s sealed beak whipped towards them. Instead of wings, its arms were draped twisting tubes and tendrils, writhing in a mass that dragged along on the floor behind it like the loose arms of a straightjacket. It inclined it’s head up and six jets of curling smoke arose from holes in its beak with a hiss before it leaned down and began to lumber at the group, moving like a wriggling lure pulled along by a line.

The silence was broken by Sarah’s high-pitched shriek. “Run!” she screamed, tail fluffing up as every instinct in her body told her that she needed to get away from that thing. Her grip tightened on Tina’s hand as she pulled the badger along with her, pulse pounding in her ears.

Ross and Jen dashed after them, but Ben paused for a moment. This had to be some kind of trick, some kind of movie magic. The more he stared, the more he felt unable to look away. Its twisted wings trailed behind it, writhing mass twisting together and pulling apart almost like the words on the posters. His breath caught in his throat with a gasp, a resumption of biological need before he turned and fled with the others.

They dashed past the next corner, turning left to another hallway. Sarah spun to look behind them, but the bird-thing was already rounding the corner, talon stepping around and dragging its body exactly as it had done before.

The posters that whizzed by on the walls were now all the same image, white statuesque figures standing at perfect attention as the black oily background seeped over their bodies in crawling tendrils. The text below them breaking apart as the meaning seemed to be leaking out: “R"}u_)o*&y W&^o%$h+=s”

Raw terror boiled in their bodies, their breaths coming out ragged as the group continued to flee. The maze of velvet ropes pulled in around them, perpetually in their way. Sarah pulled one up, feeling it pulse as she held it there for everyone else to run under.

On the other side of the divider, one of the auditorium’s gold and black doors hung open, the dimness from the inside contrasting to the bright light in the hall that reflected off the smooth bird-thing’s writhing body.

“In here,” Jen called back, long strides carrying her towards the open door.

“What if it’s a dead end?” Tina panted, darting easily under the red rope.

“We can block the door,” Ben hissed as he followed Jen through. “Just come on.” He held the door for Tina and then Ross.

Sarah dropped the red rope and made to follow them, but something caught her foot and the red black swirl of the carpet spiraled towards her. She careened forwards with a shout, watching the door slam shut in front of her.

She flipped onto her back, dragging herself away from the bird-creature as it seeped closer. A warm inky tendril snaked up her leg. She kicked at it, but the thing made no indication it had felt anything. Her claws dug furrows in the carpet as she tried to pull herself away, but the creature slumped forwards, long awkward wings draping down over her like a net as she screamed. She could feel the tendrils pulsing, wrapping around her waist and arms, coiling around her neck. The writhing mass lifted her up, hanging Sarah upside down so that the maze-like carpet pattern swam in her vision.

She snarled and tried to bite down at one of the tendrils curling under her chin, but her vulpine fangs couldn’t pierce the bitter, rubbery material as it seeped between her teeth. She felt the tendrils tense all around her, her living cocoon swelling before the end of the black tentacle pressing into her mouth hissed out a warm cloud of smoke directly into her jaws. Despite her terror, she tasted sweet clove and burnt oak, the swirling sensation seeping into her mind, relaxing her taut body.

Shaking herself out of the daze, she tried to scream again, but it came out as a groaning hack as black creeping tendrils encircled her muzzle, locking it around the tube shoved between her lips.

The carpet jerked and began to slide in her smoke obscured vision. The beast’s great avian talons strode forwards, carrying her weight easily. Her struggles just made the bindings pull tighter around her, contorting to her form, hugging her waist and shoulders. They slid between her toes and fingers and plastered her pointed ears back against her skull. The only part of her that could move was her chest. As they plugged the fox’s nose, she was forced to draw in another smoky breath, lungs hitching, breath coming out in a hazy cough. She blinked and the carpet shifted radically. Her breasts creaked out against her bindings as she took another breath, feeling sleepy, the warmth of the smoke billowing along the creases of her mind.

A door creaked open as the carpet ended and Sarah drifted off into billowing black dreams.

* * *

“Sarah!” Ross shouted, hammering at the door with his fists. “Goddamn it!”

Jen raised a finger to her bright pink lips and hissed back at him, kneeling behind the last row of seats in the auditorium.

“We have to let her in. We have to . . .” Panic rose in Ross’ voice as he rammed his shoulder into the door, wincing as he crashed into it without any evident effect. He was in reasonable shape, but the door was like an iron slab. He couldn’t even see a lock on it . . .

A heavy clawed hand grabbed his shoulder, and he spun around, fur bristling. Tina looked up at him, dark eyes magnified by her round glasses as she raised a finger to her lips and pointed to the stage. The rest of the group peeked out from behind the seats to watch.

Beyond the dimly lit rows of seats, a spotlight illuminated an island framed by dark maroon curtains behind it. Four completely white figures lounged around a gently smoking central pillar, resting on glossy velvet cushions and carpets with opulent brocade. Silver trays of food and neatly arranged bottles sat between them. They looked like the figures from the posters, synthetic bodies lacking any detail: no eyes, no mouth, no fur, just smooth white in the shape of a person, like a blank template awaiting further customization. The figures looked female, with wide hips and taut featureless breasts. Each had a stubby tail. They draped themselves against the cushions in exaggerated poses. It looked like they were having a conversation, but the stage remained completely silent.

“If this is a show, I’m going to find out what the fuck is going on.” Ross stood up, hands clenched into fists.

Jen grabbed a handful of his loud shirt and pulled him back down. “Hold up. How do we know that these things aren’t like that fucking monster was?” She whispered urgently. “Maybe we shouldn’t let them know exactly where we are.”

“They look different though,” Ben pointed out, still panting from their chase, hand clenched over his heaving chest. “Like, this could all be some kind of performance art, I mean, look, they’re not actually eating. It’s just an act.” He pointed at the stage again. One of the blank females hung a bunch of grapes over its mouth while one of the others mimed drinking from a sealed glass bottle.

“Do you really think that bird . . . thing was an act?” Tina wrapped her arms around herself as she watched. The central pillar in the middle of the stage was about four feet high, three rounded black bulbs divided by two jeweled golden bands in the middle. One of the “actors” with a slightly longer tail reached in and pulled a mouthpiece on a woven hose from the large hookah’s bottom bulge, holding it up to its face where lips should be. A small hiss escaped before a curling plume of smoke jolted out against its muzzle. Although it had no expressions, the blank figure seemed pleased by this, rolling the mouthpiece in its fingers.

Jen’s tongue slipped out over her glossy lips as her eyes fixed on that mouthpiece.

“I mean, it looked real, but it couldn’t be, right?” Ben leaned out over the seats, scrutinizing the performance. “I mean, some dry ice, stilts, a bit of animatronics . . . I bet Sarah’s like, in a cast room having a drink with the actors right now.”

“It didn’t feel fake though . . .” Tina mused, also unable to draw her gaze away from the bizarre performance.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Ross tried to implore his friends, but their eyes all fixated on the strange show. “Look at me!” he hissed.

His friends tore their gazes away from the stage. Jen rolled her eyes as they sat secluded on the floor in the dark.

“We can’t just sit here. Either those . . . actors can help us, or otherwise, at least we’ll know whose side they’re on.” His tail lashed behind him against the perfectly clean carpet. “We’ve got to go find Sarah.”

With that he stood up before Jen could pull him down again.

“Excuse me,” Ross cleared his throat as he walked towards the aisle like a member of the show’s audience seeking a refund. “I think we’re lost, and we just got separated from my girlfriend by some asshole in a bird costume. Could you tell us what the fuck is going on?”

All of the actors stopped moving as one, their non-faces swiveling around to face him.

“Yeah, sorry to interrupt, but . . . hey!” Ross shouted as each of the four figures rose like someone falling played in reverse. Without a word, they began walking towards the heavy, rusty red curtain lining the back wall.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Ross shouted, running towards the stage as the figures each approached the curtain, each pulling it aside and walking behind it with mechanical efficiency.

The fox’s orange tail and fluorescent shirt blazed in the spotlight as he rushed onto the stage, dashing over to the heavy velvet curtain covering the back of the stage. He lifted up the heavy hem and tried to push himself under to follow the featureless actors, but bounced back, muzzle stinging as he ran into a featureless black wall. His pulse rang in his ears along with some other noise, some thudding that thrummed outside of his body, the impassable barrier seeming to throb against the palm of his hand. The wall was seamless; just a warm featureless plane.

“What the fuck . . .” Ross swore, rustling around behind the curtain as his friends walked up on the stage to join him, checking the wall, but unable to find any other exits . . .

* * *

The cocoon of tendrils pulsed around Sarah, smoke rushing into her lungs. Her breasts pressed out, bra feeling uncomfortable as she writhed against the cloistering strands. Her world lurched as the writing mass lifted up, going from upside down to horizontal. She felt the wings unraveling under her back, and gasped in as she fell, smoke cramming into her lungs as she wheezed, eyes watering. Bushy tail flailing, she dropped onto a pile of cushions and woven rugs in a huge, dim square of a room.

The tendril in her mouth slipped back from her lips and she coughed, hand over her chest as plumes of oddly cohesive wispy whiteness poured forth from her lips. She recoiled, seeing something dark smoking in front of her, but as her eyes focused in the dimness, she could see it was smaller than the bird, a strange rounded hookah sitting in front of her.

Sarah whipped around, looking up to see the bird leering down at her. She wheezed, coughing up one last cloud of smoke before it turned, seemingly uninterested as it trudged away from her. She tried to stand up, but was still dizzy, trying to scrabble away from it. The creature wandered over to one of the blank walls, breathing six last sighs of smoke from its perforated beak before shuddering and stopping completely, wing tendrils hanging limp against the bare black floor.

She fell forwards onto her hands, panting as the last thin wisps of smoke from her mouth passed before her vision. Sarah wrinkled her nose, coughing as she tried to take another breath, but even as she breathed in, she didn’t get any relief. It was like her lungs were working, but the air wasn’t right, like breathing in a sauna. Sarah coughed again, body convulsing. She pushed herself shakily up to her knees and looked back at the bird-creature. It remained in the exact same position, like some kind of horrifying statue one might see at the wax works.

The fox looked around herself, but it was hard to see anything except the hookah in the middle of the room. There had to be a door. Her thoughts swam as she shakily tried to stand, brain feeling sluggish, lungs burning. She just needed to think for one moment. She fell back onto the cushions, her muzzle inches away from the mouthpiece of the hookah. The fox’s whiskers twitched, her lungs hitching as she smelled something that pulled her from her stupor. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla felt like it was seeping up from her nose into her brain, pulling her closer.

With her body still splayed out, Sarah raised her arm, limb moving like it was being winched up with a crank. Her fingers felt the warmth of the rounded tip of the silver mouthpiece as she wrapped her hand around it. She coughed again, shuddering as she dragged the mouthpiece back to her lips. The hookah clicked before a serpentine yellow and black woven cord spooled out from inside of it. The pipe clacked against her teeth as she salivated, nose drinking in that addictive scent before she wrapped her lips around it and sucked in.

Sarah’s eyes flew wide as the delicious smoke rushed into her lungs. She barely needed to breathe in, the hookah spilling the smoke into her throat, chest rising under her turtleneck. The tendrils of smoke that leaked from her nose made her imagine the same smoke seeping inside of her, rolling up from her lungs into her mind.

It felt amazing. her thighs rubbed together, edges of her pussy hypersensitive as they brushed against the smooth satin of her black underwear. She pulled back the pipe and sat up, room reeling as she breathed out a huge curling spire of smoke. It just kept coming, a moist patch appearing on the crotch of her capris as she let the smoke lose into the dim world. The sensation made her shiver, fur brushing up before she shook her head.

The smoke felt good. She was almost proud of it.

The fox looked down at the mouthpiece in her hand and dropped it. She didn’t have time for this. She needed to get out of this room. She needed to find Ross and get him out of here. But first, she had to make sure of something . . .

Sarah groaned and wheezed, coughing as she got up and dragged herself step by step to where the bird thing stood motionless next to the wall. She poked it and stepped back, waiting for it to spring to life, but aside from making some of its wing-tendrils swing slowly in the still air, it didn’t budge. She kicked it, foot bouncing off of its rubbery avian legs. She tried raking her claws over it, but it was just too tough . . . whatever it was. She needed a weapon.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she bent double. She could smell the smoke of the thing from this close to it. It made her want to lean in. She found herself licking her lips before she yanked herself away from the monster. She couldn’t explain why she’d moved in so close. She closed her eyes and tried to think. She needed to get out, but the walls of this place were painted black, disappearing in the darkness away from the central hookah. She looked up, but couldn’t even see a ceiling, just darkness extending up endlessly on all four sides.

