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Domesticating A Raccoon

By feder

"You have _got_to be kidding."

Vic had just finished his second drink in the smoky bar as he listened to his friend speak. The fox leaned back in his chair as Gabe spoke. The two had been talking about the craziest things they'd ever done for money, when Gabe made the wager.

"No, dude. I'm serious." The raccoon took a swallow from his glass, his striped tail coiled up next to him on the booth seat. "I bet you ten dollars for each piece of clothing that you're too shy to cross-dress.

Vic laughed, the cigarette smoke in the air stinging his nostrils. "How much are you offering, Gabe?"

"Well..." The raccoon added up in his head. "The stockings are one piece, then the dress, apron and necklace... That's forty bucks right there." He wiped his muzzle on the sleeve of his jacket. "And the shoes are another ten, and if you wear the whole thing until Friday, you'll get another two hundred."

The fox took a breath in through his teeth, his tail wagging at the thought of 250 dollars just for wearing drag. He drained his third glass of lager and wiped the condensation off his whiskers. "I'll do it." He said.

"I figured you would." Gabe said with a chuckle. "Bet starts tomorrow; I'll drop the outfit off later tonight." The raccoon raised his glass. "Deal?"

Vic snorted. His black nostrils flared, his brow furrowed. He raised his glass to Gabe's.

"It's a deal, you weird raccoon."

--

The first day of the bet came and Vic found himself going to work with a black lace bra and panties on under his uniform. The dark brown nylons Gabe picked out for him were hidden well under his dress pants, but throughout the day he felt odd. The fox scooted and turned in his chair in an attempt to get comfy. It wasn't his tail, he never had trouble with his tail, but rather his hips felt funny. He looked up over the rows of cubicles to make sure nobody was looking, and then he dug his paws under his pants and probed around with his fingers.

Beneath his red fur, his hips felt bigger, softer. The seat of his pants felt tighter as well, and his chest felt tingly. That was the only way he could find to think of it, a tingly heat that flared up every so often. Vic's tail thumped against the chair as he tried to keep his mind on his work. The hours crawled by and the fox struggled to get anything done. If it wasn't his pants feeling too tight on his hips, it was his chest feeling tender and sensitive under his shirt. And if it wasn't that, it was his nylons bunching up over his fur, or a dull ache between his legs. There was always something to distract him.

When work let out, he was almost happy to come home and change into the full outfit. Vic locked the door to his apartment behind him and shut the blinds for good measure. He'd laid it out on his bed that morning.

A plum purple 50's style swing dress with a black stripe around the waist, a frilly white apron, pearl necklace and a pair of high-heeled pumps the same plum color as the dress.

The fox exhaled through his nose and thought about the money as he took off his tie and work shirt and threw them to the floor in a pile. His belt and black trousers joined them a moment later as he took the dress. It was a nice dress, at least; silky smooth, glossy satin. He slipped it on over his head, feeling the sleek fabric caress his sanguine fur. Vic smoothed it down, letting the knee-length skirt flow around his muscular legs. The fox did a little twirl in front of his mirror, his bushy tail flowing with the soft violet.

"I look ridiculous." Vic smiled, there was something just basically funny about what he was doing. He couldn't help but laugh. Vic plopped down on the bed, sticking his legs in the air. He rubbed his paw up and down his nylon-clad legs. Savoring the cool, soft fabric on his legs, the way the dark brown soles matched the color of his foot pads. Vic hadn't realized how comfortable, how sensual stockings could be. He sat up and pulled the heels on, pushing that particular thought to the back of his mind. He stood, wobbling in the heels until he got his balance right, and took the apron.

"An apron isn't really women's clothing, but whatever..." the fox whispered to himself as he put it on and tied it good and tight in back. He had just put the pearls on when he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in, Gabe."

The raccoon walked in and bit his lip trying to suppress laughter at the sight of his friend dolled up.

"Oh man, you actually did it!" Gabe said in a lilting, triumphant tone.

"Yeah, Vic rolled his deep yellow eyes as he walked unsteadily in his heels towards his friend. "Where's my money?"

Gabe's striped tail flicked back and forth as he counted out forty dollars, plus ten for the shoes, and held it out for the fox. Vic snatched the bills from his paw and the two busted out laughing.

