“Counting to Nine" Part 1 of 4

by dolphinsanity for FoxLightning

~~~~~

Intro: the Antique Shop

Ryan the human turned the item over in his hands, zeroing in on it over other items at the antique shop's closeout sale.

This aged white mask looked familiar to him. More than just a kitsune mask, it seemed like one that he should personally recall, though he didn't place it right away. Maybe something from anime or a game?

It was a fox's stylized visage: a fierce face with wrap-around eye holes, their shape somewhere between elliptical and lanceolate. A long gray mark along the center implied the bridge of a muzzle, while a matching gray curlicue adorned the brow above each eye. The face felt like porcelain, but the interior was wooden… or, was it some sort of dense parchment? Maybe some kind of Japanese papier-mâché? Less mysterious was the single leathery strap which attached to the mask along both sides; it was clearly meant to rest behind the crown of the head and over the ears, so as to keep the mask from falling off.

Being a staunch fox furry and fond of any collectible item with vulpine associations, Ryan couldn't help but think it would go really well with the decor at home. He hadn't spent much time pondering about his choice, but… he was already pretty sure this would be it.

He took the item with him and made his way toward the little checkout station, where he would be up next. It wasn't a big shop, and it was packed with people today, given the unfortunate occasion: its owner had recently passed on, and she had left instructions in her will for how she wanted the inventory to be handled: everything slashed to one third of its listed price, with the stipulation that each customer could buy only one item per day that the store remained open -all proceeds to local charities. Her grandson was carrying out her wish, though he looked understandably stressed out.

Speaking of which, the grandson was the guy manning the counter. He nodded a little solemnly upon seeing the mask Ryan was holding. “If you can keep it, it's yours."

That made Ryan quirk a brow. Can keep it? What, would it just up and return to the shop on the two legs that it clearly didn't have? (Or, maybe four legs. Kitsune and all.)

“Uhh…" stammered Ryan as he turned the item over in his hands and looked at it again. It occurred to him at this awkwardly late moment that he hadn't noticed any price tag on the thing, despite its casual presence among other clearly priced mask- and costume-related pieces.

“That one is free to a good home," the son muttered. “Just, please don't come back in here tomorrow and leave it, and then claim afterward that you don't remember returning it. Grandmother was tormented by rude customers who kept doing that."

Ryan blinked. “Really?"

The grandson nodded. “I think it was coordinated trolling… just some people with too much time on their hands getting together to bother someone who didn't deserve it."

“Dang. Sounds rough."

“Yeah… must've started, what, a year and a half ago? She always used to keep it in an old wooden box, but then someone bought the box and the mask and just returned the mask, and then swore they didn't remember it at all. Go figure, right?"

Ryan's lips flattened. “Well, don't try too hard to scare me off it. I like fox stuff."

The grandson laughed, albeit nervously. “It's okay. I'm sure you're on the level; you have a kind look to you."

“Well, thanks!" Ryan chuckled. “I can't imagine bringing it back, especially if it's free."

The grandson smiled. “Sounds good then. You have a nice day."

Coming to terms with the fact it really was free, Ryan thanked him, walked out, and headed for home after tucking the mask into his backpack, taking care to enfold it in a stowed shirt to provide additional cushioning in case of a fall. He wanted to make sure it got home with him safely.

* * *

The Mask's Allure (Human to Idealized Human TF)

It was an easy walk the rest of the way home from there. Ryan got in, lost the longer pants of cool weather, and slipped into one of his favorite pairs of camo shorts to lounge. It'd be sundown soon; last night's takeout leftovers would be dinner. He didn't have further plans other than maybe shooting the breeze with some friends online. Maybe some TV or streams. Maybe a slow paw-off session while fantasizing about turning into a handsome kitsune. He wasn't shy about it; the mask made an enticing set-piece for the idea.

Though, in all honesty, he wasn't that horny right now. The urge was very lazily in the back of his mind, but it wasn't sufficiently coalesced to get him to do anything other than lying facedown on the bed, enjoying the peaceful feel of his own breathing with the mask beside him.

That mask, though…

He rolled over and turned it his way, it's ill-mooded expression meeting his curious one. The mask's cold, hollow eyes stared silently into Ryan's own -- the flat, stiff expression somehow sad in its immobility. Ryan could relate, he supposed. Sometimes, the world could make anyone feel the way this mask looked: forever on the defensive… stoic, yet hateful for it.

“You aren't a cursed mask, are you?" he teased. The notion, as kinkily entertaining as it might be, was clearly impossible: there was no such thing as magic.

Still, there was a reason cursed items were a thing in cultures across the world… and this thing looked the part. It dragged out the insecurities in the back of the mind, getting its hooks into the viewer through their sense of aesthetics.

He picked it up -- turned it this way and that in his hands, contemplating trying it on. He could easily imagine his fursona, Lightning, in more of a kitsune style, wielding the powers of a kami to play tricks, smite enemies, and be horny.

Though, honestly, this mask wasn't much like Lightning. It was too full of that negative emotion. Even the sassier or crueler versions of Lightning weren't mean like this.

“I guess you don't look cursed after all," mused Ryan, “just, really angry. That's what that is, isn't it? It's spite. Huh."

Ryan didn't quite notice how easy it was to be sure of the mask's “tone" now that he was consistently holding it in his fingertips. It definitely felt more relatable though, that was for sure. A fox that was totally done with the world -- with humanity's decadent arrogance, and whatever else had hurt it over the years.

He turned the mask around -- stood up with it beside his bed, and brought the inner surface of the mask in close to brush against his face. No reason not to try it on, right?

His eyes looked out through the holes, and he breathed softly as he felt the liquid suction of his skin-oils and sweat sticking to the surface of the papery lining.

Sticking? Ryan pulled it carefully away, trying to make sure he didn't gum it up with his somehow.

At least, he tried to pull it away. For a split second, the assumption that would work was the operating mode of his mind.

Then, in the next half of a second, Ryan found out cursed items were real.

There was an unsettling feeling of his face tugging outward to conform to the mask, which led to frantic and rapid tugging on Ryan's part. He pulled so hard he could feel the pain in his cheeks, the mask sending weird heat and tingles through his facial nerves.

As the mask continued to cling, Ryan felt a bizarre sensation he could only have described as “like waking up really groggy, while already being awake" -- followed by confusion and a sense of displacement.

He spun around as if to take in the view of his bedroom for the first time -- the place simultaneously familiar and thoroughly confusing, as if he suddenly had two very different profiles for how to think about what he was looking at, and one of those profiles had no clue about the comforts of modern North America.

After a particularly violent outward tug, he could have sworn he heard an urgent man's voice tell him, “Cut him off! Hurry! Before he takes you too!!"

Cut!? That wasn't a proposition he was really in the market for! (Nor did he see a blade on hand with which to attempt it….)

Amidst his fright and confusion, Ryan felt the mask gain a fleeting animating force of its own: it rebelled against his tugging, slamming backward so firmly that the bark-like paper smashed with harsh force against his face, stinging into his cheekbones. He stumbled back into the bed and found his arms spreading forcefully to his sides, as if taken by a seizure -- fingers starting to curl and wrists waving above him… knees tucking. If he didn't know better he'd almost say he was being forced to emote like a dog, or like a….

He had a fleeting thought of a feral version of his fursona -- then was dismayed as the image itself seemed to be ripped from his mind. He didn't have much else to do in his effectively paralyzed state but try to recall it again, but his attempt to visualize was suddenly a swimmy haze of confusion -- one in which his attempts to conjure up Lightning's image would only produce oddball memories of an ancient Shinto shrine and the darkly gazing face of that mask, illumined on either side by ominous torchlight.

“Hwwwuhh!!"

Ryan sat up. The mask was still on, but he….

B-bmp….

He glanced down. This was a really weird time to be getting an erection, let alone one this sudden and strong. A real pants-tenter.

B-bmp…! B-bmp…!

Okay… that should be it. Should be fully hard now…?

B-bmp…! B-bmp…! B-bmp…!

Ryan watched his bulge grow and felt the pressure in his member deepen -- and then “relax" slightly, but only because the organ was forcefully swelling outward to accommodate it.

It felt like something was stretching his penis from the inside.

“The… the hell!?"

Ryan unzipped his fly and let it out, enough to at least get a look.

B-bmp, b-bmp, b-bmp!!

Grunting and grasping at it, he could see and feel the ripples of enforced size pumping through it. He would have called it inflation if he did not also feel the heft of real meat in there… it just wasn't his meat… or was it?

Just eyeballing it, it was pushing seven inches and didn't seem likely to stop. The brief reprieve of pressure he had felt must have been the moment when it properly “grew," as opposed to just engorging beyond its limits.

B-bmp, b-bmp, b-bmp!! That sense of pressure was building again, his meat so hot and enticing, his hand subconsciously moving to massage it…

I'm sorry… you must, said the voice from before -- wearily apologetic, before it was abruptly silenced.

Normally, a presence in his head that sounded like it was also on the receiving end of something like this would have drawn Ryan's attention a bit more, but the thumping blood pressure and visible expansion were very distracting and only becoming more so.

Still, he could put two and two together. Cursed item, probable former victim -- he had to get this thing off, preferably before it got him off, since cumming in response to some trickster-spirit's curse seldom ended well. (Though, if it was a trickster, it seemed an awfully grim and cynical one so far.)

Shaking his head and letting go of his enlarging cock, Ryan reached behind him for the string of the mask -- and found that it wasn't even properly connected to him; it was just wrapped loosely around the back of the base of his skull like the handle of a wicker basket, while the mask itself was apparently stuck fast to his skin.

While his member swelled like a jock-cock on a boner pill, Ryan felt quickly but tactically around the edges of the false face with which he had been bestowed. Perhaps he could wedge it off?

Time and again, he could have sworn he had almost found a seam between skin and mask, but it kept eluding him, never permitting him to get a good grip and pull.

“Ugh…! Lemme go!!" he finally said aloud as he felt unwanted spasms starting around his prostate, like his body was getting riled up to be ready to cum. “Bad fox spirit! Buy me dinner

first!!"

Inevitably, the more he tugged, the more he felt urged to “have a tug" on that growing part of himself. It was just ENORMOUS in his field of vision now, as if he was dreaming of it getting longer and longer until he would eventually be able to self-suck it. It must already be passing eight inches, and the inward rushing of blood to its corpora kept accompanying the process of it growing even longer and thicker…!

Restraining himself from the urge to stroke, he let it go and just watched as it grew. Nine inches and no end in sight… he imagined some sort of monster-meat inside his member, relentlessly growing -- wearing the human shape of his cock much like he was wearing this mask. It expanded with every other pulse of his pounding heart, and every time it expanded he felt an ache and a strain, like the feeling of getting way too hard after already cumming earlier the same day.

It kept happening, kept expanding… and, by bits and degrees, started to blend into an insidious euphoric sensation, the tactile equivalent of a flavored vape or heavily dressed-up alcohol. A guilty-pleasure feeling where the pleasure was poison but felt so right -- toe-curlingly so as he watched his “little man" swelling longer and harder… he was still totally human but could swear he would soon be hung like a horse, his meat casually spasming and bloating its way higher in the world. It had already passed his navel -- longer and longer, soon in line with his sternum, his girth growing comparatively little but leaving him with this absolute monster of a pole that he could just wrap his hand around -- every little touch inducing smaller spasms inside him, his prostate ramping up and his nerves getting turned on to the mere idea of busting a load as soon as possible, letting the cursed mask change him more, letting the evil fox spirit use his body….

NO!! He shouldn't -- he mustn't cum like this; it might weaken him and feed whatever was happening. Or whoever was happening! This might be full-on body possession! …Which was a thought that unfortunately sent an added twinge through his inner groin as his very specific kinks were stimulated. Damn fantasy colliding with reality!! He could almost imagine his 'sona laughing at his plight, but this was no joke! He had a whole… juicy… wonderful… nearly foot-long cock to show for it!

He stood up in a burst of decisiveness and walked toward the corridor, as if to leave, though he couldn't very well go outside with this pumped-up rod showing. He tried tucking the thing back into his shorts and found the act utterly futile, only managing to produce a tent someone could freaking camp in. (Ugh, if not for this damn mask in the way, he might try to curl right up and SUCK it!!)

The tension of his undies against his dick (and the sound of the fabric straining) forced Ryan to reckon with just how endowed he suddenly was -- along with that warm and alluring, silent promise down in his soul that if he would only stroke it and agree to become “this" -- whatever “this" was -- he could have all of this endowment and so much more. Ryan was a nice, world-weary, horny furry; he loved to imagine fox-men and werebeasts fucking, especially in and around transformation… wouldn't he love to be transformed? Wouldn't it feel good?

Precum drooled from him with relentless vigor, as if strained out by his inner struggle. He could almost feel the cold shadow of a fox hanging over his shoulder. No, not cold -- hot, smoking hot, so erotic it sent shivers and chilly sweats through him, making him breathe faster and harder… or maybe that was just a consequence of “Mr. Mega Cock the Blood-flow Demanding" down there.

Still, he was tempted. More than a little. He could feel his subconscious loyalties shifting, however slightly. Alongside this, he felt a rippling over the surface of his skin. It was an unsettling, papery sensation that reminded him of the mask's interior, but the texture of his skin always settled back to normal after the initial rippling. Then, as it kept recurring, the meatiness of his overall body started to improve -- more of those feelings like “something trying to grow out from within," forcing him to expand. Abs, pecs… his bit of flab was being burned off and repurposed, his build optimizing for hunkiness.

He felt the straining of his undies before his dick tore straight through, his enlarging hands reaching down to pull at the tightening waistband as he grew both taller and broader… his feet larger, getting tight in his small Converse shoes. There was a fleeting discomfort as the tops of them visibly bulged, Ryan both watching and feeling the pressure as his expanding toes and heel grew crowded -- the fabric straining. His feet were of unexceptional size for a man, but whoever-whatever he was turning into… that guy, that guy was going to have a…

Stretch… straaaain!!

He grimaced, a mouth of thicker and pearlier teeth showing within the confines of the mask. He grunted and flexed his expanding stompers, feeling the tendons in his ankles quiver as the blood-flow throbbed in the constrained space. Normally, he'd have wanted to pull his feet out of such undersized shoes right away -- but, no, fuck it, he'd fantasized about his paws shredding footwear dozens of times too many to take such a peaceful path out of this now, right when he could FEEL his true, proper size ready to express itself….

All he had to do was focus.

“Errrghh…!!"

SHHRRREEDDD!!

The feet expanded in another strong wave -- bursting both shoes at the seams, the toes and foot-edges blowing out through every side and shredding his poor socks in the process. The long toes emerged through the gaps they each tore through the shoes' frontal fabric, leaving a tattered, straggler mesh in between.

He let his toes wiggle in their satisfying victory. They were long and slightly darker complected, with soft-leathery soles worn strong by just enough barefoot hiking, yet not so much as to leave them heavily calloused.

Meanwhile, from his groin up toward his chest, a darker-haired happy trail was forming, the coverage rapidly thickening in what could have been a time-lapsed consequence of decades of age and heightened testosterone, though if anything he now felt more “youthfully vigorous" than he ever had before.

It wasn't only the hairiness, either: muscle, flexibility, cardiac strength… every aspect of his virility and athleticism were increasing in a way that felt like some intersection of a high-fantasy elf and ogre. He was growing lithe at his core, yet unbelievably manly in how much well-toned thickness piled onto that frame. When his enlarged fingers gave the neckline of his shirt a tug, it was almost an afterthought that it shredded so easily from his vastly improved torso -- so much strength, such a build, he had been ready to burst forth from it already!!

Clothes… and what the hell did he need with clothes, anyway? Clothes were an abomination on a body like this… a form worthy of worship, worthy to gather power ….

Some of these thoughts and feelings… weren't quite Ryan's thoughts and feelings. They were… blended, somehow. Influenced.

If he paid attention, he could feel a presence lurking over him and through him now, like a cloak made of ethereal water -- dissolving into him where they touched, some bits of its nature mixing with his own. For a flicker of a moment, he heard a sound like heavy parchments brushing together, but it cleared as soon as it had come, leaving him only with the thrills of supernatural change and growth. He felt a new warmth down in a specific part of his groin -- and, inevitably looked down again at the bare, sculpting handsomeness of his goods.

His foreskin was receding… smoothing away. Transforming from uncut to cut, it was the dick of a different man entirely -- and a leaky whopper of one, length and girth both putting his former measurements to shame. Sneaking on another inch, and still another -- throb-spasms making him drip as it grew toward its perfected size.

Meanwhile his body hair was smoothing itself away, save for that aforementioned happy trail, pubic hair, and some underarm bits. His skin grew steadily more tan as if toasted in the sun, while his hair inexplicably softened in color -- first to an ash gray, and then onward to that papery white shade….

He felt simultaneously anciently old and like a horny young stud of a man. So much to give, his balls feeling plumper and hotter as he ogled himself from the chest down….

He grabbed one of his firm nips and took his swollen rod in the other hand. Something in him still warned this was some sort of trick, but it was so hard to say no to indulging a body like this one. It wasn't exactly a fox, but if he had to have a human form, this was clearly it… and, besides, it wasn't like anyone had popped up a terms and conditions document. There were no terms of getting cursed or anything like that. Even if the mask had clearly, uhm….

THROB…!!

The growing pleasure and his gorgeous, leaky meat became more and more mind-absorbing… his cockhead glistening with pre and offering him that sweet temptation: just lean down, just pitch your shoulders forward and curl your neck and suck.

Because it was really, truly, that long now. At least fourteen inches. Though lacking for hooves or horns, he was an absolute satyr of a man, endowed to a degree that might have been comical if it wasn't so hot, musky, and right there for the slurping.

Submit, the ghost-fox on his shoulder whispered. Drink of the lengthy, wonderful fountain you deserve.

And Ryan thought about it -- kept thinking about it, how warm and thick it would feel between his lips, and how vigorous and virile he felt… was it really so bad to just do what the mask said and enjoy? It felt like he could do this for ages.

Ryan was becoming charmed by his body's own attractiveness, size, and libido. Idly, he wondered what his 'sona might do in this situation, and it called to mind an image of Lightning sucking himself off in response to Ryan sucking himself off. Fuck….

Yet, still… something was wrong. He definitely wasn't thinking clearly. This thing was in his head, rolling over him like the waves of an ocean… but, it felt good to be along for the ride… at least, for now. And, in the end, was there anything beyond right now?

It was a moment of weakness, but it didn't feel like one as he kept growing stronger and hornier. That invisible vulpine specter weighed heavier upon him, invisible paws cloaking his shoulders, phantasmal essence minging with him drop by drop as he grew still thicker and broader -- an invisible paw reaching over and getting him to flex, really feel his gut and core in their newly idealized state.

An invisible tongue whispered sweet seductions: handsome man, handsome fox-vessel -- yes! He could even be a fox-vessel, even if he looked human right now. He could keep standing here and flexing his pelvic floor, masturbating himself from the inside as his seed built up, his urge to let loose creeping up toward the edge. Magic was real, transformation was real, he could become anything!

And he could taste it. He could drink it. He could swallow this new life for himself.

He squatted low, spread his thighs, and curled his surprisingly flexible hot bod forward, his sheer penile length making the act far easier than it should have been.

His heart was pounding as he sniffed his precum-glossed glans. The mask's tiny nose holes seemed to deliver a disproportionate amount of his scent… deep, testosterone-laden, fuck, he smelled like a real man, through and through, the kind of guy Ryan would've wanted to… mmpph…!

Ryan found that his nostrils could sniff and flare quite freely, as if the mask's little tidbits around the nose weren't even there. His inner struggling slowed, as if quelled by some toxin -- and weakened by Ryan's slackening interest in resisting.

Soon, Ryan lost track of the fact the mask's mouth couldn't move. As soon as he forgot, he found that it could open and close -- his human mouth now full of haughtiness and auto-erotic dick-lust, his large jaw and supple lips spreading to mouth in anticipation at himself.

He was so hung.

He slipped his long cock past his full and strong lips, giving the head a squeeze with them before he suckled his way on down -- hands gripping his large feet and rubbing while his back curled tighter.

Good… forget all those unpleasant details. Enjoy this seduction….

The flavor of his own musk and the heat of his cock in his mouth sent him hurtling over the edge toward which he had already been primed. He came so hard that he felt like his pelvic floor was lifting weights, his enormous load filling his throat and being gulped down without question, the mask feeling a little lighter and more natural, more like it belonged on this vessel to which he had now laid proper claim.

That dizzying ocean in his head roared with power -- then, receded like a tide. He felt paper, fluff, and fuzz -- like he was coming out of a supply closet full of coats and poster board.

After glugging down the last spurt, Ryan's eyes reopened -- unease coming over him. He pulled out from his scrunched-down position and made his way upright again, feeling a bit of excess cum bead up from his tip as he stood there considering what had just transpired.

He felt like… something important had gone out of his being. Something important had gone out, and someone else had swallowed it down. Physically, Ryan had swallowed the cum, but someone else had gotten his… his….

Soul? Essence? …Something?

Ohh… this body is going to be so much fun , thought the ghost-fox, ringing crystal clear as a high tenor voice in Ryan's head.

From that moment, Ryan lost motor control. He could only see and feel what was happening, a mere passenger as the entity milked his penis of the last droplet, fingered the bead, and licked it clean with a predatory relish and growl.

It was his soul, wasn't it? Or, at least, some strength from within it. His force of personality.

The human could just imagine that energy going down the throat of the fox-ghost, a bulge in its gullet, before disappearing into its chest….

The fox looked just like a feral Lightning when he imagined it -- and, dammit Lightning, why did he look happy about it? Maybe he shouldn't have designed his character to be so fixated with all things takeover….

Ryan couldn't properly share that carefree bliss. Instead, he felt a new type of inner discomfort -- no longer from his body, but deeper down in the intangibles of his personality. The very fabric of what made him, him, was swelling and stretching -- as if deforming to fit some hostile wearer. Unbidden, he now imagined his fursona similarly trapped in a mask just like he was, the papery white slowly spreading over his golden yellow fur like some sort of nanite infestation….

His soul was being devoured and sucked on… and his fursona was being co-opted for his devourer's use. And Lightning, in his imagination, had a giant boner to go with it.

Don't worry, my dear mask, said the ghost as the imagery of Lightning's corruption progressed, the anthro fox enlarging into a feral and papery-furred monster. I'll wear you well.

For a split second, Ryan almost recognized what Lightning was turning into -- before the thought was taken from him. He was left with a tip-of-the-tongue almost-memory, not quite able to recall the video game where he had seen this shape years ago. A game, of course, based on and interpreting from Japanese mythology around kami, by which Ryan now found himself possessed and enthralled….

Dammit, what was it!? Who was this?

The fox's will distorted him. Sure enough, it was like his consciousness was some kind of metaphysical fursuit, powerless but to move at the bidding of the one inside. He regarded his enlarged human hands without control, finding himself striding across the room….

Then, the entity made his body utter something blatantly egotistical: “Good… good vessel. Yield before the power of your new god!!"

Ryan's vision darkened gradually inward from the edges, while his puppeteered eyes took an amused glance back down at his slackening, circumcised monster of a shaft -- a member not shy about showing its size now, even when technically “soft."

He then glanced forward and realized he was looking in a mirror -- noticing his abs, the way his legs stepped into their places and angled themselves for this admiration.

So gorgeous… so perfect….

The darkness crept in further -- a portion of Ryan's mind struggling to hold on, but instead suffering an unsettling rush: his life flashing before his eyes, moments from his life being pulled out and processed, remembered, laughed at silently by someone, and then put away once more.

Scanned. Picked apart. Analyzed. Ryan felt like a book thrown into some search-engine algorithm with all the relevant keywords located and processed. The fox laughing at him all the while while it slurped the taste of all this data from his soul.

In the end, when the light of vision had gone out, Ryan was still alive -- but his entire life history was now known to his possessor, and his very soul was feeling sleepy and drained, held captive in the gut of the fox.

Ryan didn't know what it was like to try to recuperate inside of a demon, but he was soon to find out -- in prolonged, distressing fashion.

For now, the mask popped off his new face -- and Ryan lost what was left of his conscious awareness of his body.

The scariest part, though Ryan didn't know it yet, was that this was but the beginning of a very long process.

(To be continued!)

“Counting to Nine" Part 2 of 4

by dolphinsanity for FoxLightning

Demon Lord Ninetails belongs to Nintendo; this is a work of fanfiction.

