Luck Be a Lady
This story is copyright to me (Merle), and the characters are trademark to the same; feel free to use them in your own stories or artwork, however, I would just appreciate a heads-up if you do so.
Just so you can't say I didn't tell you so: THIS STORY HAS NAUGHTY BITS. It's got domination and bondage and SEX and all that fun sinful junk, so if that's not up your alley then DON'T READ IT. Simple as that.
And if you do decide to read it - enjoy!
(This story is dedicated to all the cool folks at the Naga's Den forums, and Naga herself. They're good people, every one.)
Luck Be a Lady
Chapter 1
All in all, it had been one hell of a night.
Michael Lands was an up-and-coming lawyer, on the fast-track to junior partner at the small firm he'd found right after law school; always a bit of a workaholic, recently his boss Linda had insisted that he take some of the vacation time he'd built up and unwind for a week or so. Given his respect for her, the severely dressed hare who'd recruited him, he couldn't really say no, despite his worries about what might happen at the office while he was away.
The muscular, six-foot-five wolf had little trouble deciding on a vacation destination; he'd always been a fan of gambling, often organizing office pools for games or running poker nights for the employee bonding sessions the management liked to assign. Las Vegas seemed the only logical choice for the big lupine.
His charm and rugged, handsome features had been all he needed to get some special attention from a very attractive stewardess on the flight there. Luckily, no-one had needed to use the jet's bathroom while it was 'occupied', and despite his broad shoulders and carefully-sculpted muscles, Michael was more than flexible enough to fit into the small room and lavish the cat's small, well-formed breasts with licks and love bites while his proud shaft pounded into her. She'd had to bite down on his shoulder, to muffle her cries of pleasure, and the small puncture wounds were still visible three days later, only hidden by the stylish dress shirt and jacket the wolf wore, the blue of the shirt matching his eyes perfectly.
He'd made his way down the Strip, moving from hotel to hotel for the past few days; now he was on the next-to-last day of his vacation, flying back home the next night, and looking for something interesting to occupy his evening. The weather was unseasonably cool in Vegas, a breeze blowing in off the desert and ruffling the fur of the wolf as he walked past several casinos, ignoring the flashing neon and gaudy attractions.
Something decidedly out of the ordinary for Vegas caught his eye, making Michael pause in midstep and look to the side; he saw a smaller casino, about ten stories high, set discreetly back from the road, with almost no lights at all; the only things which stood out about the building were the dimly-lit lettering, spelling out "Fortuna" in an elegant script, and the slightly-larger-than-life statue set out front, of a truly beautiful vixen sculpted in what looked like marble, holding a strange-looking wheel, garbed in an off-the-shoulder robe which just barely covered her full breasts, her eyes obscured by a blindfold.
Michael almost walked past the odd place; it looked like nothing more than a slightly less gaudy casino than the others lining the Strip. Something about it drew him, though, made the wolf stray from the much-walked pavement and head up the gravel-lined drive of the small casino.
A sunglasses-wearing Doberman, towering a good half foot above Michael, nodded at him as he walked through the glass doors; the wolf would have thought the immense dog a fluke, someone there to intimidate unwanteds at the door, but another stood just inside almost a twin of the first, and he could see others scattered around the casino floor. The décor was a simple style, the predominant colors silver and white; unlike every other building he'd been in for the past week, the room was fairly quiet, just a murmur of voices and the rustle of cards. No slot machines, no roulette wheels; it just seemed to be an expanse of tables, with various card games occupying the players. Michael couldn't hold back a grin as he walked down the graceful stairs to the main floor; cards were most definitely his 'thing'. He'd just about broken even for the last few nights, but maybe tonight he could really make a profit, and have some fun at the same time.