"Okay... "Vic said, his whiskers twitching from laughter. "I guess if I make it to Saturday with this crap on, I'll get the 200?"

"Exactly," the raccoon smiled. The sight of his friend, straight-as-a-razor Victor Renfield, in drag was worth 50 bucks.

Gabe pulled his phone out. "Strike a pose, vixen." Vic put his paws on his cheeks and kicked his leg up, making the goofiest face he could envision as Gabe's phone snapped a picture with a soft click.

"Totally sharing that," Gabe said with a toothy grin. Vic's tail wagged as he grinned at his friend sheepishly. What was even his intention? Was it to embarrass him? Was he getting off to it somehow?

"All right, I gotta go," Gabe said as he headed out the door, his tail held high. Vic couldn't quite understand why, but a part of him was sad that his friend had to leave so soon.

--

Day two of the wager came around and Gabe brought Vic over to his place. It was a small house, but it looked pretty cozy with its red brick walls and white picket fence. The fur on his back bristled as Gabe held his arm as they walked up the wooden porch steps.

"Dude, I get that I look like a 50's girl, but do you have to lead me around like one?"

Gabe laughed. "What, you'll dress up for me. But me escorting you, that's where you draw the line?"

The fox just rolled his eyes as they walked in. Gabe led the fox to a couch in front of the TV and sat him down. "You can take the shoes off, we're inside."

"Thanks," Vic said, kicking the hells off and wiggling his aching toes. "Those heels are murder on my feet."

"Can I get you anything?" Gabe said, going into the kitchen.

"I'm good." The fox looked over the den and couldn't help but frown. Magazines and paperbacks lying all over the coffee table and floor, stains in the rug, a floor that hasn't been swept in ages. Vic's nostrils flared as she took in the smell, sweat and dust. "This place is a mess..." The fox muttered to himself. He'd been around plenty of times, but Vic had never quite realized what a slob Gabe was.

"How does taco pizza sound?" Gabe said from the kitchen, getting two containers of leftovers out, one a grease-stained pizza box, the other a rolled up takeout bag from La Madre Caliente.

"How about I cook something?" Vic said as he stood up. "Make some real food?"

The raccoon was more than a little happy to see Vic stroll so purposefully to the stovetop, his bushy tail flicking against his dress.

"You sure about this?"

"I cook for myself all the time." Vic said, yanking the refrigerator door open and peering through what he had to work with.

The fox got out some frozen salmon and laid it out, and then he set out some onions, some celery and carrots to cut up while it thawed. He hadn't read the recipe, only knowing it by watching his mother make it, but it was enough. Gabe watched his friend cut the vegetables, season the fish with salt and lemon pepper, and mix all of it together in a pan with some oil.

"You've been dressed as a lady for only two days and you're already in the kitchen," the raccoon chuckled.

Vic just smiled as he worked. He would be the one laughing when he collected his money at the end of the week, yes sir. It also felt nice to be working in the kitchen. Fun, even! And on top of that, he looked damn good in those nylons and... Vic stopped himself. He focused on the cooking, ordering himself not to think of the outfit. He would make the salmon and not think at all how his butt looked so firm and shapely under the dress.

He finished the dish: salmon pan-fried in olive oil with a mix of vegetables for added flavor. Gabe sat at the table with his noise in the air, his whiskers twitching as he took the scent in. Vic served his plate first before sitting down to eat himself, he watched as his friend took the first bite. Gabe put a forkful of salmon in his mouth and his tail curled. "Oh, my..."

Vic's tail lifted. "Is it good?"

"It is amazing," the raccoon said, immediately taking another bite. "When did you learn to cook?"

"I learned from my mother, she'd make me help sometimes." Vic said as he watched his friend eat. Some part of him was happy Gabe was eating something healthy for once. He smiled at Gabe and the raccoon smiled back, wiping a bit of sauce off his long, white whiskers. Vic wishes he used the napkin instead of his sleeve, but he would work on that later. And there it was again, his mind wandering.

"Something wrong, buddy?" Gabe said, snapping the fox out of it.

"Erm... No, I was just thinking about something," Vic said, prodding his meal with his fork.

"Like what?" Gabe looked at him, running his claw tip along the rim of his glass.

"What do you like in a girl?" the fox said, reaching down with his other arm to adjust his stockings. Maybe he could talk Gabe into throwing in a garter belt for anther ten bucks, and then maybe they would stay in place a little better, maybe even make his legs look sexier.

