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Len was a poor alchemist. The young collie had initially taken to the science of alchemy in order to learn the secrets of transmutation. Like the legendary figures he had read about, he was enamored with the process of turning lead into gold, into discovering the secrets of eternal life and unlocking the hidden potential of all people. Unfortunately, he ran into many challenges. Having to scrape together his education on whatever scraps he could get his hands on meant he would never be anything less than a very dedicated amateur. This meant that, when it came time for the wealthy patrons of Lorelan to begin throwing their money around to research the Great Experiments, he was forced to compete with every potion seller in Seer's Enclave. He would lose that competition. Many would have given up, after that, realized that there was no hope to ever achieve any sort of breakthrough.

Len, however, was determined. He doubled down on his studies, on his experiments. To help fund these, he opened a shop in the magical district, took money from basically anyone who would hand him something to do. He made potions that most others wouldn't touch, offered remedies to afflictions that most would otherwise refuse to talk about. To some, he became known as "the Pox Dog," the alchemist of last resort for people in need of relief from their suffering. And Len might have been happy with that life. However, only some called him the Pox Dog. Visiting him for those services was a matter of desperation entirely because he had gained another, worse reputation:

Being the alchemist that made potions for Kal-ee, the pink kobold.

She paid, well enough. In fact, she paid well enough that she, alone, was keeping Len in business. With her help, Len was free to use the rest of his time and coin to pursue his studies and experiments at a rate he would not have though possible, without her. The only downside was the nature of her commissions. Love potions, prophylactics, various types of "stimulating lubricants" and, of course, aphrodisiacs. So many aphrodisiacs. At any given time, Len had enough materials in his shop to host an unspeakably debauched gathering, and it was not long before all of Seer's Enclave knew this. Quickly, his name became known as belonging to a common peddler of smut. He gained a new, very imaginative title from the people. He didn't dare ever acknowledge it, though, both because of its unsuitability in mixed company and because of his own pride.

It is fair to say that on that day, when Len's tiny workshop was being taken up with meeting the kobold's commissions, the prevailing mood on the sheepdog's face was one of resentment. Watching the alembic boil and distill, once a favored pastime of his, lost much of its shine when he thought of the substances that passed through its glass surface, most days. Pulling his spectacles off of his nose, he rubbed his tired eyes and tried to take his mind off of the world outside his little shop. All that mattered was making sure this current batch reduced properly. Never mind what was in it; so long as it reduced into something safe for consumption, that was all he needed to focus on.

His ear swiveled in the direction of an opening door, but he didn't bother looking in its direction. He knew exactly what was about to stumble out of that room, and he was hoping that if he looked busy enough, that it would not acknowledge him.

"Good morning, brother," the voice behind him said, dashing his hopes.

"The bells are about to toll none," he replied. "Morning has long since passed."

"Oh. I hadn't noticed." The voice let out a long, luxurious yawn, shuffling closer. "Why did you not wake me, then?"

"Because I am not your caretaker, Irinia. Besides, if the bells could not wake you, I do not see how you expect me to do any better."

Irinia's shuffling noises got closer, and soon she was at the edge of his vision. Having been born from the same litter, it was often said that the familiar relation between Len and his sister were blatantly obvious. They both had the same mottled black-and-white fur, were about the same height, and both were, while not identically built, of a similar flavor of soft-bodied. In addition, while Len lacked the harder graces that might be expected of your typical male dog, Irinia had a certain hardness about her that made her not quite expected among her fellow women. Though, dressed as she was in nothing but a short nightgown, it was plain to see that she was every bit a woman. As she bent over the desk, eyes roving over the notes spread upon it, Len was keenly aware that a scant millimeter or two of fabric was between him and seeing her feminine features in their full glory.

Moving quickly, he bent forward, closing the large book where he kept his formulas for Kal-ee. "Have you nowhere to go today, Irinia?"

"You know that I cannot read your notes, brother," she replied, sleepily. "Certainly not with your atrocious handwriting. Since you're hiding them from me, you must be doing work for that kobold, again."

Len's ears flattened, against his head, but his face was otherwise stony. "I am doing work that keeps you in a soft bed past sext, dear sister. Work that involves potentially caustic reagents that will do unspeakable things to exposed fur." He stared at the back of Irinia's long, bare legs, to drive his point home.

