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"Look Brian, all I'm saying is that we hardly ever get to sleep together. I miss you when you're away."

Brian turned the most sympathetic face he could on his mate. "I know babe," he said and transferred the drying towel from one hand to another so he could dry the second-to-last dinner plate. "But that's night shifts. They fuck up your schedule, that's just what they do."

She still didn't look mollified and Brian realised this wasn't one of those discussions that was going to get resolved by pointing out the practicalities. She pushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes and looked out the window, folding her arms in a way that underlined her point as well as words could have done. Her slim physique cut an enticing, petulant line against the wood-and-sandy colours of his kitchen.

"Chyenne," he said, flicked the towel so that it lay over his shoulder and came to her to rub gently at her forearms. "We're doing what we agreed to. Long-term plan, remember? The night shifts are bringing in good money. We're not going to be like this forever. I'll switch to days and then we can be together as much as we want."

"I miss you at night," she repeated and locked eyes with him. Damn, everything that was silent about Chyenne spoke the loudest. Eyes darker than her fair skin would have suggested, two deep brown orbs drawing him in. "I just want you to be with me. To keep me warm, you know?"

Brian froze. They were only a hairs-breadth away from that conversation and he really, really didn't want to go there. He tried coming up with a few ideas, anything to steer her away from it. "How about we start taking baths together. Early every evening. Aaand... we can go over to your place and watch a movie together after until I have to go. Take the duvet through, make a Simon Pegg den?"

Her face lit up with laughter. "Heh heh... Yeah, that'd be good." She paused, hesitating on the threshold just long enough that he knew his diversion tactics had been wasted. "...and I can always do my little party trick."

Brian felt his face drop. "Fox, we talked about that. I already told you, I don't like it."

"Mmm, c'mon!" she jostled, too good-naturedly for Brian's mood which had just sunk like a lead balloon. "I always think you look cute when you're-"

"-and I can't move when you do that." He didn't want it to happen. What made him really nervous about it was that once she made up her mind about something, she usually moved heaven and Earth to get it. "It makes my skin feel weird... I don't like it."

She tucked her chin under and fixed him with her eyes. And a delicious, red little pout.

Brian turned away quickly, took the towel off his shoulder and hurried on with drying the dishes. "How about you run a bath and we'll take it from there?" He looked over his shoulder at her to gauge whether she'd dropped the other idea yet. It looked half-gone. "I bet I can get in before it's even half-full!"

xXx

The warm swish of hot water surged up Brian's body but he was more engaged in tangling his legs with Chyenne's. He squinted to concentrate through the light steam. Within a few seconds, a little hesitant leg-placing and some tentative, child-like laughing they'd settled.

Fox sighed with contentment and lay her head back against the far end of the bath. Her hands felt the unique softness of the bubble foam against her breasts. Her nipples poked through the foam despite her warmth, among the few dark points visible in the bathroom.

Brian watched their repetitive heave with a slight, involuntary smile on his face. He stroked her calf muscle - given that it was right next to his shoulder - and let his fingers trail down to her ankle, aware of but mostly ignoring the scent of jasmine rising from the bath water.

Her mouth, relaxed at first, turned up into a plump smile of its own. Her cheeks rose with the smile as she fought her impulse to tense up at the tickling. Eventually in response to his busy fingers she started giggling.

Which set him off giggling too.

She flicked water at him and he put his hands up to protect his face. He retaliated with a flick of his own.

Soon enough to play died down and the pair of them relaxed and swished in the water together, tangled blissfully with each others' limbs.

She lifted her head and Brian found himself regarding her dark hair, pale skin and red lips. Hypnotic... "I really like doing it, you know."

Brian sighed and let his own head knock back - and banged the back of his head against the tap. He squirmed irritably and sat up again, massaging the back of his scalp. "Fox, babe, I've already said. Seriously, don't do it. Why d'you want to do that to me anyway?"

Chyenne smiled demurely and played with the bubbles with her fingertips as she thought about her answer. "It's about you being in my power. And about you being so cute. Aaaand... there's something about the, I don't know. Unreality of it, the fantasy. It is an unusual skill, don't you think?"

Brian realised then he was glaring at her. But he hated being aggressive so he hunted for the sponge and started to wash himself. Armpits, around the neck, all in the chest hair, around the back, down to the tackle, in stiff movements down his legs, hard scrubbing on the soles of his feet. All of this with Chyenne watching him in amusement. He deliberately ignored her, annoyed, apprehensive and soapy.

As quick as he could he got out of the bath and dried himself. He wanted to spend more time with her but if she was going to be like this he was calling time out.

xXx

Unlike Brian, Fox took her time in the bath, in that sanctuary of bubbles and scent and sweating white tiles. She knew why he'd stormed off: he didn't like being under her spell. But she loved it - the power, the cartoonisation of him, the unique sense of playfulness - and what she really wanted, if only she could swing it, was to get him sold on the idea. It wasn't painful, it'd proved not to be dangerous, it was just a surrendering of his... autonomy. For a short while. If she could get him hooked on it then their nights would be perfect!