The first few tables were games he wasn't familiar with; one of them he didn't even recognize the type of cards, but he caught a glimpse of one of them as he passed it by; a tower, being split by lightning with people jumping from the doomed structure. The others used the more conventional decks of fifty-two cards, but he walked on by them as well, making a beeline for his game of choice - blackjack. Luckily, there was an open seat at the first blackjack table he saw, and the wolf slid down onto it like a key fitting in a lock. All of a sudden, everything just fit.
Michael started with small bets, five or ten dollars apiece, gauging the dealer's skill; a cute young gazelle in an employees' vest, she smiled at him as she dealt each hand, her fingers deftly shuffling the cards. Five hands in, Michael was down fifteen dollars, and he decided to really get to work.
The other players faded from his perceptions, simply not important to him, as he gazed intently at the deck; he knew from experience that his pupils were dilating slightly, his pulse thudding in his ears as he waited for the next hand. When the two cards dealt him were an ace and a nine, he knew to hit again; sure enough, another ace, and the dealer turned over her seven and ten, then slid a ten-dollar chip back to Michael. The wolf grinned; the hunt was on.
Ten minutes later, the gazelle's friendly smile was faltering; the wolf was three hundred dollars up, having steadily increased his bets each hand. That strange look was fixed on his face, almost as if he were looking through the deck itself, and he hadn't misstepped once, unerringly betting taking his losses when he couldn't win and not going bust on a single hand. Despite his unearthly success, though, she couldn't figure out how he was cheating, and she couldn't call over the guards unless she could prove that he wasn't playing fairly.
Michael was blind to the gazelle's increasing disquiet, his whole being focused on the game; he'd talked about the weird mindset he got into with his friends, laughing it off as 'zen gambling', but he couldn't deny that it gave him results. He split on a hand of two aces, and then received a jack and a queen - and the double blackjack was what brought the gazelle to a decision. She signaled surreptitiously to one of the Doberman guards to remove the wolf; a run of luck was one thing, but this was just too much to be random.
Michael didn't even see the guard; he was fortuitously saved from ejection by an impeccably dressed vixen, who placed a hand quietly on the guard's chest, then walked over to the table herself. The wolf caught his first glimpse of her as she sat next to him; her dress brought to mind a toga, an off-the-shoulder affair in black silk, perfectly matching her long, raven-dark hair. Her figure was slender, just thin enough to make her subtle curves that much more obvious, and the small bumps of her nipples through the fabric let Michael know that she was wearing nothing but fur underneath the dress.
She didn't say anything at first, just playing quietly beside the wolf through a few hands; somehow, Michael's luck seemed to have worn off, and he only broke even on them, losing the first two and then winning, barely on the next. He turned from the game while the dealer was shuffling for the next hand, giving the vixen a closer look. Michael had been mistaken about her most distinctive feature - he'd thought that her hair, falling gracefully down her back, was, but it was outmatched by her eyes, a light, liquid green framed by her long eyelashes.
"So, uh...play here often?" It was a stupid line, he knew it was a stupid line, but nothing else came to his mind; luckily, she laughed, a soft, melodic sound, and smiled at him, just the hint of teeth showing.
"You could say that..." Her voice was soft, rather husky, with an undertone of quiet amusement and something in the harmonics that shot straight from Michael's ears down his spine without stopping at his brain along the way. "This is my favorite casino."
The wolf grinned nervously, only half-paying attention to his cards, now, and lost a hand, then another. "Oh...so you're a regular in Vegas? This...this is my first time here." His next hand he drew a jack and a nine, and held; the dealer got twenty. With a beautiful vixen sitting next to him, though, it didn't seem so bad.
"Always nice to see a...virgin...in the city. Just between you and me, though..." The vixen smiled up at him, her cards down on the table. "...Playing against the house is never that much fun. It's too easy...the real experts only gamble against other players...care to give it a try?"
Michael nodded, trying to tear his eyes away from her dress; she smiled and took a breath, making the wolf's mouth go dry. "All right, then...how about...first to get a blackjack takes the other out for dinner, later?" The vixen smiled dazzlingly at him, and Michael finally managed to look back from her to his cards.
