Into a Vixen
Into a Vixen
I gasped. Not in horror or pain, but euphoria, as I finally released, and allowed the "curse" to just take its course. It wasn't natural, it wasn't what I wanted to be, but it was like one of those "itches" you get, that you try to ignore, but that just finally needs to be scratched. This was at least my fifth time fighting the transformation now, and I had finally tired of the pain - given up being a normal, "attractive" girl, and just decided "Oh what the heck." It was time to become the best werefox I could be.
I grabbed for my shirt and tore it off over my ears, which had already stretched wide and pointed over my head. The skin, which had turned pink and tender on the exterior gave away to thick white and brown fur as the shirt fabric slipped over my long brown hair and fell to the ground, taking a few clumps of shed hair with it. My fingers were already turning - the nails had cracked open to reveal black dog claws, and I was promptly forced to stifle the bleeding with my shirt. I groaned, and felt my spine crack, as the fox began to push its way through me, staking its claim to my body. I knew what I would look like when this was done, and it was too late to do anything about it.
The bite had occured three weeks ago. At first, I thought the fox was just rabid. Even I didn't believe what was happening to me at first. The changes always seemed to occur when I was alone, away from anyone who could witness to make me believe I wasn't simply going crazy. Finally, though, when I lost my head of hair to a fox's fur, and had to spend a day at home trying to figure out how to voluntarily reverse the change, I decided that was that. Seeking treatment had proven futile - who in their right mind would believe I was bitten by a werefox? This way, at least I would never have to divulge my secret shame. In fact, as my eyes yellowed and the pupils contracted into slits, I realized: disbelief was my ally now. I could do whatever I pleased, as long as people simply viewed my actions as those of a wild animal. No one need ever know what happened to me. I would be one of those missing persons that always end up on the news. Presumed dead or whatever. When in truth, I would finally be free of it all.
All the restraints seemed to slip away as my nose rolled up wet and black, as my face began to press forward into a muzzle. I knew my thoughts were being affected... knew somewhere, the girl who wanted to fight still existed. But I ignored her, and let out an eerie animal cry. I knew what it meant.
Oh yes... yes... I was ready. I thrust my claws into the fabric of my jeans, and pulled as hard as I could, ripping them in two as my tail burgeoned out from my poor panties. Yes, I wanted to fuck. Wanted to be an animal. I would find myself a mate. I would make one if I needed to, give him the curse, and yes, he would love it. I would make sure of it. I kicked my panties off, and bent, feeling my spine stretch. I arched my back, curled, and began to lick myself. The effect was immediate, my new tongue sprung to action, wider and stronger than ever, reaching into my black, enlarged vulva, which shifted backward, up from between my hips, to rest beneath my anus. Every lick turned the girl cavity more alien, more foul-smelling, but the change had to be heeded.
I felt a tingling in my firm breasts, and knew what would happen next. It would be a shame, but I laughed anyway. I reached for the nipples and began massaging them. My breasts swelled to C's, then D's as I rubbed and stimulated...
As I felt the urge to lactate, I bent my head and kissed them one last farewell. Milk gushed from the nipples, and my beautiful breasts shrank down, transforming into floppy fox's teats. I stretched wide and felt at least six more add to their number, popping up out of the skin between my thighs, and on my belly and chest.
As I pleasured myself, my fingers swelled into thick brown pads and the skin thickened, my thumbs rolling back and withering into dewclaws. The rank musk of the fox emanated from between each new pad, as if my hands were some kind of foul fruit that had just ripened from a beautiful flower.
Orange fur prickled
Up and down
My arms
But
All I could
Think
Of was
How nasty it was.