Irinia continued to lean on the table, having long since learned to spot an empty bluff from her brother. "You know, perhaps you ought to avail yourself of the little lizard's services. Perhaps she can use her magic powers to implant a libido in you, so you might finally think to leave the house, once in a while."

Len did not have anything to say, in the face of such a flagrant insult. But as he rose to his feet, it seemed like his mouth was determined to try, anyway. That is, until the sound of a bell ringing pulled his attention to the open doorway that led to the front of his store. A customer. The sound was such a rarity that the bell ringing supplanted any desire to continue squabbling. Instead, pointing to her severely, he muttered "Put on proper clothes. You'd not get away with walking around like this, in our family home." Then, he stormed off, robe swishing as he turned to the front of his store.

"Ah, good Merril." Len, when he pressed himself to do so, had a smile as warm as a doting holy brother. He put his hands together and pointed that smile towards the middle-aged rat that awkwardly stood at his counter. "A pleasure to see you still walking around. I take it the drops have been working."

"They have, sirrah," Merril replied, his tone betraying a rather keen desire to finish his business and be out of the building as quickly as possible. It was an attitude Len expected of every visitor to his store, however, so he tried not to begrudge the rat. "Cough's mostly gone, now, and I ain't had the breathing problems for nigh on a week."

"Excellent!" Len beamed, even though the effort of appearing so chipper was causing him spiritual pain. Reaching under the counter, he produced the sealed bottle of dark red liquid, that he had prepared for the rat, placing it down with a careful flourish. "You're responding to the treatments better than I could have hoped. We need only continue the dosage, and you should be just fine."

Merril ventured a look outside, as if worried somebody was looking through the windows and could see him here, with the Rudely Named Alchemist. "About that, sirrah," he muttered. "I've honestly been feeling much better. Perhaps I only need the one last bottle, yeah? No need to take up much more of your time."

The collie struggled to keep his expression firm and smiling, though a subtle eye-twitch might have given away his frustration. "Good Merril, I believe we have discussed this. It is not prudent to take medicine for an affliction only until you stop feeling the symptoms. Particularly for one as dire as you are now recovering from. A full regimen of my tonic will make sure the disease is fully purged from your system, and that it shall not resurface. If it's payment you're concerned about, we may be able to come to an arrangement. I've no desire to cost you your livel..."

A sudden noise made both collie and rat jump. A violent crashing of glass, a sharp yap of pain and alarm, a clattering of books and documents.

"What in the devil was that?" Merril asked, uneasily.

"Irinia?" A smell of acrid chemicals and smoke wafted in from the room. Len felt his heart seize, as he bounded through the doorway. "Irinia?!"

The workshop was now a mess. Black smoke billowed out from the small furnace that now housed only a few tiny slivers of Len's alembic. The rest lay scattered about the room, glistening with the sickly pink fluid that had quenched his furnace fire and now lay spattered over every surface and paper. Wheeling about, Len scanned the room. He found Irinia, slumped against the wall, clutching her arm, her shirt damp and her legs marked with a dozen tiny scratches.

"Irinia!" In a trice, Len was at her side. "What happened?"

"I do not know," she grunted. "Your damned glassware just exploded, all of a sudden." She took a deep breath, through her teeth, glaring at Len as she added "I am fine, by the way, and your concern is touching."

Len let out a shaky breath. "No... all right. Give me your arm." Draping her arm over his shoulder, he turned her towards her room. "Let's go. Carefully. Watch out for gl-" Irinia lifted her foot off the ground, with a sharp yelp. "...glass shards. Come now, let's get you into bed."

As they walked past the doorway, to the storefront, Len took one last look outside.

The potion was gone, as was Merril.

At least the rat was obliging enough to leave his payment on the counter.

* * *

"Gah! Careful with those things!"

"Will you hold still?" Len scowled over his sister's legs, a pair of tweezers between his fingers. "Honestly, you fuss and whine like a babe."

"Oh, pardon me," Irinia bit back, wincing as another shard of glass was pulled from her body. "I suppose being subjected to your homemade grenade has turned me somewhat dramatic."

"That 'grenade' was a custom blown alembic worth twenty silver, and it has survived far greater crucibles than what I was putting it though, this morning. Did you touch it?"

"Touch your infernal potions? And risk catching whatever affliction of joylessness has plagued you? I would ra-yipe!"