"Sounds...sounds good, miss...?"
The vixen smiled again, taking a card from the dealer. "Oh...let's leave the names for another bet." The next two hands went quickly, Michael losing one and winning the other but with neither player getting a twenty-one. On the third hand, the wolf drew a four and a seven. "H-hit me." He stammered - any face card now would give him a blackjack - but he cursed under his breath when he saw a nine. He looked over at the mysterious vixen just in time to turn over her cards - a Jack, a ten and an ace. Twenty-one.
"Well...that's a nice surprise, isn't it? Let's say...dinner at the Crystal Room, tonight?" Michael was sure his eyes bulged slightly as he drew in a strangled breath - the Crystal Room was a high-class establishment, set on top of the Crystal Palace Casino. He was reasonably sure that even a small meal up there would cost him half a year's pay...there was no way he could afford it. The vixen must have seen the panic in his eyes; she smiled and stroked his hand lightly. "Of course...you could always go for double or nothing. How about...next one to get a perfect blackjack - that's an ace of spades and one of the two black jacks - has the other for...company for the night? No refusals, no backing out or begging off...unless, of course, you want to take me out to dinner..."
The wolf stared down at his cards, then looked back up at the vixen. As much as he hated it...he really had no choice. He couldn't afford a meal for one in the Crystal Room, much less two. Besides, the vixen's luck couldn't hold indefinitely, and if he won, the thought of having a beautiful, willing fox-woman like that with him, even for just one night, was a sore temptation. With a reluctant sigh, he nodded and motioned to the dealer for another hand. Next to him, the vixen grinned outright, her slender fingers caressing the cards.
Over the course of the next five or six hands, Michael grew steadily more nervous; he busted twice, cursing at himself for it each time, losing greater and greater amounts. He realised dimly that he'd blown the profits from earlier, but couldn't stand to admit defeat and lower his bets; finally, as his chips ran dry, he drew the jack of hearts and ace of diamonds. His heart light with relief, he gleefully collected his winnings, finally close to breaking even for the night - then his heart stopped as something caught the corner of his eye. The wolf looked to the side, but knew what he was going to see; the vixen lounged coyly in her chair, holding up two cards in her hand. Michael's eyes fixed on them; the vixen held the jack of clubs...and the ace of spades.
Almost before the cards registered, the wolf was out of his seat, his chips forgotten as he dashed for the door; before he had taken more than three steps, though, he was running on air, his arms firmly grasped on either side by two of the immense Doberman security guards. One of them stared stoically forward, but the other grinned at Michael - an expression that might have been reassuring had it not been for the large canine's strong, white, sharp-looking teeth. His voice was deep and resonating, with a surprisingly strong New York accent. "Sorry, wolf, but we can't let ya welsh on this...the Fortuna's got a reputation to uphold!"
With brisk efficiency and without ceremony, the Dobermans whisked him off of the casino's main floor into a small elevator, the door hidden in the geometric patterns adorning the walls. It was a tight fit with Michael and the two mountainous guards, but under the circumstances he didn't feel much like complaining about the lack of room. One of the guards inserted a key and pressed an unlabeled button, and the elevator shot up into the higher floors of the Fortuna.
The doors opened on the eleventh floor, and the Dobermans shoved Michael out of the elevator; before he could protest or try to force his way back on, the doors had closed seamlessly into the wall. Realizing that he was stuck where he was for the moment, the wolf turned back from the wall, studying his new surroundings.
The Fortuna's eleventh floor (something nagged at Michael about that, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it) seemed to consist largely of a long corridor, though it was difficult to tell just how high the ceiling was; a large pair of double doors stood open at the end of the hallway. The wolf walked down the corridor, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched, and stepped into a large, vaguely circular chamber, no single source of light immediately evident - instead, an ambient glow seemed to penetrate the room from every direction.
