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Devil's Lettuce

by Lurker16

"-And then I told him. I told him: 'Why do you think it's appropriate to come to school each day smelling like... like that, with red eyes and brown fingers and that awful smell about you.'"

"What did he say after that?"

"Oh, he said, 'Chill, man, it's just some skunk.'"

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow. Can you believe it?" He banged his fists on the cafeteria table, splashing coffee over his shirt. "Oh, look, and now my shirt's ruined. Great. Great. You know, I'm gonna have the principle call his parents and tell them exactly what's happened and why they should care that their son's turning into a druggy."

"That does sound unpleasant," said Karen - Mrs Green to the students.

"You don't know the half of it."

Robert Grumbel hunched over a sandwich and loosened his tie. It was lunch, which meant a break from the time-wasters and underachievers of his Math class. He wore brown Oxford shoes that tied around his ankles closely enough to leave an imprint on his fur. His trousers were small and grey and when he sat down they bundled around his groin to look like a boner. The kids would laugh at it, but nobody ever told him. The shirt he wore was a size too large, its light blue fabric bundling over his arms so often that he had taken to pulling his sleeves up past his elbows. His tie was red. His fur was grey. Beneath his chin and down to his underbelly it became white. With orange eyes, he leered over to a table of students. He was a wolf.

"It's a gateway drug," he said, "Nothing good has ever happened to anyone that smoked marijuana." He bit the sandwich and spoke through his mouthful, "Trust me, Karen, I've been teaching a long time and I've never seen anyone who's anyone amount to anything when they were smoking marijuana on the fly."

"Mhm," Karen said from the fridge. She was a rabbit. "Have you seen my lunch?"

"No. I bet he's out there smoking it right now. Ugh. It really irks me. It irks me more than the word 'irk.' Do you ever just get words that just... really annoy you, you know?"

"Sometimes."

"Irk is one of the ones that really annoy me. That and 'skunk.' All these slang words for marijuana is just making it easier for others to fall into the trap. And when they fall in the trap, they end up like George Wispen, I promise you. And he's gonna grow up to be some druggy dad to a kid he probably doesn't even want because he did something he didn't mean to do when he was off his effing face on something."

"Probably. I usually put a label on my food but I think today it came off on my bag. There's just some ham and lettuce one in here so I think somebody took mine by accident."

Robert chewed through a layer of ham and salad. He felt hot. He loosened his tie further. "Look, I can buy you some lunch if you'd like, just-"

"-No, that's definitely mine, Rob, look." Karen sat the fridge sandwich before him. It was wrapped in cling-film and stacked two-by-two. Around the edge of each crust was the pink of ham and a few pieces of lettuce. "The one you're eating has a mix of white and brown bread but this one is just brown, see?" she lifted the wrapped sandwich up and shook it. "Mine is the in-between-y bread. Yours is all brown."

With a sigh, Robert held his head in his paw. He swallowed the crust of the sandwich he was eating. "I guess you'll just need to remember to do it next time. You can have mine, if you like."

"Yeah, sorry, I guess. But are you feeling okay?"

"No, I'm absolutely furious. Honestly, I think I might write a letter. I'm appalled."

"I mean, are you physically feeling okay?"

He frowned while unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Of course he felt okay. Dark patches formed under his armpits. "I'm fine. Why? Are you gonna tell me that maybe I should have some time off? Are you on_his_side? Don't tell me."

"What? No. Never mind. It's fine. You're fine. We're fine."

Robert shook his head. The professionalism of this institution was sliding. He sipped his coffee and frowned at some students who were staring. It had been on a downward trend ever since he joined, fourteen years ago. His fingers snagged on the handle of the mug and toppled his coffee desk-bound. He jumped. "Jesus."

The other teachers were looking at him now. Most of the students, too. So rude. No manners. "It's fine. Karen, can you get me some paper towels?"

Karen cocked an ear. Sweat soaked half-way down Robert's shirt. Above it, his face fur darkened. "Why do you always talk to me like that?"

He pushed his chair in, stumbling over its back legs. God, he felt warm. Too damn warm. It was effing ridiculous. "I thought this place was meant to have air-con." He narrowed his eyes at the teachers gawping at him, "Or did it retire with the rest of the good staff years ago?" One of his sleeves fell back past his elbow, crinkled. His shoes felt tighter than normal. "You know what, Karen? No. I'm not feeling fine. I'm sick of this." He bumped into the desk, bringing the waistband of his trousers down an inch. He pointed with both arms towards a table of colleagues, "I'm sick of you-" he pointed to the entire room of eighty students, "-And I'm especially sick of you." His voice was loud enough to gain the attention of anyone who was not already watching him.