"I said, hold still." Len pulled another tiny shard from Irinia's outer thigh, before pressing linens against the cut. "There. I think that's all the..." Looking over Irinia's body, he saw a pair of holes, in her nightgown. He groaned. "Are you cut anywhere else?"

"What?"

"Your gown... we must take it off." Without ceremony, he reached for the hem of her nightgown and began to pull up. "Come on, quickly."

"Are you mad?" Irinia threw her hands down, pulling at the other side of the garment. "I'm not decent, underneath this."

A bitter comment was on Len's lips, but he suppressed it. "Do not be a child, Irinia. I have tended to the needs of the aged and afflicted for long enough. I shall not be traumatized by the sight of naked fur."

Slowly, Irinia loosened her grip. In short order, her gown was around her throat. She was forced to look away, bashfully, as Len began his inspection. Hands pressed against her flanks, parting fur and combing through it. He rolled her to one side, the side of his hand nearly to the underside of her breast. Then he searched the other side. Roving with mechanical precision, Irinia only had to look up at that stony, serious face to know that her brother was completely dispassionate about his work. He searched for nicks on her skin with the same attitude one might look for dropped coins in a grassy field. None of that helped her beating heart, didn't make her brother's gaze on his body an almost physical thing, that crawled along her flesh.

After what felt like an eternity, Len's expression deflated, and he retreated. "I don't see any other injuries."

Swiftly, Irinia covered herself back up. "You see? I told you as much."

"You did not," Len replied, flatly. Grabbing her wrist, he pressed his finger down and felt her pulse. "Your heartbeat is strong. Perhaps a bit over-strong, in fact. Are you feeling well?"

Irinia huffed. "You mean, aside from being shredded into a fine meat paste? How else am I to feel unwell?"

"Do you feel warm? Short of breath? Weak in the limbs?"

"Am I supposed...?" Irinia stopped in mid-sentence, her expression falling in momentary horror. "Oh, gods... I've gotten your alchemical slop all over me. What were you making? Have I been poisoned?"

"Irinia, calm yourself..." Len began to protest, but was forced to shrink with a yap when Irinia grabbed the pillow from behind her and began to lash him about the head and chest with it.

"You've poisoned me!" Irinia growled. "There was something for that damn kobold in there, wasn't there? What sort of horrible magic have you wrought upon your dear..."

Len grabbed the pillow, ripping it from her hands with a snarl. "Cease your thrashing about, sister." Tossing the thing to the floor, he fixed her with a level gaze. "You... are in no danger. The substance I was reducing was elemental, and had no power. However, there is every chance that your body might react adversely to the substances you've been splashed with. I will not know for certain that you are in the clear until some time has passed. We will know all the sooner, if you insist on exerting yourself. So, you shall stay here. You will rest, you will give your cuts time to clot, and you will take careful stock of how you're feeling. If anything changes in you, you will call me. Do you understand?" Irinia scowled, before lifting a leg off the side of the bed. Abortively, Len said "You really should not..."

With a sudden intake of breath, Irinia withdrew her foot from the floor. "Damned glass! Right in the worst spot."

Sighing, Len picked up the pillow and handed it to her. "This is why it is unsafe to walk around my workshop without clothes on."

With a huff, Irinia snatched the pillow from her brother, placing it back behind her. "So... I'm looking out for what kind of symptoms, then?"

"Any kind." Len stood up, taking a second to make sure that the linens were pressed firmly against her legs to stanch whatever bleeding was left. "You know your own body better than anyone. If you feel anything out of the ordinary, anything at all, you call me." With that, he turned to leave Irinia's room, looking out at the mess that was his workshop with no small amount of chagrin.

Irinia watched him leave. Then, slowly, she reached over to the drawer on her night-stand.

* * *

Len's mood, when it finally came time to cleaning up the mess that the alembic had created, was simultaneously one of restrained frustration and restrained mourning. The ensuing blast had apparently been violent enough to send fluid spattering over many of his papers, as well as creating a horrid pool of alchemical and ash sludge where it had poured out of the miniature furnace. Luckily, the book where he kept the formulas relevant to Ka-lee had been spared the worst of the damage, only getting a few flecks of the stuff as well as the puddle soaking into the cover. One of the shards managed to score a little gash in the cover, actually, on a second glance. He considered himself lucky to have closed it, moments before it sunk in just how fast those bits of glass had burst.