Standing on the dais was the statue of the vixen from outside the Fortuna, re-done in perfect miniature without her wheel and blindfold. Then she turned her head, grinning at Michael, and the wolf realised that it was the same vixen who'd beaten him at the blackjack table; in the dim light, she had looked as white as marble for a moment, but now he could make out her true color, the gleam of her emerald eyes glinting at him across the room. He tried to back up a step, but his shoulders met the cool bronze surface of the doors; they'd swung shut behind him, silently, and locked themselves.
A part of the wolf, a large part, was wondering precisely why the beautiful vixen made him react so negatively; he'd never had problems with women before, usually able to seduce whoever he set his eyes on. Something small but loud inside of him, though, was screaming that this vixen was bad, bad news, and he couldn't help but listen to it.
The mysterious vixen stepped down delicately from her pedestal, then ran forward with deceptive quickness - before Michael could react, she was right in front of him, reaching up as she jumped up to meet him in a firm kiss, her front distractingly pressed against his. She pulled at his coat as she withdrew slightly, his face feeling pleasantly flushed as she drew him further into the room; the little worried part of him was screaming, now, but it didn't really seem to matter.
"Such a nice, handsome wolf I've caught..." There was an amused tone to her voice, though Michael couldn't figure out why. "But so naughty to try to run away! You can't run away from a debt, Michael. If you do, it'll follow you forever..."
The wolf tried to protest, but the vixen laid her fingers on his lips gently and he found himself quieting, not entirely of his own volition. "You bet yourself, for a night, and you lost...I doubt you understood exactly what you wagered, but you put it up nonetheless. Brave...but not too bright. Now, on your knees..."
Michael's legs twitched, and he found himself sinking down automatically. With an effort, the wolf managed to resist, and the vixen glared up at him as his knees steadied. "I don't think you understand your situation, wolf..." She laid a hand on his shoulder, pushing down, and to his surprise he found himself sinking down; the frail-looking vixen forced him to his knees, his legs locking in position as he was forced to look up at her over the slope of her full breasts.
"Until this night is over - and in my realm, that means until I say so - you are mine, little wolf. Not your own, mine. I was in a playful mood...but now, I think you need a bit of a reminder as to who owns you 'til morning."
Michael opened his mouth to tell this vixen off, to tell her he was going back to his hotel and there was nothing she could do to stop him - but all that emerged from his lips was a soft, meek whimper, his eyes widening as he tried to shout, to snarl, to make some kind of protest, but all that emerged from his desperately working throat was a pathetic mewling. The vixen smiled down at Michael, rubbing his head lightly as he stared pleadingly up at her; the wolf struggled to rise from his kneeling position, but his legs refused to heed him, leaving him kneeling before the woman.
The helpless wolf forced himself to relax, his tail laid flat against the ground; as the edge of panic receded, he managed to speak, though still in a strangled, strangely higher-pitched voice than his normal tenor tones. "W-who...what...are you...?"
The vixen's hair spread out behind her like a cloak, writhing in tendrils though the air in the room was still; she grinned, her teeth seeming suddenly sharper than before, as her fingers tightened their grip in Michael's hair. "I...I, my pet, as you may have guessed, am Fortuna...daughter of Eris, scion of the Olympians and proprietor of this little temple to my honor..."
Michael winced, a sudden pain shooting down his spine; he gritted his teeth against it, his eyes fixed on the vixen. "Y-you can't be...serious...that's just...myth..." He gasped as she yanked his head back sharply, her tongue flicking out in a quick lick at the hollow of his throat.
"Myth, yes, but I'm real enough for you to have lost to me...fair and square. Though it seems I must remind you of that..." Fortuna nipped lightly at Michael's throat, drawing a yip from the wolf, then drew back just before a spasm seized her new pet's body, the wolf arching backwards in agony, his legs staying in their kneeling pose as though glued to the floor. With a gesture of the self-proclaimed goddess' hand, the clothes were ripped from Michael's body as if by an invisible hand, shreds of the fabric still hanging from him as the vixen revealed his body from head to toe.