~~~~~

The Awakening and the First Tail

Ryan woke up that night with the mask off, lying inert on the bed beside him.

He was almost convinced he must have been dreaming -- until he looked down at his nude body and realized that at least some of what happened to him had to have been real -- because he was still the hunk he had turned into.

He was a human, still, but everything else about his body might as well have been an RPG reroll. His build, “endowments," and ethnicity were all different. The closest ready-at-hand point of comparison would have been to say he looked a bit like Ganondorf from the Zelda games, albeit strictly human and with a skin tone and skeletal structure that landed closer to real-world ethnic Japanese, notwithstanding certain parts of him being almost comically oversized.

…Hell, maybe his enormous dick wasn't strictly human. How was his heart even going to make this thing erect? Yet, he remembered it getting that way before he blacked out.

He gave it an experimental stroke with his large hands (he kind of needed both of them to work it properly) and found it readily stiffened up to a foot long when lazily half-hard. If he really went at it, he'd get bigger.

This… couldn't be real, could it? Was this one of those dream-within-a-dream things? False awakening?

He shook himself -- pinched his bare skin. Still not a scrap of body hair on him except on his groin, happy trail, and underarms.

He stood up and went to the mirror, almost stumbling on these huge feet of his (frankly sized for a sasquatch rather than a human) and gawked at how… not Ryan he looked.

He never slept nude, either. Would he have let himself fall asleep nude? Had he missed some length of time, here?

Fuck, though, he was hot. Like smoking hot. He dared to lift one of the feet and took in the lines and creases of the solescape. He confirmed its leathery texture -- not exactly callused, but like it had done a lot of barefoot walking on mildly irregular surfaces, like maybe smoothish stone or wood from some human building or other. Ryan was usually more into anthro paws, but, for specimens like these, he could easily make an exception.

Ugh, and he was flexible, too. He could sort of crane-pose himself right away, lifting one foot sideways and rubbing his very long, quarter-masted cock down against the huge toes. He could even grab the head between the great toe and the next one, and….

B-bmp….

…And he realized he had better stop before he got himself super hard again. Something about this was thoroughly screwy and he needed to figure out what. A sense of impending doom was hanging over him even as he ogled his lust-worthy figure -- like he was looking at something he didn't deserve and wasn't going to be allowed to keep. That was either gloomy pessimism or keen intuition talking, and he needed to figure out which it was.

He tried a few things: going around his house, checking everywhere. Nothing out of the ordinary. He took note of his destroyed clothing.

“RIP," he said rather literally of his camo shorts and sundered shoes. His voice was a sexy baritone, honeyed and free of gravel. He didn't sound like himself, either….

He was getting hard at the sight of his clothes, and at the memory. Fox.

For just an instant he felt watched, but it passed. B-bmp. B-bmp.

Ohhh boy, the tower of dick was rising big time….

He wandered around with his erection, halfheartedly ignoring it but inevitably taking it in his hand and feeling his pulse in it -- big throbs marking the time of his search. Fox… if that was a fox mask, then why was he a human? Like, even if it was some kind of cursed transformation mask and the wasn't just a dream from which he would imminently wake.

He checked the time, finally. It was a few hours later, but that wasn't surprising; he had passed out and napped hard after that earlier climax, and- B-bmp.

Ugh… his arousal was growing like someone had it on a gas pedal and was sloooowly pressing down further. He felt hot and flushed all over, starting to sweat a bit. He had an odd muskiness to him… a smell he would've associated maybe with an older man, but not too old, like a middle-aged bara dad or so. He didn't seem to lack for any youthful vigor, however….

Fine, he thought, crawling onto the bed. His unease was sort of abating, and he was VERY aroused, so why not explore?

He curled his legs together on the bed in a lotus position, pressing his huge feet together and pressing the thick base of his cock against the heels, really making that phallus tower above the bedcovers. Then he curled forward, finding his spine more flexible than usual and… easily curled down enough to get the whole cock-head in his mouth.

Fuck, that was good. He smooched it and suckled, feeling the jolts of pleasure on the edges of the glans and the tingle in his lips as he worked at it. Fuck!! He was throbbing hard… no discomfort, just sensual lust for himself. He sank further down, bobbing like the base of his dick was special treat, working his way down it as far as he could… urgh, he was finally feeling a bit of tension but he had like half of the fourteen-inch monster inside. Hilariously the girth was his biggest hangup, forcing him to keep his jaws as wide as possible so he could gulp and suck and swallow on it… deeper, deeper, poking the back of his throat, FUCK, that was the gag reflex, no choking on himself, just lots of deep sucking, sucking… mmmf….

Schlp, schlrup, schlurp…

This body was… unreal. This vessel was… Vessel…?

Ryan paused, dick throbbing in his mouth. Then he resumed sucking without meaning to.

Schlp, schlp, schlp-schlp-schlp-schlp… What…?

He felt hazy. Peripheral pins and needles coursed through his limbs, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because of the posture. An alluring voice whispered back to him as he sucked.

Let the fox live again…. You want the fox to live again….

Ryan was engrossed momentarily by images of his fursona, Lightning -- except, as he tried to recall him, bits and details got “tweaked." Edits to turn the golden-yellow part of his fur white, additions of a thick ceramic mask over the face….

Heheheh… it's so good to have a fellow fox to indulge~ hope you don't mind becoming the starter fuel for my resurrection~

Ryan's eyes shot open in concern as he continued aggressively deepthroating himself, the bodily pleasure and imminent climax at odds with the horrifying thing he had just been told -and told with all the cozy tone of a friend about to casually do some “fun" activity.

Who are you? I'm not fuel for anybody's--

_Mmm-heheheheh… hahahahaha!! Heheheheehe hehee!! _

The interrupting laughter sounded like a villainous man -- then a crazy man, and then like a wild and overexcited fox of some sort, in that order. Ryan couldn't get a thought in edgewise as the “sound" of it boomed in his head.

He felt a jolt of warmth in the root of his spine -- a tingle and a spreading sense of power behind his… butt. Even as he kept suckling.

Good fox. You'll suck my cock and grow my power. Then, so will everyone else. Heheeehehee….

The vulpine laughter would have sounded honestly dweeby if not for the fact Ryan was currently not in control of a damn thing about his body. In that context, it sounded considerably more frightening, much at odds with the pleasure that was inexorably mounting in every nerve.

Cum, Fox, commanded the voice -- and Ryan felt his body obeying, the contractions starting for a few seconds before bliss and cum gushed down his throat, swallows eagerly following.

“Mmff, mmlphf…"

Gods, so delicious…!

He swallowed automatically, like a thirsty slut. His vision was darkening and that perceived tingle behind his butt was getting more vivid as it did… the tingle starting to sway behind him, like a… tail?

Goodnight, my first worshiper in this era. I hope you can count to nine. Hehehehee~ Then, darkness.

* * *

The Second Tail

Ryan awoke again -- to the feeling of nutting so hard ….

He huffed a deep breath, broad and strong shoulders rolling back as he spread his knees and pressed his seated ass forward, ejaculating at full power down the throat of the… short-haired, blonde slut of a university bro in front of him…?

He took in the sudden visuals of a local park in the evening, one of its less-used walking trails, but a far cry from private… what if he was seen just out in public fucking like this?

The cool evening air flowed over his hairless face; his heart was pounding, though maybe that was from his dick being so huge and firm.