What was this place?

She staggered into the darkness across from the looming hulk of the bird creature, vulpine eyes pulling into slits. It was so dark. She turned back, able to see the hookah and the faint outline of the black bird-thing. She pressed a hand out, wheezing as she ran into the warm, smooth wall. She could feel her heartbeat in the pads of her fingertips as she dragged them across the blank surface. After a few steps, Sarah staggered, wheezing. She couldn’t get a good breath. Her lungs felt raw and empty. She turned and slumped against the wall, vision swimming.

She needed more smoke, the phantom taste of sweet spices dancing on her tongue.

Licking her lips slowly, Sarah looked back towards the two dark bulges of the strange pipe. She tried to think of something else: Ross, fixing his image in her mind, thinking about his scent, imagining his soft fur brushing against her own. She moaned, one hand slipping between her legs, absentmindedly grinding at her crotch through her capris. Sarah shuddered and wheezed, feeling her warmth pulse against her fingers.

She needed him.

In her mind’s eye, she could imagine his hand cupping under her breasts as she squeezed through her shirt, breath creaking out. Her bust felt strange in her grip, pleasure blossoming in her chest. Her breasts felt bigger, straining against her bra, but also, they seemed firmer, taking a moment longer to sag as she let go. She coughed, feeling her flesh tighten under her fingers. Wheezing, she looked back to the hookah in the middle of the endless darkness.

Sarah took a wobbling step towards the cushions, but her body felt so heavy. She fell to her hands and knees, each breath feeling like she was sucking in air through a thick blanket. She just needed one more puff, just to think straight for a second. All she could focus on was dragging her body along, but it was so far away. Her vision swam, redness creeping in at the shadowy edges of the room. It was hard to tell if she was more frightened of how hard it was to breathe, or that she might not ever feel the rush of smoke in her lungs ever again.

Maybe it was better this way, Sarah groggily mused, collapsing on her side, still a few feet from the cushions. Maybe she just needed to rest . . .

She embraced sleep, but still couldn’t help but remember the saccharine smoke as she passed out on the floor, one arm stretched towards the mouthpiece of the hookah.

* * *

Jen’s polished fingernails clacked off the glossy silver of the mouthpiece of the strange hookah, twisting it as it glittered in the spotlight. The weird hookah was actually kind of pretty in a strange way, three dwindling bulbs divided by jeweled bands, each encrusted with what looked like rubies and sapphires. She sighed, leaning back against the cushions as the rest of her group frantically searched the auditorium for exits. It was a pretty small place though, and the door they had come through was locked up tight.

The doe shook her head. Worrying more wasn’t going to solve the problem.

She felt a small click as she tugged on the mouthpiece, a black and turquoise woven cord spooling out. She leaned in and gave it a quizzical sniff. It smelled sweeter than just the tobacco she was used to from cigarettes, but regardless, made her lick her lips. It felt like it had been ages since she last had a puff. It really was a shame you weren’t allowed to smoke inside anymore.

She mused to herself. This all had to be some kind of cruel joke. It smacked of someone’s pet project gone wrong. It reminded her of all the drama kids that had gone to her high school, thinking that normal people cared about their weird avant garde shit.

Why would anyone bother when they had TV? she thought, laying back on the cushions and bringing the mouthpiece up to her lips. She breathed in tentatively at first, but almost immediately changed to a deep swig as the heat and flavor of cloves and coffee flooded into her senses. It was like she was lifted off the pillows, the smoke filling her up as she melted back against the elaborate cushion under her. As she exhaled, twin spirals of smoke trickled forth from her nostrils. She watched it trail up into the dimness with a small giggle before taking another drag and closing her long-lashed eyes, letting the warmth envelop her as she dozed off.

“Hey!” Jen’s eyes opened as Ross shook her gently by the shoulder. “Are you okay?” the fox asked.

Jen blinked, groggily stretching her neck to each side with a pop. “Yeah. It’s just a hookah.” She lifted the glittering silver mouthpiece to her lips and took another drag. “It’s good shit though.” She smiled and let the smoke leak out between her teeth.

The doe yawned. “Did you guys find the drama nerds?”

“There’s nothing in here,” Ben shook his head, claws curling against his padded palms. “Like no fire exits, no stage doors, no catwalks. This place is like a million OSHA violations waiting to happen.”

“We tried breaking down the door we came in,” Ross added. “It’s . . . stronger than I am, and the hinges are set in the frame.” He rubbed his shoulder and winced.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Tina sat demurely on the cushions next to Jen, pointing at the mouthpiece clutched in her hands. “Is it safe?”

“Of course, it’s safe.” Jen took another puff, as if to prove her point. “This isn’t some weird FBI shit. This is just a bunch of drama assholes doing weird shit,” she giggled, breathing out a stream of smoke. “Like, we’re probably just a test run for some weird show they’re doing.” She handed the flute-like gilded mouthpiece to Tina, resting her elbows back on the cushions on either side of her.

“Well if this is some kind of trick then whoever is doing it had better let us the fuck out before we call the police!” Ross shouted, voice echoing around the small, empty auditorium. He held his palms open to his sides as if awaiting a response from the empty gallery.

The only response was silence, followed by Tina’s dainty coughs as she tentatively tried a drag from the hookah.

“Whatever,” Ross huffed. “You guys can take a break if you need to, but I’m finding a way out of here.” The fox scowled, stomping down into the isles, peering below the folded seats.

“Do you think the food’s safe?” Ben sat down, eying the silver platter piled with blueberries, grapes, and cherries. They shone almost like the scintillating, round-cut gems set in the hookah, colors bright and attractive.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jen shrugged. “Look, if these assholes wanted to hurt us, they would have just done it already. They’re just fucking with us.”

Ben brought a small berry up to his muzzle and sniffed it, shrugging before popping it into his mouth. The sweet tart flavor of fresh fruit dissolved on his tongue, coating his taste buds in warmth. His tufted ears perked up and he popped another perfectly rounded fruit into his mouth. “Alright, yeah. These are pretty good. Super juicy.” He crushed the tender fruit with his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting the thick juice trickle down around the insides of his cheeks, making his skin tingle pleasantly.

Tina coughed, snorting out a small wheeze of white smoke. “Ugh. How do you stand this stuff?” She handed the mouthpiece back to Jen, wiping her face against her crisp white sleeve. She grabbed one of the red-labeled clear glass bottles next to the fruit tray and rolled it in her fingers, squinting at the text. “What is this stuff?” Coughing, she wrenched off the cap, leading to a hiss of carbonation and a faint white mist billowing at the top of the bottle.

“Looks foreign,” Ben shrugged, squinting at the bottle. “Not French, but . . . like Czech?” The words seemed to run together just like the clear liquid behind them. “How is it?” He asked as Tina coughed again and raised the bottle to her thin black lips.

The badger took a sniff before she took a sip, head turning to the side as she considered. It tasted like sparkling water, but the effervescence had a flavor all its own, a sweet blush with hints of rosemary and cedar that tingled up into her sinuses, fizzing around the edges of her mind. It reminded her of the smoke from the strange hookah, making her reconsider her previous experience. She watched Jen take a puff, the Doe’s chest expanding, straining against her tight top. Tina had always thought Jen was the most attractive in their group, but the languorous pose made her irresistible. Tina’s head turned to the side, her tongue lapping out absentmindedly around the edges of the bottle she held in her white-knuckled grip.

“Tina?” Ben reached over and jostled her shoulder gracelessly.

“What?” Tina shook her head, a small hissing belch escaping her lips, a blush fluffing up on her dark-furred cheeks.

“How’s the water?” the bobcat asked again.

“Oh, it’s good.” Tina nodded. “It’s like a club soda, but the bubbles are . . . just really great,” she replied without elaboration. She readjusted herself on her cushion, folding her dress between her legs.

Tina passed the bottle to Ben as Jen passed her the hose to the hookah again nonchalantly. Tina held the warm gilt handle against her chest as she watched Jen exhale a cloud of smoke, breasts heaving against her tight, carmine top. The badger absentmindedly brought the mouthpiece to her lips, drawing in a sharp squeak of breath as she watched Jen pluck a grape off the silver platter and pop it into her lips, chewing with a small groan of pleasure, throat bobbing as she swallowed.

The rush of smoke was easier to hold in, and Tina let the hazy static feeling prickle at her insides, eyes falling half-lidded as she exhaled, body loosening up as if the smoke she blew out was tension itself.

“So . . . what is it?” Ben asked, looking over as Tina took in another full lungful of smoke.

The badger hiccoughed as her lungs expanded.

“It’s a hookah,” Jen laughed, popping another grape into her mouth.

“I know that,” Ben rolled his eyes. “But what’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” Tina wheezed out, smoke seeping from her dark lips. “It’s good though.” She handed him the mouthpiece, tracing one of her fingertips down along the woven line connecting it to the dark rounded bulge of the hookah.

“Hmm . . .” He held up the mouthpiece in the light. “It’s pretty fancy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, this is classy as fuck.” Jen giggled, letting her head loll back against her shoulder as she watched the chunky bobcat take an experimental drag.

His eyes went wide, ears perking up as the warm wave of silky sweet smoke settled inside of him. With the mouthpiece still in his lips, he breathed out the smoke through his nose and took another drag, chest creaking out, belly pressed against his white t-shirt.

“I don’t get what the fuck they’re trying to do here,” Jen continued. “Like, if this is just some weird advertising stunt, why not have more people?” She fished absentmindedly behind her head for the mouthpiece.

Ben reluctantly lowered the scepter-like rod into her grasp. He licked his lips, shorts feeling significantly tighter as he watched her wrap her plump lips around the rounded silver pipe. Her back arched and her breasts strained out, stiff nipples visible through the stretched red fabric of her top. She let the smoke out in a steady stream, breathing out for slightly longer than she had breathed in for.

“Like, if it was me. I’d sell this shit the same way they advertise perfume in the mall.” She took in another deep drag with a faint sound under the burbling of the hookah like the sound of a guitar string tightening. The doe puffed out a cloud in Tina’s direction. “Try our new scent miss?” she giggled, watching the badger grin and breathe in the heavy spiced haze.

It felt strangely rewarding watching her friend breathe in the swirling smoke in deep hungry breaths. Jen handed over the mouthpiece and watched Tina bring it up to her lips. Her thighs clenched and a strange knot rose in her stomach as she watched her friend suck in a warm pillow of smoldering pleasure. A new wisp of smoke seeped from the doe’s lips as she imagined doling out the scent herself, the smell of smoke in her nostrils slightly different, more floral with hints of lavender. She let one hand slide between her legs, long thin fingers rubbing against her jean shorts as Tina blew out a wispy plume. The badger handed the pipe to Ben before swigging down the last of her bottle of water, letting out a satisfied belch before covering her mouth with her paw self-consciously.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Ben laughed with a wheeze before taking another breath of the ambrosial smoke, letting it dance over his lungs as he watched Jen shamelessly rub against herself, thighs splayed apart as one hand cradled one of her heavy breasts. She’d always been good looking, but now he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. “You look like a porn star or something,” he giggled.

Tina joined in the laughter almost nervously as she adjusted her dress and held a paw to her chest.

“You’re not too shabby yourself.” Jen winked over at the bobcat, her breaths coming in short, uncomfortable pants. She could almost feel his eyes on her like a physical presence. She’d never considered fooling around with Ben, but now his gaze made her insides blaze with heat, lungs quivering as she bathed in the attention. She wheezed, unable to get a full breath, letting her open hand fall back. Her bra felt uncomfortable, like the center bridge between the cups was digging against her chest. In the back of her mind, a strange sense of unease rose, like there was something she was forgetting, like she was about to say something obvious but completely forgot what it was.

Ben watched intently, popping blueberries into his maw like popcorn, barely chewing as Jen took the proffered mouthpiece and took another heavy slug, sucking in more smoke like a professional.