As a scream tore itself from Michael's throat, a small part of his mind dispassionately noted the impossibility of what was happening; midway through the scream, the timbre of his voice changed, something squirming in his throat as his voice changed from its former richness to a soft, girlish, almost musical tone. The squirming and the searing pain that accompanied it worked their way down the wolf's body, leaving him to jerk and tremble as he would, his sculpted muscles shrinking and twisting beneath his fur as the wolf was left weaker but more shapely. His bones shifted the slightest bit to narrow his shoulders and broaden his hips, his masculine form melting into soft, luscious femininity, only the sheath and full balls hanging beneath retained of his natural form. As the pain faded, a final insult was bestowed on the wolf; his chest tingled, itching as if ants were crawling under his skin, then bulged out into a pair of moderate-sized breasts, the nipples standing firmly from beneath his fur.
Michael looked up from his impossibly changed form to see Fortuna smiling at a job well done, just a hint of fang showing; his legs still bound to the floor and beyond his control, all the wolf could do was cross his arms over his new bust and blush at the vixen's inspection, trying to ignore the feel of the room's cool air on his new, more sensitive nipples.
"There, that should remind you of just what you bet for the night...don't you think, Michael? Almost not worthy of a male name anymore, except for that nice thick shaft..." As she spoke, the wolf felt a cold breeze swirl around his half-stiff cock, bringing his member up to full hardness even as the skin tightened over his full gems. "But that can wait...for now, let's put that lovely mouth of yours to work."
Fortuna pushed gently against Michael's chest, just between his two newly-acquired breasts, and the wolf found himself slowly leaning back until the back of his head touched the floor - as his legs were still stuck to the floor of the room from ankle to knee along the shins, he was certain now that this woman had somehow made him more flexible. That realization was little more than a background thought, however, as he had more immediate things to worry about; Fortuna's dress was suddenly simply not there, leaving the vixen lusciously nude, and she straddled the wolf, her sex hot and perfect and only a few inches from the helpless wolf's muzzle as she made herself comfortable.
Michael tried not to breathe in, but couldn't keep from smelling a faint scent of strawberries, his eyes widening as he felt his arousal rise unwillingly. With a desperate effort, though, the wolf managed to stop panting, to force his mouth shut and try to turn away when the vixen slid forward, pressing her cunt against his muzzle. She growled in frustration and yanked at his hair, trying to force him to turn his head, but some part of him wouldn't let him submit; he'd never let anyone dominate him in his life, and even with the bizarre power she held over him, he couldn't start now.
He managed to hold onto that thought right up until she forced a finger into his mouth, and the horribly bizarre feeling of his teeth dissolving filled his consciousness. It didn't hurt, to tell the truth; it was just a strange cold tingling, his white teeth just receding back into his jawbone, leaving nothing but a strange softness behind. That softness spread, filling his whole mouth as he felt his jaws themselves shifting, the goddess' power molding them; the wolf tried to say something, to ask what she was doing, but all that emerged from his mouth was a muted gurgling that quickly cut off as his throat seemed to close up. The wolf could still swallow, and breathe through his nose, but his voice was completely denied him; as he realised this, something strange started trickling into his much-changed mouth. It felt thicker than water, almost like saliva but with a strange, almost sweet taste...and with a shock, Michael realised exactly what it was; he had tasted something very similar on his flight to Vegas, when he had somehow managed, in the tiny airplane bathroom, to lift up the flight attendant onto the sink and sink his muzzle between her legs, lapping at her until she had to bite down on the sleeve of her uniform to muffle her cries of pleasure.