He felt that phantasmal tail from before swishing behind him, like it had a mind of its own. Its ethereal heft seemed to respect the physicality of the park bench to a degree, by specifically extending through the gap between the seat and the back-rest. He could almost feel the tail “colliding" with the object as it wagged, though the bench also didn't seem to truly obstruct it. It was like it was… out of phase?

Thinking about the tail was almost meditative for him, but only a fleeting distraction from how good he felt after blowing his load down this guy's throat. Gods, he felt so good… the warmth was pounding in his head and creeping out into his lower back and down into his taint… if it didn't feel this good, he'd probably be freaking out worse, but…

The bro pulled back and shot him a wryly submissive look, as if to ask, “Did I do well, Master~?“ with the full expectation the answer would be yes. That little look turned to one of concern as he seemed to read the confusion on Ryan's face. The guy swallowed twice quickly and then opened his mouth as if to offer proof he had gotten down every drop… seeming almost… scared?

Well, that was concerning.

Despite this, it was very hard for Ryan to feel sympathy. If anything, he felt like his mind was a puddle and that someone was trying to suck it up through a straw. Not out through his dick like a succubus, but siphoning his consciousness away into someplace deeper inside of himself.

That was a confusing feeling, but it contributed to the deepening high of his climax. It was, however, invasive enough that Ryan managed to notice it and resist it a bit, willing the siphoned bit of himself to “come back." It was a weird, nebulous feeling, but it was like his willpower was able to exert some negative pressure on whatever “it" was -- making the contents of the “straw" flow backward and return to him, at least for now.

While he focused his will on that little bit of defense, he found his body “autopiloting," stroking the guy's hair out of a habit he didn't realize he had. The oily texture and softness felt familiar, even though he'd never seen the dude -- like his body knew the memory of touching him.

Don't be difficult, Fox, said the voice from before.

Being chastised from inside while looking at the guy's nervousness on the outside put Ryan into a flustered moment of indecision. Normally, any sane human would probably freak out right about now -- screaming and flailing away while babbling about how this wasn't him, wasn't his body, and so on… but it was impossible for Ryan to get that angry. The instinct just wasn't there… or maybe it was suppressed?

“Master…?" squeaked the bro, concerned.

Then, there was a feeling of weight on Ryan's back -- something snuggling in around his neck, a a chilly pressure and a phantasmal feeling like something coating his face… like the mask from before? Even though the wasn't any longer wearing it… at least, not the physical item.

Ryan meant to apologize to the guy, but his vision was already darkening again as he opened his mouth to talk. He was fading out as he… heard himself start chuckling. He felt himself press his softening dick against the guy's lips before saying, low and commanding… “More…. You didn't think you'd get off so easily today, did you?"

Wait, today? As if to imply there had been other, prior days? Oh fuck. How long had he been out? He had to get a look at his phone at least, but…

But his hands didn't work. His vision wasn't working well, either, fading more as if night was falling hard.

After that, everything but the phantasmal tail felt less and less real again. Ryan's world was fading like a dream….

Instead of waking, however, he only felt the tail lingering, swaying behind the void where his body should be. After a few moments longer, even those sensations dissolved, and oblivion welcomed him into its darkness again.

Ryan then came to again in the same place, if only briefly -- finding himself thrusting his way into the pleasure of a second orgasm. The bro sucking him was swallowing with ecstatic glee and reverence, acting like someone into intense servant roleplay.

“Yes, master Ryanosuke. Take my essence for you."

Ryan suspected the guy might be cumming too… but his pants were on. Though, maybe that didn't matter….

Also, “Ry_a_nosuke?" Seriously? Was that even a proper Japanese name, or some sort of whimsical linguistic corruption?

The bro stopped mouthing on his spent dick, smiled oddly, and turned away -- a vivid wet place in his trousers as he wandered off to leave Ryan in place… looking down at his spent schlong and his shorts….

Wait, why was he wearing an undersize jock strap…? His dick barely fit in this thing…! And why was he wearing some kind of… bespoke Japanese tabi shoes with little fox-kami designs on the sides…?

The whole of his outfit was exotically mismatched, with a unifying theme of having price tags he could NOT afford. The shirt was a sharp white cuff-linked thing with pressed seams and a floral tie that looked like it was mimicking Japanese watercolor. The pants sort of matched it but were from a high-end brand he recognized being worn occasionally by male K-pop stars. -- somehow perfectly sized to look tight on his thighs while still having this long, comfortable feel… like he was going to attend a sharp-dressed dinner party and proceed from there directly into a bedroom to have some fun…

How was he going to afford all of this? This wasn't him… was that guy really just blowing him and calling him master? Why did it feel so good, and why did the “so good" feel so enthralling..?

There was that feeling of being sucked on through a straw again… just a little sip of his pleasured mind, getting slurped away into a hollow, hungry space between the front and back of his suit-shirt… for just a second he was more like a mannequin, like some object on which these clothes were being displayed….

It slipped away from him, this time. Sheer wooziness from the multiple orgasms, as well as distraction over his body, allowed him to let it slip away. Some something he didn't even know he had, like a spiritual resource or reservoir, and this thing was sucking on it like a leech.

As that feeling lingered, his world faded toward numbness and blackness once more. He felt the invisible tail from before return -- and sensed the pressure of a second tingly tail starting to emerge.

The more the second phantom grew, the more the enthralled Ryan faded away.

* * *

The Third Tail

Ryan awoke, blinking off a short nap's worth of sleep -- peering through the eye holes of a different, softer-interiored fox mask. His large feet met his gaze, the bare toes and heels propped up on the couch's far arm.

He was nude, save for the aforementioned mask. Cum, cool from the air conditioning but not yet dry, lay on his belly. Per usual from this demigod of a form, the amount was a lot.

He then looked over and noticed the camera on a tripod, actively recording him. Then, a laptop on the coffee table -- open to an adults-only patron subscription service called OnlyFun, where a chat was actively and excitedly discussing-Oh gods no, he was suddenly a pornstar.

He got up hurriedly and shut off the camera. Then he got on the laptop and shut off the stream in a fit of anxiety and upset. Not his most graceful series of like twenty rapid clicks, but it got the job done.

Fuck, this was too much. Too much escalation.

Morbid curiosity compelled him to check through the OnlyFun page. Indeed, it was openly managed by and dedicated to him, or more specifically to the guy he had become. “Master Ryanosuke." The recent posts were…

The recent posts were dated one and a half years in the future. How was that even possible? Then he realized.

Oh, no, NO! That was way too long between moments of consciousness!! Relationships, his job… Was he operating on the “Rip Van Winkle" scale of time, here?

Ryan grabbed his phone, frantically -- confirming the date, these videos were from the last few days. A year and a half had passed since the initial takeover. Fuck!!

Dreading what he might find, he made his way into his texts. Seeing what this spectral motherfucker had been using his body for in that time.

The first three message threads were him sexting admirers and sending dick pics (which were, in his seasoned opinion as a gay man, objectively gorgeous -- just, a small silver lining here).

The fourth thread was him… resigning from his old job to pursue other opportunities. By the timestamps he had literally juggled sending someone else fap material and sending his little resignation to his boss. Classy.

He looked at the OnlyFun page again. Scroll-scroll… videos all over, seemingly made daily at this point.

Clicking around, he noticed that the standard background border for his streams featured a rather unusual piece of digital artwork: an image of various Japanese ema (traditional Shinto prayer plaques), cut diagonally into thin strips and dropped onto the muddy topsoil of some unknown forest. There, a large vulpine paw-print had mashed several of the prayer scraps into the soft, soaked earth, as if to mock the idea of wishing for help from the kami. Part of a single silken bed-sheet also lay in frame along the left border, its fabric bundled up and stained by dried gray regions of what might have been semen. This was not exactly standard fare, even as kinky streamer stuff went -- some cultish or at least counter-religious vibes, for sure. Which, was a little odd… who in the world would feel the need to make that kind of statement?

In terms of content, the videos heavily featured “Master Ryanosuke" stroking off in body-glamorizing poses. There were also many thumbnails that suggested a kinky emphasis on the feet -- many of them bare, some in white fursuit-style paw slippers. Further down still, there was some stuff with him kneeling on his shins with legs spread and cock pressing against the face of a ceramic kitsune idol thing that he definitely didn't own, or at least hadn't owned as of the time he got possessed….

A consistent quirk in all of the porn videos was that he was wearing a fox mask of some kind, never showing his true face. Every other bit of him was nude. So… one tiny shred of anonymity, at least?

Scroll-scroll. He dared to check the most recent vid. He had to scrub backward eleven minutes to get to the cumshot -- heard his possessor in his body mutter, “Ahh… inconvenient timing it seems…" shortly before arching his back and cumming, eyes rolling and shoulders twitching as he seemed to “become possessed" and then pass out for that little space of time.

Ryan had woken up from that. To so many fans observing. H… how many, though?

He finally let himself peek at the subscriber count: over four thousand already. Good fucking gods. The mere thought of that many people jerking it (or jilling it, maybe) to his “sexy corrupt shrine priest" aesthetic was… B-bmp….

Arousing, apparently? No, not just arousing… he could feel…

B-bmp, b-bmp…!

Oh, that felt good… some sort of refreshing energy flowing straight into his dick at the mere thought of people masturbating to him. It sent a crackling warmth through the phantasmal tails at his rear, getting them to dance up and down excitedly in a duo…

Then, he felt the warmth of a third one take root. A third tail emerging, fueled to return by so much sexual energy being directed straight at him. Normally, it took a kitsune a long time to gain more tails, but there were shortcuts when one had enough raw energy to work with… unfiltered, with a medium of long-distance prayer that could send it straight to him like a piña collada through the world's longest straw, until he was drunk with foxy power!!

He heard the squealing vulpine laughter in his head again. Still dweeby. It would be hilariously unintimidating if not for the fact that whatever this entity had already co-opted and transformed his life for over a fucking year.

The third tail grew in, crackling with strength. Ryan blinked and felt a papery aura around his skin -- followed by the warmth of anticipated fur. The heat of it surrounded him and pulled him down into oblivion, to await the next time his captor was ready to grow another tail from their collective being. * * *

The Fourth Tail

Coming to like he just got home from the gym musky sweaty all stuff he hates barely recognizing the inside of his house can't log into phone or computer everything changed.

“Unhh…."

Ryan dropped his gym bag, blinking. His head hurt, and his body felt tired, like he had really overexerted himself. A lingering dopamine high helped counteract the pain somewhat… it felt like he had just won something big, and he didn't even know what….

Heck, he barely recognized his house. It was definitely still the same one, but most of the furniture had been either rearranged or changed out. Some of the decor had been visibly “Japanified," including a very noticeable tatami mat, though the living room sofa was more of a higher-end American specimen… albeit with conspicuously white upholstery. Not beige, not cream, but bright white.

Well, it would have to do. He went over there and flopped down, his huge Ganondorf-Adonis of a body feeling unwieldy and strange to him still despite these occasional “visits" to the task of piloting it.

As he lay there, he caught his breath and realized he must have run all the way home elated about something… ugh….

Presently, he removed his shirt and kicked off his shorts -- all musky and sweaty. He needed a shower, but… there was no time. Even if his own musk was already making his oversized dick get turgid. Then, looking down his happy trail toward his erection only made it get harder. Such fine pecs and abs… just looking at himself made him hornier, but it also felt fake -- like someone had programmed it into an NPC: “See self? Turn on."

He stood up again, inevitably rubbing at himself a bit as he went about. He settled for letting his schlong rest on the cooler wood of his… considerably nicer business desk where his computer currently was. The chair was upholstered with this lovely East Asian floral pattern….

No, no distractions. He had to get logged in. He had to find out more substance of what this ghost had been doing.

( Throb. Throb. Throb. )

…Nnnnf, why was it ROCK HARD? His dick felt possessed…. For all he knew, maybe it was.

“Invalid password? What…?"

Then again, it made sense, right? If his body had already been spiritually hacked, was a changed password such a surprise?

…No, no jumping to conclusions. Maybe he only mistyped it.

He flexed his longer, bigger fingers and looked right at the keyboard before tapping out the password a second time. Invalid.

He clenched his teeth and chicken-tapped it one key at a time, feeling his dick grow more aroused from some kind of demonic amusement -- his struggle a fetish in itself.

Invalid password.

His teeth chattered. He grabbed his phone and put in his pin -- invalid. He also realized it was a newer model and that the date was now two full years since he had first put on the mask. What the fuck!?

( Throb… THROB…!! )

He looked down at his fat cock and grabbed it again, almost angry with it even though it felt good. His well-exercised heart thumped away in his chest, a wry grin forming on his face as the fox-entity crept up metaphorically from behind him -- subverting his control, pressing his thighs and nuts against the desk, and working his shaft between his fingers.

I'm making much better use of this vessel than you ever did. Doesn't being possessed feel good?

The sensations did, but Ryan wasn't having it. He mentally pushed back as best he could -which currently wasn't much -- and grunted in agitation. elcome home, Ryan. Or should we say, “Ryanosuke?"

His dick throbbed hotter, and there was a bizarre arc of pleasure from his dick-tip through his groin and straight into the vicinity of his prostate. It repeated over and over, seemingly from no source at all except the entity's will.

Cum for me, “Ryanosuke"… cum for me like you always do….

“No… no… hrrghh!!!"

But Ryan did: He came a load so fervent and messy that it should have mortified him that he was doing it all over his keyboard and monitor. Just jizzing away without a care on the fondly remembered machine on his desk.

Then, a sinister thought, again not his own: Eh, it's getting quite old anyway. Perhaps we'll have to throw it away and get something nicer… good thing the auto camera will have caught that display.

Ryan thought back, What!? You aren't going to-Oh, but I am. I will.

Then, not in control of himself, Ryan reached behind his PC and took up a different stone mask that had been hanging on the wall on a mount. This one had a wildly laughing face -- and, with it, he smashed the old computer screen so hard that it spiderwebbed.

An instant after seeing the damage, Ryan felt the fourth tail erupt into power.

An instant after that, Ryan's mind spiraled back into the darkness.

* * *

The Fifth Tail

Ryan -- or, “Master Ryanosuke" -- next awoke to a feeling just the top of his scalp with numbness below. A fleeting sensation of something like fox ears jutted upward, swiveling forward into a predatory staring position before the sensation fuzzed out.

Renewed human sensations followed: blurred vision coming back to him, a sense of intense arousal from the neck up at least, and a sense of movement like he was literally in the midst of fucking someone -- really going at it, like his body had a bestial mind all its own.

He blinked off his blurred vision, and his eyes came into focus on an odd, slightly wrong rendition-in-miniature of a Japanese Inari shrine. The most immediate “off" detail was the violently torn scarf that had been placed around the simple fox statue that adorned it. A second glance let him make out that the fox's face also had a subtly chiseled “X" across it, with the indentation painted over to look the same color as the rest.

His awareness continued to creep lower over the still-transformed Olympian of a body that he now wore, however intermittently these fits of control must be at this point. He felt his pecs flex, his lungs full of a deep breath as he kept fucking. He didn't really want to look down, so he let himself get stuck on the question of where the hell this was even happening.

This was located… in his bedroom… maybe? Though, there were new curtains -- long, vermilion ones -- hanging both on the windows and along other places at the edges of the room. The “shrine" was basically behind where his bed used to be located, and now the bed was pushed out much closer to the door, and…

THROB. He felt his pelvic floor clench -- not ejaculating, but damn if he wasn't worked up. His abs engaged and rolling with the ease his very-fit body allowed -- pleasure running up his spine, yet he wasn't in control of anything but his neck and head.

He felt his knees against the bed, his legs locked with whoever he was doing. A doggystyle entry by the feel of it… maybe a little low. He didn't feel the balls touching, but with his overly long rod maybe that was asking a lot of a normal person.

His body was so close to blowing its load now that he finally relented and tried to take in what was happening down below. Orienting himself in the dim, sexualized shrine-lighting proved difficult, his partner still rocking beneath him as he looked down and tried to take in what he was seeing. For some reason, it didn't immediately parse, like he had a mental block.

Was… was the fox-ghost still forcing him to act? Was this his body's instinct?