Jen’s niggling sense of tension melted away under the deluge of scented smoke. She exhaled in a relieved hiss. Her breasts creaked, bra strap digging in as she sucked in another lungful of refreshing, tingling smoke. She fished around under the back of her shirt, popping the clasp of her bra strap open, breasts still standing out taut under her shirt as she sighed out, this time the smoke streaming for even longer, as if she was breathing out far more smoke than she took in. It felt good though, good to let her smoke out, to help make her friends more comfortable. She felt like she could stay here forever in hazy harmony.

Jen dazedly watched Tina pop the cap off another bottle, wishing that the badger’s delicate lips were sucking on her instead of the rounded glass. Tina’s paw covering her mouth did little to stifle her throaty burp after she polished off half the pleasantly essenced sparkling water. The doe passed the mouthpiece over like she was offering a part of herself, watching Tina hiccough as she took another puff. Jen lazily took a swig of the bubbly water as well, feeling the static prickle against her throat, leaving the crisp taste of rosemary on her palate. It only made her want to take another puff, envy and pride wrestling inside of her as she watched Tina hold the smoke inside of herself, dark eyes watering behind her glasses before she exhaled and passed the pipe to Ben.

A heavy thud made their heads all swivel to the front of the stage as Ross swung himself up onto the painted black plateau. He was disheveled, loud shirt wrinkled, but had not so much as a spot of dust evident on his clothes.

“Any luck?” Ben exhaled a curl of smoke to accentuate the question.

Ross sighed and mussed up the fur on his cheeks. “No. All the seats are bolted to the floor, the door’s still locked, I don’t know what happened to Sarah, and I can’t find any way to get up to the lights. Maybe they’re automatic . . . I don’t know!” He growled, clenching his hands into fists. “None of this makes sense.”

“Well . . . shit.” Ben wheezed with a nervous chuckle, grabbing a few cherries and munching on them as he passed the pipe back to Jen, who snatched the line like it was going to save her from drowning.

“So, the food must be safe?” Ross sighed.

“Of course, it’s safe,” Jen rolled her eyes and took a long drag from the mouthpiece. Her bust rose tight against her shirt.

Ross watched, head turning to the side. It didn’t look right. The doe breathed in for too long, and her breasts, while she’d always presented them, he never remembered them looking that . . . pronounced. The fox knelt down next to her, looking into her dark contented eyes. “Jennifer, are you alright?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” She breathed a burst of smoke out right into Ross’ inquiring face. He pulled back, but not before inhaling, drawing in some of the warm spiced smoke. His lungs tingled, and he let out a small cough.

“Here, give it a try.” Jen pressed the mouthpiece against Ross’ lips. She shuddered as she watched him take in a surprised breath, thighs rubbing together as heat radiated from her crotch. Sharing the smoke was the most rewarding thing she had ever done.

“Whoever trapped us here . . .” Tina chimed in, handing Ross an opened bottle of seltzer. “We can’t really do much until they come back.” Her breath quickened as she watched the fox cough out the smoke and take a swig from the bottle. The way his tongue folded along the bottom of the molded glass made her insides tingle. She took another drink herself and blushed as she let out a deep, airy belch.

“Yeah. We figure this is some kind of marketing thing.” Ben slid the platter of fruit towards Ross as the fox fell heavily back onto a plush cushion. “Like some promotion for a movie kind of dealie.” He watched intently as Ross picked up a few berries and tossed them into his muzzle, the feline running his rough tongue over the roof of his mouth.

“This stuff tastes kind of weird . . .” Ross mused as he chewed.

“Are you sure? Try a grape instead.” Ben plucked up a grape and popped it into Ross’ lips before he had time to protest. The bobcat watched almost too closely as Ross chewed and swallowed.

Ross tried to remember what had been strange about the blueberries. There had been a sort of vinyl taste, some artificial note that shouldn’t be there. But the sweetness of the perfectly rounded purple grape made it hard to remember. In fact, it was one of the better grapes that Ross had encountered, the tartness balanced out by an almost savory depth that reminded him of the hookah. He leaned back, eyes looking up at the curling smoke as Jen breathed out a whirling plume that dissolved into the darkness.

There was something about it that was off, the smoke wafting into the air, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hey, don’t worry about Sarah. She’s a smart one. I’m sure she’s making the best of it. Heck, maybe she’s getting treated even better than we are.” Jen wheezed out a smoky laugh before leaning over, offering him the pipe again. Ross took it and breathed in a slow drag. Maybe she was right. He couldn’t shake the feeling that relaxing was the wrong way to proceed though.

“Yeah. No use worrying too much,” Ben chipped in, offering Ross a few more grapes.

Tina nodded along, sliding Ross another bottle of sparkling water.

Ross’ mind swam, the warmth of the smoke rolling up through his lungs and spreading out, releasing the tension in his body. It felt like his panic at being trapped in the theater had been ages ago, in a different time. His eyes almost closed.

He did need a break.

In that liminal space just before closing his eyes completely, he saw Jen still breathing out smoke, even though he clutched the mouthpiece in his paw. Maybe it was just some sort of party trick. But he had to admit, it was kind of a hot one. Jen was just Sarah’s friend, but as he rubbed his fingers over the mouthpiece and watched her blow out a diffuse stream of smoky laughter, he couldn’t help but find her attractive. He even saw Ben and Tina in a new light, Tina giggling and slurping in gulps of sparkling water and Ben tossing cherries back into his mouth, both of them confident, happy, satisfied . . .

But things still felt off.

Ross closed his eyes, almost nodding off right there, feeling the room start to drift around him as he thought idly, disconcerting thoughts pushed to the edge of his mind.

Weren’t cherries supposed to have pits?

* * *

Sarah drifted in the darkness of her dreams. She felt cold and empty, reaching out for something to latch onto, but she remained unmoored, falling like a cotton ball down a well. But she landed on something soft, and warm, and comforting. Ross’s arms wrapped around her, just like they were lying in bed at home, anchoring her from the drifting aimlessness. She tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come.

Her throat was parched.

Something was wrong.

His paws comforted her, one wrapped protectively around her taut breasts while the other slid up towards her muzzle. She could smell him, the warm sandy scent of his fur and a heady sandalwood and clove musk that drove her wild, making her lungs tingle and limbs tense. She needed him.

Had he always smelled so good?

His finger felt smooth and warm as it traced up the side of her muzzle. She couldn’t help herself. She sucked in and the warmth of her boyfriend blossomed in her lungs, his arm feeling tighter against her bust. It made her horny, heat radiating out from her crotch. The warm spice tingled in her chest, comforting her. He was with her, inside and out, but she needed more, sucking in harder, realizing that his finger felt smooth and hard in her jaws.

Was that wrong though? She couldn’t quite place why.

Wasn’t it nice to be cared for? Didn’t she want to share that feeling?

Her body flushed with warmth as she opened her yellow eyes, looking up into the dimness of the same square prison through a curling pillar of white smoke that fluttered away as she coughed. She looked down at her body, and thought she saw more smoke, but the whiteness was more solid.

Smooth, slim-fingered white hands draped over her bare chest. She tried to shake the grogginess from her head, wondering when her breasts had gotten so pronounced, where her heavy turtleneck had gone, and where the white hands had come from before they both pressed down.

Sparks of pleasure danced in her vision, her skin distending under the thin fingers. She swore she could see the smoke swirling inside of herself. Her throat bulged, something rising within her. Another white, glossy hand reached down between her legs, fingers tracing over the edges of her puffy labia like they were applying coats of lacquer. Her jaw hung open in surprise as she breathed out a billowing cloud of smoke. The hands pressed in, forcing more of the sweet smoke from her as she moaned.

It didn’t smell like Ross. It smelled like her. Hints of rose and cinnamon stuck to the insides of her nose.

Sarah looked to the side, eyes flying wide at the blank, statue-like face, its rubbery, featureless breasts pressed against her shoulder. She tried to pull away toward the other side, but there was another blank face. Other than a slightly slimmer muzzle, the figures were identical, like every defining feature had been doused in whiteout, removing every imperfection, but also anything other than the vague shape of a person.

“What . . .” she wheezed in a breath, trying to piece her jumbled thoughts together. It was harder to breathe than she expected.

Was this still a dream?

“What are you do . . .” She was interrupted as the figure on her right pressed the hookah mouthpiece between her lips.

Sarah didn’t even think before drawing in a breath, eyelids drooping as her chest expanded. Both attendants rubbed at her exaggerated bust, fingers sinking against her flesh, impressions tracing behind them. The division between her breasts became less distinct, like her entire body was swelling up under her fur as the smoke billowed inside of her.

She couldn’t help it though. It tasted like the Ross in her dreams . . .

Her legs tensed, stretched out along the carpet on the floor as her pussy quivered and contracted, leaking out slick clearness as her body was filled with the electric tingling energy of the smoke. She breathed out through her nose as the attendants pulled back the pipe with almost mechanical precision.

“Did Ross send you?” Sarah’s voice came out in a breathy whisper. It was getting harder to think. Ross had been there though . . . and the smoke smelled like him.

The two figures' heads turned in towards her like satellite dishes fixed on the same signal. They said nothing, and yet Sarah could hear a faint gurgling start in one and then reverberate in the other, as if they were hollow and something viscous was splashing around inside of them.

It was disturbing . . .

And yet, it sounded positive. Was that a yes? It felt like they wanted to help her find Ross.

She tried to shake her head to clear some of the cotton from her thoughts, but the white figures featureless busts pressed in tight against her on either side. She tried to roll a coherent question together in her mind, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Ross. He’d probably love to see her like this, sprawled out on a carpet, being pampered by two harem girls.

She wanted to share. She needed to share this with him.

As the thought fixed in her mind, the attendants both squeezed in at her chest again.

She choked for a moment, pressure rising up within her. She hadn’t taken a puff in a few minutes . . . In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she took a breath. As they pressed in tighter, her breasts distended, almost no distinction between them, her front just a taut rounded furry bulge. She shuddered, legs quaking as she pursed her lips and let a great hot rush of smoke slip free. Clear slickness dripped from her pussy onto the carpet below her spread thighs, pleasure leaking from her as she saw her white-hot lust rush into the air. She wanted Ross to be there with her, to share the pleasure with him, to help him.

The two faceless attendants pressed in, kneading at her massive chest, coaxing out more floral smoke from her lips. Sarah’s skin twitched as their hands slid down over her belly, which squeezed in as if making more room for the smoke in her chest. The glossy fingers slid down, rubbing in at either side of her labia, causing the fox to thrust up with her hips, tail thrashing in bliss before she thudded back down against the pillows. She couldn’t stop coming, the slick fingers mashing up against her snatch, grinding over her clit, and tracing around her quivering orifice.

Sarah leaked out clear pleasure, moaning and wheezing in sensory overload as each smooth hand slid a finger inside of her. She coughed, fresh air burning in her lungs as her pampered snatch thrummed and throbbed with pleasure. The fingers pumped into her with piston-like insistence. The warmth sank inside of her, seeping outwards from those insistent fingers rolling along her insides. Her shriek of pleasure was closer to a gasping whine as the fingers inside of her twisted, squeaking against something tight as she convulsed.

Warm, glossy darkness seeped out from her folds, viscous lust coating them and dribbling out in quivering opaque beads over the attendants’ hands. She groggily watched as the slick darkness congealed over her cleft, smoothing out the edges as it throbbed larger, glossy black lips more sensitive than her bare flesh ever had been. She moaned, going limp as she continued to climax, seeping dark cum pooling in the attendant’s palms.

She shook her head, staring down past her solid, bulb-like chest and waspish waist towards her exaggerated, artificially perfect pussy.

“What are you . . .” She was interrupted as the attendant to her right picked up the mouthpiece and wedged it between her lips.

She growled, shaking her head, trying to pull back, to think. She wanted to breathe in, but she was aware that something wasn’t right. She felt the bodies of the attendant’s tighten on either side of her, their flesh tensing in ways muscles never could. They brought up their hands with perfect synchronicity, each balancing a wobbling puddle of her viscous black cum in their palms.