Nervously, he looked back at Irinia's room. He exhaled through the nose. She was fine. She was going to be just fine. She was in more danger from the glass shards than the thing he had been making, and those had done nothing more than superficial cuts. The pink sludge was... safe? Pulling the book off of the table, he moved it over to the nearest bit of dry, empty counter space, opening it to the page he had last been on. He scanned the ingredients.

He sighed, in relief. Nothing overtly poisonous, especially not in the limited doses she was hit with. And the potion itself was only half-made, so there wouldn't be any risk of it doing what it intended. As for what it intended... he scowled, at the note Ka-lee left for him in the margin. "Turns the drinker into an object of their loved ones' desire."

"A dodged hazard," he muttered to himself, as he closed the book. "As if she needed a beauty potion turning her even more insufferable."

With the damage to his materials mentally cataloged, he could finally get around to doing the actual work of cleaning. Thick gloves allowed him to pick up pieces of glass without incident, and he always kept bags of sand around specifically for cleaning up spills. His work here, like in all aspects of his job, was efficient, methodical, and to the point. So complete was his mastery of his little domain, that the sight of just one little thing, where it didn't belong, drew his attention almost immediately. Underneath the table, where his equipment lay, he spotted a small wooden cup. That wasn't supposed to be here. In fact, as he bent down to pluck it from off the floor, he recognized it as having come from the kitchen. He sniffed the inside, but smelled nothing.

Taking it back to the kitchen, he set it down on the counter with the others. Everything else here was exactly where he left it. The only thing that had moved was the bucket that normally hung from the well, which now sat on his table, but even that was still full of water and undisturbed. It was exactly the kind of minuscule detail that absolutely didn't matter, one bit, but which would have taken up vital space in Len's head, for the rest of the day.

Fortunately, the sound of the bell pulled him from what would otherwise be hours of intrusive thoughts. Moving quickly, he stepped out of the kitchen, and around to the front of the store. He pulled out his brightest smile, which faltered somewhat when he found it was directed at empty air. Then, he looked down. Barely poking out from the top of the front counter were the eyes and snout of a pink-and-red scaled kobold, dressed in exotic silks and with an expression that seemed to say "yes, it is I."

"Ka-lee," Len said, down at the creature. "What brings you here, today?"

"We were performing deliveries," the kobold replied. "Enjoying the sun, as well. It brings us no end to joy to learn that the winter time is beginning to pass."

Len drummed his gloved hands on the counter, distractedly. "It is good you've arrived, actually. I've something I need to discuss. It concerns the latest commission."

Ka-lee's eyes quirked in confusion. "Ah, as we feared. The accident we smell came from this store."

"It was not..." Len bit back the urge to correct his best-paying client, but had it been anyone else, he would have stringently opposed the idea that he had made a mistake. "I've had a failure in my equipment. My alembic ruptured, while the potion was in the process of reducing. I shall have to start again, after I replace my glassware."

"Dear Mother Drake," Ka-lee cried, suddenly putting her clawed hands on the counter and pulling herself up to look at him, properly. "Is the canine well? Has he suffered any affliction?"

Len was hard-pressed to decipher the kobold's strange manner of speaking, at times, but the sudden urgency in her tone was unmistakable. "There is no need for alarm, good miss. The situation is well under control. I was not in the room, when it happened." He decided to leave out the part where somebody else was, a little white lie to simplify the story for his client.

Ka-lee seemed to deflate a bit, in relief, when she heard that. "Thank goodness. We are glad to hear that nobody actually got splashed with it. A half-reduced potion of that magnitude... ooh, we shudder to think of the consequences."

Len's expression tightened, just a bit. What was the kobold talking about? In his head, he was going over the list of ingredients. He had not missed anything. There was no way he missed anything. With tension in the back of his jaw, he cleared his throat. "As I said, there is nothing to worry about. I am safe to resume work, once I have spoken with the glassblower about a new alembic."

"We understand," Ka-lee replied, with a nod. "If the canine was worried that we would find this news unpalatable, then he needs not fear. We understand well the dangers of alchemy, and the canine has more than deserved whatever freedom of movement he needs to work."

"You are a gracious client," Len said. Internally, he couldn't help but add even if your commissions are liable to destroy me.

