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Daroach with the Most

It was an ordinary day, but with the heaviest of all emphasis placed on the past tense of the opening sentiment. What had started out as an afternoon of videogames had escalated into something confusing and strange. When it started though it was nice and simple.

The word glitch comes from an old Yiddish term that means to slide or glide. You can sort of see the connection at play there. Things are going along smoothly, running proper, and then they slide right off course. Get more out of whack than some of the most whackless of worldly things.

Video games can do that. They can well and truly slide right out from under themselves. One readily misaligned set of rules abbuting with particular power and presence against another. Something invariably snaps. The world goes the topsiest of turvies.

"What the heck," I muttered under my breath as I watched the screen.

What had once been my game of choice had now become nothing but a torrential downpour of various game models and features. This was less like gaming. It felt more in common with that time just before you put away toys. The point where you can make as much of a mess as you want brushing everything together into a little pile of fun.

The game world itself seemed to lurch under every digital step, swirling and whirling until everything that could ever be seemed to take up all of the screen and then... nothing. Blank screen. Light flashed. I hoped badly that my console had not broken.

It was certainly one of those kinds of glitches. The ones so tumultuous that they threaten to take the whole of the hardware with it. Certainly it would not be the first time something like this has happened to me, but then the weirdness really began.

When I went to restart the console I was met with a few more quick flashes on the screen. A delirious deluge of images that had me closing my eyes and covering my face for fear of getting a migraine.

"What's happening?" I asked myself, feeling blindly now for the off button.

That was when I felt my new claws growing in, during that blind pawing. Trailing around the console I felt the button under what was once a plain fingernail, sharpened to an ever elongating point. That got me to open my eyes, that sudden sliding of the unreal into the real.

Looking at the claws that had sprouted from my hand, how could I have considered it anything more than an imagined vision? A glimpse into the unreal. The sharp yellow of those three pointed spikes gave it way even before the grey fur on my palm did.

"Daroach?" I followed up, confused.

It was strange, I wasn't even booting up a game he was in when this happened. Contemplating then my affinity for this rat and just how strong it might be I caught myself not paying attention to what really mattered.

What mattered of course was that I was actually turning into Daroach. Thankfully I did not panic. Instead I calmly walked to the couch and sat down, taking a deep breath as I watched my claws settle in at full length as fur enveloped it entirely.

Glancing over at my other mostly human hand I got to watch the adjustments more closely. It seemed contact with the console had sparked the changes up along the hand that made contact first and foremost, but ever the symmetrical thing my body worked overtime to get back to a match.

Quickly then the left hand changed, following in the path the right had already finished. Rather swiftly I was looking at two sets of paws waggling in the air as the changes progressed to my arms and unmade them entire. Daroach after all, did not have arms, why would I?

The human arms that helped support the paws seemed to grow out of focus. Or at least growing out of focus is the best I can hope to explain disappearing in such a peculiar manner. Yet in spite of their visual absence I still felt entirely connected to my new hands.

More so perhaps than my old ones in fact, as these, more than my human hands, felt well and truly like my own. I clenched my clawed fist, reaching up with one such floating hand to check the brim of my new hat. Or was it my old hat now? What did it really matter?

I could feel the warm red fabric beneath my claw, feel the tug of its brim around my brow. The changes had progressed quite profoundly, spreading up the arms that were not where and crashing across the shoulder like a wave. I had always loved his costume, and I watched through half turned eyes as the high red collar popped itself.

What a world this was, to allow for such fun to commence unimpeded. I smiled with my shrinking and sharpening teeth as my snout began to sprout. This was a form I had admired from afar for so long it felt like a natural fit. Reaching up with my claws I ran them delicate along my face.

Feeling the last bit of snout settling in on the end of my face I blinked. It jutted out so far into my expanding cone of vision I could not help but giggle a bit. One never appreciates how comical a snout can truly look from the right angle of observation.

With laughter at my back I dispatched my old human clothes with ease. Having newly translucent arms just made fumbling with them a bit too humorous for my liking. So instead I elected to test out my new claws. My claws were a bit sharper than I thought, as just my index made short work of both shirt and pants alike.

Clothing fell to the sofa, mingling with the blankets and pillows they proved a somewhat sorry sight. At least for a moment. Standing up on the sofa in my shrunken state I did not get very far from that lost clothing at all. Looking over them I almost felt a kind of pity, after all, had these clothes not served me well in my old body?

Such sentimentality. I rolled my embiggened eyes. Why should I feel such a connection to ill-fitting clothes when a cape and hat so perfectly sized for my new body were busy forming along the contours of my peculiarly and impossibly cute mouselike body.

Put simply, the hat felt good on my head, and the cape felt perfect on my back. These clothes, far more than this store bought affair lying in a heap upon the couch, were made for my body. As in quite literally spun from the air onto my back to better attune myself to Daroach.