Gabe blushed under his ash-gray fur and smiled awkwardly. "Well, I like a girl who's curvy," he said, taking another bite of salmon. "Shapely legs, nice fur, a good personality." Gabe took a drink from his glass. "A gal you'd think about coming home to and get excited about it."

Vic nodded, and thought that it was fortunate that he was close to the ideal laid out by his raccoon friend. There was something comforting in knowing that Gabe would find him attractive if he were a vixen. He wasn't sure why he felt that way, though.

--

On the morning of the third day, Vic called in sick. He had awkaned feeling _weird_all over, for lack of a better way to describe it to his boss. He felt an odd sort of hot tingling starting in his abdomen and flowing down between his legs, not to mention he felt... heavier around the hips and chest. As he put the phone back on the hook, the fox caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and thought he was dreaming at first. Gray, little splotches of ashen gray in his copper fur. Vic picked his tail up, cursing under his breath as he saw little streaks of light and dark gray all through his bushy tail.

"The hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath. Even under his fur, things were different. His shoulders were more narrow, his paws thinner and his claws shorter. He ran two fingers down his midsection, he'd never been exactly ripped but he could tell that some of his muscle definition had vanished. His arms were very much softer, even a bit flabby. He made a mental note to exercise more over the weekend as he lay back on the sheets and flipped through channels, maybe some yoga.

On the fourth day, Vic's shift ended early and he thanked the universe and every deity in it for that. His pants felt too big in the waist and too tight in the hips after fitting just fine for the longest time. His nipples were so sensitive he couldn't take his mind off them or the bra under his white button-up. And worst of all, his sheath was buzzing red-hot all day long. Every minute of every hour it went from being rock-hard to too sore for Vic to even sit with his legs closed. His fur bristled all the way home and he started undoing his fly the instant he stepped into his apartment. He kicked his khaki work pants off and fell back onto the bed, his member sticking halfway out of his fuzzy shaft and tenting against his panties.

He began stroking almost without thinking, pumping up and down, faster and harder with no further thought. He thought about seeing a lady, a shapely young vixen in the outfit he was in. She had bows in her red fur, black lace underwear and long legs with stockings. She had that come-hither look in her green eyes and Vic muttered a suitable name for her under his breath as he stroked himself.

As his climax approached, his mind abruptly turned from being attracted to the vixen, to being her. He saw himself in her place as a big, strong vulpine stud took her and bred her deep and hard. And so he climaxed loud and messily, feeling a mix of gratification and confusion as he lay there panting. What did he just do? What the hell was that all about? It felt wrong, but at the same time he wanted to take that fantasy further. He lay in bed for the rest of the day, wondering and daydreaming about what happened to that pretty little vixen.

--

It was the evening of the fifth day and Vic knew he was going to win that bet. That was the only thing on his mind as he got out of bed, looked at himself in the mirror, and saw a pair of big, fluffy breasts. His breasts, perky C-cups right there on his chest. He blinked, blinked again, and touched them, bouncing them in his palms. "Son of a..." Then he looked in the mirror again and saw a mask, that unmistakable black stripe of fur over his eyes. His tail flicked up, giving him a good look at it. One, two, three... four dark gray rings were on his tail. The ashen gray had just about overtaken his natural red color, leaving just little flecks of copper distributed throughout the gray color.

Vic didn't know what was going on, but he had ideas. He made a mental note to punch Gabe and also pick up a bottle of fur dye as he strolled over to the TV. He breathed a long, tired sigh through his nostrils as he turned it on to a bridal show. They interviewed a cat and otter couple as they planned their wedding. Vic found himself looking more and more at the cat as she tried on her wedding dress. It really was quite gorgeous to Vic, flowing white satin down to the lady's ankles, matching elbow length gloves, and the low-cut neckline did such a good job supporting her perky bust. Vic crossed her...his nylon-clad legs and watched. There was something about the dress, how elegant she looked in it, how happy she was to put it on and show it to her husband that made Vic smile.

A dress was so much more stylish than a tux, so much can be done on a dress but you see one tuxedo and you've seen them all. He really wished he could wear something that pretty when he got married. Vic stroked his whiskers in thought as the show cut to a commercial for orange juice. Maybe he should settle down, the couple on TV looked so happy after all. Maybe Vic just needed to find a nice, strong... spouse to treat her... him right.