Sarah tried to speak again, but her words turned to muffled mmmhps as each hand slapped the glossy darkness in against the side of her muzzle. Her golden eyes went wide, crossing as they watched the oily black substance bond to her fur and skin. In groggy fascination she watched it seep up her muzzle, slicking down her whiskers and fur, hardening into a matte black smoothness. White fingers scrubbed the darkness towards the end of the fox’s muzzle, sealing the silver mouthpiece in her jaws. The darkness sank into her nose, curling up through her sinuses. She tried to breathe through her nose, but instead, she sucked in a great lungful of smoke, unnatural chest creaking outwards, skin stretched to the point she could see the wispy tendrils swirling inside of her, sinking into her body from the inside.

She couldn’t exhale, pressure rising inside of her, making the hot tingling static spread through her body. The hands rubbed down again, grinding against her exaggerated rubbery cunt. She shivered, jolting out dark goo into their palms, feeling a strange satisfaction tickling the back of her mind as she sucked in more smoke. The attendant’s hands slid down, painting over her exposed clenching anus and then both grasping around the base of her tail. They both started sliding down her tail, dragging the goo along with them, slicking down the puffy fur of her fluffy flag, changing the glossy orange base into a thinner, jet black length.

Her chest ached. Any desire to exhale lost, the concept completely foreign. She needed more, more of that heady warmth to fill her, to fulfill her. The two hands pressed together, rubbing back and then spreading the dark goo further along her tail as it tugged in their steady grasp. White fingers rubbed down against her anus, her eyelids fluttering as they ground over the tight pink ring of muscle. She tensed and then relaxed with a sigh. Her thighs quaked as they smoothed out the glossy black of her tailhole into a blank, flawless expanse of rubbery skin. She tried to feel alarmed, to summon some righteous indignation from inside of her, but instead, she almost felt relieved to be all smooth and dark, like she wanted to share her molded perfection with the world.

Her changing tail felt oddly light as the hands massaged the darkness up towards the black and white tip. Her thrashing muscles relaxed as the last of her fur shellacked down into a rubbery tube-like length. Her muffled moans resonated through the enormous chamber of her chest. The tension rose inside of her, almost unbearable. She needed more, but her body was stretched taut, delicious smoke swirling inside of her like the atmosphere of a slowly spinning planet.

The two attendants’ unseeing heads turned towards each other. A low gurgling starting in one and resounding in the other.

It sounded no different than it had before, but Sarah could tell they were both satisfied, almost pleased in a way. Not actually joyful, but the same kind of contentment that a statue must feel upon completion. As one, they laid Sarah back, propping her up with velvet cushions. Sarah felt like she was melting, chest heaving out in a taut bulge as the two drones spread their delicate fingers out and began to press in. Their other hands traced down lower, gliding down her tight stomach, rubbing through her loose skin and fur to her pliant body underneath. Like two synchronized skaters, each hand rubbed down the edges of her swollen pussy, causing her to clench and writhe, pleasure bubbling up inside of her as she came again almost automatically. As her cleft seeped out glossy blackness, the two hands pressed in below her cunt where her anus used to be, dimpling her smooth flesh as they pushed in and then twisted.

Sarah’s eyes went wide as she shook and whined. Something opened inside of her.

The attendants squeezed in tighter at her bulging chest. Her pussy spasmed again, darkness seeping out as she felt the smoke from her chest rush down through her body. A steady hiss rang out from under her as her tail blazed with pleasure and started to swell. The smooth black appendage bulged, pushed out from the inside. Sarah managed a squeak of pleasure as she breathed in, cloying spice rushing down her throat, swirling in her chest before racing through her body into her swelling tail.

The attendants’ geometric muzzles turned in towards Sarah as they rose back up to squeeze at her exaggerated cleft, gathering up wriggling dollops of darkness and then pinching in on either side at the base of her wobbling tail. They squeezed in, Sarah’s body merging with the goo before they pulled it back like taffy. The fox groaned, arching her back and sucking in more smoke as she felt her body begin to wriggle, the attendants pulling tendrils out on either side of her plump tail. She wasn’t sure if she was controlling the long twisting strands of darkness as they writhed around her tail, feeling like her fur blowing in the breeze. She could feel her own skin thinning, revealing the plumes of nearly opaque white swirling in her taut ampule of a tail.

The attendants pinched in again, drawing out more thick filaments, Sarah quaking in climax every time. The pressure once again built up inside of her. She couldn’t exhale, and her body was stretched taut, chest-dominating bulge quivering as she sucked in a last ounce of addictive sweetness. Her ponderous tail quivered as her new appendages squirmed and hugged around it, first two, then four, then six.

Sarah writhed against the ground as the attendants both faced each other, looking down towards her. They said nothing, but she could feel the cloying satisfaction from them.

She was ready.

The very idea made happiness bubble and swirl up inside of her.

Her eyes shot open as they both reached down, each mechanistically pumping two fingers into her jet-black torrid pussy. As another body-wide orgasm shook through her, her eyelids fell, sight lost to a world of caressing hands, pulsing warmth, cloying darkness, and a swirling spice that she desperately needed to share . . .

* * *

Ross groggily licked his lips, eyelids fluttering open. He rolled over and expected to see Sarah, but instead he saw Tina and Ben, shirtless, hugging their bodies tight together, fur bristling as they made out in sloppy, artless strokes.

The fox squinted and turned his head to the side. He knew they were good friends, but had never expected that they were dating. He pushed himself up onto his side, trying to shake the sleep out of his limbs like a shipwreck survivor given a new lease on life.

His jeans were tight around his crotch. He slowly ran a palm over the waist of his pants feeling his soft orange and white fur. Ross didn’t remember taking off his shirt, but no one else was wearing one either. All of their tops were neatly folded at the side of the stage, like they had been set out for sale at the mall.

Jen’s breasts jutted out from her chest, jostling as she pulled the mouthpiece tight against her, one hand wrapping the woven hose around her finger as she breathed in. It was like some phantom force was squeezing her heavy breasts together as they expanded, her chest straining beneath them. She let the pipe dangle from her fingers as she pursed her lips and blew out a steady stream of alluring smoke towards Ross, managing to sustain the smoky rush for longer than the fox would have thought possible.

Maybe Jen had been a smoker for so long that she’d just gotten good at it.

More fruit had been left out, this time the silver tray stacked with identical apricots and plums, with a few equally enticing oranges in the center. Ben’s paw clumsily grabbed an apricot and popped it into his mouth, sucking on it for a few moments before swallowing with a sigh of contentment and patting the tawny fur of his bare stomach.

A small sea of empty bottles surrounded Tina. She stopped kissing Ben for just long enough to wrench the lid off of another, sucking down the contents and releasing a rumbling belch before leaning back in towards Ben.

Ross rubbed his forehead. There was something he needed to remember, like he’d just forgotten about an exam in a nightmare, even if he couldn’t remember the specifics.

“Wait . . . what’s going on?” he croaked. His throat felt like it had been left out in the sun. He licked his lips as his heavy eyes fixed on the silver mouthpiece in Jen’s manicured fingers.

“What do you mean?” Ben pulled lazily back from his kiss with Tina, speech slow and relaxed.

Ross stared at their mouths as a bead of viscous black spittle snapped between their tongues.

“This was such a good idea.” Tina pulled Ben against herself, her breasts squished against his chest as his belly bulged against her stomach. Her usual reservations seemed to have evaporated just like the smoke that slowly dissolved into the hazy air.

“I never thought we’d get to be part of the show.” The badger fished around behind herself for an open bottle, upending it into her mouth, throat bobbing as she let the fizzy liquid pour down her gullet. Her breasts bounced and pulsed against Ben’s flat chest like there was something sloshing around inside of them. She let the bottle hang in her lips for a moment before pulling it back and letting out a hissing burp before mashing her face back against Ben’s as they continued to make out, throat muscles writhing under their fur.

“And it’s all thanks to you,” The doe coughed lightly and licked her lips, looking up towards Ross. She crawled over towards him on her hands and knees, bust wobbling, tail sticking up through her tight cut shorts. “We get to be the stars of the show now . . .” She looked out towards the seats, spotlight twinkling even as her pupils widened, darkness nearly taking up the whole of her eyes.

“Stars? What are you all talking about?” Ross winced, bringing a hand up to his head as a thought bubbled up into his mind. “Sarah! . . . we need to find . . . mmmph!”

Jen poked forward with the mouthpiece like a drunk fencer, bumping off the corner of his muzzle before slipping the warm metal tip through his canines. She shivered as his eyes crossed and he took a confused breath, dry feeling in his throat washed away by the heated wave of mulled smoke. His insides creaked, body twisting as the smoke filled him up, ears picking up faint wet snaps from inside himself that accompanied the wave of bliss.

The doe grabbed her massive breasts in her palms as she watched him, licking her lips as Ross sucked down the smoke. “They love us,” she wheezed, breasts distending as she squeezed, looking almost like one taut mass heaving in her grip.

Ross reached up and grabbed the mouthpiece, dragging the smooth metal from his lips. “Who?” He asked in a hazy cloud of smoke, eyelids hanging lazily over his golden eyes.

He turned his head towards the spotlight and was blinded by the beam of brightness shining through the smoke that leaked from his lips. When he blinked, he saw figures seated in the rows of the auditorium, their glossy white skin contrasting to the dimness of the auditorium. They all sat perfectly still, vaguely pointed muzzles facing forwards at perfect 90-degree angles. The faceless audience sat at seemingly random intervals from each other, like notes on a grand staff. It meant something. He could feel them, their gazes falling on him like a warm and heavy blanket.

He blinked.

The audience shifted, blank white forms more closely packed, the silent song they represented picking up tempo as Ross shuddered, trying to stay awake even as his eyes closed, wrapped in the audiences’ incomprehensible adoration.

* * *

Ross awoke to giggling interspersed with sloppy squelches. He was completely comfortable, neck propped up on something soft and yielding behind him. Some force helped him turn his face to the side as he squinted in the brightness of the spotlight.

Tina and Ben still hugged, lapping hungrily into each other’s muzzles. Their pants and dress lay folded neatly next to all of their other clothes next to the haphazardly arranged carpets. Ross thought that they must have changed into something black, tight, and form fitting, but instead, dark rivulets of opaque goo dribbled from their mouths as they laughed and lapped, squelching down between them. It clung to their bodies, forming a glossy black sheet that exaggerated their curves, Tina’s breasts both wobbling, movements delayed slightly behind her own. Ben’s chest was flat and smooth, but his stomach bulged out in a weighty, rounded bulge.

Ross’ brow furrowed, thoughts swimming. It looked like they were . . . touching themselves, thin fingered hands stroking down over Ben’s erect shaft and Tina’s occluded pussy, but they were still hugging, wrapped in each other’s embraces. The hands were white and glossy, moving with deliberate, insistent strokes, like a machine trying to reproduce a great work of art.

Ross shook himself and tried to look around, gasp coming out instead as a small wheeze. The faceless white figures were all around them. They leaned in on either side of Ben and Tina’s embrace, massaging their backs. Tina let out a gut-shaking belch right into Ben’s face, but the drooling bobcat didn’t even seem to mind. The white hands slid over the dripping goo between them, spreading it over their twisting bodies.

“Oh, you’re awake again,” Jen’s voice bubbled out from his other side.

It took a moment for Ross’ head to swivel towards her. He squirmed, looking up to see a white pointed chin above him. The cushions he was resting his back on was one of the attendants, his neck resting up against her taut, blank breasts. Two others draped themselves over his legs, running their hands up and down through his fur like sections of a carwash. He tried to pull back, but they were surprisingly heavy. The hands that wrapped around the back of his head turned his gaze fully to focus on the deer like he was some kind of camera taking in the bizarre show.

Five molded female figures flanked the doe. One held the gaudy mouthpiece to her lips as she drank in the smoke. Two other latex figures leaned in from either side, hands on her breasts as they swelled up. They rubbed in, kneading away at the distinction between her breasts until they were a single bulbous mound, skin stretched out to the point that her brown and white fur seemed translucent, allowing him to see the smoke swirling inside of her. The billowing white mass twisted, reminding Ross of a cotton candy machine in reverse, wisps seemingly pulled from the haze into her body.

There was a moment of equilibrium as she stopped sucking, a pause that made Ross uncomfortable. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t move. She just sat there with a stoned expression on her face before the hand holding her pipe pulled back. Jen tilted her head back slowly and blew out a column of smoke. It twirled up and spread out like an umbrella, seeping down over the group, the pure white the same color as the strange glossy figures amongst them. Ross’s nose twitched as he couldn’t help but take in the alluring notes of rose and lavender in the blend.