To be Daroach. Such a curious fate indeed. I wondered for a moment how much power might be packed into this body of mine as the changes resumed. Would I have his acuity for magic, or much worse, his penchant for getting into trouble? Or would I, in spite of form, still be myself?

Other than the shape of my hands, the shrinking of my body, and the growing sensitivity of my ears that just seemed to get rounder and rounder like great dinner plates on either side of my well tailored hat... I still felt like myself.

It is quite a funny thing to feel like yourself. To reach deep down within and still feel the contours of your soul the way you would any other day. It was only this vessel that was changing, all because of some peculiar glitch sliding just a bit too far into reality.

I caught myself smiling again. Smiling as I looked down to see my dwindling legs begin to vanish much the same as my arms had. Such a strange sensation, a numbness that spread deep through the limb before finally becoming so complete that even the absence of sensation felt as though it were missing along that length.

At least of course until one made it to the paw, which tightly gripped at the fabric of the couch for a moment. I tested each foot in turn. Was that all of me? Was I entirely Daroach now? It happened to so little fanfare I had hardly noticed, but if the changes had started from my arms and worked my way across...

The last stretches of mouse fur sprout along my back. No tail to speak of, as it was to be. I was such a strange and fantastical little creature, Daroach from tip of the hat to the claws down below, and do you want to know what happened to me next?

Nothing. I just sat there looking at my chopped up human clothes thinking how oddly shaped I once had to have been to fit in them properly. That was about it really. Just a mild bit of reflective contemplation. Of course as with most bouts of reflective contemplation the following banal observations were inevitable. I only found these old clothes strangely ill fitting because my body had irrevocably altered itself.

This of course was wishful thinking, but it was wishful thinking I was more than comfortable partaking in. Afera all, if it were possible to change a person into Daroach, why could it not be permanent? More than that, if it were possible to transform people, then why shouldn't wishes be just as real as well.

"Oh, I wonder what I sound like," I said to myself, testing the tang of the voice.

It was a sharp squeaky sort of voice, one that felt quite at home in the body of a walking and talking rat. I worked to stifle a chuckle over it, feeling my ears bob around and brush against the soft material of my hat as I did so. This was nice. This body, good.

I felt fantastically energetic, and crouching down slightly I tested the strength of my legs. This was a powerful body indeed, one that I felt with little effort could be made to leap entirely through the ceiling. I did not though, and hopefully would not by accident either. I was not the sort of critter to enjoy damaging things for amusement.

"Or maybe I am though..." I said to myself, testing the menace of my vocals.

It was still high pitched, but it contained a frighteningly dark intonation that pulled me back from that grim vision. Sure Daroach was a bad guy, but I did not think I was. Certainly now I was Daroach, but I was, as far as I could tell, still entirely me on the inside.

What did I really want? Was villainy a good call? It certainly didn't feel like it. In fact quite the opposite, it felt appropriately enough like a bad call. A thoroughly bad one that would doubtlessly see me locked away and experimented on by who knows what.

"Oh goodness, what about my driver's license?" I asked aloud.

No answer came. At least not yet. And why should it really? Any questions I in my cute little rat body could have regarding my government documentation would have to be brought up at their relevant sights. The image alone of me waiting in line at the DMV in the body of Daroach was enough to elicit another self satisfied chuckle.

I was so very cute. This was a matter of fact. Beyond reproach this cute Daroach. I wondered so deeply what to do. What does one do when they change like this? When they find themselves occupying a body they desired more than their old one.

Self love. Such an affectionate term for masturbation. Still, it came to mind. Little else did. I was not about to try and spend my first day as Daroach frantically trying to make sure all my paperwork was in order. No. I was going to enjoy myself.

Satisfaction was already about me, but now it was unleashed. Left to the enjoyment of my own new body I began to explore it beyond the simple glances from before. To really tail my eyes over that beautiful grey coat of fur that had come to cover my oddly shaped body.

Like a ghostly apparition my hand began to trail, winding its way along my snout and giving it a gentle squeeze of reality detection. I could feel myself touching my extended face and I could not help but sit silently in observance of the strangeness at play.

This silent observation only continued for a time however, as my hand soon grew bored of this set of observations. It resumed its trip, briefly tugging at the collar of my cloak before pressing firmly to my chest. I was in total control of this hand, and yet still it felt so thoroughly alien for me to be so.

There was, after all, a peculiar invisible translucence I felt almost obliged to skip over. An absence of me from my shoulder to the hand. No thighs or shins to speak of either. Leaning back I put on an odd little display, kicking out my feet and paws into the air.

There I watched them float amongst themselves for a time, dangling and crossing paths through those nonexistent stretches of limb. While not really there I seemed to command the end of each of these limbs as though there was something connecting me to them, and while for a moment I considered seeing how far this invisible connection might stretch I soon grew distracted with more licentious activities.