Ka-lee shrugged, her expression akin to that of a magnanimous queen being told how magnanimous she was. Then, she turned towards the door. "We shall bother the canine no longer. We need to return to our shop and fetch a mirror for a favored customer. Be well, alchemist."

"And you as well," Len said, to the retreating back of the kobold's head. He waited, patiently, until her body had turned the corner around the door, and her tail followed a moment after. Then, with a harried groan, he rushed into his living area, making directly for Irinia's room.

Irinia looked up at her brother, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. For the first time in a while, Len saw an unguarded expression from her. Nervous. Scared.

He rushed back to the kitchen, to grab the water bucket.

* * *

"Describe it."

Irinia groaned, as the soaked cloth was pressed to her forehead, once again. "Brother, I am well, honestly."

"You have a fever," Len insisted. "I can feel that much, even behind the cloth. What else is happening? Are you having difficulty breathing?"

"No, Len, I am not. It... feels like I've just climbed a flight of stairs, somewhat quickly."

Latching onto that piece of information, Len reached out and pressed his finger against one of Irinia's wrists. "Yes, I can see that. Your heart seems to be working harder than usual."

They locked eyes. Irinia set her jaw, her expression still nervous. Len recognized that distracted flit of the ear, the shift of the eyes. She had that same expression when she had broken one of his childhood toys, and when she tried to hide one of her lovers in their bedroom, under the noses of their parents. She was hiding something, but Len could not figure out what. He could never really figure out what was going on in his sister's head.

"You need to tell me what's happening," Len said, as patiently as he could muster. "I cannot tell what I need to do for you, if you do not tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong." Irinia's ear flitted, again. "I'm just... I'm feeling a little tired. I just wish to take a nap in peace, brother."

Movement caught his eye, down the bed. Irinia's legs rubbed together, distractedly. Len scowled. "You are holding something back."

"You have no idea..."

Reaching over, Len put his fingers around the hem of Irinia's nightgown. "You are such a child, Irinia!"

"What?" Panicked, Irinia threw her hands down to stop Len from pulling up. "L-Len, stop! Wait a moment, I..."

It was too late. Len had already pulled the gown up just far enough to be able to see between Irinia's legs. Len's eyes widened, as he looked at her puffy, glistening sex. He knew more than enough about anatomy (especially from working with Ka-lee) to know that Irinia was fully rampant, in front of his eyes. Her legs twitched, sliding her flesh along her inflamed button.

Len's expression deflated. He looked up at his sister.

Irinia smiled, nervously.

"Irinia..." Len closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose. "Did I... interrupt something?"

Her ear flitted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Gods!" Len rose to his feet, shaking his hands violently as he recoiled in disgust. "Could you not have said something?"

"Oh, did you want me to tell you about this, then?" Irinia's ears flattened against her head, as she covered herself up, though she snarled defiantly as she did so. "Well, all right. Perhaps I will. In complete and exacting detail."

"No!" Len held up a hand, in an abortive attempt to ward away the thought of his sister masturbating. "No, just... gods above, Irinia. Never mind, then." He turned to leave, muttering to himself. "I should have been happier to have found you dying, than..."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was spent in tense study. Irinia didn't leave her room, and that was just as well. Len was honestly unsure if he could face her again, knowing what she was no doubt doing in there, even now. No, he had other things to do. He had workstations to clean, tools to inspect. He needed to double, triple, quadruple check the ingredient list, just to make sure there was not something he was missing. He needed to carefully pore over every single piece of glass he owned, to make sure none of them were also about to explode.

He was in between tasks, having just pored over his furnace and now on his way to grab a book on toxicology, when he walked past the doorway to Irinia's room. One of his ears quirked towards the door, before both of them flattened against his head after he registered what he was hearing. Gods, he thought to himself, how long does it take someone to get off?

He flinched, as a noise from out front caught his attention. The bell. Of course, a day like today, with all its problems and hangups, would also be the day he had his most visitors in months. He growled to himself, scowling all the way to the doorway. Once he was past it, however, he was all smiles. "Ah. Welcome, Miss. What brings you to my apothecary?"

A middle aged shrew in a well-worn dress put her hands on the counter, attempting to smile amiably despite being clearly uncomfortable to be standing in his store. "Good day. You're the Pox Dog, if I have that right?"