As she continued to spout out smoke, two other attendants stepped in on either side of her, each holding heavy, rounded metal bands connected by a hinge. Each collar-like object was studded in gems, gaudy and glistening rubies in the smaller silver hoop, and brilliant topaz in the larger, thicker gold device.

“Jen . . .” Ross muzzily panted. “What are you doing? Don’t let them . . .” He was cut off as the attendant holding the mouthpiece’s head snapped towards him. Before he could continue, the gleaming pipe went from one thin hand to another. The sculpted figure kneeling next to him plugged the mouthpiece between his jaws, holding two fingers over his black panting nose. He huffed angrily, trying to pull away, but it was like his body was filled with lead, his struggles not even moving the strange statuesque figures that lounged so casually against him. His neck relaxed, thoughts swirling as he watched the band-bearing figures close in on Jen, open metal ends looking like bejeweled bear traps.

One clicked into place around her neck, the other around her slender waist, ends joining together into a seamless loop.

“Oh my god, I love it.” Jen wheezed out in a breathy gasp, faint wisps of smoke leaking from her lips. She twisted around to look down at herself, the bands flush against her fur like they had been made specifically for her.

Ross gnawed at the mouthpiece, forced to suck in the smoke from the hookah as he watched the attendants trace around the edges of the bands like they were selling a product in an infomercial. Their hands slid down towards her exposed crotch.

“Yeah . . . that’s nice . . .” She closed her eyes and melted into the attendants’ embrace. White fingers spread her pink, fleshy labia. One hand pressed two fingers inside of her, pumping with repetitive insistence as the other pressed in against her swollen clit.

Ross swore he heard a click as Jen began to convulse, hips grinding against the smooth white fingers as she came. Dark, viscous fluid gushed out of her like oil seeping from a well. The features of her femininity smoothed over as the dark goo clung to her flesh, her orifice simplifying every time it clenched, labia flattening down into a perfectly circular ring of quivering darkness with the taut, hemispherical bulge of her gleaming dark clit pulled just above it.

The glistening stream of dark liquid seeped over her anus, smoothing over the pink flesh as it began to sink into the fluffy fur of her stubby tail. Instead of slicking down her fur, it absorbed the inky blackness like a sponge, tail flicking up a few times before sagging heavily and beginning to pulse, a solid, dark, heavy bulge. Jen shuddered as two attendants squeezed and kneaded at her tail, forming it into a pulsing, featureless bulb.

Ross tried to shout, to say anything, but all that came out of his mouth was little angry puffs of smoke. His thoughts swam. This was wrong, but it was getting harder and harder for him to point out why.

Wearing jewelry wasn’t wrong. Jen wanted to be beautiful. Wasn’t being smooth and flawless beautiful?

He shivered, taking in another deep breath of smoke before the attendant plucked the pipe from his lips and returned it to Jen. She grabbed it in both hands, body seeming to perk back up as she took in an impossible breath.

The hands behind him turned Ross’ head back towards Ben and Tina. They sat facing each other, eyelids heavy. Attendants clung to them, supporting their bodies, tending to their every need. Ben’s black latex belly bulged out, contrasting his brown mottled fur while Tina’s glossy breasts jutted from her chest like two halves to the same sphere.

Ross groaned out, trying to find words for a warning, but his attendant clamped her fingers over his muzzle, making sure that he was a spectator and not a participant in this show.

A curvaceous white figure that looked vaguely equine plucked a plum from the silver tray and pushed it into Ben’s open, leaking mouth with a wet squelch. Ben didn’t even stop to chew. The bobcat shuddered, a bulge traveling down his glossy black gullet, sinking down towards his distended belly.

That bulge led Ross’ eyes down to where two identical white hands stroked Ben’s erect member. There wasn’t even a sign of fleshy pink, instead, Ben’s shaft and balls were completely black. The cat’s cock was now short and thick, throbbing in time with the hands stroking over it. Instead of feline spines, concentric rings of dark bumps decorated the unusually blunt tip.

All the fruit on the tray was glossy as well, brightly colored but perfectly spherical, like an image stretched over a glass orb. The drone on the other side of him wrapped her shapely fingers around the orange from the tray, fingertips dimpling the surface.

Ross’ ears suddenly perked up as the attendants holding down his legs reached out, fingers caressing over the soft white fur of his balls in the same way a mechanical sorter checks the quality of produce. He gritted his teeth, painfully aware of the carmine tip of his erection sliding out of his sheath as he watched the attendants surrounding Ben fondle his swollen balls and caress his strange, artificial maleness.

Tina lounged back against the snow-white figure behind her. One of her paws absentmindedly rubbed in at her glossy black swollen breasts which wobbled in her grasp like they were full of jelly. Her ears flicked at the sound of a small hiss, the attendant next to her twisting the lid off of an illegible bottle of mineral water in the same way one might pull a pin from a grenade. Tina moaned as the attendant slid the bottle into her waiting lips, tilting her chin upwards as the bubbling contents of the bottle glugged down her throat. She didn’t even swallow. Ross saw the liquid trickling into her breasts through her stretched translucent skin as she fondled her thick, rounded, jet black nipples. The liquid that sloshed around inside of her wasn’t sparkling water though. The fizzing blackness twisted and bubbled, pulsing and twisting like it had a mind of its own.

Tina belched out an herbal hiss, dark liquid running from the edges of her maw. The attendant methodically removed the bottle from her upturned face like unscrewing a lightbulb before replacing it with another full bottle. The muscles in her thighs trembled, gooey black pleasure seeping from her as the bottle slotted into her mouth. Ross blinked. All of the bottles had looked the same earlier, but this one wasn’t filled with sparkling water, looking more like a bottle of boiling tar.

Had they been that way the whole time? Ross writhed fruitlessly against his captors as he continued to watch in hazy horror.

The attendants planted an empty silver serving tray between Ben’s sprawled out thighs. The heavy bobcat looked down at it, head falling onto his shoulder. Before he could comment, the attendant with the orange pressed the perfectly round, vibrant fruit against his lips. The bobcat almost looked like he was laughing, realizing the absurdity of the situation, but his look of mirth was replaced by one of overwhelmed and confused ecstasy as delicate fingers pushed the entire orange into his mouth. His jaws distended, lips pulled wide before the heavy fruit popped inside. He didn’t even think to chew as the attendants leaned in, rubbing the huge bulge in his neck, coaxing it down through his throat before it dropped into his taut belly, causing ripples to surge out through his glossy skin.

Something churned around inside of Ben, bulging out against his fur and glossy slick belly. An airy belch escaped from his dark lips as the attendants reached between his legs and squeezed at his heavy testes, stroking up the edges of his synthetic shaft. His stomach gurgled as he began to rock his hips, eyes rolling back as the glossy white hands rubbed faster. His strange shaft bulged, something forcing out the flesh from the inside as careful fingers coaxed it up, causing Ben to let loose a bubbling moan before a glistening black orb the size of a golf ball popped out from his shaft with a squelch. The white figures’ heads all turned to gaze eyelessly at the inky ball like some kind of rare pearl. They remained perfectly motionless for a moment, before they made a strange bubbling as well, almost the same noise as the one roiling up inside of the bobcat.

It was like they were congratulating him . . . collectively seeping in the satisfaction of his production. Ben shuddered again, jaw hanging open in dripping, abject pleasure as another bulge pressed up, forced out of his altered cock, followed by another, and another. Careful hands arranged the ebony orbs on the silver tray in neat rows, like they were something to be savored by an abstract gourmet.

Ross struggled, a primal whine seeping from his muzzled mouth, the white fingers still clenching his jaws shut. All the attendants turned to face him, turning away from Ben. He couldn’t tell how he knew it, but they were no longer pleased as he rocked his body, his struggles picking up steam.

He needed to get out, to get away, to get help, to just take one last breath full of smoke before he saved everyone.

His breaths came in harsh wheezes, lungs feeling stiff and scratchy. He watched as the statuesque figures plucked the hookah’s mouthpiece easily away from Jen. She lazily let the smoke seep from her mouth as they passed it from hand to white hand towards Tina. The Badger’s eyes lit up as they unscrewed another empty bottle from her maw and replaced it with the mouthpiece. She wrapped her slavering black lips around it, greedily sucking in a bolt of smoke. Ross could see the cloudy gas rush into her taut, rounded breasts, bubbling up through the liquid darkness, making it writhe and wriggle inside of her.

The pipe then passed towards Ross. He wanted to turn away. He knew it was wrong. They were doing . . . something to him, to his friends. Those thoughts were all simmering under the blanket of need inside his mind though: the raw physical necessity to drink in more of that smoke. He didn’t so much as flinch as his attendant pressed the warm silver rod between his gums.

The smoke washed away the discomfort inside of him, unease turning to a wave of heady pleasure as he breathed deep. He looked down, seeing the fluffy white mass of his chest rise up. He looked good, almost reminding himself of Sarah as his chest rose.

Sarah!

The thought of her stuck in the center of his swirling mind even as the attendant he was seated against turned his head back towards Jen’s distended body.

Instead of trouble breathing, the doe gulped down air, eyes crossed slightly as she looked down at the dome of her chest with something approaching confusion. The attendants on either side of her caressed her bulge, Jen’s rubbery flesh taking a moment to spring back behind their fingers before they both pushed in. She looked down with confusion as a gurgling resonated out from her thin stomach. A delicate hand squeezed at the rubbery bulb of her tail and that expression melted into one of relief as she raised her head, pursed her lips, and blew out a thick stream of smoke. She took in another breath of fresh air, but all she exhaled was thick, sweet, floral smoke.

The doe hardly seemed to notice as the attendants slipped their hands under her thighs and lifted her off her cushion, sliding it out from under her. There was a brass plate set into the stage there, like a cover to an electrical outlet. As they opened it, Ross could hear his blood pounding in his ears, a throbbing slow heartbeat like the theater itself was thrumming underneath him. He couldn’t see inside, but his skin crawled as they lowered Jen down, slotting her tail into the black circular gap with a sucking pop. Something moved beneath her skin, like something was being pumped inside of her, her body rounding out as she breathed out more smoke, this time thicker and richer, hanging in the air as she sat back on her shins.

Another attendant walked up from the side, bearing a strange brass rod in its hands like it was attending some kind of coronation. White arms guided Jen’s own, helping her grab the strange device, an intricately wrought nested tube on one side with a heavy metal bulb at the other, smooth gaskets dotting its surface like a polished metal heart. Hands stroked at her chest-bulge as others helped guide the strange device down between her legs. Her half-closed eyes snapped open as soon as the metal made contact with the rounded ring of her dark, simple pussy. The white arms pulled back as her own muscles sprang to life, grinding the heavy metal against her crotch. She didn’t breathe out smoke. She didn’t breathe at all, single mindedly working the bulb against her, stretching out her quivering, rounded orifice, leaking out dark pleasure around the rounded edge.

The doe’s body seized, eyes wide and unseeing. Her arms strained, desperation growing before she convulsed and the strange rod slid inside of her snatch with a solid, slickened thunk. Her body trembled, swollen chest heaving, alien desire radiating off of her as her hips trembled, the detailed metal rod jutting from between her legs, dark glossy rubber seeping around the base like a synthetic sheath.

The attendants who had been feeding Tina halted, turning the dazed badger towards where Jen sat back on her ankles. Tina’s beady eyes snapped into focus, fixing on that brass pipe between the doe’s thighs. The dazed badger fell forward, hands coming up to catch herself almost as an afterthought as she dragged herself towards Jen, heavy nipples scraping against the plush carpet. Her pitch-black tongue licked out, painting her thin, simple lips. The attendants held her shoulders and helped guide her muzzle down towards the object of her desires.

Tina wrapped her lips around the phallic pipe, breasts jostling as she began to bob up and down. Jen rocked forwards with her hips, still stuck to the ground below her, insides boiling with tension. The badger groaned, shivering as smoke poured from the mouthpiece that twitched between Jen’s legs. The badger knelt in with the energy of an addict, sucking in Jen’s sweet smoke. The hands on her shoulders pulled slightly, but she wrapped her teeth against the warm metal, not willing to let go.