He clenched his teeth and growled as he fucked. He became aware again of his four ethereal tails, each waving eagerly behind him, and he could feel the fifth on the cusp of breaking through to join them.

Pleasure and lust drove him… his powerful god-man of a body. He was working his balls deep into that tight and hot hole… a hole whose owner he didn't yet see as anything more than a vague blur of confusion… why couldn't he see this guy?

You're doing this!! Ryan protested. Stop keeping me from seeing!!

The voice's reply was… amused. Hahahaha… so eager? Well then, why not?

Ryan's neck pitched involuntarily forward, his gaze coming to rest on a pair of bared, flushed breasts. He dove down upon them and lashed his tongue over one of them, before giving the nip a suckle.

Forward! commanded the fox.

Ryan moved like a puppet, but his mind was all but frozen. He had locked up at the sight of breasts.

Fuck her, drain her!

He was… fucking a…

“Aaa…!" she moaned.

A woman. And his body was into it. This body… which no longer felt like it was even his own.

He glanced at her face -- saw her pale cheeks and fair blonde hair, probably a North American Caucasian lady into Master Ryanosuke's sex-cult for the style… she didn't seem to get a lot of sun.

His body was fucking her like there was no tomorrow… and he couldn't stop himself, despite the situation being an active turn-off for the person he had formerly been….

A strong dissonance struck Ryan's mind. He tried again to stop, but, nothing doing. He had to fuck her.

And, for her part, she was into it.

“Ohh, Master Ryanosuke…!! Aaa aa ~!!"

Even if it… sounded like the girth of his tool was hurting her, or maybe it was from the length hitting her cervix like a battering ram.

Her cervix.

Ryan's thoughts raced. What if her fortress was pregnable -- like, literally? What if he… what if she… he didn't wanna be a dad! He wasn't even straight!! At all!!

But his dick was throbbing for his captor's pleasure all the same.

It was also scary how long it took Ryan to really “find" and “feel" his revulsion -- initially immersed as he had been in that masking personality over which he had no control. Even now it wasn't much better: he could manage to withdraw and watch through his eyes like a passenger. He could not stop feeling the sensations and mechanics of his approaching climax, despite emotionally distancing himself from the “role" of the lust the ghost had injected into him.

“Oh… my god, Ryanosuke of the Nine Tails!! Give it to me!! YES!!" She was screaming and clearly on the verge of orgasm if not already there. Her enthusiasm was so intense that it seemed like she was actively trying to make a porno trope of herself. The “my god" also did not sound nearly as metaphorical as that exclamation usually sounded.

“Mm, sweet patch of moist soil," said Ryanosuke, “the time for the seeds to take root is not today…"

“Please…! Pleaaaase, my god!!"

But he shook his head. “You must devote yourself much harder still for that. Give me every drop of your soul, you understand?"

She nodded slowly in her ecstasy, moaning again as she struggled to endure him, the pleasure and pain mixing and-Oh no.

Ryan had been watching all of this through the eyes. Now, he suddenly found himself watching it from someplace else.

Ryan's PoV had shifted downward. Down the spine, around the abs… and straight onto eye level with her clit and strained vulva, his thoroughly gay mind cracking at the visceral feeling of being this enormous meat-rod whose only current aim was to thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust… filling this woman with whatever the entity would be putting into her… besides the cum, that is. The cum was assumed… and oh gods could he feel it building up, really ready to nut like he couldn't believe.

Want to see the place mammals come from? the entity laughed as it pushed Ryan's PoV in deeper, like he was a probe-camera attached to the dick with the walls rocking and clenching as he slid forward… until he was gazing at an illuminated view of the mucus-gummed donut-wall of her cervix, directly….

Isn't it nice that I can hear your thoughts, “Ryan"?

What the FUCK, man!? Ryan screamed back -- only to hear laughter, and feel the imminence of climax through “his body" -- which is to say, the body of his massive erection.

It didn't matter how much Ryan didn't want this as a homosexual man… as a penis under the will of this body, he felt a tight hole servicing him and swelled up that much fatter with engorgement for it. He was so long and rigid, he could feel the pressure along the whole length of himself and inside his corpora, the blood pressure pounding away on his strong and healthy system while his cockhead hammered away at her cervix. She was feeling it big time, and he was grinding back hard with each motion while a hand rubbed on his cock.

Moments later, the thrusting halted, a growl of machismo and satisfaction emanating from “his" chest. Gouts and spouts of musky white flooded Ryan's vision, “his" seed filling her steadily the the fucking brim as she shivered around him. From the scream and the way her innermost bits were dilating, she was having the orgasm of her life, and Ryan just wished he could look away.

So he was pulled out and forced to stare at her huge clit and slickened lips as the fat dick pulled back, the smaller protruding organ flinching a few times in a climax of her own. Her fingers went down to rub around it… Ryan couldn't take it.

Let me out of here, you creep. Anywhere but right up some fucking lady-parts, if you please!!

The entity went silent for a moment. Together, they felt their fifth tail swaying phantasmally into power behind them -- the energy from this moment coalescing, the fox-entity growing stronger, or maybe reclaiming more of a power previously held….

Then, the cheeky ghost-demon made his answer: Oh. Anywhere , you say?

Ryan's mind switched off. The five tails were the last thing he felt before fading away.

* * *

The Sixth Tail

Ryan came to in a snap, this time. No delay -- but also no agency. He couldn't get up, couldn't leave. Couldn't even cover himself.

Ryan was nude on a beach, and everyone else around him was too.

Wait… the neck! He had control of that one bit. Ironic, given how much the rest of his body felt like it was collared.

Doing the only thing he could, Ryan looked down at himself, noticing the new art on his torso: a black-outlined Kitsune tattoo, with stylized red eyes like blazing coals and a third eye on the forehead done up in mesmeric violet and croc-skin green. The shoulders were profile, the face looking forward -- nine tails fanning down his right side, each tail having eyes like a peacock, and at the center of each was a human's eye with tears pouring out. Up the left side of him were three kanji he didn't recognize; on each of his forearms was a series of three theatrical masks with humanoid faces: laughing, crying, GRINNING, surprised, roaring like a gorilla with the teeth bared forward. and the last one displaying a tongue.

Down on his abs, on either side of the treasure trail, were tattooed the severed halves of a golden sun, as if some anime god had cleaved it in two and let the half on the right sag down. What looked like the taxidermied pelt of a white wolf was attached to them: the front quarters on one side and the rear on the other.

“Ryanosuke" had... an outrageous number of tattoos. It hit him again that he was naked on a nude beach. Surrounded by people who seemed like the type who might have more money than was necessary to run a small country….

None of them were in the middle of giving him a blowjob, at least. But… how in the world was he hobnobbing with this kind of pack nowadays? What even was nowadays? His head happened to turn over to his phone… different model entirely. Maybe another year, maybe two since the last time he had any point of reference? The screen was off, so he couldn't say.

There was yet another, familiar tingle at the bottom of his spine… a new power growing in without ceremony this time, as if casually unpacking itself in the midst of all this monetary power…

Swish… swish… swish…

So many tails, so vivid and full of magic.

He shot a disturbed, frowning look at the kitsune tat on his chest. All twelve eyes appeared to shift position and look at him -- and he zapped back into darkness.

* * *

The Seventh Tail

Ryan awoke to… something.

Slurp…. slurp..:.

He felt a sensual tongue and warm breath against the toughened but not quite callused surface of his body…

His large feet… which, were him. He was his feet. Somehow, the identity was just “true" to him, though it felt… hazy. Manipulated. No, it must be the kitsune's trick, but….

He tried to open his eyes, but all that happened was a twitching feeling at his forward extremity and a sudden splash of light and color… his vision focusing in on… only Ryanosuke's feet, as they were worshiped by two half-naked admirers wearing only upper-face masks in the style of kitsune, and some sort of fundoshi style loincloths.

Liiick… liiick…

Those worshipped feet… which Ryan now was. This “truth" asserted itself strongly on his mind, engulfing him in its weight.

Ryan was pressed against their faces… his toes involuntarily curling as pleasure and satisfaction coursed through him. His feet were so big and contoured… he could feel every subtle shift in shape as the large toes moved and flexed, or as the ankle extended or relaxed.

He could feel… bits of their soul energy being absorbed through him. Little by little, as those sensitive stompers get adored… his massive, potent, rugged feet….

He felt the six tails, with the seventh taking root -- stirring. This was going to be another moment. Another feather in the demon's cap… or, a tail in the only “crown" that mattered to a kitsune: the wreath of their own well-aged power at their back.

Despite the circumstances, Ryan struggled. He tried to wake up more, to be more of the body, but only managed to pivot his tethered “camera" around a little to peek between his big toes and toward where his body was reclining.

(Feet didn't need to go any higher than that.)

They were doing this in some sort of basement studio, dim and nondescript save for the illuminated porn-shot area. “Ryanosuke" was naked except for a larger vulpine ritual mask and a string of very bright red prayer beads, their shade like poisonous holly berries. His cock was lying there hard and unattended against his abs while his arms folded behind his neck -- a “so superior I don't even care" pose, while the foot affection slowly heightened the arousal.

After they had worshiped his feet for several minutes, they reached for nearby latex costuming pieces and slid them on: thin slippers in the style of fox paws, with dark nails and a form-fitting second-skin feel on the bottom, with subtle padding adding paw-shaped heft to the foot. Once that was done, the admirers removed their loincloths and grinded against the paws with their erections, their movements silent and stereotyped, like jerking puppets as they sawed back and forth to stimulate themselves to climax.

Ryan's body grunted his approval, leaking pre as the sensations on the feet grew more vivid… for moments at a time it was almost like the paw-padding was real, him able to feel their pricks grinding in hard between his pads… urf, he was curling his toes and letting their cock-heads collide with the tightened gap between the great tie and the next one, making them feel like they were bottoming out in a hole.

The closer they got to cumming, the more Ryan felt a hum of energy flowing through him, like their dicks were giving him something wonderful, something you couldn't even know you were hungry for unless you already had the taste for it. He felt his own pleasure growing and realized he was going to cum with them, his knees and hunky thighs spreading as he cupped those cocks and ensured they didn't slow down. The adorers moaned, and Ryan pulsed with that delicious energy, only to feel it continue flowing through him and up into the part of himself that was beyond his access, like he was only a pipe for that sumptuous meal of worship.

This wasn't right…. He shouldn't be feeling this, nor craving it. But his whole being ached for their energy… it felt like he was missing so much, and got so hungry… he just wanted to suck it all right out of them, to draw it in through his soles…

He felt that pipe flow harder as they made their mess all over his “paws," a dizzying climactic pleasure also hitting him as he watched the body's penis shoot all over its chest hands-free.

Ryan felt filled, contented -- for just a moment, to his chagrin soon feeling his own energy being sucked away in that same flow, bringing with it a return of that hungry edge. There was a moment of consciousness melding or bleedover… he felt a dark conviction: that his paws were for worshiping; he had to stay hungry, his soles were for devouring soulstuffs….

More guys were coming in closer -- kissing his pecs, suckling at his nipples, grinding shafts on those cum-soaked feet of his again. He felt the connection form -- more soul energy, more hunger, more worship. Their masks a sign of their unison under him, yes!!

Ryan felt dizzy as he struggled to remember whether that was really his personality or not. He wasn't… an evil fox god, was he? He didn't devour human souls, did he?

The seventh phantasmal tail grew powerfully out behind him as he wrestled with his confused identity. A sense of wickedness seemed to slip into him and through him -- putting him on like hollowed out clothing. He continued to feel their exuberant grinding for just moments longer before sinking into the deep darkness once again.

* * *

The Eighth Tail

Ryan awoke in his own body.

It was shocking, feeling his own real, white-and-nerdy human flesh and blood. Face down on a bed with a mondo headache, groggy beyond description.

Upon blinking and exerting his limbs a bit, he determined that he was naked and, for some reason, seemed to have fallen asleep with his ass raised.

…In some sort of high-end resort hotel. Condo? A few quick left to right glances saw a lot of very expensive looking fabrics, candle lighting, and paper lantern stuff… lots of tans, beige, and golds in the aesthetics. A big white curtain blocking the window, done up with the image of the same tattoo that had been on the chest of “Ryanosuke."

Then… very oddly, further behind him, Ryan felt the tails. Slowly swaying. Seven of them now, fully, with the root of an eighth having formed and started to grow.

But, they weren't attached to his human rear, this time…

He looked behind himself -- and saw the masked and ornately dolled-up foxish e-cult leader guy behind him. Ravishing, demigod-hung body and all. It was just like Ryan remembered… and it felt like the tails were attached to him.

Ryan looked down at himself and had the strangest sense of being… fraudulent. Like he knew this body wasn't real. The tails should be connected to him… right?

“This is the one who dared to claim that HE was our Ryanosuke-sama," said one of the other people in the room, her tone fervent.

A live, mixed-gender crowd in the darkness _BOOOO_ed him. “Ryanosuke" silently nodded at Ryan, that masked face inscrutable.

“Give me back my body," Ryan grunted to him, sitting up and turning around.

The increasingly powerful kitsune stroked his cheek and whispered, “You should have stayed asleep and enjoyed the new flesh I granted you."

He then kissed Ryan -- who now found himself powerless to control the homuncular puppet of flesh he was inhabiting. For that was exactly what it was, if the information being pumped into his mind now could be believed. A project of magic and science -- not at all distant future science, with the right connections. It had only been three more years. The world was practically their oyster, now…

Or should we say, my stomping ground. Heheheh….

While Ryanosuke's thoughts echoed in his head, Ryan found himself being grappled and turned around -- that monument of a man mounting and penetrating him deeply while the audience cheered.

Ryan's hole opened up with ease… stretching like it wasn't quite made of normal flesh, but something closer to a just-living sex toy. That long, girthy prick impaled him until he could feel it behind his navel… or what should have been his navel.

When he focused on his midriff properly, he seemed to pierce the entity's illusion just enough to notice he didn't have a navel any longer. It really was artificial.

Ryanosuke sped up and plowed him roughly, that long prick gradually working deeper and deeper as Ryan's hole complied with its abuse.

“Drain his soul! Drain his soul!" The cultish fan-audience was cheering.

He still didn't know how many there were. Maybe a hundred? Like this was some kind of freakish fuck-auditorium with a bedroom on the “stage." And who could say how many more were watching via the 'net?

All of that gathered, focused attention had power -- or, at least, it was a fuel-funnel for Ryanosuke's own. Ryan could feel the eighth tail lengthening as they clamored for Ryan's absorption. With that tail came a growing awareness of just how much soul energy was being siphoned in this event -- scarcely any from Ryan, who was already quite weakened in that department, but so much coming from the maniacal audience… and so much more flowing in from all around the world, watched from abroad and in every land the 'net could reach.

Oh gods, this was a demon whose powers thrive on attention and belief, and he had wormed his way perfectly into the social-media hivemind that was the fucking Internet.

“Good, 'cousin,'" whispered Ryanosuke from behind him while continuing to fuck. “Struggle all you like, but our strength is growing, and I will remain in control because no one wants you in control. Reality is a democracy of the purest and cruelest sort."

Ryanosuke came hard inside him, but the hilting and spurting were almost solemn. The eighth tail grew in and grew larger, and he began to laugh as the crowd cheered him on.

That laughter darkened as Ryan's vision did. He wasn't even going to get an orgasm out of this.

But… why? It felt like… that was the last bit to be milked away, wasn't it? All this being had to do was get him to cum under his influence… one time, maybe a time or two more…

Yet, he was still being toyed with. Ryan's sapped soul recoiled toward the powerful tails, slipping into the fuzzy tingling of their ample energies. Then he felt a flattening and a hardening… something plaster or clay-like. A face, so sad and anguished. He was but a face.

He would soon be nothing but a face….

No!!

Ryan lashed out as if to free himself from that fate -- but fell only into the darkness of oblivion, for now.

(To be continued!)