Splayed out as I was upon the couch as I was. As excited as I had inevitably gotten... It was no surprise when an erection finally revealed itself. A little tingle building up betwixt those vanished thighs. A tiny dart of bright pink that seemed so impossibly sensitive to even the touch of the air all around and about it.

A mewling little cry seemed to escape my maw as I took note of it at last. Like so much of me it was shrunken, but I felt for my size at least it was certainly adequate in length. The peculiar tapered shape of its nature was odd, no longer molded around that human mushroom tip so designed to pull out a rival's cum even as it deposited its own. This cock was direct and to the point.

"Can't... in the living room..." I mewled incessantly even as I reached towards it.

This was a feeble gripe, one that I felt stating aloud was enough to all a safe and swift rebuke. Was this not cause for celebration? For indulgence? My body had been reshaped by some peculiar quirk of the universe and I longed to discover all aspects of it.

Was arousal and release not one such aspect? Should I be too ashamed to explore my new body in an area that sometime in the future my roommates might occupy? The pleasure from the erection alone was too great and tingly to resist for the time it might take to get up.

What was the harm in a little indulgence? In feeling how my new body responded to pleasure? It already felt so good... I pressed forward and down, my right hand continuing its exploration down my belly and onto my cocks was a swift and easy journey to make.

Careful of my own sharp claws I pressed the palm of my new hand to my sharp cock's underside. Just a touch was enough to set the little thing off a bit, a little spurt of pre beading up at the tip before trailing down the top of it. A slick reflective sheen that quickly trailed its way down to what serviced as a crotch.

Tight balls could be felt underneath, almost covered up by the fur, but more than detectable with the soft paw of my hand rubbing around the area, feeling it all out. Above them and beneath the cock a nice soft sheath lay between, the base of which was perhaps more sensitive than any one piece of anatomy I had possessed in the past.

"Too good... too damn good..." I mewled as I set my paw upon my privates proper.

I could not stroke in the traditional sense. That old method of gripping my fingers around my shaft would prove reckless with hands like these, but perhaps together... I moved my other hand down, and with each paw pressed to either side of the shaft I began to stroke.

It felt like penetration proper. Like I had found a more than willing mouse or mousette to part with these precious little presses. The fur on my hands was so impossibly soft I might have expected this was the true purpose of my hands as I watched in perverse glee.

Just a little longer than my hands were wide I watched as the tip of my cock poked free on every press of the two floating paws. Pleasure. Pleasure beyond all measure. The soft fur of the paws was perfect for me down here, and the way they just lifted up and down...

It was as though some animated sex toy had set itself upon me; had floated over and saw fit to accost my cock until nothing at all remained unspent and sputtering. Every few jerks I could catch sight and soon the scent of a dart of precum trailing free, leaking along my paws and wetting the fur with which I continued to jerk and press and squeeze. Each preamble spurred me onward.

I angled myself differently soon. Steadily I pressed my legs along the couch cushions, sliding them against the back scooting some more to give my cock more altitude than my mousey face. If I were to release I did not want it to get on the couch, I was more than content catching it on my belly and... if pressure permitted, my face as well.

"I hope my hat and cloak don't stain," I mewled as I leaned into my thrusts.

Now instead of jerking down with my paws I pressed down with my feet, feeling my whole body work itself between that tight gripping of precum coated fur as I sped up faster and faster. Such an energetic little rodent, I had already put far more energy into masturbating as this little guy than I ever had as a human. Such a powerful body, indulged in so explicitly, it was hard to imagine a higher level of satisfaction than what I now felt.

Then I felt it approach. A release of all releases. I could only hold it back for a moment. A peculiar notion seized me as I dangled at the ledge of release. If I were to cum now, would that be what kept me in this shape? What if sexual release was some no going back point. That I would be trapped in this body for good?

The notion of staying like this only excited me further, and what started as a brief pause and panic quickly transformed into further excitement still. With it came my release. Came the torrent of built up satisfaction. Sharp darts of white rat cum sputtered free, shooting high and landing haphazardly on cloak, chest, and snout alike.

It would have perhaps been embarrassing if it did not feel so monstrously satisfying. As though all the pitiable releases of the past in my old body were in service to prepare me for this point in time. The orgasm could be felt through every inch of me, even the invisible and translucent bits that connected me to my arms were on fire with a great tingling pleasure that seemed to know no end.

"Rah... grehhh..." I sputtered up soft incomprehensible moans as the storm abated.

The pleasure was far from over, but at least the mess spilling from my cock had settled. A quiet little burble of cum rolled free on occasion, but no scarcely catchable spurts followed. I would need to clean myself soon. Make myself presentable. Would hate for the roommates to catch me like this after all.

Of course, just as I thought that, I heard the telltale tumble of the lock being undone.