A hand traced down Jen’s taut belly, pressing in at the raised button of her clit above the embellished mouthpiece jutting from her crotch. A sharp click echoed deep inside of her as she writhed, limbs pulling tight against her body. Steady arms pulled Tina back to sitting, the pipe still lodged in her mouth, a woven black and emerald cord unreeling, connecting her back between Jen’s legs. The doe shuddered and smoke pumped through the cord, billowing down Tina’s gullet, making the darkness inside of her breasts churn and bubble, heavy hemispheres shaking as the badger’s heavy arms fell limply by her sides.

Ross’ body felt warm and weighty as he watched, countless hands rubbing over his plush orange fur. He was horny, crimson cock jutting up from his sheath as he watched his friends’ forms continue to twist in front of his eyes. None of them seemed to mind it though, or even be aware of it. They had happy, vacant expressions as the attendants kneaded away their humanity.

Ross’ eyes rolled, but he couldn’t bring his limbs to pull himself away, like being caught in the gap right before one falls completely asleep. In the edges of his vision, he could see the attendants in the audience, more of their perfect, glazed bodies watching in analytic silence. They weren’t walking in to fill the seats, and yet every time he looked back, there were more of them.

Two new attendants knelt on either side of Tina, each holding a folded piece of gleaming silver jewelry in their palms. It looked something like a cross between large earrings and a mechanical switch. The Badger looked down at them, dome-like bulges of her chest heaving as smoke and darkness combined in a swirl of black and white inside of her. She tossed her head back with a muffled moan as each attendant grabbed one of her thick black nipples in their hands. They squeezed the rubbery mounds, pressing the silver ornaments insistently against them. Tina was silent save for the gurgling inside of her as the gleaming metal sank into her flesh like a hot nail sinking in wax, leaving her with silver spout-capped nipples crowning her enormous, inhuman breasts.

Her insides gurgled as attendants began plucking the rounded rubbery orbs that had been stacked on the tray, Ben still seizing in a constant state of climax as they squeezed their way out of him. Like an assembly line, they queued up in front of Tina, each white figure almost the same, like an artist drawing the same picture from memory a hundred times. The first held a black orb in their cupped palm against Tina’s chest, reaching in and twisting the rounded silver barbell now running through her stiff nipples. Tina’s eyes went wide, her pussy clenching and leaking, mouth sucking in more of Jen’s hypnotic smoke as a gout of fizzing liquid darkness sprayed forth from her bulging breast with a hiss.

The bubbling liquid fizzed out a fragrant corona of hazy smoke as the rounded ball slowly dissolved into glossy, quivering goo. While the next attendant moved to repeat the process, the first slapped her open palm against the side of Tina’s neck, covering up her soft black fur. It dried almost immediately, like a stop motion time-lapse. It didn’t just slick down her fur, it pulled tighter than skintight, thinning down her neck as the second attendant joined the first, slapping the rubbery darkness against her and massaging it into a glossy, flawless sheet.

Attendants held Ben’s arms straight out on either side. They remained there even as the white fingers let go, like he was some kind of posable mannequin that they were painting. Each heavy slap of the goo elicited a small moan from him, his fingers unmoving as they scrubbed the darkness between them, gooey webs sinking back as it tightened, leaving him with glossy thin fingers that belonged in a jewelry advertisement, flawless, but not distracting. His arms tightened, muscles gaining lithe definition as they were scrubbed by manifold hands kneading in perfect unison. His mouth hung open, goo dripping from the edge as he continued to shudder with satisfaction at every dark bulge that he squeezed out of his molded cock.

Jen groaned out, hips still bucking, shaking the dangling hose that connected her crotch to Tina’s lips as the badger sucked in with rhythmic insistence around her rounded brass mouthpiece. The pleasure radiated out, the molded metal more sensitive than the doe’s flesh could ever be, bliss shooting down the hose in between her legs and lancing through her body as she came again and again, smoke rushing out into Tina’s hungry gullet.

The doe looked down with muzzy contentment as the first hand slapped a dollop of darkness against her bulging chest, rubbing it out to cover a swath of the heaving dome. More and more hands joined in as she moaned out a smoky note of bliss. Two attendants folded her arms under her hourglass bust as others covered them, heavy slaps followed by stretching and kneading the dark goo. The distinctions of her arms faded under the rubbing, merging with her other dark curves as the hands filled in all the gaps between the jeweled band on her waist and her neck. Jen hardly seemed to notice, sitting perfectly upright, chin tilted up, ears folded back, the rounded bulb of her center segment looking like the blank bulge of the luxurious hookah next to her.

The sight made Ross quake in his attendants’ unyielding grasps. The thought of another puff from the hookah made need well up inside of him, his cock pulsing and insides squirming under his fur. He wanted Jen to run, to shout, to rebel as her features were smoothed over. But, he also wanted her smoke, to suck the heady floral warmth up though her hose into his lungs, to help her fulfill her purpose.

He tried to shake his head and close his eyes, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away as his friends were twisted, kneaded and shaped before him.

Warm dollops of stretching latex formed a patchwork web of glossy darkness against Tina’s back, filling in to cover her white stripes, coating her back and slimming down her belly, making the taut translucence of her heavy, heaving breasts stand out even more as the attendants used her, coaxing out the fizzing blackness again and again while she sucked down more and more of Jen’s tantalizing smoke. Purposeful hands stroked the darkness up her thighs, connecting the goo to the edges of her glossy black pussy, fingers slipping inside of her, massaging her insides as she came over and over again, expression vacant as the waves of pleasure lapped at her mind.

Ben finally lowered his tightly muscled, athletic arms, crossing them over the bulge of his fishbowl belly as the attendants scrubbed the black goo down his calves, towards his feet. Prodding fingers coaxed the thick quivering goo between his toes, removing the definition between them as his feet tightened, molded into shapely high arches. As the darkness tightened, his toes merged together into a single svelte black curve, like he was wearing a tight black stocking but shaped of his flesh itself. The attendant stretched out and posed his toned legs as if modeling the bobcat for a luxury advertisement, like he was the hood ornament on a fancy car.

Tina’s eyes crossed as two hands dashed darkness over the top of her muzzle, watching the fingers dance across her face, spreading the seeping mass over her. She didn’t so much as blink as the glossy darkness seeped up over her open eyes, leaving her with the same unreadable neutral expression as the attendants, an expression that was carved rather than made. Dutiful fingers worked the viscous ebony down her muzzle, her lips pulling forward into a faint, rounded, gasket-like ring around Jen’s quivering pipe.

Jen’s rounded muzzle pointed straight up towards the shadows above her, occasional wisp of smoke leaking from her mouth fluorescing in the spotlight as four hands splashed clinging darkness above her neck-band and stretched it up her exposed throat, smoothing out her features: perfectly rounded, attractively abstract. Black, syrupy goo seeped inside of her ears, drowning her thoughts in bliss as her ears merged with the back of her skull, forming the suggestion of a doe without any of the features. The dark goo crept into her nostrils, the hands smoothing them over, leaving nothing but her glossy black pursed lips. Her taut bulb pulsed, smoke bubbling up through the darkness pumping inside of her from the throbbing floor of the theater itself. The white hands all pulled back from her face at the same time like pigeons fluttering from a statue, leaving her still, simplified features facing up into the darkness.

The heavy caresses of the attendants subsumed Ben’s feline features, leaving only a vague, short-muzzled figure with a modeled body and bulging belly. Tina looked like a darker, heavier version of the attendants, her mouth molded around Jen’s pipe, perpetually sucking in new smoke as attendants caressed her metallic nipples, clicking the switches, collecting the frothing, steaming liquid that she produced, combining it with Ben’s rubbery orbs and scrubbing away any trace of an identity between them.

White arms wrapped under Ben and Tina’s arms, hoisting them to their feet. Both wobbled unsteadily for a moment, like they were trying to stand for the first time. Jen remained seated, though it was hard to tell, legs smoothed over, looking like just another heavy black bulge, her jutting silvery pipe quivering as attendants plucked the mouthpiece from Tina’s mouth-hole and reeled the green and black cord back inside of the stationary doe.

Ross felt mild annoyance as the attendants plucked the pipe from his own lips as well, the fog clearing from his mind as he exhaled and then wheezed, the air harsh against his lungs. Like automated clamps, the attendants leaning against him all let go at once, silent faces turning towards him as if waiting. It took a few moments before Ross even realized he could move, like he’d forgotten how. He eyed the attendants as he wobbled to his feet, stumbling forward towards his friends.

“We . . . we need to get out of here,” he wheezed. “Ben, Tina, Jen, we can get someone to help.” He staggered forward, tripping and falling against Tina. Her flesh felt like a rubber glove stretched over firm gelatin, breasts sloshing under his fingers. Only seconds later did the blank ebony figure move, raising her hands to the taps in her breasts, flicking the switches, hissing fountains of ichor soaking two patches of Ross’ chest fur in seething, tarry blackness. It felt icy cold for a second, and then hot and balmy, the two patches of the fox’s chest turning smooth and glossy black.

“No, Tina, you can’t do this . . . You have to . . . fight?” His head spun, feeling the gaze of the hundreds of attendants falling on him from around the auditorium. He pushed Tina away weakly, staggering back.

He licked his lips instinctually as he looked down at Jen, her mouthpiece jutting forwards invitingly. He did need more smoke . . . and she’d love him to help her, to reel out the hose and drink in her . . .

His thoughts were stopped as two black hands rested against his shoulder, something grinding against his lower back. The bobcat’s altered maleness shuddered, a rounded bulge pressed up from the inside.

“Ben?” He tried to turn. “We’ve gotta get out of here to get . . . to get . . .” He stumbled over his words as he felt the black feline figure shudder behind him, something grinding above his tail. He bent his back to look behind him, seeing the blank feline face that had been Ben, façade unmoving, as if there was no recognition. The black figure convulsed slightly as something heavy and yielding stuck to Ross’ fur, squished and rapidly spreading out.

“Get off of me!” Ross stumbled forward, reaching around and feeling the goopy orb sinking into his fur. He tried picking it off, but it felt like a second skin, more sensitive than his fur had ever been as it continued to seep outwards under his fingers. He staggered to the edge of the stage, looking out at the packed auditorium, each seat filled with a white body, all of them turned towards him as if watching the peak of a dramatic performance. His breath raced out in ragged heaves, blank seeping patches on his chest rising and falling as he looked back towards his altered companions.

He couldn’t let that happen to Sarah. He couldn’t let her be so smooth and curvaceous, rounded and flawless, fitting perfectly into something larger than herself. So useful . . .

He shook his head as if trying to fling the cloying thoughts away, cock pulsing as he thought of Sarah. He shuffled down the stairs into the aisle of the auditorium, as the spotlight swerved from his friends on stage, following him as he shoved past blank white bodies that made no attempt to resist or apprehend him. They just watched, pointed snouts following his wheezing journey as he grabbed the door handle and threw his shoulder against it.

Ross expected solid resistance, but instead, the great black and gold filigreed barrier swung open, and he toppled into the hallway, falling onto his hands and knees. His heart thudded in his chest, not quickly, but with forceful, pulsing, single beats. His fur prickled as the patches of darkness spread slowly out over him.

He looked either way down the grand hallway of the theater.

Was this the same hallway that he had ducked out of, or a different one completely?

It was impossible to tell.

He wrenched himself to his feet, staggering down the hallway, toes digging into the plush red carpet as he rounded a corner to another identical hall, majestic chandeliers hanging above him, making him feel like the spotlight was still on him. The halls swam in his vision like they were heaving and contracting, like the theater was breathing around him. He could still feel the eyeless gazes of the attendants following him, even as he searched manically and found no one but himself in the opulent hall.

“Sarah!” he yelled out her name, needing to find her, to save her, to . . .

He shook his head, thoughts still fizzing in the back of his mind: smooth, dark, and enticing thoughts.

He staggered to another theater alcove, an unnumbered auditorium like the rest. The letters in the marquee made no sense, looking like they were dripping out of the frame. Reaching out to the polished door handle, he yanked, entire body shaking with the movement like an exaggerated pantomime, his body silhouetted by the faint grey glow that leaked out from the inside.

Ross thought it was some dark black and white movie, squinting until his eyes widened in shock.

The entire inside of the cavernous room throbbed, a faint rhythmic thrum pulsating through Ross’ mind. Black rubbery shapes bulged and gurgled, connected by draping pipes, silver gaskets, and twisted golden hubs. Puffing hisses of smoke escaped in small jets, filling the room with a sweet alluring scent, Ross’ mouth watering, eyes trying to focus, but finding no point to fixate on. The throbbing cavern seemed endless, twisting on with no regard to gravity or physics, drawing him in as he stared into the abyss.