“Counting to Nine" Part 3 of 4

by dolphinsanity for FoxLightning

Demon Lord Ninetails belongs to Nintendo; this is a work of fanfiction.

~~~~~

The Ninth Tail: Vengeance Proclaimed

Ryan awoke one more time. He felt the eight tails, their energies pulsating like a curse from the root of his spine and out into a writhing, wily-waving fan behind him. They both “were" his and “weren't" his… much like this hunk of a form. He was “the Ganondorf guy" again, with no homuncular copy in sight.

The ninth tail was budding at the root of his spine. He could feel it trying to become real -- all of them trying to invade reality fully. He felt as if he could apply some sort of mental weight to hold them back, and did his best to do so, but being thoroughly untrained in any such spiritual arts he was doing so blindly at best. He felt like he wasn't going to be able to hold this thing back for long, and the thought ate at him from inside.

He was in a circular wooden ritual space under dense clouds, their mass parting to reveal a blood moon. The red light shone down into the circular platform, showing it to be located high amongst a confluence of mountaintops.

Eight ancient-looking braziers suddenly ignited, forming an octagon of glows around the ritual area… illuminating a faded pattern of black spots that formed something like a stylized sun.

It was eerie. This place… Ryan knew it exactly. It was from a game, but someone had built it in real life: a ritualistic counterpart. The memory was on the tip of his tongue yet covered over, like a sign blotted beneath strokes of a heavy black paint.

In the sky again, through parting clouds, he fancied that he saw a constellation of a nine-tailed fox. Yes, right up there! He could almost see the thin lines connecting them… except… no, several of the stars that would've needed to exist for that constellation to be real, simply weren't there. It wasn't a real constellation, he told himself.

But what if it was? intruded a powerful thought from the demon that had been tormenting him all this time.

The ninth tail crept out longer -- fuller, the brush of its tufty tip so easy for a moment for Ryan to feel….

He blinked, and his vision blurred for a moment before refocusing in crystal clarity. He saw the stars twinkling brightly… and more stars glowing to match them. Stars that hadn't been there a moment prior, but which now glowed indistinguishable from the rest of the reality of the night sky. The stars now truly formed the anatomy of a kitsune and its mighty tails, one, two, three four -- he could feel a sympathetic hum in each of “his" tails as its star blazed into view -- five, six, seven, eight, and…

Nine…

It was time, wasn't it? This little counting game was over. He could feel the ninth tail happening, whether he was ready for it or not. Growing out to overpower his mortal mind…

There was a series of glimmers. The constellation lines in Ryan's imagination became literally visible, drawing and shifting between the stars, making the kitsune pattern glow like a great glyph upon the heavens. Then… FLASH!!

Keheheheh…

The fox was up in the sky… presiding over the world. Ryan blinked and could just make out the myriad wispy tethers of soul energy rising up from all over the planet… thousands and thousands of tiny etheric pipes offering power to this being who had used him.

Judging by the size and luminousness of him, the kitsune was soaking it all up just nicely.

The image of a nine-tailed demonic kitsune lingered in the heavens, as if to gloat for his victory. Then, he ripped himself from the sky and leaped into 3D, gliding through the air as a distant blur of white. For a moment, the kitsune moved almost like a paper kite, or some sort of parade float, before taking on what was firmly the visage and texture of a living, breathing fox monster.

As that manifest y?kai leaped down toward him, all nine of “Ryan's" tails resonated, bursting into naked-eye visibility behind him, producing bluish ethereal flames that seemed ever so occasionally to crackle with electricity, though that sparking was faint. He could sort of control them, folding a pair of them around in front of himself as he struggled to take in what was happening -- this ghostly but nearly-physical addition to his body -- but didn't have long to process it before the entity came down through the air to land on the platform before him.

Huge and dreadful, the beast's four paws slammed down and caused the floor to rumble. He seemed to have real, supernaturally durable mass -- and was also several times Ryan's size, standing at least twice his height despite the long, ferally oriented body plan.

The entity's fur was a dingy shade of white, like someone had lit a campfire under a roll of beige wallpaper and let the smoke soak it through. He wore a mask that was quite familiar to Ryan… no, not wore, but was: the fox mask was his face, complete with a complement of porcelain-looking teeth. The jaws moved and showed rich red maw-flesh inside, with a throat that looked like a metaphysical pit into cosmic darkness -- so much so that Ryan looked away immediately after glimpsing it.

The entity's nine tails rose, and so did Ryan's in sympathy. Each was tipped with a disturbingly sharp “point" of fur, evoking something between the shape of asparagus and an actual spear. Just below each point was a mask, each bearing a different expression and decorative color accents. None of the expressions were “normal" emotions; all were caricatured or grotesque: a too-big slasher smile beneath eyes like a devious businessman; a mouthless look of cold imperiousness; a big, shallowly tilde-shaped waggle-mouth of crossness and irritation, set beneath glowering black eyes whose proportions bordered on insectoid. All of the eyes were diagonal hash marks that had been embellished along one side or the other to create the desired effect. Each of the masks, in turn, was frocked in a hood of simple burlap held together at the neckline by an exaggeratedly large red orb, producing for Ryan a vibe of something between a pious priest and a murderous clown.

The kitsune threw back his head and roared in triumph: “The sun sleeps… the fox plays!!"

Ryan was… frozen. Not supernaturally, but by the awe that had overtaken him. The tails whipped excitedly behind him…

As the ninth tail grew out the rest of the way, the entity came in and “kissed" Ryan on the lips -bumping mask against face. At that moment the mental block broke, permitting Ryan to recognize the entity for what he was.

Ryan immediately shouted, “Demon Lord Ninetails!!"

“You will say that name in astonishment first, then in worship, fellow fox."

Every detail matched the character depicted in Okami, with one exception: Ninetails' body “should" have looked papery over its surface… but it seemed that all the vital energy he had absorbed had granted him at least the appearance of being properly alive and virile. If it wasn't totally real already, it might not be long before it was.

Ryan shook his head and backed away, tails rising and crackling in indignation behind him. “No.

You're not real!!"

“Oh, I am, and I am quite content to absorb whatever name and prestige that this modern era has so foolishly and willingly ascribed to me." He skulked in an encircling, low stance -- tails jiggling their uncanny masks. His dead, gray-with-white-lights eyes regarded Ryan like prey.

Ryan had the distinct, unsettling impression that those masks were made of people, or at least people's devoured souls. He had to wonder if he was about to become the next, or if, hell, it had already more-or-less happened. He didn't feel like a mask, but….

The beast's mask-nose sniffed in close, and Ryan reacted. “Get. Away from me. You shambling pile of papier-mâché! Where's Amaterasu? She should paint you a ramp straight into the heart of the sun!!"

The demon laughed -- pulling his head back but for a moment, as if in some strange courtesy to a being of similar kind. “Ryan… or should I say, 'fellow fox.' Clearly I am much more properly alive than you recall." He licked a paw and winked smugly as he wiped it over the fluff atop his head. “As things stand, there is but one last step to take." He nodded to the princely-priestly body he had “sculpted" from Ryan and explained, “The vessel which hosted me has been made into a seed of my true body. Now, it is time for that seed to sprout." He leaned in quite close, his smooth white face-mask opening as he whispered in Ryan's ear: “Make your peace, fox. You will soon feel the change stirring inside you. For even the fox that you are, I shall make my own."

For a moment, it had been as if Ryan was under a spell, unable to move on his own -- trapped in a dialogue box, as it were. That ended as his adrenaline spiked: he pivoted and backed away. “Nothing doing! I'll… I'll fight you!!"

“Kehehehe… amusing! Or… no, how did it go in your little game? 'Ho-ho-ho-ho…'"

This was surreal. Ryan was having severe Okami flashbacks right about now -- a fact which the demon seemed to savor. Yet, from the confusion of it all, there was an odd bit of clarity coming to him. He did know a lot about this “boss," didn't he? Maybe… just maybe… he really could fight him? He'd just have to dodge the magic, and the blade and… Blade…?

“Wait… where's your sword?" asked Ryan, his sanity finding some refuge in his nerdy memory of the encounter.

The demon grinned. “So glad that you recall." He flashed an image of the multi-pronged, ceremonial looking blade from the game -- then dismissed it. “I will be overthrowing your world using a very different 'blade'…"

At that point, certain formerly absent bits of the demon's anatomy bulged into existence between his hind legs… and continued to swell and hang, looking impressively over-endowed… perhaps already glutted up on the weight of all that soul energy he had been drinking up from the livestreams.

The entity pivoted slightly to flash Ryan a better look -- lifting his tails imperiously to show off some muscular kitsune ass along with the melony orbs of his scrotum.

“You can't be serious," grunted Ryan. “You're talking about your dick at a time like this." Still, he knew there was a point to it: Ryan could quite literally see some of the ethereal pipes flowing into the demon's sex organs if he watched closely. The worship from the streams was gradually making him more sexually potent, with no limit in sight.

The fox lowered his head and cocked his ears playfully while his canine prick peeked from his sheath. “Kehehehehe… why not enjoy the weight of that 'sword' with me? You've been a useful host, though not an agreeable one. From one fox to another, I could perhaps offer you a fate more pleasant than most of these souls will face. Eternity as my holy phallus."

Ryan balked. “And have you shove me balls deep inside some brainwashed lady like you did before? You're drinking your own Kool-aid if you think I would ever trust YOU."

“Heheheh… typical," said the demon. “Then, what? My tails-in-reality are still attached to your body… I shall have to make my final seizure of those assets quite soon. After that, the wasteful detritus that is humanity shall become fuel for my ascension."

Ryan glared at him, looking the false face in the eyes and doing his best not to get distracted by the maw or creepy tail-masks. He also thought about a “mask" of his own, his fursona Lightning, which seemed like his only inroad into attacking a creature like this… a demon whose current form was made of the delusional worship his sex cult had given him….

But there was more to Lightning than that. There was a truth to him… a “fellow fox," just like Ninetails had said. From one fox to another… he had to fight this thing. He had to, because it was very likely no one else would see it coming.

Ryan felt the energy in the kitsune tails and tried to leverage it. To his pleasant surprise, he could feel it move: the foxy aura spreading over him to form an astral armor in the shape of one of the buffer versions of Lightning: muscular and werebeast-like, just out of phase with the physical… but, hopefully, good enough to take out this guy. If Amaterasu could do it by painting at him, then maybe a lowly mortal infused with spiritual power could at least beat some sense into the guy.

Growling, Ryan ran at Demon Lord Ninetails and uppercut his snout from below. A crackle of fantastic blue electricity surged through him. Ninetails yelped, his furry body smoldering and giving off a smell like burnt paper. It certainly seemed to kill the horny mood for him a little; his presented dick went back in its sheath.

Ninetails made a short, repositioning hop backward, tails low and fanned out along the ground.

Ryan snarled, showing Lightning's fangs and said, “See! I'll beat you! And I don't even need a divine paintbrush to do it!"

After shaking his neck and righting it, Ninetails looked on in wrath and… amusement.

All nine of the masked tails glowed red in their “eyes" -- and the nine tails attached to Ryan felt hot and full of rebellion. Ryan struggled to control them, but soon found himself grabbed and enveloped by the swirling cocoon of his elongating reddish ghost-tails, Meanwhile, the image of Lightning separated out above him and took on a demonic looking, possessed malevolence, with red eyes and a mouth that moved in unison with that of Ninetails.

“Ho-ho…" laughed the demon. “A word of advice… if you want to attack me with your 'fursona,' you might want to take a few thousand years to grow him his own tails first. Or at least feed him the energy from all the attention he's gotten. Oh wait, you don't know how! Kehehe~!"

…Crap. It had seemed like a worthwhile shot to take, but he had let himself fall into the trap of thinking more of that power was his than really was.

Now, Ryan felt the ethereal tails smothering in around him, tightening their wrap until all was a red glow… and then….

* * *

The Corruption

Ryan blinked off a lapse in consciousness and saw a swirl of red and white. He was in… somewhere. Some sort of in-between space, a little globe of captivity amidst the power of the demon lord's tails.

The head of Ninetails pushed through the fuzzy boundaries of the space, along with his front paws. Only that much of him. Ryan felt the kitsune tail-roots at his rear throbbing with excitement… it was a state directly comparable to sexual arousal, if quite different in tone. Something was building up; a climax was coming soon, and the masked kitsune was excited… Even if this particular climax was one of horror.

With one paw, the kitsune demon pulled back his mask, revealing an eyeless socket on a damaged fox skull and matted bits of fur. The mask twisted from its usual grim look to wear a maniacally laughing expression while the damaged face was exposed -- then resumed its normal posture when the demon let the mask fuse back with his face a moment later.

“Once, I dared to share truth with humans," said Ninetails. “They hated me and put out my eye. I have chosen the darkness ever since. Please understand, fellow fox, my divine wrath is nothing personal. Even if you are an idiot."

“There's no point perpetuating vengeance!" Ryan pleaded, finding his arms and legs restrained by the tendrils of the seemingly innumerable tails that bordered this little bubble of reality. “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind!"

“Kehehe… true… still, what use are eyes at all, when I may shape reality as I deem fit? As my paws rise and fall, so shall this world become my theater. I will say what reality is, and the whole world will believe me… and the more they believe, the realer it shall become~"

Ninetails opened his maw, coming in larger and larger… an inky black tongue of energy emerging, tendril-like toward Ryan's lips.

Ryan tried to lunge out to grab and oppose it -- but, bound as he was, all he was able to project forward was a blurry Lightning paw, insufficient to stop it. Then when it brushed up against his face, he tried to make Lightning's muzzle bite it, growling and sinking his fangs in…

…resulting in him immediately tasting the corruption. Gooey, warm…

A heated, inflammatory feeling pumped into him like poison as some sort of ichor gushed from the monster's tongue. Poison… or, maybe just a spiritual drug. A dizzying mixture of betrayal, pollution, WORSHIP, sex, energy, soul, POWER.

He felt his inner fox stirring more -- the strength of his bite growing, the idea of “Lightning" getting stronger, more real, those nine tails of “his" growing stronger, even as the taint of that corruption worked its way deeper…

“Grrrrrgh…!" The spiritual fox muzzle thrashed, as if to tear the thing's tongue off, but no matter how it pulled it was like yanking on a somehow gushy piece of saltwater taffy.

He could feel Ninetails' entertainment… enjoyment…

He let the tongue go and spat the black goop from his maw. He panted, looking up in agitation as Ninetails closed that masked face and glowered at him -- still those eerie gray sclera, with their tiny white glows of vision.

Taste what it is to be a demon lord, said the masked face without moving its mouth.

Ryan felt his control of himself slipping… Lightning becoming more and more his own entity, struggling to break free but out of sync with Ryan, instead resonating with the will of the demon. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to stop Lightning from becoming part of Ninetails. They were the same type of being, now sharing a mutual pool of well-aged psychospiritual poisoning. This was going to end with some very evil enraged kami wrath…

The harder Ryan tried to hold the idea at bay, the more his foxy spiritual mouth pried itself open -- waiting, as if in a trance, for the moment seduced and ready to receive whatever Ninetails would give.

Ninetails slurped under his chin once -- then, blew a foul air from his nostrils into Ryan-and-Lightning's throat.

More corrupted fox-spirit poured in on his next intake of breath -- a series of bizarre qualities filling Ryan as his nose and flowing down into his lungs.

The first thing was the faint decrepitness of something very old… like the smell of a forgotten, torn-up plushie mixed with an old-folks' home. Not a powerful scent at all, it was melancholy and tired… even feeble. Perhaps that was the scent of Ninetails' true self.

The more he inhaled it, the more the flavor twisted. The cool sadness spiked with rage. The neglect was replaced with felt betrayal. The crumbling of centuries gave way to the steadfastness of a rigid indignation and a hatred of all humans. Ryan had disliked and despised things in the past, but what flowed into him -- and into Lightning -- was a hatred made ever-purer by time and constant stoking. Ninetails' spirit was like a river so toxified that its pollutants had come to outnumber the droplets of water.

The hatred filled him and engulfed him. It would become his blood, body, and armor, and he would wear it with a smiling face -- no, as many smiling faces as he wanted!! He would dangle captured souls from his tails -- wear what was left of their faces as grotesque parodies of the people who preceded them!

Ryan winced, feeling that oppressive surge of Ninetails' will at last recede. He felt warm and furry all over, like Lightning was trying to pop him open like a skinsuit, but that feeling wasn't consummated -- at least not yet.

Then the maw closed -- moved up and away, and the entity's chest entered the space instead… passing forward… down the belly fur, and then to the veiny redness of an erect canine rocket, with those ethereal energy-fonts all plugged in from his fans.

Of course. This was sex magic after all.

Ryan was turned around, pulled in close -- felt the “holy phallus" touch his rear, seeming for a moment to burn hot and fuse with him, his tails throbbing in time with it and making him uncertain whether they were on his rear or on Ninetails.

Then there was a rush of pressure, pulsing, and elation, followed by a washout of red, then--

* * *

Just like that, like a jump-cut in a movie, Ryan was teleported home.

He felt it bodily - perceived the transition this time, with no loss of consciousness involved. If anything, he felt MORE awake now, and was no longer restrained or cocooned.

No demon in his face.

No Lightning bursting out of his human shell to rule the world as a manipulated demon.

Nothing at all of the sort.

At least, it didn't feel like it. Things seemed… okay, considering?

He was home, still in the Ganondorf-esque body, still wearing all of his kinky-looking ritual getup, with nice furniture all around.

…Wait… what the hell was going on, then? It felt like Ninetails had just ceded the floor to him. He could halfway imagine a tiny version of the demon jumping out from behind one of his old game consoles and shouting, “PRANKED!!"

Then he saw a light along the edge of his living room: a single white wisp… then another, and another.

The lights came into view rapidly, encircling him. This time there were nine, and Ryan realized his living room had been made into an elaborate magical ritual space for exactly this moment. He could see knife-cut “lines" in the carpeting starting to glow, resonant with the demon's power.

Motherfucker. The only prank here was that fake-out reprieve. As more of it lit up under his feet, he could feel magic resonating both in his body and outside of it, like his house was a rung bell.

The thought of leaving the area was impossible. Ryan wanted to, but it was like reaching a point in an RPG where choosing “no" is simply not allowed, and ultimately a choice of “yes" is enforced. He struggled for a time, but could feel the seconds ticking away as the circle powered up.

Turning around, he could see a laptop… and various streaming cameras, all watching his naked body. Oh good grief, this was being broadcast live. This demonic fuckhead had the audacity to do very real magic before a live audience.

'Twas always the best way, mused the demon from all around him, but we didn't have the Internet back then~

Ryan heard cheering from the laptop's speakers: “Ryanosuke!! Ryanosuke!! Summon up our true lord, Ryanosuke~!!"

…That audio wasn't from the stream of his house. That was him watching a different stream, of what sounded like a whole damn auditorium of his fans cheering him on. A glance at the screen suggested they were all naked and… that the ones who weren't currently cheering were engaging in some very NSFW activities on stream. On an altar.

There were eight other tabs of similar streams happening. The rest were just muted, since Ninetails didn't care about their voices, only their offered essence.

Kitsune Transformation: The Change Becomes Real

As the wisps of light around him expanded, Ryan felt those astral tethers that had once been plugged into Ninetails… reaching out and plugging into him.

Rrrip... pop...!!

His body grew with a sudden jolt. His sex-priestly form curling with a were-bestial spine, new strands of dingy fur growing in to coat his arms and face… the garments had been too tight to support it, and he could feel the fabrics strain and tear as he struggled to hold onto some semblance of bodily control.