Karen sat two seats diagonally away, watching Robert's coffee thin across the desk before pouring onto the floor. "You know, it's probably better like this, anyway," she said.

Robert spun and tugged at his collar. The second button of his shirt tore free. His breathing became heavy.

"What the eff is happening to me?" He shook, at first with anger, but something else took hold. It flushed down his arms as black fur, before streaking down the middle of his forearms as white. His trousers bulged at all angles and his shoes felt like they were cutting off his feet. He kicked and clawed at their laces in front of his audience, falling to the floor but managing to cut open one of them. His fingers and toes swelled. The skin beneath his fur darkened. His claws shrunk.

"You ate my sandwich, you doof," Karen said while chewing Robert's sandwich.

"And?" he said. He sat on his ass and kicked off his other shoe. His toes were black.

"And there was... an edible in there."

"An edible of what?" He bared his teeth as he rose to his feet, but his incisors and canine teeth shortened. As they blunted, his voice softened to lose its menace. "Karen. Tell me."

She sighed. "Well, don't judge me, okay?"

Robert's blue eyes rolled back in his head, and his left eye twitched. As they returned, they darkened from the outer rim of their irises to become brown. "Just tell me."

"Alright. Well. Instead of normal lettuce, I added some weed."

"Ugh. I knew it. I just knew it. You are a horrible person, Karen, and I hope you lose your job for this." Robert's stomach bulged to fill his shirt. The lighter patch of fur beneath his chin thickened until it was white. His ears, once pointed and with an acute sense of hearing, rounded and held closer to his head. With each word spoken, his voice rose in pitch.

Karen looked at the sandwich as she spoke, "Yeah, whatever, but the thing is, it wasn't just normal weed: it was _magic_weed."

"Don't be so stupid," he said, voice quivering as he spoke. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Well..."

Robert huffed and heaved the upper half of his body over the desk. Coffee soaked over his arms to travel along his sleeves until it met the sweat around his body. "What-" he flinched as his rump and thighs strained against his trousers, "-is happening here?"

"I dunno," Karen said. "Your sandwich isn't very good. Also, it looks like you're turning into a skunk. I guess that's kind of ironic."

The fur on Robert's body was entirely black now, save for white tufts along his arms and two cream stripes travelling from the top of his head down his back. He clutched along his middle, as the third and fourth buttons of his shirt bounced across the floor. His chest grew, enveloped in a pink light. He swore was his eyes were playing tricks on him. It must be a hallucination. A trip.

The pectoral muscles of his chest softened until they were mush under his skin. His breasts - oh, jeez - his breasts hung low and loose, almost like... like... "A woman?" he said, voice unrecognisable in its pitch and softness.

He stood as straight as he could. Years of of muscle and tone melted over his belly, as the magenta glow circling his body worked its magic. He whimpered when he thought back to the thousands of hours spent exercising his body when he was younger, all to get a neater figure. Now, his gut was big enough that that it jiggled when he stepped backwards, and his breasts were beyond anything that could be considered "man boobs." They were round and wide and ached his back. Exposed to the entire room of people, his nipples split down the middle before multiplying. They repeated the process, sparkling purple, until all that remained were two beetroot areolas large enough that they barely fit in his paws.

His pulled-up sleeve tore. The one that did not tear, he tore himself by raising his arms and allowing the volume of curves to expand. It was sickening, yet there was something about it that stopped him running from the room and shouting for help. Was he actually enjoying this? He shook his head, his snout losing its shape to narrow and flatten. A pink nose dotted the middle of it.

The wetness of sweat soaked his entire body now, especially between his legs. He felt his tail grow wide and short as it connected with the cream stripes above it. His ass bloated until it was as absurd as his gut. The lining of his trousers was short work for his new thickness, tearing at the sides to expose two black-white globes. His underwear fell to the floor in tatters. The room was silent. Everyone watched as Mr Grumbel became Miss Grumbel.

The heat of his body gathered into a single point between his thighs. Confusion spread across his rounder face until he realized what was happening. A familiar glow radiated from his crotch.

"No... No..." he said, "Please. Please, anything but that." He pulled down what little remained of his waistband. Eight inches of canine cock hung hard and proud. When he touched it, it seared his fingers, sending a surge of pleasure into him. "No," he said again, as he stroked himself again, "No... Mmmff... Yes. Heck yeah." He ran a paw along its length again, savouring the heat and glow as it pulsated below him.