Every pulsing tube and arcane piece of the ebon machine had a purpose, a connection, a place in something larger. Ross absentmindedly ran his fingers through his fur, tongue lolling out as his body resounded with the thrumming of the walls, not a heartbeat, just one monotonous, unstoppable rhythm.

Something deep inside the twisted nest of rubbery tubes and soft bulges turned towards Ross, some faceless leviathan that nonetheless looked directly at him, not any individual part, but the sum of the whole, like the entire theater was staring through him from every angle.

There is a place for you here

The power of the thought made the fox shudder, cock bobbing up against his belly.

There is a place for everyone here

Ross’ ears twitched as he stood, dazed in the jaws of the doorway. There was something he was forgetting . . .

“Sarah!” he wheezed out with a small cough.

He blinked, wrenching his gaze away from the pulsating mass, letting the heavy gold door-handle pull out of his hand and slam shut.

Something felt strange between his padded fingers. He looked down, a faint cloud of white fuzz drifting down to stain the otherwise immaculate red carpet, fibers seemingly subsumed by the intricate vibrance of the arabesque patterns.

The smooth black patches on his chest were growing, the two blobs connected, forming a flat bridge that erased the definition between his pecs. He held his paws up, breaths coming in ragged heaves, lungs burning in the warm air of the theater.

He needed to find Sarah, to get her out of this place, to save her before . . . whatever this was happened to her too.

He dashed back into the hallway, shouting her name, feeling the eyes of the theater fall on him as he staggered through the empty, brightly lit halls.

* * *

A faint pulsing in the distance caused Sarah’s eyes to flicker open. Her instinct was to yawn, but this produced the feeling of pulling a sticker off of bare skin. Her jaw creaked, bridges of black goo connecting the growing fissure between her top and bottom lips. She coughed and slammed her jaws shut with a squelch, raising a hand to feel the warm, smooth rubber of her muzzle, yielding and sensitive. She poked a finger into her thin, tight lips experimentally, drawing it back with a shudder. It was like the inside of her mouth had been shaped by someone who’d seen a picture of one and recreated it with soft clay: a pulsing gooey mass with only the suggestion of teeth.

A wheeze escaped her altered lips as she rolled up to a sitting position. The room around her was small and dark, completely barren save for a single push-bar door on the far wall. There was no sign of the carpets, or the bird-thing, or the hookah. The room was blank as if waiting to serve some other purpose.

Sarah shivered as she pushed herself onto her knees, a strange flash of sensitivity running up her spine. She gasped as she looked back at her tail, a heavy central rubber stalk with smaller tendrils woven around the outside, all glossy black, nearly invisible in the dimness of the room. She staggered to her feet, feeling the weight of her tail follow behind her like a deflated tangle of balloons.

Unease gnawed at the back of her mind, vying with the discomfort she felt with every breath. Her tail was wrong . . . but she couldn’t figure out why. What did her normal tail look like? Wasn’t this her normal tail? She looked over herself, twisting rubber trailing behind her, dragging against the matte black floor.

Her eyes fixed on the welled-up edges of her glossy femininity visible through the plush whiteness of her fur. She prodded an edge, groan fading to a whining gasp, insides clenching from the faint stimulation.

She wished that Ross was there, so she could share the feelings, let the pleasure seep into him as well, let him know just how good it felt to . . . to . . .

She gasped.

Ross!

The image of her boyfriend flashed in her mind, loud shirt, glossy fur, fluffy tail. That was what she was supposed to look like. She looked back at her tail, and could almost imagine it as a fluffy plush boa behind her . . . but that felt off as well.

Keeping his image fixed in her mind, Sarah made her way to the door, handling clacking as she pushed through, silhouetted by the wave of light as she stepped forwards into the grandiose hallway. The velvet ropes hung in strange jagged angles, crisscrossing the hallway like threads closing a fresh wound. Her heart thudded in her chest as she peered both directions down the empty hall, each ending in a ninety-degree angle, each exactly the same distance away from her. She closed her eyes, thrumming continuing behind her eyelids as she took a deep breath.

She swore she could feel him to the right, like heartbreak and love at first sight all at once.

She took off running, paws gripping at the thick carpet. Avoiding the velvet ropes was difficult, their crisscrossing mesh of hanging tubes feeling like it was perpetually in her way, guiding her in loops. Her breaths rang out in ragged gasps, her throat dry while her mouth remained coated in perfectly comfortable smooth darkness.

As Sarah neared the corner, she felt the tugging inside of her grow stronger, like an unseen hook on an invisible line, drawing her to unknowable heights. She looked back over her shoulder as she continued to run, shuddering at the sight of her tail slithering behind her before she ran into something heavy with a cracking lurch.

“Shit.”

The gravelly voice was familiar, and even as the hall swam around her, purple sparks flitting into the corners of her vision, Sarah would recognize that face anywhere.

“Ross! Ross, is that you?” Sarah pulled herself forwards on hands and knees, gasping as her heart thudded in her chest.

“Sarah! Oh god . . .” Ross pulled himself up to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so glad that you’re safe.” His voice was faint, like he’d trudged through a barren desert to get this far. He pulled his body against her, letting her chin rest in the crook of his shoulder.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she felt his fur against her own. He smelled good. She drank in his scent, insides gurgling as she detected the subtle notes of spice on him.

Their expressions both fell as they pulled back and really took a look at each other.

“Are you okay?” Ross asked with a small cough, reaching out to run his fingers over the blank, rubbery patch at the end of Sarah’s vulpine muzzle, blushing and looking back up as his gaze fell between her legs.

“Yeah . . .” She looked back at her tail, the bundled mass of thick corded tendrils resting heavily behind her. “No. They . . . this place. It’s doing something. It feels . . .” She wheezed in, the plain, warm air doing nothing to satisfy the growing tickle of discomfort in her lungs. She wanted to bury her face against Ross again just to remember what the smoke from the hookah had tasted like.

“Where are the others?” She shook her head as if trying to get cobwebs off her fur. She looked up at Ross and ran a trembling finger over the blank, rubbery patch on his chest.

He shuddered.

It didn’t make him look any less attractive. Her gaze wandered down to his half-erect member poking from his sheath. Sarah’s black tongue slipped out and ran over the edges of her blank mouth.

“They . . .” Ross ran his hands over his face. “They changed. I don’t know. This is because of them.” He motioned down at his chest and leaned around to check the growing bald shiny spot on his lower back, not wanting to touch it because he knew how good it would feel.

He looked back to Sarah; eyes fixed on her breasts. Her tight, pink nipples poked through the white plushness of her fur. She’d always been proud, but had her bust always been that big? He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, cock pulsing and sliding another inch from his shaft.

“You’re horny.” Sarah leaned in, eyes fixed on the tip of his shaft, alien tail undulating behind her. “And you smell good,” she slurred the last word slightly, nuzzling in against his chest, smelling the male virility of his arousal almost overshadowed by the memory of hazy smoke. The scent clinging to him almost reminded her of Jen . . . She imagined taking in a great lungful of smoke, letting it prickle against her insides, breathing fully again.

“Hey, we need to get out of here.” Ross fell back on his hands as his girlfriend bumped her head against him, her ears twitching as she stared down at his cock. “We can find a doctor and get the police to come back for Ben anNNNNNgh!”

Sarah’s black, slippery tongue curled out from the rubbery gash of her mouth as she knelt between his legs and lapped around the edges of his shaft, probing into the fuzzy loose skin of his sheath.

Ross reached down, hands mussing the fur on the back of Sarah’s head as she snuffled in at his crotch. “I’m . . . glad to see you too,” he hissed out through his teeth. He couldn’t deny that it felt good, his insides tightening with every lap. “But, we really need to get out of here, Sarah. You know this place . . . isn’t right . . .” he trailed off in a moan as she began to bob her head up and down over his shaft, knot swelling inside his sheath.

He’d missed her so much. His tongue lolled as he looked down at her shapely body and glossy orange fur as she began to run her fingers through the thick plushness of his thighs.

The inside of her mouth felt tighter than it ever had before, like it was forming a perfect seal around his cock, gliding against his pulsing flesh with wet hot squelches. She didn’t come up for air, ears folded back as her groans resonated through Ross’ body, sucking at him like he was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

Sarah’s whole world focused on her boyfriend, his plush white fur, the electric salty tingle of his cock in her gullet, and that smell. It was like she could sense the smoke inside of him, swirling around just under his skin. She needed it. The thought of gagging never occurred to her as the pointed tip of his throbbing shaft poked at the back of her throat. Her mouth watered, thick dark drool pooling around Ross’ cock, replacing the salty musk with something far more appealing.

The heat from Sarah’s mouth seeped out around Ross, dripping down over his balls, bubbling up inside of him. He needed release. Throwing his head back, the walls of the hallway pulsed around him as he shuddered, one hand drifting up to his chest and rubbing the rounded expanse. Something distracted him though. In addition to the blemishless pitch black, there was another sensation, a wiry itch that clung to his fingers. He looked down, hips bucking as Sarah pressed her jaws far enough down that her tongue scrubbed against the edge of his emerging knot, basting the pulsing bulb of flesh in adoration.

Seeing the clumps of shed fur between his fingers caused Ross to pause. He looked down at his chest, dark flat expanse heaving as it grew, revealing more of his perfect, glossy skin. That wasn’t right though. The skin wasn’t his, the fur was, right? He rubbed his fingers together, white fluff falling like snow, making Sarah’s ears twitch as it landed on her.

“Sarah, come on.” He tried to gently pull up on the sides of her neck, but it was like trying to pull a dog away from its only meal of the day. One of her hands reached between his legs, causing a whine to escape his lips as she caressed his taut testicles, the feeling unsettlingly slick and sensitive, like his balls were swelling in her palm.

“We can’t just stay here, Sarah!” He tried to wedge her away from himself even as the pleasure radiated out from his crotch, his insides twisting, the pit of his stomach gurgling.

She was impossibly strong, holding herself against him like an addict, golden eyes half-lidded as she slobbered against him, viscous black goo seeping from her jaws, pouring against his cock layer after layer, dripping down over his churning testes and exposed ass.

Ross wheezed and he managed to wedge his hands under her armpits, straining to breathe until something clicked inside of him. She whined as he strained to pull her away from him inch by inch, gaping black gash of a mouth still suckling at the top half of his cock. His eyes widened as he looked down and saw his shaft in her lips, bulging ebony rod thicker and longer than he’d ever been. His red thin skin and fluffy white fur had been subsumed by sensitive darkness; his hefty black knot visibly quivering. Below that the stretched skin of his balls was glossy and taut, and as he breathed in, he shivered, watching white wisps billow up inside of the glossy liquid latex pooling inside of them.

It looked like Jen had . . . or Ben, or Tina. It should have been disgusting, but he was almost proud, heat welling inside of his chest.

The shock made his grip go slack, and without the resistance, Sarah’s face slammed forward, his knot straining its way into her mouth with a loud, sudden squelch. As she fell forwards, her hand grabbed against Ross’ rubbery taint, gripping the yielding flesh. The rubbery softness was so appealing under her fingers. She couldn’t help herself as she squeezed in, turning something inside of her boyfriend as he started to buck his hips against her and moan, bulging knot locked inside of her rubbery mouth dragging her back and forth.

The sudden jostling made Sarah’s eyes fly open as if the harsh rocking had jogged her memory. Ross wasn’t even looking at her anymore, he leaned back, claws digging into the carpet on either side of him, eyes staring up into the ceiling as his altered balls seized and churned above her grasping hand. His flat chest bulged as he sucked in a lungful of air. Sarah could hear a faint bubbling resonate inside of him.

She wanted to speak, but his huge shaft was shoved too far inside of her maw, only faint muffled squeaks escaping. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt like they were made for each other. She couldn’t open her jaws wide enough to pull back. Her frantic tugging caused Ross to snap out of his torpor, wincing as she tried to wriggle her mouth off of his latex cock.

He grabbed a hold of her shoulders.

“Sarah, no don’t . . .” He hissed. His insides boiled, pleasure swirling around inside of him. Hazy tendrils wafted in the corners of his vision. She was using him. The very thought drove him wild. All he wanted to do was help her, to give her what she wanted, but the thought felt wrong, like a book he’d never seen slipped in among the normal literature of his personality.