She rough-dried herself, wrapped the towel around her in a makeshift dress and walked through into the bedroom. As she went she towelled a stray slick of bath water off the back of her neck. "Brian?"

He looked at her. He didn't look pleased. And more than that, he looked like he wasn't pleased about not feeling pleased.

"Let's not fight. You know, whatever we do I always love you." She came to him with a cuddle.

He took his place in her arms and hugged her back. "I know. I love you too." He kissed her neck and lingered in the nook there as if that was the only place he truly felt at home.

So it makes sense that you should want to... When she leaned back to look him in the eye she still felt disappointed that he wasn't keen. Brian was a sensitive one and he'd see her emotions regardless of how much she tried to hide it. So why try?

He noticed it and she saw his will give way. "Look..." he said haltingly, sighed, gave the corner of the room behind her an annoyed look and locked eyes with her again. "If you really need me to then I'll do it. Just this once."

That might be all she needed. She smiled, satisfied.

His smile looked brave rather than heartfelt. "So, are we going over to yours?"

xXx

He drove them both to her house in a kind of dream-state. He liked the feeling of having had a hot bath and of getting things done afterwards. His soothed tiredness lent everything a languid, ethereal feel. Even the night sky looked like it was made of velvet in this state. Or nylon fur studded with silver thread...

He tried not to get too ethereal about driving, though.

They got to the house, went inside and made themselves each a drink. Then they made a nest out of cushions on the couch and watched a movie that he barely paid attention to because he had a beautiful lady resting her head on his shoulder, one that he loved a good deal. They linked hands, nuzzled, glanced into each others' eyes. And through all of it, Brian almost managed to forget about his promise.

The closing credits scrolled and the couple reluctantly disentangled to stretch, crackle bones and brush teeth.

Brian slipped into bed full of a cocktail of emotions. Sleepiness, love, relaxation - and apprehension. He felt reluctant to leave the bliss of the last two hours behind but now that they were at this point, his nerves seemed to be beating their way in.

Not good.

"So..." Fox said, a grin turning her face from porcelain doll to playful kitten.

There wasn't any good in complaining, was there? He sat up: if he was going to accept this then he was going to do it like a man, sitting up. Not on his back.

"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble..." she said in a witchy, cackly voice and a mischievous grin on her face.

"Chey!" he snapped.

Her brow furrowed, but she relented with a kinder smile and a shrug. The spell could be done in silence, so in silence she did it.

Maybe in a crazy way she's right. Maybe if she had to do hand movements to cast this or something it'd make me feel easier about it. Ah, well. He'd share that idea with her some other time, after he'd mulled it over himself.

His skin began to change. Which was a strange observation given that his insides began to melt together at the same time, but somehow it was the sensation of his skin that caught the majority of his attention. Like it was becoming thick but at the same time... loose. It tingled strongly all over as his body hair grew more plentiful and stood proud of his skin. He turned his head and looked at his arm only to find that his joints weren't working quite as he'd expected them to. They, of course, were melting into the overall fabric of his new insides but just for now, they still worked. He felt like giving in to the impulse to let his arms and legs stick out at a right angle to his body.

He rolled his tongue inside his mouth and found that it was all getting dry in there. What even happens to all the moisture in my body? he wondered. His jaw wouldn't quite work either. Spongy. Soft.

Furry. Plush, in fact.

His nose and mouth lengthened to become a muzzle, what had once been a spine grew beyond his butt into a tail and at the corner of his vision he could see that his new fur was a mixture of white and pink. He tried to shift himself and managed to, to an extent. He fell sideways against Fox and fetched up gazing at her breast.

She straightened him up - he was probably still a bit too heavy to lift - and looked blissfully at him. "Oh lord, Brian, you look absolutely gorgeous!"

"Nnggh, hngh!" was the nearest he could say to the rude retort he had in mind. Well, at least my mind still works in this state. He tried not to think about the fact that although he couldn't articulate sounds with his mouth, his throat could still make noises.

"..."

Oh. Not any more, it couldn't.

Brian must have got lighter too because then, Chyenne picked him up and didn't even have to strain to do it. But then, all his muscles and bones had been replaced with soft stuffing.

She stood him so that his soft legs straddled her belly and hips, and looked into his black and blue bead eyes. "You're beautiful."

The most annoying part of all this was that Brian couldn't shut out the pleasure he felt at the frequent compliments she gave him while in this state.

"My gorgeous, gorgeous Pinkmoon."

If he could have cringed at that point he would have. Pinkmoon. His plush name. It didn't do a man's self-confidence much good to have a name with 'pink' in it. Thankfully Chyenne only called him that when he was in plush form.