"Aye, that is what the people call me," Len lied. "I treat more than the pox, of course, but the villagers do so like their colorful name. What can I do for you, this day?"

"Oh, it is not for me," the shrew said, with a note almost of protest in her voice. "It is my layabout of a son, you see. Apparently, he has been taking his coin to some of the less than reputable corners of the city, if you understand."

Len nodded, sagely. "The folly of youth is only ever heightened with the addition of money."

"Yes, well, he..."

A sound of a muffled moan, to his right, made Len's ear pull that direction. The shrew apparently also heard it, stopping in mid-sentence. Confused, and just on the cusp of mortified, she looked to Len for answers.

Len would remain unfazed, as he cleared his throat. "Do ignore that. I've a patient in the guest room who has been fighting off a rather horrid infection. Perfectly safe, and she is out of the woods." Another, louder and more obvious groan came from Irinia's room. Lew's expression hardened further as he added. "Do forgive her. As you can hear, she is in no small amount of agony."

If Len's bluff was in any way ineffective, then the shrew was choosing to play along, purely for the sake of propriety. Shaking her head, she continued. "Well, as I was saying, I was almost willing to let him suffer, for a bit, but you see, lately he..." She paused, as another moan entered into the storefront. "...he has been having trouble sleeping, says he is now in some amount of pa..." Irinia suddenly let out a very loud, warbling cry. The shrew started to shrink away. "Perhaps I ought to let you tend to your current patient, good sir."

"A-a moment, pray!" Len scrambled to reach for a bottle, under his counter. Coming around to the front, he very quickly pressed it into her hands, while also leading her in the direction of the way out. "This should take the edge off of any pain your son might be feeling." He walked her to the door, determined to talk over any future noises his sister might make. "Two drops mixed into wine or ale should be enough to help him sleep, but I shall need to see him in person, in order to understand how best to treat him, properly."

"How much?" the shrew asked, as she was all but pushed out the door.

"No charge for that," Len replied, hastily. "The safety of your son takes priority. We'll discuss pay once I've gotten a handle on what afflicts him. In the meantime, be well and do not fret." He smiled, and waved amiably as she wandered off. He even tactfully ignored the look of bewilderment on the poor shrew's face as she turned the corner, almost certainly headed off to go find literally any other apothecary. Once she was out of sight, however, Len slid back into his store, slammed the front door shut, and pulled the blinds on the window to mark it as closed. "Of all the things to lose a customer over," he muttered, darkly, "I would never have expected it to be thin, shoddy masonry."

The house was now, very suddenly, quiet. Len entered his living space, once again passing by the door to Irinia's room. No more gasps, no more moaning. Shaking his head, he rapped two finger knuckles against the door. "If you're done with your business, you ought to eat something. It's well close to evening." He received nothing but heavy silence, in response. Brow knitting, he knocked again. "Irinia?"

"Len?"

The collie flinched, internally. There was something very wrong in Irinia's voice. It was soft, retreating... scared. With a sharp inhale, he opened the door. "Irinia?"

Irinia sat on her bed, bandaged legs curled up, knees against her chin. She stared in Len's direction, but not at him, seeming to look beyond him. Her expression was haunted, her fur frazzled. The room reeked of sex.

"Len..." she shook her head. "...I think something is very wrong."

* * *

"Describe it."

Irinia hugged her knees closer to herself. "It feels as if one half of my body is anxious. Like I'm being pursued by a monster, from the waist down. I thought I was just... well..."

"Animated?" Len offered.

Irinia snorted. "Ever the poet, aren't you, Brother?" Then, her expression fell, again. "I thought it might be a normal bit of fancy, and yet... it hasn't stopped. Not since this afternoon. And now it's starting to feel... different."

"Different how?"

Irinia's ear twitched.

"Different how?" Len pressed.

"It's... getting more intense." Irinia almost whispered. "I had to stop because it almost hurts to touch. It feels like my flesh has been scoured. Yet, when I..." She stopped, her eyes widening, before she hid her snout behind her legs, ear flitting in agitation. "...it's just gotten more intense."