Ross trailed off, his body started convulsing, and Sarah knew something wasn’t right. She needed to see him, to help him. She planted her hands and pulled back, straining with her jaws as his knot throbbed against her palate. Suddenly, his grip loosened, and she fell back in a swinging arc onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to speak, but Ross’s member still throbbed in her jaws. Pulling herself up to a sitting position, her eyes traced the black and silver woven cord that hung from her stuffed jaws, winding its way back into Ross’ plump, rubbery sheath.

His shaft was connected by a hose.

She reached up to grab it, fine mesh silky against her fingers as she pulled, yanking on the woven cord, but it was like her mouth had sealed shut around his huge, detached knot.

That stimulation was all Ross could stand; the metallic hose more sensitive than flesh could ever be. The pleasure resonated down the hose and into his sheath as his body twisted, chest bulging, more fur falling out to reveal his glossy black skin. His hips bucked and he scratched at the carpet. A faint wisp of smoke escaped his jaws before he came, a steaming gush of smoke rocketing out along his line, through his cock, and directly into Sarah’s gullet.

The hot flash of bliss made Sarah’s chest bulge out as her concern began to melt into pure bliss. His smoke was hot and rich, a peppery blend of cedar and the sweetness of vanilla that filled her up from the inside. Ross came again and again as Sarah sucked down his smoky loads, kneeling with one hand loosely wrapped around Ross’ trembling hose and the other wandering between her legs, stroking the edge of her puffy, swollen labia as she joined him, a climax rocking through her, causing her to suck in more smoke, her fluffy chest creaking out while dark liquid pleasure leaked onto her fingers, clinging to her fur, erasing the definition of her claws as it dried and condensed to blank, slimming black.

Ross swung his head down, mouth hanging open, his movements stiff and clumsy. He needed no time to recover between orgasms, his body always taut and ready, bliss streaming out through his groin to where her yielding maw clenched and kneaded around his heavy, synthetic shaft. He thought about Jen’s expression of absolute bliss as Tina had sucked on her gilded mouthpiece, and he understood completely, smoke flowing out of himself its own reward, a purpose for existing in and of itself.

But worry still gnawed at his mind as he watched Sarah’s movements become sluggish. There was a palpable tension as the fur on her chest stretched taut before a creaking rip, like an old seam bursting when one sat down. A jagged rent crept open like frost on a windowsill, spidering out through her pelt, revealing Sarah’s artificially flawless black skin underneath. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her hand drifted from his woven hose to the bursting hourglass bulge of her chest, shivering as it tightened and her tail swelled behind her, tendrils uncurling from around it, fanning out as if they were creepers of ivy looking for another plant to smother. Dark viscous lust seeped from around her fingers buried in her cleft, seeping up her wrist and forearm as she couldn’t stop pumping into herself.

Ross tried to raise up his arms, but it was like they were each floats attached to lead weights dragging him downwards. He opened his mouth, but all he could do was gasp in more fresh air, no words possible as all of his pressure swirled into her as rushes of heady smoke.

He needed to help her. The thought percolated in his mind.

He needed help, to save her, to give her what she wanted. There were no words, but as he gritted his teeth his insides pulsed and gurgled, the fizzy burbling inside of him resonating with the walls of the theater, the velvet ropes hanging haphazardly all around them pulsing out his call for aid.

Every door in the hallway slammed open at the same time, identical white attendants stepping out like a full-sized display from an inscrutable mechanical clock chiming the hour. They marched towards the two foxes like silent servants responding to a call.

Ross whined as hands supported his body, his only motion the thrusting of his hips as faceless attendants encircled Sarah.

They were there to help. They were there to complete her, to give her exactly what she needed.

Ross struggled against the thoughts of satisfaction welling up in his mind as Sarah took in another lung-straining breath of his rich smoke. The rent in her loose, ill-fitting skin ripped wider as attendants knelt in behind her, supporting her back, hands running all over her body, caressing the yielding flesh below her pelt. Her eyes went wide as the thin fingered hands all grabbed onto the tattered edges of fur around her chest and then, with slow insistence, pulled in all directions.

The sound of the halting, prolonged rip made Ross’ skin crawl as he watched the attendants peel back his girlfriend’s fur like it was strips of old wallpaper. Underneath, her lithe frame was flawless black perfection, shining under the lights of the chandeliers, pulsing as she drew in more of Ross’ smoke. She showed no signs of discomfort, looking like she was on some kind of bizarre spa day as the drones around her ripped away shreds of her fur down her now tight stomach, ripping away furry tatters from either side of her swollen cleft.

Three white fingers took over her job, plunging in and out of her femininity as her arms were held out, hands tearing away her vulpine coverings like worn opera gloves as the tendrils fanned out from around her tail, undulating like the arms of a deep-sea anemone.

The attendants lowered her down on her hands and knees, grabbing her bare, rubbery arms and kneading them like dough, powerful muscles bulging under her skin in places they had no place being. There was no grinding or cracking, as if she had no bones at all. They pulled the tips of her blank fingers out into wicked points, her hands becoming almost reptilian, shoulders bulging. The attendants dutifully sloughed off the skin on her legs as well, molding her into a more quadrupedal alignment, heels pulled up off the floor as her toes too splayed into sharp jagged points. Myriad white hands pulled on her body from the front and back, stretching her out, form turning more serpentine. Her chest pressed out into a tight bulge as her waist slimmed down to impossible proportions.

Ross struggled as he watched Sarah’s body twist in front of his eyes, his objections sucked away as her tail and chest bulged out even larger. He tried to stop the smoke, to clench something inside of him, but every time she inhaled his body went limp, shuddering as the smoke rushed out of him, perverse satisfaction roiling through his mind.

Sarah seemed to have a moment of lucidity. Her fuzzy, disheveled head looked like an ill-fitting executioner’s hood, black snout sticking out from the draped hollow fabric of her face. She turned, loose fur dangling, staring at her serpentine, feral body, plump tail surrounded by a writhing corona of thick tendrils. She looked back at Ross with pleading eyes before two hands gripped in at the remaining fur on either side of her neck and pulled in opposite directions. The two sides pulled apart like halves of a cheap mask. Underneath was just a blank shape, like a template for a canine or vulpine with none of the features. Her golden slitted eyes stared at him, wide with some impossible mix of pleasure and worry before she blinked and they were gone like they had never existed.

And yet, she still seemed fixated on him, her blank face unmoving as the attendants pulled out her dark ears into solid, angular cones folding back along her head. White arms wrapped around her blank face, pulling it out longer, kneading it thicker and more imposing, like a statue of a jackal guarding a tomb.

The lithe creature that Sarah had become shuddered, drinking in another lungful of smoke, her body rippling, chest and tail bulging out. Attendants grabbed onto the creature’s muzzle from the top and bottom, pulling with slow, insistent force, dividing her blank face into two halves of a gaping muzzle.

Strings of black ichor oozed down through a puff of smoke as Ross’ cock popped free and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The attendants reeled the hose back inside of him until his heavy knot rested against the edge of his plump, glossy sheath, jutting out, ready to be used again. Other white figures reached into the creature’s mouth, black goo rolling off their hands like water over wax as they caressed Sarah’s tongue, stretching it out longer and thicker as it writhed against their touch in the gooey morass.

Ross struggled weakly as the attendants propping him up rubbed and squeezed in all over his body. His lower back tingled, black splotch widening as more of his fur fluttered to the floor.

The white statuesque figures all stepped back from the sculpted beast that was Sarah at the same time. She was only vaguely vulpine, a lithe chimerical figure of monotone complexion, body completely still for an uncomfortable moment before her tail and tendrils started snaking about behind her.

The beast stepped forwards, huffing a great cloud of smoke from her dripping jaws right into Ross’ face. His weak writhing slowed. She smelled wonderful, a woodsy blend of bergamot and pine.

It complemented his own smoke perfectly. The thought was strangely comforting, that they could be together forever because that’s what they were made for.

And yet, there was still something inside of him that fought, some desperate biological claxon ringing inside of him even as his eyelids drooped and a faint smile pulled up at the edges of his mouth.

Sarah leaned in, her huge, monstrous muzzle inches from his own. Ross thought she was going in for a kiss, but her flat lips wrapped around the entire end of his muzzle. Her tongue flickered, forcing its way into his snout briefly. Then, the creature pulled back for a moment, as if considering a taste, letting Ross’s eyes cross, feeling the black shiny goo tighten around the end of his muzzle.

The creature then opened its seeping jaws wide and lunged forwards, taking his entire head into her gullet, lips sealing around his neck, trapping him in the squelching tight confines of her maw, gurgling darkness roiling around him. As her tail contracted, her rounded chest bulged and she forced a wave of cloying smoke down Ross’ throat and into his body, tongue painting around his trapped face.

The male fox drifted, lost in a wave of euphoria, floating amidst the grasping hands and creeping goo. Ross’ chest thundered out, her smoking cloud meeting and mingling with his own, completing his changes from the inside as the attendants all around him rubbed in harder, patches of his fur falling out in fluffy clumps as his form thickened, revealing pure, glossy black underneath. As they stroked, his body swelled from the inside, limbs thickening, chest pulsing broader even as his waist pulled into waspish dimensions.

His body relaxed completely as strands of pulsing goo from Sarah’s maw wormed their ways into his ears, seeping over his mind, melting into the crevices and leaving nothing but perfect glossy blackness and swirling smoke. He was exactly where he needed to be, and the sensation of absolute conformity, of completely unified purpose thrilled him.

The attendants guided his malleable form forwards onto his hands and knees, shaping his arms and legs into long, feral limbs with thin, wickedly pointed digits. Two hands grasped around the base of his tail and then squeezed, pulling up to the tip, sloughing off his fur and leaving him with a slim, cylindrical appendage that writhed about with a mind of its own. He drank in Sarah’s smoke, body bulging before his new tail began to inflate with a hiss, making him quiver as his insides gurgled and writhed.

Delicate fingers pulled out black tendrils from near the base of his tail, and he realized that, even as his head was still lodged in Sarah’s throbbing maw, he could see himself from all angles. He could feel the hands against him as if they were his own, the attendants feeling every ounce of pleasure they caused though they showed no expression of enjoyment.

They didn’t need to. They had purpose.

The thought made him shiver as more glossy tendrils were pulled out, fanning around his bulging tail. Arms wrapped under his feral haunches and pulled back, stretching out his midriff. Attendants kneaded and scrubbed over his body, polishing away any imperfections, his fur a fading memory as the orange and white was lost into the perfect red and black spiral of the carpet below him.

The new usher writhed, becoming used to his new body as a thin-fingered hand wrapped around his massive knot and squeezed, two others grinding against his heavy bulging testes.

This was a test.

His insides twisted as heat rushed through his tubes.

He was ready.

The smoke poured out from his hookah-shaft in a curling hot rush, his own flavor mingled with Sarah’s in an addictive spiced cacophony of lust. Their purpose was to share it, to help people taste it and understand their true purposes as a part of the theater. His insides frothed and gurgled in time with the attendants, Sarah, and the very theater around him.

The other new usher unhinged her jaws, letting her mate slide his obsidian idol face back from her. They stared eyelessly at each other, bonded for eternity in their duty to the theater.

The drones stood in a circle looking in on them with something approaching admiration before all turning, walking back to seemingly random doors.

Ross and Sarah knew exactly where to go as well, their monstrous bodies drawn on by the collective, tails undulating behind them as they strode in sinuous, silent motion, like living shadows.

The gilt door opened before them and they walked into the dark, square room. The inert bird-creature stood against the far wall, their fellow usher just waiting for more guests. Two attendants followed the new ushers in as they stood with their backs to the blank, warm walls. Attendants reeled hoses out from the walls, tucking them into the new ushers’ altered pussy and ass.

Ross and Sarah stood still as statues, pleasure racing through them as their pipes were flushed out and their inner reservoirs filled, their smoke rich and ready for when they were needed. It was like their senses were distributed out through the theater, tuned to the warm pulsing at its core as they waited for new guests to step into the web, to join them and the rest of the theater. The thought sustained them as the attendants silently left, staring at each other’s perfect bodies as the last sliver of light from the closing door left them in complete darkness.