His tongue hung from his mouth as he stroked. It felt so good. He knew in the back of his mind that he should stop - that he should do anything but give in to the glow - but it was just too addictive. It rocked his mind and hips with sensation. Before long, the dog-like tongue that hung from his mouth retreated, taking on a petite, less-canine form.

Not one person stopped him. They watched, dumbfounded. Their most hated teacher was making an ass out of themselves - or, more appropriately, a skunk of themselves.

"Ahh. Ah. Ha! Mmm. Yes. More," he whispered to the glow. In return, it shone brighter, wrapping around his length and twinkling. He jerked himself off. As the knot at the base of his cock swelled, so too did the cascade of purple-pink around it. Just as it was about to reach peak size, it stopped, before going in the opposite direction. With each stroke the knot deflated, until it receded into nothing. All that remained was his shaft and balls.

Miss Grumbel knew she should be upset at the loss of her prized knot, but the glow was too alluring. The pleasure too tempting.

The pre-cum soaking over her paw was different than she was used to. It was thinner and wetter, with less slickness. It lasted longer as she pumped her cock. The glow teased over her bollocks, which hung heavy with an above-average sperm count. She lay back on the table. As she beat herself off, the glow lapped over her testicles until they retreated inwards. They shrunk from the size of kiwi fruits, growing smaller and smaller until her sack hung empty. It was decoration. Her skin smoothed over as the glow took even that. It was as though nothing had ever been there. She vaguely remembered all the compliments she had received from guys in the past as they worshipped her balls, but that did not seem important any more. Plus, did she really want to have kids? Nah. It was no big deal.

Her balls were gone. Good riddance. Bliss rocked her body. It tightened at the base of her shaft. Oh, gosh, she was close.

The nearer the glow brought her to climax, the tighter it gripped her length. The tip of her cock shortened, morphing from a wolf's point to a dull head. It was of no importance. It was just a shape, that added half an inch of length and ensured her loads were blown deep into her partners. These things did not matter. All that mattered was the glow and the tingle of pleasure.

She writhed in near-release as a further inch shied away. Mmmh. The shorter her cock grew, the more sensitive it became. "Ah, oh Lord," she said as she sped up her strokes, "Please, give me more. Please. More. Take more. Take it all if you have to. Just... Please!"

Her crotch flashed, consumed by the colour pink. Each stroke caused her breasts to wobble and her ass to shake. Her fingers worked over her rod with desperation. Each rub erased a little more of her size. Squeezes narrowed her girth from "Alpha Daddy" to whimpering bitch. She thought back to all the times she had held her cock beside another's, and smirked at them as she had been bigger. She was always bigger. Not any more. Her strokes became smaller and faster as it shrunk. Five inches. Four. Three. She was reduced to using her fingers, unable to wrap her hand around a cock so small. She almost felt embarrassed, until the glow flashed again and she was two inches. Uff. She groaned. One inch.

The remnants of her cock descended into millimetres. Unlike what happened with her balls, though, the skin below the missing girth seemed different. It was grooved, and made her hips buck when she touched it. Each brush of her fingertips brought with it a wash of fluid that smelled like sex. She bathed her hand in it before licking over her fingers, sucking on them. It tasted like heaven.

The groove deepened and lengthened below her "cock." No longer a cock. A clitoris, she thought. Soon, her fingers were no longer stroking over, but pushing inside her new hole. She squeezed her clit and rubbed her vagina, as the heat of new sexual organs burned inside her. She could visualise her new uterus, spreading outwards like clay to form fallopian tubes and ovaries. She had never felt so content. So happy. It strung up and down her pussy and promised pleasure beyond reason.

She knew what she had to do. The glow told her. It whispered in its shimmers.

Cum for me.

Cum for me.

Cum for me.

With two fingers buried inside her pussy, she rubbed her thumb over her clit. She finger-fucked herself with abandon, mentally responding to the voice of the glow. Please, she begged, I need this. Help me. Make it forever.

Miss Grumbel called out in ecstasy. Her being glowed entirely pink. Her paw slid in and out of her body.

It was upon her: an orgasm so intense and mind-altering that it took three paramedics and a therapist for her to regain sanity afterwards. The final buttons of her shirt launched free. Her trousers tore completely. In the middle of the cafeteria, a gush of release unlike anything she had ever experienced before sprayed from her pussy, drenching her paw and spilling over the table. She screamed. Her knees knocked together. Her toes curled. Somewhere in the madness she raised her tail and doused the room in a fragrance so potent and pungent that it could only be from a skunk. She came, and came, and came. She obeyed the glow. In return, it granted her wish.

Forever, it whispered to her.

"Forever," she said between moans.