Len's eyes narrowed. "What else is happening?" Irinia did not respond. Len put his hands on the frame at the foot of the bed and leaned forward. "Irinia you must tell me everything. I cannot blindly treat something like this; I must know exactly what is wrong with you." She stayed silent. Her ear flitted, again. Len sighed, his expression softening. "It is all right. You will not traumatize me by speaking of your intimate regions. I have been studying the body for nearly as long as I've known how to read. I assure you, there is nothing you could say that would surprise me."

Irinia met her brother's eyes, then resumed staring down at her knees. She muttered something, soft and unintelligible.

Len's ears quirked in her direction. "I did not hear that. Say it again."

Irinia took a deep breath, and repeated. "It has changed, I said. It is not the same as when I saw it, yesterday."

"What do you mean?" Len asked. "What has changed?"

Irinia did not answer.

Len's eyes widened, as realization slowly dawned on him. "By the Gods..."

Irinia, despite herself, could not help a small, wry smirk. "So much for nothing surprising you, I suppose."

"No, I..." Len pinched the bridge of his snout. "Never mind that. Just... come. Lie back."

"Lie back?"

"I need to..." Len paused, his ears flattening against his head in embarrassment. "...Irinia, I need to... examine you."

Len expected more push-back, from that statement. He expected his sister to sputter and protest, like she had done before. To be honest, perhaps he would have preferred that. Instead, she bit her lower lip, thoughtfully, and then... she leaned back. Slowly, her legs spread, revealing a mass of matted, glistening wet fur along her inner thighs. Just further up from that was her sex.

Len might not have been as intimately familiar with Irinia's sex as she was, but in the time since he was last forced to lay eyes on it, even he could see that it was noticeably different. It appeared to have shrunken. Or, perhaps more accurately, to have gathered in on itself. The labia had all but receded, the vestibule nothing more than a vague U shaped bend beneath a red, angry and swollen glans. The glans itself was the most distressing part. It had grown considerably from the rather modest button that it had been, earlier this afternoon. Now it seemed to protrude out from her sex, twitching spasmodically along with the rest of her lower body.

"My word, this... is this what I think it is?" For the briefest of moments, Len forgot that he was staring at his sister. Putting a hand on her thigh, he pulled at the fur to get a better look. "I've seen this in treatises, but I've never seen it in person, before."

Irinia didn't respond. Questions were on her lips, but the feeling of Len's hand on her thigh was so intense as to render her speechless. Anxiously, she brought her hand to her mouth, gently pressing her teeth against her index finger to stifle herself.

Heedless, Len continued to mutter to himself. "Absolutely fascinating. They say that genitals are all made of the same things, just arranged differently depending on gender and species..." His fingers inched closer, pulling what remained of the vestibule open to get a better look at it. "...but you truly see that no more clearly in these sorts of in-between states."

Irinia's head rolled back. Now, she was covering her mouth with both hands, to keep herself from crying out. She was not even in the position to hear anything her brother was saying, as familiar yet altogether unusual sensations began to flood in.

"You can even see the way the jewel naturally leads into the tassel." Perhaps unwisely, Len put his finger under Irinia's long clitoris, lifting it up slightly. "In fact, it almost looks like a tiny..."

That was all he was able to say, before he felt the first splash of hot, thick liquid in his palm. Irinia gasped, an expression on her face as if she had just been stabbed. Her lower body rolled and jerked, as the rest of her body locked up in paralyzing pleasure. Her glans sawed against Len's finger in jagged bursts, as more and more white fluid spurted out of it. It was only a matter of moments, but eventually Irinia finally started to relax. She also remembered how to breathe. Len, upon hearing the sound of Irinia's labored breathing, finally remembered that it was his sister that he had been examining, and that something was terribly wrong. Slowly, he brought his hand up to his face. It was soaked.

Irinia stared at the fluid dripping off of Len's fur, deliriously. "Is... is that...?"

His heart pounding, Len gave his hand a cautious sniff. Then, he met Irinia's gaze. "It's semen."

Neither of them said anything, after that. Irinia had questions, of course. Len had instinctual platitudes on his lips about how all was well, how he was going to figure out what was happening. Eventually, however, an unspoken agreement was made that Len should get up and leave, that what they really needed was space to process what happened.

Len left the room, almost in a daze. Shutting the door behind him, he continued to look down at his hand. The musky smell of Irinia's essence burned in his nostrils, caused his pulse to quicken.

This was around the point that he realized he was still sniffing his hand.

He quickly returned to the kitchen, in order to rinse himself off.