Even now, Ninetails seemed bent on tempting him: Feel the power that a million entranced minds brings, properly focused by a light that can guide them...

Ryan felt it: surge after violent surge of spirit-energy pumped their way into his form, each wave conveying the stress of a heavy heartbeat, the exuberance of nine cheering crowds, and the pleasure of thousands of masturbating hands and grinding bodies. It was injected into him like a drug, or perhaps like a spiritual TF serum. The more he tried to resist it, the more he felt the metaphysical mass of it bloating his very soul, compelling it to grow vigorous and massive, enlarging outside his flesh and then forcing his flesh to grow and change to keep pace.

Rrrrrippp… SHREDDD!!

Ninetails wanted every drop of what made him, him. Ninetails wanted to hollow out his soul and nature and inject himself, like a spiritual virus. Ninetails was a wearer of masks -- and right now Ryan was properly in peril of becoming one.

“Nhhk... ghahhh... no... I WON'T let you!" he growled, his protest unconvincing as his right foot slammed down as a beany paw-foot instead.

Ryan slammed a large fist down, his wrist inflating and robe-sleeve tearing -- the smooth and strong human hand surging with size and reshaping to that of a mitt-like, semi-feral paw. He looked at it -- initially bare and flushed pink, before the ensuing pulses sent white fur growing out of it like time-lapsed grass, the energy waves making it twitch as if each pulse was sending a physical vibration through his body.

There was a nauseating wrenching sensation inside his abdomen as his spine jutted longer -his already washboard abs growing denser and tucking in further: a sense of litheness, sexiness, foxiness... haha, a true kitsune seduction with no care for the sanctity of mortal souls....

SHRED!!

He felt the first of his physical tails burst through his pants with the force of a fiery spear, literally smelling the singed fabric as his nose got longer and wetter, darker.

“No... this is NOT the fox that I am...."

A bit of yellow crept into his pelage -- a jagged jigsawing of albino white and Lightning-golden colors vying for each other in the color pattern.

Ryan made his last stand, gritting his teeth (progressively more like fangs) as he tried to restrain and guide the transformation to favor the image of Lightning and his own will. As he tried to keep the idea of a pure Lightning in mind, however, it kept being intruded upon by images of Ninetails' malevolent mask and the demonic Lightning he had seen when he tried to perform spiritual combat.

The weight of the corruption in Ryan's soul was palpable. The “seed' had truly already been planted, and he could feel it sprouting -- tail by tail, their growth a reiteration of what had already taken place upon that old wooden stage.

“Nghh…!"

Three tails. Four tails. Five tails. Bigger paws. A pulsing in his dick -- an unsettling feeling of his humanity being wadded up and pooled into one tightly compacted ball inside of him…

He found himself being pushed more and more out of the driver's seat and into a depersonalized third-person view, as if his soul were only tethered to his flesh and looking down at it with a kind of first-person scrying camera -- a grim reprise of the perceptual fuckery that had happened during the latter stages of the takeover of his life.

He heard himself growl and saw his conflicted, wide eyes, the right one taking after the hollow white glow of Ninetails, while the left took on the humanoid blue of his fursona Lightning. Periodically in each eye, the opposite color would clash, attempting to bowl the other over like an army claiming territory on a map.

As his back grew longer and his torn garment rose, the struggle played out in Ryan's increasingly trippy field of vision: stylized, painted-looking images of Demon Lord Ninetails fought a more esoteric version of Lightning, with the former attacking with mockeries of powers of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu, while Lightning wielded his namesake. They had already fought this fight, but they were fighting it again. They were fighting again because Ryan was continuing to refuse despite all of the illusions that had been fed to him.

Ryan could feel them both -- their pains and their angers, as if they were fighting over him with equal degrees of jealousy and vengeance. There were two foxes inside of him, and both had the power of gods and anime already, with Ryan gritting his teeth and then growlingly snapping his jaws as they surged forward -- fangs longer and more bestial... there was no reaching for one of the calmer versions of his 'sona anymore, this was going to be full werebeast mode or nothing at all… demon against demon, more or less.

His ass rose and a bulge formed in his ritual fundoshi... a BIG one. He felt the sexual energy from the livestream REALLY funneling into there....

“No...! Stop!" Ryan shouted. “Stop masturbating to me!" His voice sounded growly, his neck fluffing out with a ruff of fox fur and his snout elongating as he cried for them to stop.

Even looking down on himself from out of body, he could feel the ritual energy. EVERYONE was getting off on this -- like ten thousand little orgasmic candles they formed a night sky of spiritual stars around him, all of them bathing him in their euphoric light even as they demanded more and more, that the illusion they were drunk upon must grow for them and become real.

Gods! His balls ached, so tight!!

SHRRRIPPP!!! Bigger still. Popping the last of the tighter cloth cuffs and other items that had been bound loosely around his arms and legs at the outset -- his bulge and waist size coming together to make his fundoshi come undone and slacken.

He was at least ten feet tall now, maybe twelve -- down on all fours as his body continued to twist into this demonic fox-thing, fur growing out longer and thicker, the colors shifting in white versus zappy yellow. His balls sank with newfound, bloated size -- like a couple of lightly squishable watermelons between his thighs, the scrotum stretching and expanding to accommodate.

His shaking legs crawled forward, then pushed back against the genital heft -- tucking the balls behind so that only the fat epididymal cords truly had to fit between his legs. This put tension on his taint and on his dick, which was expanding forward with an oversized sheath and rigid, bone-in red rocket of a canine cock -- protruding along his belly and toward his chest with the unbound fundoshi hanging comically off his tip, covering it like a glorious failure of a censor bar.

THROB!!!

His dick grew darker… black, a rich ebony color. He heard himself moan -- saw the cloth get soaked and then fall as a HUGE bead of precum seeped out. Within it was part of what was left of his human cum.

THROB!!!!

And within that was the felt, compressed essence of his humanity. Waiting to leave him for good, making room for the demon to replace him entirely…

“Unnh... no!!"

THROBBB!!!!

It felt like the whole world was jerking him off, like a million ghost hands had their fingertips fondling his every sensitive spot while voices whispered about how hot his transformation was, and how big and sexy his paws were…

This was going to happen, and he knew it. He was about to cum his humanity right out.

Though... if he truly had the soul of a fox, maybe that was not an altogether bad thing?

THROBBB!!!!!

His dick spasmed straight, eking out a bit more -- belly fluff growing in at last and carpeting along the length, feeling tingly and good as his sensitive dick-skin brushed against it. Ryan tried to force himself back into his body... he needed to retain himself, whatever “himself" was. He “saw" Lightning get bitten in the artistically rendered fur-pattern war on his back... he had to get in and help somehow; his 'sona was losing....

Cum for me, stupid fox.... whispered the demon.

“Nhhh... I won't!!" He grew larger -- broader paws, thicker-rumped. He was becoming thicc

Ninetails, with a hefty ass and heftier nuts…

You will, the demon warned him. You will SETTLE. You will always SETTLE....

“Not a chance!!"

The fur rushed over him more, whiter and thicker. He saw an artwork of Lightning with a fat, over-endowed erection that throbbed in the visuals, the fursona stroking himself and looking hypnotized by the demon's corruption even as Ninetails latched on, the bite seeming to charm him erotically. A cartoon meter formed in response to Ryan's thought: a literal corruption gauge rising, 11%, 22%, 33%... with each tick, one of Ninetails' tails glowing brighter…

“Lightning! Wake up! We don't have to do this!!"

The being called “Ryan" was screaming, but he wasn't sure his body was following suit anymore.

He tried to force himself into Lightning as if to possess and control him -- then realized to his horror there was no room to wedge his way in. The corruption “meter" rushed to 99%, then ticked to 999%, then 9999% -- each tick twisting Lightning into more and more of a caricatured demon-beast with Ninetails' aesthetics replacing what had formerly made him unique.

As his magically compressed humanity flowed into his dick, Ryan considered to his horror that he was Lightning, and Lightning was him. They were already so deeply corrupted, and this struggle was truly superfluous theater -- just more ways for the demon to get his rocks off. They had let this happen… maybe even wanted this to happen… somewhere deep down, the allure of being possessed was too strong, too enticing….

It was his kink, after all.

THROBBB!!

SPLURT!!!!

They came all over the floor, the first shot blowing the fundoshi right off their tip -- their seed spraying over the sofa. Bye-bye humanity. They were a fox demon, now… A demon.

Then why the fuck were they submitting to this guy!?

If anyone was doing the possessing here, it should be them!

Lightning's aesthetic surged, beating back Ninetails' design toward their extremities, leaving his fur more vibrant white and golden yellow, but fading to that smoked beige near his wrists and ankles. The boundaries would continue to waver, but for a moment Ninetails seemed content to wait and see.

It turned out that the rush of violent indignation would be matched only by Lightning's distractibility… and there was a LOT to get distracted by.

Lightning was ravenously aroused at finally being turned into a proper fox. Ninetails had certainly made a stud of him: grotesquely enormous, seed-packing, sheath-studding pair of balls that had just needed to VENT!! Blow out any lingering scraps of that humanity! All of it!!

The excessive cum pooled on the spot, magically solidifying -- forming a ceramic mask in the shape of a human, looking astonished and betrayed. Sure, that would do nicely as a fate for the human side of them.

Ryan… no, Lightning, growled and shrieked as his neck got longer, shoulders broader -- view sinking back into first person, his fur whiter and whiter with the yellow conflicts struggling to hold their ground. His feet and legs finally took on their proper vulpine shape -- digitigrade hindpaws supporting him, his hips instinctively humping to rub his fat cock against the floor... as the tails began to count up again.

Their sixth tail finally burst out, now that their little bureaucratic hangup was resolved. Kitsune tails… Lightning wanted them, even if he also got off on the idea of being possessed, wasn't it true that it was really more about ensuring the possession of Ryan? The dethroning of that pesky human nature in the face of something stronger and more desirable? Hell yes.

…Gods, though, he was like nine feet long now, and his blackened erection was at least a third of that. Beyond a certain point this was just fucking cumbersome!!

He struggled and managed to walk a bit, dragging his balls behind him -- feeling them continue to grow and swell fatter with the soul energy funneled in from the stream. Some of these same people had also jacked it to art of Lightning in the past, and the runaway 'sona was focusing in on that. Maybe if he could siphon some extra power from that quickly, but then cut off those larger valves of Ninetails' soul-power somehow…

Would that even work? It was hard to know, hard to even think in the midst of the ritual's power welling up in his body. It was like being plugged into an IV drip -- no, a whole damn RIVER of spiritual energy being pumped through floodgates of a dam: filling him and filling him until he felt like he was going to burst with sexy foxiness

Still, Lightning had a feeling he could get some sort of advantage over the demon in the long run if he could turn off the livestream, but… gods, getting his big dumb fox paws to the laptop in hopes of a remote-control window being open somewhere was a stretch.

He tried, though. The laptop was right over there still. Maybe he could just… nose it until it worked? Zap it?

I don't think so, said the demon.

Lightning's front legs abruptly betrayed him. He fell flat on his face, squishing his throbbing meat under his fluffy chest and catching his spread hind paws atop the curvature of his still-growing sack.

His view was drawn out again to behold them -- such meaty hind paws, with phantom images of nameless fans appearing all around them -- men of both human and anthro shapes cumming on them, coating them with streak after hot streak of semen, covering them like sauce, before a different cadre of adorers stepped in from the sides to worship them -- licking them, Lightning even now able to feel the tongues on his paws-Seven tails.

-- the leathery give of the soles and the moistness in between the pads, the soft touch of tongues against tufty fur -- and THEN, their perspectives, the musk of their god's sacred feet, the gentle pleasure of rubbing their noses in the grooves of his paws, fingers feeling over the topography of each individual pad and helping to anoint them with the cum that had been offered....

Eight.

He held his position, hips shaking and dick THROBBING, drooling so much fox pre on the ritual floor. He could hear Ninetails in their head laughing -- a paw moving involuntarily down to cup his tip with soft pads and press it up against his ribs, applying pleasurable pressure.

Nine!!

Then, Lightning truly felt something was wrong. His face, which had turned golden and beautiful with his foxy 'sona power, was suddenly feeling itchy. He reached up and pawed at it…

… and the visage of “Lightning" sloughed off like a skinsuit head, revealing the mask-face of Ninetails underneath. The demon's jaws laughed -- but, just for amusement, he put the Lightning over-mask back on for now.

“You're playing with electrical fire, Ninetails!" the fox-mask warned as he snapped back control and hefted their dick back off the floor, flexing his groin and feeling the heavy timber-load of a member bonk up against him. Ugh, this room was way too small… their sofa was one big awkward butt-cushion at this point, their tails splaying all over it…

Isn't it time to cum again, fox~? mused the demon. Cum for Lord Ninetails.

A jolt of spiritual energy down his spine made it evident it was going to happen. Lightning threw back his majestic fox head and came with violent force, nutting so hard that he just HAD to pick himself up with those front paws and show off for the camera -- then tucked one in and got it nicely soaked, took a few steps through his spasmodically ejecting seed and rubbed it all around....

The Struggle for Control and Size

Nine. He had all nine tails, and his heart was pounding in climax. Even if he was only a mask for a stronger demon, it felt so fucking good…

“It feels good to have the body of a god," uttered Lightning, compelled by Ninetails, while what was left of Ryan lay in that sad, unworn mask-state upon the floor.

No… thought Lightning despite it all, that urge to fight coming over him again. I won't be your puppet.

Such a thought remained easy to think but seemed harder than ever to enforce. Stuck on all fours and encumbered by his absurdly hyper genitals, Lightning crawled around the home ritual circle, still unable to escape the power flowing into him -- but also no longer wishing to.

If the whole world was funneling them power, then so be it. He'd just have to seize more of it -focus it on beating Ninetails… hone himself into a true demon-warrior, and… Scrunch… SWELL!!!

Lightning growled as the next wave of growth rippled through him, starting from his front right paw and spreading everywhere.

So much for focusing. He was going to have to master the flow before he could wield it properly against the demon. He had better learn fast!

Already a good 10% larger all over from that surge, he felt more growth being forced upon him and tried to hold it back, flexing his paw and focusing his will as if the wrist was a dam he had to hold back. No more energy for the body -- all of it needed to go into him, into his concept, strengthening him first! He gritted his fangs and felt a limited portion of the flow being redirected into his face, bathing his visage in heat.

He also felt restless pulsations in his willpower-restrained paw… trembling like a dick that had been exposed to far too much of something that it liked. It felt tense and hot -- its white-furred surface growing puffy and swollen as the inflowing power continued to insist that it must grow.

The more he white-knuckled his mind on this task of restraining the growth, the more he felt the amused mental gaze of Ninetails lingering upon him. He heard the false god laughing and began to hallucinate -- hearing the voices of fans, feeling their erections grinding on his throbbing pads… C'mon Lord Ryanosuke…

Take our power… get big…!

Show us how big our desire can be…

“Nrr… aarrgh!!" Lightning growled, even as the paw helplessly swelled bigger and more sensitive, soon becoming disproportionately huge at around twice the size of its left-side counterpart.

Throb… throb…

Come on, the demon tempted him, love your paw. Love your meaty, well-worshiped paw. See how thick and soft the pads are… isn't that where human faces belong? Mooshed into the softness, smelling the scent of our fur and of everywhere we have walked…

The growth crept up Lightning's wrist. His erection grew prominent and knotted underneath him as he tried to force Ninetails out of his head… but keeping out both the demon and the fans at the same time was a losing proposition. The more he struggled to silence the voice, the hopelessly bigger he got… the more powerful his ancient kitsune muscles felt… the more energy flowed through him and crackled down his tails.

Come on~ give yourself to 'Ryanosuke,' Ninetails teased. Take your discarded mask and demonstrate where humans belong…

Lightning wasn't weak-willed. He wasn't! But his body felt so good, and his spirit was so hungry… why was he so hungry now, for this endless, soul-bloating flow of adoration?

No, thought Lightning in desperation, I at least have to control this…!! Ryan wasn't so great at taking action under pressure like this, but Lightning would have to be!!

It was chaotic -- pleasure pulsing into one limb at a time, the muscles throbbing like they were a sex organ being stroked -- but it worked. With irregular and asynchronous bursts he was able to make one paw utterly massive and the limb widen conically to fit it, one of his massive digits punching out a window.

With a growl and gritted teeth he tried to make his other legs grow to balance things out, but he ended up first enormously enhancing his ass and thighs, making himself distressingly bootylicious until he felt his macroscopic hindquarters filling up the room behind him from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling, while his front quarters remained relatively sane below -- his fat nuts and throbbing dick feeling squeezed by his enlarged rear.

He growled and his head and neck grew monstrously larger, an upward slam making the ceiling break and part of the roof above groan. He thrashed his front legs and chest about until he could force the growth to balance out -- filling the room with his overall upsized body, even as every inch of his form felt more and more pleasurable… gods, even his snout, his ears and the black around his nostrils, all of it felt like an erogenous zone, like he was one huge cock getting progressively full inside the sex-toy that was his house.

The furniture was just toys and obstructions under his feet, rough terrain to impede and annoy his movement. He swished his many-tailed rear and knocked objects out of the way, pausing only when he felt his paw briefly rest on the Ryan-mask he had jizzed out earlier… he could still almost feel the human essence struggling in there, and it was disconcerting, but he didn't know what to do about it, especially as big and uncoordinated as his feral body was now!

And the energy kept coming. Even though he was getting way too big for the cameras at home to catch much detail other than his noises and the vague shuffling of his meaty body.

“Unnnhh… grrrrrnhh…!"

He tucked an enlarged wrist in closer and started humping. So shameful, doing this on a livestream, but his heavy kitsune balls and fat, semi-divine cock were clamoring for release. He had to grind-grind-grind, get bigger, empty any lingering dregs of that stale humanity from his nuts onto the floor, let them refill fully with sexual fox power… SWELL…!!

His bones audibly popped as his proportions balanced out, his size increasing another 20% in an instant. The room was now desperately claustrophobic, his head having to tuck and his back-fluff brushing the electric lamp overhead, while his hindpaws got stuck askew with one on the floor and one on part of the wall..

Lights gleamed into the windows of his home. He could hear a familiar buzz all around….

Drones?

Now that is a dedicated fandom, said the demon, comfortably proud of what he had wrought.

Lightning twisted his head under a front paw to get a peek at the screen before it was obscured by his own fluff. Dozens of camera feeds were getting streamed and linked in a coordinated fashion. This creep had more than just worshipers; he had a whole suite of subordinates working under him and helping from behind the scenes now. One of the windows was giving them a pretty clear shot right into his hulked-out crotch…

(SWELL!!)

The room got that little bit smaller. The fox drooled between his fangs in unrest as he realized his room wasn't long for this world.

The thought of bursting out of his, or, Ryan's home, also brought with it a small breath of lucid thinking, beyond what his newfound “demon" urges were telling him. He realized, even if he won the struggle for control here, he wouldn't end up as the cool anthro fox he was supposed to be. He'd still be a tyrannical giant kitsune, because that's what the online cult was creating him to be with their will.

He could only bend this flow so much.

With a grunt, he scooted his ass and oversized balls forward and patted one of his hindpaws around. Ryan's mask was still under there… somewhere.

Maybe it was time to get him back? Somehow?

Was there even time… or a way?

(To be continued!)

“Counting to Nine" Part 4 of 4

by dolphinsanity for FoxLightning

Demon Lord Ninetails belongs to Nintendo; this is a work of fanfiction.