Something was wrong. He shook his head. "I need to sleep," he muttered to herself...himself. He was confused, no doubt tired from work. The whole thing about the bet and getting back at Gabe could wait.

--

Friday had come and Vic had pretty much won in his mind. He woke up and put his bra on, marveling at how snug it had felt since yesterday. Time to move up a size, no wait... he wouldn't have to because the stupid, stupid bet ended today. It ended today and he could collect his money. He stepped into the lace panties and discovered that something was missing. No bulge in front, none at all. Vic cursed under his breath; oh he was _definitely_going to punch Gabe's lights out when he got his money. He reached down the front of his panties and nearly hit the ceiling when his hand grazed his new, very sensitive womanhood. Just brushing over its lips felt like an electric current flashed through his spine. It was weird, it was unwanted... it felt _really_good. He wanted to explore it, try it out. But Gabe was coming over soon and how awkward would that be? She... no he took in a deep breath and ordered himself not to touch it.

As he pulled his stockings on, he looked at himself in the mirror, catching a glimpse of a classy ladycoon staring back at him. Perfectly curvy legs tightly nestled under the nylons, lustrous soft gray fur with charcoal color strips and mask. "What the hell did Gabe even do?" she... he muttered under his breath.

There was a knock on the door, payday for Vic. He strolled over in the most brusque, masculine walk his heels would allow him and swung open the door, fighting the temptation to just pop that raccoon one right on the nose and let him keep his stupid damn money. Gabe had a smug little grin on his face and Vic just stood there fuming in silence for a good couple of seconds.

"You look nice today." He said, smirking.

"Shut up,"sneered.

"Well..." Gabe said, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You're about to win the bet."

"What do you mean about to? It's Friday, I'm in drag. Fork it over." Vic balled a fist, gripping the doorknob like it was the raccoon's neck. Gabe just chuckled, pushing past the former fox into the apartment.

"You'll win the bet if you put one last thing on, I promise."

"And you'll undo whatever... this is?" Vic said, almost shouting as he pointed at his well... womanly body.

"Sure, if you want." Gabe held out a ring, just a regular gold ring with no markings or embezzlements, just a ring.

"Just slip this on, and you'll win."

Vic took it, hesitating. It was such a delicate little thing, shiny and thin, and really quite elegant. It was simple in design, but it exuded femininity.

He breathed a long, low sigh through his nose as he slid it on. "Think of the money," he repeated in his mind. And no sooner than when the ring fit all the way on his finger did he... no she receive a flash of insight. It was like a light being flipped on in her mind. It all added up, the dress, the changes, the ring. Vic knew what was going on, oh yes.

"You, you want to marry me?"

Gabe nodded, caressing her chin. "Absolutely. You and nobody else, Victoria."

"Oh Gabriel..." she said with a breathy sigh. "Of course I will!"

And why wouldn't she? He was just so handsome, with his soft green eyes and his smile. His fur was so soft and shiny, his car was nice, his job was even nicer. Victoria threw her arms around him, their noses touching as they kissed long and deep. Gabe was the first to break the kiss, his hand trailing down to Victoria's rump. Such a naughty boy he was.

"Now why don't you make us breakfast and we can plan our wedding?"

Victoria's eyes misted up as she smiled. "Of course hun, I have so many things I want to do. It'll be our special day!"

Gabe let the eager ladycoon lead him into the kitchen where he pulled up a chair and watched her cook a full breakfast; it was like poetry watching her. "I'm such a lucky guy," Gabe said, and Victoria shot him a knowing smile as she fried eggs the way her mother taught: over easy with paprika and salt. As they ate, Victoria described in minute detail her perfect wedding as Gabe listened. It was her big day, and they would make it special.

--

It'd been a year since the honey moon, almost to the day. Victoria swept the floor in the den, taking breaks to watch her shows every time the commercials ended. The house was much nicer now, tidier and the walls repainted a nice cherry red. It was a sunny summer afternoon so she had the air conditioning on, and every so often she would pass over a vent and it would blow her dress up and Gabe would look at her butt. Not that she minded, every time he gawked at her, every time he called her pretty... it made it all worth it.