And her transformation trick? That was strictly between the two of them so none of his male friends had any idea at all about that.

She rolled them both over so that she was laying on top of him, vanguarded but not embraced by his four legs. "You know what gets me really horny?" she whispered into his nylon ear. "..."

She said nothing for a moment.

He couldn't even look at her face to check her expression. In this position he was looking at the pillow. In fact, the top half of his head was buried in it so that his eyes were in contact with the cotton cover. Thankfully it didn't hurt. It didn't even feel uncomfortable. But it did mean that he was effectively blindfolded.

And grumpy about it.

She took hold of his foreleg and pushed him downwards a way so that he was level with her midriff. Pinkmoon (because that was his name now, wasn't it? He had to think of himself as that, he supposed) found an explosion of thoughts bursting in his mind, most of them not clean, about what he was down here for.

She lowered on to him.

Oh, the bliss. The frustrating, irritating bliss. Her body curved naturally, her belly coming forward from her snakelike hips at a womanly angle, her thighs strong and supportive, the crests of her hip bones uncompromising and slightly jutting. If he'd been able-bodied at this point he'd have taken over, no questions asked.

She ground gently at him. Her pubic mound stroked the underside of his tail and her breasts came down, rose up, came down in cycles to stroke his chin. His belly and hers touched and he gloried in the sensation of her bodily firmness. He wasn't so keen on his fuzzy quality by comparison.

He felt an intensity in his groin, something he hadn't felt in previous times. Huh? he thought, nonplussed for the moment. Could it be that his brain was so used to knowing what an attack of horniness was like, how the pressure of an erection felt, that he felt it even when he had no cock?

That was another thing. As a plush he was a damned eunuch. Maybe that's why I don't... ooh, eugh...

No eunuch could react to her brushing her clit hood between his legs like that. He needed to move but in the absence of that, he needed to do something, anything, to diffuse the tension. Clench his jaw perhaps. But of course, he had no such option so he lay still, his soles (of pawpads, he guessed) aimed at the ceiling.

She arched her back so that she could her lips to the tip of his nose. A kiss, a strangely tentative one, and another to where his mouth would be. Or where his mouth actually was, although it was only a little bit of black thread stitching at the moment. "I love kissing you, do you know that? I love kissing your lips..." she kissed the end of his muzzle again. "...and behind your ear..." she craned around to demonstrate. He felt the brush like an endearing, enraging tickle, and one that always sent dirty messages straight down to his balls whenever she did it with his human body.

"I like to kiss your chest..." A dab of her plump lips there. "...and um, and your stomach..." Her voice came quiet and languid, as did the kiss the followed it.

Pinkmoon's groin felt at bursting point.

"...and your thighs. You've got such strong thighs..." Dab with the lips, dab with the lips. "...and I love to kiss your dick-" Pinkmoon's heart turned a somersault at the word. "-because of the way you react when I do. And because..." Kiss at his genderless groin. "...it gets..." Kiss. "...so..." Kiss. "...horny."

Kiss.

Aaarrgghhh!

Pinkmoon had a mind that wanted to gasp for breath and a body that didn't need oxygen. It was a strange combination and one that churned in his mind and still-sensitive body.

She continued to brush her lips against the area, her nose nuzzling where his navel would have been. Then she raised her head.

"I wonder if you can cum? What if I stroke you here?" She put her hand between his rear legs and fondled. So gently, so insistently. The dance of fingerpads, the occasional, maddening edge of nails.

Oh, if only his thighs were capable of trembling and his ass cheeks of a good clench! If only he could swell long and hard, extend from the groin up to a shiny and sensitive head, let her nimble fingers hit the spot! If only, if only...

...if only his groin wasn't fluffy and soft and the feeling didn't feel muffled.

The arousal hit a high point, surging from a bass roar to a squealing guitar and he fought against his muscle-less body to arch his back, to grab her and spin them over and bury his cock inside and fuck her - but he couldn't. He didn't move an inch. His brain seared, bubbled, melted. His groin screamed, panted, yelled that it felt like it was gripped in some strange vice of pleasure, but he couldn't move. She's right! he thought as the sensitivity increased and his desperation danced. She's right, I need to cum!

The problem with being horny-as-fuck as a plush, he learned, was that clenching muscles was a good way of making the intensity bearable. But in his totally passive state he couldn't even do that. Handcuff me! he thought as his imagined cock turned purple with pressure, Blindfold me and whip me with leather, anything! Just give me muscles to move with!

The other problem was that when the sensations became unbearable he couldn't black out, either. So Pinkmoon found himself dragged under the currents, utterly consumed by eroticism and crossing a line that, when he looked back, was already so far behind him that he realised he'd lost himself.

And then. The burst.