~~~~~

(BUMP!! Crr-rreaaaak!!)

The house was closing in like a tight garment, Lightning's body sweltering with horniness and size as he shuffled about to maximize how much space he could use -- felt his knotted dick press flat against the floor and collide with the opposite wall. The drones did their very best to keep angles on him… he could FEEL everyone's eyes on him, waiting for him to get too big for that work of human engineering to hold.

Waves of energy kept spiraling into him, pulsing so hard…. He didn't feel like he was going to burst anymore, but it confirmed that whatever his soul and body had transformed into was going to keep swelling with the power whether he liked it or not.

He felt his paw come to rest on Ryan's mask.

He clenched his lower jaw and thought, Fuck it, it's now or never.

He called out to Ryan in his mind and tried to connect with him… and, at the moment he did, he slammed his paw down hard.

The mask didn't crack; instead, there was a tiny feeling of warmth that melted into his paw-sole.

At that moment, Lightning felt two things simultaneously plugging into his mind: immense confusion, and shameless arousal from his old human self at the thought of being spiritually merged into his fursona's monstrously oversized paw.

Goddammit Ryan, you never change, thought Lightning, but the sign of life from his human side was enough to make him grin.

(Crreaak… buckle…)

Ninetails wasn't saying anything, wasn't tempting. Maybe this was Lightning's moment. Time to turn the tables once and for all!

“Nrrrgh…" growled Kitsune Lightning, “I'm not just a sex object!!" The flow kept going. Enlarging. Swelling.

Fuck it. If he was going to be filled with all this sex-power, then it was time to wield it as his weapon. It was time to penetrate… he just wasn't sure what!

More than the walls of this house, he realized a moment later. It was time to challenge the bounds of reality itself, on his terms!

…But first, this old house really did have to go. No space left in here for anything at this stage.

Lightning pushed forward hard, exerting all his force of will into a growl that built up into a monstrous, still sort of foxy screech-roar, some yellow even returning to his face and blue to both eyes for a moment as his size burgeoned forward right through the wall -- EXPLODING the brick exterior outward as his massive head pressed through, ears tucked and then angrily skewed.

He stepped forth, seeing the glow of his enraged god-beast eyes reflected in the state of the weird parasocial cameras.

He then flexed and stood, something in him feeling so famished… opening up wide and just DEVOURING all this worship they were giving him….

Crunch… krakraaack!!! Burst!!

The rest of his home came apart at the seams -- one massive hind paw stepping up onto a lingering support column, the beans rolling over it as he panted and felt… darkly potent. He was rock hard again, so massively knotted that his sheath had gotten stuck on it. He growled, sat on his haunches, and tucked a pawed in against the tightness of it, feeling his pre soak his pad as he nudged his knot free.

“Hnnghh…" grunted Lightning, while he felt his recovered human essence squirming in that same gigantic paw. Ryan's soul getting a faceful of divine-demon-fox cock. “Hehehehh… heheheheh…!!"

He stood up -- let his cock dangle, kicked some more of the house's detritus aside with a smug backward glance and the heft of one rear paw.

THOOM…!!

He turned… strode over what was left of the place, still enlarging, still feeling its walls and furnishings squish flatter under his worshipped weight. The laughter flowing freely -- excited fox laughter.

He just couldn't help himself. The power. The size. Knowing his useless human side's fate. He was a god. A god!!

The cameras in the house were under rubble, and more drone cameras were swarming in all around him to try to get a better view. Now he could destroy them. He could end this, or at least disrupt this event.

Well, first things first.

Noting that he was now at least thirty feet tall, he stomped his messy paw on the precise spot in the rubble where the laptop had been, making SURE he took care of that bit. He felt the satisfying crunch as he twisted his paw hard, the feeble human building materials and Ninetails' sex-shrine being ground to DUST under his weight and power. Once he had done so he swatted it aside, before glowering at the drones that continued dutifully to encircle his position. Swat! Crash!!

Whipping his tails to one side and his front paws to the other, he began knocking drones out of the the sky. Three. Four. Each one he destroyed caused him a small jolt -- a mix of surprise and anxiety rushing into the stream. The doubt that maybe their god was angry with them.

Then he shivered, feeling like this was wrong. He couldn't… he MUSTN'T cut off the flow of their worship. Otherwise….

Otherwise, he'd lose access to this power he was using to resist a demon that was natively stronger than him.

Their worship was making him more real. More than just the size and virility, Lightning had more ability to think. He could act rationally for now, if he chose… even if their fantasies were corrupting him to become more evil than not.

But, there was also fear… so much fear of losing what he had become, this new existence into which he, a fictional character, had just been birthed. A fiction maybe based on something in Ryan's spiritual history, sure -- maybe, whatever, but the point was that he wasn't awake like this even a few hours ago or… however many years ago this had all started. Fuck.

While Lightning was grappling with all of that, was the moment his demonic companion chose to pull the metaphorical rug out from under his big dumb fox paws once again.

Abruptly, something slammed into Lightning consciousness, and he was driven from his grounded position in the body. The eyes and colors ticked back over -- less ascended foxsona, more ancient kitsune demon lord.

No… give it back!! Lightning shouted, even as he found his mind slithering its way down into an ingloriously kinky role as the monster's erect penis. He hummed with pleasures and felt the demon's paw touch him -- throb, THROB, the urge and the urgency, the leakiness, the…

“Hrrrgh!!" (SPLURT!!) “Aaaahh~!"

He was cumming all over what was left of their house, dousing the remains in insult. Lightning's unique traits continued to vanish from their form, the gray-white of Ninetails and the creepy malevolence of his mask-face and eyes fully dominating.

His tails swished, their many masks starting to count up as they formed properly into existence

-- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…

Ninetails stopped short of calling forth the ninth, on his center tail… for now. An open option was a fun option.

The briefly-spent member throbbed, and the pleasured demon confided something to Lightning over their connection.

It sucks, doesn't it? That feeling of your energy being disrupted the moment you have to tell the worshipers 'no.' That's why the secret to real power is knowing how to always tell them yes, dear young soul. Always make the idiots think it's their idea!! If you tell them no, they get angry -- so angry and disruptive.

Lightning wasn't having it; the very idea made him furious enough to resist: Go be an incorrigible, thousand-years-old-and-musty cynic somewhere else. I won't hang out here being your dick!!

Lightning forced his perspective out from the dick's throbbing mass… and rerouted himself hard down into a certain paw instead. He had no way of knowing whether this would let them win, but… one way or another, it was final-stand time.

* * *

The Rally

Down in the paw, Ryan stirred to wakefulness. Feeling… being, all that a kaiju-demon's paw could be. The cool of the soil, the breaking asphalt… the contours and the shapeliness, the texture…

If… if this was hell, he wasn't complaining. For the moment it wasn't so hard to distance himself from the screams and destruction happening around him. The grass was almost too green, the dirt too brown… it was like playing a game, We're just playing a game….

Ryan!! shouted Lightning as his soulstuff crowded its way into the paw.

Muh? What… what is… we're a paw. You're, I'm…

Don't get confused. Ninetails is trying to trick us. We have to come back together and stop him.

That'll never work. Besides….

You! barked Lightning. You are going to stop fixating on this meaty paw right this instant…. …And fight Ninetails. Got it.

Ryan wasn't trying to sound apathetic, but it was so hard as a demon's paw to feel much of anything. He was mostly resonating with the feelings Lightning was bringing back to him. Lightning was always so strong and alive… if only he could've been Lightning from the start… Hey. Sexy paw, said Lightning.

Yeah?

No matter what happens… let's just give it our best.

Somehow, that encouraged Ryan more than anything else had. Perhaps he really could face the shame of losing his body to a demon lord as long as he had Lightning with him.

There was a brief crackle, at first unnoticed by their captor. A rune in the shape of a small lightning bolt appeared on the demon lord's paw -- just a hint, a note in reality saying that Lightning was here. Whether it was “real" or not, they couldn't say -- but it was at least as real as Ninetails was, and maybe that would be enough.

* * *

The Giant Fox's Little Playground

While Lightning and Ryan joined their energy together, Ninetails had been taking his first steps into making the world his physical plaything.

Kra-THOOOM!!!

That wasn't thunder. It was his paw crushing a building like a tin can. He pivoted it deeply at the elbow, twisting the city-block-sized beans against the ground -- pipes bursting, water flowing haplessly amidst the rubble and tickling the tips of his sensitive paw fur. With each soul whose vessel he flattened, his hungry paws reached out spiritually to entangle and ensnare -distracting with fantasies of cozy lanterns and tunnels of light, beyond which waited a maw of disdain and an endless hall of plain, drab masks -- useless masks for useless fodder, a fate to which the departing would flock as long as they believed it was all there was.

His balls hung vast, his sheath a hungry tube of wickedness, his urethra able to play host to a subway train straight to the underworld of his churning stones.

He was quite literally growing at the speed of viral attention. The magic of the Internet provided his ritual with an endless swell of fuel; like a spiritual wildfire, links were clicked, gazes were fixed, and soul-energy began to be shared.

“Lovers of illusions!" bellowed Ninetails over the confusion of the city. “Embrace the sweet 'love' of your god!! Bow before the almighty paw your fantasies have created!"

He was mocking them live on the stream, but critical thinking was at its nadir. Despite themselves, all around the world, viewers kept fapping away, convinced this was all there was. It was the first supernatural event most of them had ever seen, and it must be the only one around. This was the way; Lord Ninetails was the way…

Let it never be said humans could not accomplish something they put their collective minds to. In this case, it just so happened to be giving an ancient, sexualized fox-demon the power to keep making his role in reality larger, and larger, and--

The demon lord's fat nuts come to rest lewdly atop a mid-sized residential complex as he straddled it -- the companion building on either side kicked down without ceremony, his tails absorbing soul and suffering. He teabagged the building repeatedly, slapping his testes on the roof for the wanton pleasure of it, while fan-manned camera drones zipped in to get a closer look. More and more clicks, more and more attention -- and the roof of the building collapsed under nut-heft alone, Ninetails growling with glee as his erection surged out, towering with further length and girth alike.

“Yes!! Worship me, little insects! Your day of reckoning has come!"

Then he simply sat on what was left of the failing structure, the metal screaming as it crumpled and resisted -- his fluffy ass slamming it again and again, tails spreading high to the sky and spreading peacock-like with their entrancing flames.

His swarm of adoring fans continued to catch all his best angles. That he accidentally knocked some from the sky once in a while was now a feature of showcasing his power.

Time to step all over humanity… time to…

“Ulp…!!"

He paused for just a moment, feeling his dick throb and one paw in particular burning like it was hot.

“Rrff?" he pulled it up and grabbed it in his teeth, pinching it -- then slammed it down angrily on the earth, leaving a small crater.

The pain faded -- but that moment of attention had been long enough for a trapped fellow fox to leap from paw back into brain.

* * *

The Final Stand

When Ryan -- or, no, he'd go with “Lightning" -- woke up… something was very wrong. It wasn't just his kaiju size, but how things looked. Ninetails' influence was spreading like wildfire, and it was doing trippy things to reality.

If anything, the world around them was becoming more unhinged by the second after Lightning made his little rush to seize back their body's controls -- like Ninetails had been holding down some sort of “Don't Go Too Crazy!" brake that Lightning didn't know how to manage, as their powers of illusion and temptation spiralled across the planet.

The sky above him was like a painted world, pastel pinks and oranges and purples… a brushstroke sunset, sinking down, down toward the horizon… the city gorgeously rendered in contrasting gray and brown blobs of pastel concrete jungle… cars like little dots of all the colors of the rainbow.

Their dick was still throbbing, their balls still heavy and their tails almost feeling masturbated in their own rights by all the energy flowing into each -- pleasurable zings and pulses flowing from the tufty tips down to the roots of their spine, making their prick leak each time a powerful wave of the sensations merged together at that point.

This… wasn't… goddammit, where even was the demon lord!? Lightning didn't feel the guy in their kaiju body right now, so…

…Aha.

Looking up, he saw that same false constellation forming upon the indigo of the darkening sky. A constellation in the shape of a fox, glowing with power -- lights glimmering lines between.

“Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho~!!"

The image of Ninetails leaped down. Astral, almost real. Looking at his flesh-and-blood counterpart. Like two movie monsters ready to battle.

“I won't let you do this," Lightning warned, before grunting as he involuntarily spurted enough cum under him to ruin a mobile home park. “You've made a mockery of the joys of sex!!"

“Hoho~!" Ninetails threw back his masked head and cackled. “No… the blame for that lies squarely with the humans. They haven't found a single good thing they won't exploit, nor have they lived a day without loving illusion more than truth."

Lightning raised his tails -- the mere act of it causing him to cum again, flooding the landscape with a proper lake. He grimaced as the pleasure overlapped, making him wobbly.

“Isn't our body spectacular?" cooed the demon. “It's so much for one small, simple fox to handle…"

(Ka-CUM!!)

“You're not…" started Lightning, before whining as he grew vastly larger again, his paws stumbling forward and his ass raising as the overwhelming bliss flooded him. So much sensation from his cock… why did it feel SO oppressively vivid…?

He was partly phased through the image of Ninetails, but that didn't seem to matter much. The demon just took a few paces back, growing to match the new size -- then leaned down and placed a paw on their face while the immobilizing pleasure continued to become that much more extreme.

“Don't tell me you already forgot, silly fox," said Ninetails. “Hoho, all that drama, all that trying…!!"

He swiped a paw across their face -- and Lightning's image came right off. Suddenly, their perspective warped, and they were looking at the world through that mask… a mask which was now a carelessly sewn-together mishmash of Ryan's and Lightning's

The demon lord scoffed, thrust his titanic erection forward, and lightly pawed the mask onto the tip of his ebony rocket. The two-part soul of his host became stuck there, “camera" view anchoring around it and letting them get a good look at the veiny monstrousness of his erection.

Meanwhile, the mask was pulled away out of view. Somehow, the merged Ryan and Lightning could feel it, if only fleetingly… the material touching the demon's central tail, mingling with it… becoming wrapped around it like a dual Greek-drama mask of laughing fox and tragically sad human…

THROB!!

Oh… they felt good!! The tail folded back and wiggled, entertained, amongst the other eight. Ninetails threw back his neck and cackled, growing and blowing yet another monstrous load to wash out a highway below.

“Mmm, well, that was fun," said the kitsune as his pleasure hummed. “Guess I'll become 'God' now."

* * *

Sorry, man, thought the defeated Lightning as their essences swirled together in Ninetails' dick,

I'm… mmf!! …not rated for this much power…

It's -- aaa!! -- it's, it's not your fault. (THROB!!)

Heh. Guess we can't, rrf… save the world today.

Still… still love you, though! Ggghh…!! (THROB!!)

Unhh…

(THROB!!)

Lulled by the ceaseless waves of Ninetails' arousal, the host's two aspects melded together more, taking comfort in the bliss and in the return to living as one being, the complete Ryan.

No matter what, Ninetails couldn't take that away… right? They could stay sealed together on the dark god's flesh, or wherever he put them, but some fragment of them would remain. (THROB!!) …That might be a horrible, erosive fate, but they were too damn stubborn to let it end any other way.

(THROB!!)

B-bmp. B-bmp…. More semen pumping, The sounds of metal screaming and concrete breaking.

…in the meantime, all that was left was to settle in and become part of the show. The flesh of a god was about to make use of the world as it saw fit.

It seemed Ryan was going to get that view from Ninetails' cock whether he liked it or not.

* * *

The Growing Pleasure of the Vulpine Lord Krrr…kreeeeeeaaaaak…!!

The metal of a high building screamed, its grated resistance palpable against the broad heft of the demon lord's pawpad.

Death is such a naughty word… thought Ninetails. I will give my loyal worshipers a new world… while their flesh writhes endlessly to strengthen me…

More souls were floating in on the cel-shaded horizon, their energies drained dry by the ritual. How was this possible… he was going to get even bigger! The black god-cock that was Ryan could sense all that imminent power, soon to be possessed and wielded -- bigger, wider paws, the ability to turn the veil of reality into his playground.

It was such an enticing power, and the body's original occupant would never wield so much as a morsel of it again. Ryan would watch from his mask on that tail, or from the god's dick or other extremity -- helpless but to watch his former vessel ascend as the avatar of a new god, one who would give sex and foxes alike a bad name that would be whispered afoul for centuries to come… if indeed there remained anyone lucid enough to hold a negative opinion of him.

Even now, as one huge hind paw loomed over a big-box store, pressed down on the roof and twisted, structure collapsing… concrete brick crumbling.

(THROB!!)

Ryan still thought their paw looked awfully sexy.

CRRRUSSSSH!! A cackling, uproarious laugh and a peal of thunder, while nine soul-glowing tails fanned high toward the sky.

Ryan felt the gathered souls flowing in. It was about to get a lot more crowded in here… in this back-seat stadium to the paws-encrusting end of their world.

From his view as a dick, Ryan at last saw something else long and sort of dick-shaped zooming in through the air: recently scrambled military aircraft were closing in… just in time for the kitsune's magic to manipulate them into a completely different mental battle. Some thought they saw aliens; some thought they saw angels; some indeed thought they saw “God." What all of them had in common was a completely erroneous impression of where they were and what they were fighting. One by one, each flew into the tails and was simply absorbed -- matter and belief and mind all sinking into the fox's growing tumor of warped reality.

Meanwhile, the fans with their drones stayed on top of the task of filming. Adventurous drones flew deep inside Ninetails' cavernous urethra, getting endo shots of his ebon-tinged fleshy tunnel -- before the light ran out and the machine was absorbed. Ryan could feel the tickle of the rotors and the blissful hum of their attention as it was eaten, making the whole of his massive cock-flesh jolt with ecstasy. His billowing sack overflowed the rubble on which he had sat, his erection jutting with an ache of leakiness and an increasingly hyperphallic proportion -the fans wanted more, more of his musky rod, more triumph for his scepter…

Ninetails casually rose up on his haunches, pranced about the city laughing on two legs for a moment as his vast paws reduced homes and streets to rubble. He was going for a skyscraper, a forepaw extended in a “May I have this dance?" motion just before he made contact -hugging the building and running his dick through it to the knot and beyond -- glass shattering, souls fueling him, front of the building deforming to the shape of his underbelly as he reamed it straight through.

Twisted metal, carpet, electric zaps, and more water all served to pleasure his mighty dick, his tip bursting forth from the opposite side and fucking its way diagonally skyward -- longer, thicker, bigger!! His false constellation burned with power in the sky; the night became an aurora of scintillating foxfire, his tail's colors engulfing more and more of the planet in their eerie glow.

“Mine… all mine…" he growled. “Feed me, mortals…" Crunch!! Creeeak!!

The building was tipping. How unfortunate. Such a useless toy…

He thrashed his head against it, sending rubble flying with a flick of snout and of ear: his cold mask unharmed, his hold ever-stronger as opposition became infected and subdued by him. He pulled his dick back, the knot cutely encased in a ring of debris -- before he rapidly gained another 20% in size, the whole containing structure ripping and falling like the detritus it was.

This wasn't enough. The biggest humanity had to offer wasn't enough for his godly form to properly enjoy.

Fortunately, matter was a trivial issue. All he needed was the enthralled minds of the dominant species. They could give him all he required -- as he pranced and stomped, kicked and feasted, laying the city flat and dethroned beneath his feet.

He focused the lusts of his admirers, and his paws grew bigger -- meatier. Not out of wild proportion, but noticeably larger relative to the rest of him than a fox's petite feet “should" be. He spread his hind legs and showed off the goods in a rubble “square" of his latest making, flexing a foreleg and showing off the targeted growth for the cameras as they caught up.

Delicious… the stolen collective unconscious of humanity, his to feast upon and grow without limit!! To mask reality as he saw fit!!

“Oh Ryan…" he chuckled.

For what was left of the host, it was all he could do not to let his sense of self wash away in the dark tide of the monster's will and pleasurable cock-feelings. Ninetails seemed almost impressed that he was still “himself" despite it all.

However, Ryan was very small. Only one human in a world deceived by the false god. And he was not a creature without temptations of his own…

“Why don't we treat you, Ryan…" intoned the demon. “One last time~"

The host's point of view shifted, piped with defining forcefulness through the groin, up over the spine, past the fluffy ruff of the fox's neck fur…

And then down. Into that gorgeous, leathery, moistened, FILTHY, extra large paw, it's fluff soaked and it's pad-crevices encrusted with the dust of human civilization… just a footnote underfoot, a thing no more significant than dirt between the bits of his paws…

Ryan's urges flared up strongly. He tried to pull his consciousness out of there, but he no longer had the strength. He could get as far as the “wrist," only to have his “camera" pulled with gravitational certainty back down toward those supple, MEATY, DIVINE paw-pads… “Pleasure me," said the kitsune god.

Ryan's PoV turned -- lowered, that veiny and glorious dark meat filling his view… THRUST!!

Its wet, oily-hot goodness rushed across him. Lightning's rune returned to the paw, glowing and crackling. The host didn't just “feel" the paw's sensations; their touch, their rippling friction, was nearly his entire world.

THRUST!

He felt the hot, slick pre flow over him… the demon fox's juices marking him as a new toy for masturbation… Thrust!!

The fat knot pressing on his central paw-bean -- the shorter thrusts that followed requiring him to cup it, feel it's heft and heat, its ache and its need…

Plap, plap, splip, plap…

He was so wet and so vast. He was wider than so many buildings, and still growing. And every inch of that real estate was so sensitive and so eager to please that cock, to be the messy paw that would bring it over the edge.

And he could feel them, too… the fans, their worshipful focus still hitting him like an aphrodisiac…

No, no no… stay focused!! thought one side of the host's psyche. Don't give in!!

…Don't be… huge.. wet… sloppy… paw… thought the other, in a tone that could be called half-hearted at best

The two aspects of him -- yet, they were one. Together, they were sinking into that reality… that new truth of being a demon-god's paw… just part of the demon…

“Ahhh yes, it feels so good doesn't it Ryan…? Just be part of Ninetails now… it's okay to submit… you were never much on your own anyway…" Nngh… no!! Have to fight it!!

A surge of struggling managed only to flex the paw slightly -- adding pressure, aiding the demon lord's pleasure.

Good, Lightning, Ryan… please me… help me ascend… the fans are waiting…

The world continued to transform. Soon, it would be indistinguishable from fantasy at all. More than their humanity, they just had to help Ninetails cum out the last of their doubt…

No… no!! Why couldn't he stop flexing his leathery surface against that black cock? Why did it feel so good…

So good to be… part of a…

Fox-god… kitsune demon god…

The taint of the fox's corruption burned deeper into Ryan's soul. He felt the paw that he was, growing more eager, more part of Ninetails… giving him his attention, his adoration.

No… but yes. Why was the no so YES!?

The cock was throbbing, leaking… Ninetails building up with a surprisingly human-like gradualness.

More, Ryan, instructed the demon. Give me more.

Ryan was tired. The more he gave in, the more he could feel the hum of Ninetails' bliss. Wasn't it good to be part of a thick, messy, stompy paw? Wasn't it good to leave his mark on the world…?

The knot slapped against him harder, and for just a moment it was like the knot, the cock, the prostate -- he and all of it were one. Almost like it was his body…

Ninetails bared his teeth and let out a laughing, chittering fox noise as he ejaculated with flood-worthy volume over his “hand", soaking the beans and squishing seed between the digits, long strands of it falling with meteoric liquid weight onto the ground below. He came hard -- so hard, oh heavens this truly was the body of a god now, and it was his body but he had no control, it was just too much, too much to bear, too much fox to have become all on his own. He came and came, the last drops of his resistance being pumped out, going the way of his former humanity as his will was forever sealed within the spirit that had claimed him.

Good man… good fox… let Lord Ninetails do the thinking for you…

Ryan's perspective… wavered. Jostled. He slinked up, up that majestic god's body… to the mask on the central tail. Of course, his mask. His Ryan-Lightning mask. His fox-fox mask.

The mask felt hot, then cooled with a chilly finality. Ryan felt the throes of the god's bliss just long enough… just before he drifted into the paw again, down into the little Lightning rune that would remain there… and saw and felt the horrible yet arousing view of his soaked surfaces stomping down -- smashing flat a street and service station, leaving a fire and a cum-filled paw-print in their wake. A mark and a seal upon the place… to go with the mark and the seal upon Ryan's soul.

The captive host was then shuffled again back the way he came -- back up the fluffy chest, over the shoulders, and down the spine again… to be at last piped into that tail, into that mask -- his observer soul accepting its powerlessness as Ninetails seized strength once and for all.

It was a dark day for humanity, but most everyone was happy. The world was full of the splendor of its new god.

~ F I N ~