Somehow, Fortuna had changed his mouth into something like a cunt - but not exactly. He could still taste the lubrication seeping from the walls of his mouth, and he had some degree of control over where his lips had been. He could squeeze his 'mouth' shut, or relax it and even open it slightly, but when he tried to keep his mouth closed four or five small, harder nubs spaced around his 'lips' rubbed against each other, making the flow of dew increase and a flush rise in the wolf's cheeks. He had at least four clitorises now, the pleasure blending too much for him to tell for sure if he had more; the opening of his mouth-cunt was a flattened circle rather than a slit, and he realised that what his muzzle had been changed into was the perfect size to accept a hard cock.
The vixen shivered as the changes in the wolf came to an end, and grinned down at her pet, then pushed a finger into Michael's mouth, rubbing over the wolf's clits. Michael let out a startled breath, eyes widening as the maddening touch sent a rush of dew flooding over his tongue and a jolt of sensation down his spine, straight to his maleness. Fortuna toyed with the helpless wolf's mouth for a few moments, thrusting her finger in and out lazily, then withdrew it, licking Michael's juices from her fingertip.
"Such a sweet mouth you have on you now, pet..." She grinned down at the wolf, then leaned down quickly and pressed her lips to Michael's, her tongue forcing its way into the hot, wet hole as Michael could do nothing but arch his back, his eyes white around the edges as the play of her velvety tongue over all those little sensitive nubs forced a wave of pleasure to roll through Michael, the feeling akin to but not quite like orgasm...it was enough like one, though, to set his hips thrusting against the air, a trickle of pre-cum running down his shaft.
Fortuna pulled away, licking at her lips for a drop or two of Michael's juices that had escaped, and smiled down at her captive; the wolf was panting heavily through his nose, his eyes unfocused as his own dew dripped from his chin, staining the fur of the upper slopes of his breasts. The vixen tweaked one of his nipples lightly, twisting just enough to get Michael's attention, but to her surprise the wolf stiffened at the pinch and arched again, his cock throbbing desperately.
"Aw...poor wolf, you must be aching terribly down there..." The vixen teased the tip of Michael's cock with a claw, making the wolf roll his eyes as his throat worked, trying to cry out with vocal cords that no longer existed. All he could do was swallow the slow stream of sweetness flowing into his mouth, or choose not to, and just drool all over himself.
Gently, Fortuna pressed the wolf back all the way 'til his head touched the floor; though it looked like marble, it flowed like thick water around the back of his head, holding him in place. With his legs still stuck in their kneeling position, his back immediately began to ache, and he rolled his eyes pleadingly at Fortuna; the vixen chuckled softly at the sight of the wolf, juices smeared 'round the lips of his pussy-mouth, full breasts thrust up towards the ceiling and painfully-hard cock jutting out from the curve of his body. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and stroked slowly, once, twice, making the wolf tremble and squirm, unable to give voice to the frustrated pleasure burning in him; though a steady flow of pre-cum dripped from the wolf's tip onto her fingers, she kept him just below the point of climax.
Just when Michael thought he truly would go insane from the maddening teasing, Fortuna let go of him, licking his salty pre from her fingertips. She smiled, then, and gestured, and the wolf found his legs suddenly free of the floor - but under the control of some unknown force, as they were pushed up and back, his back now aching doubly from being stretched forward instead of back; his feet touched the floor on either side of his head, and to his surprise he saw the stone surface literally melt to accept them, drawing in his feet up to the ankles and encasing them in solid, inescapable marble.
Michael's attention was quickly drawn, however, from his bizarre predicament to a more pressing issue. His back was bent double, further (he was certain) than he had ever been able to bend on his own, and his lewd pose left his tight rear on display, his tail trapped up beneath his body, and worst of all, his dripping shaft bobbed less than an inch from his lips.
The wolf knew, of course, just what kind of relief the sadistic vixen had in mind for him; all his struggling and desperate attempts to squirm away availed nothing, his head held firmly by the now-unyielding stone floor. Fortuna knelt next to him, showing no discomfort at being on her knees on the hard surface; she stroked a finger with maddening slowness around the wolf's tight pucker, her other hand stroking the fur of his thighs as she pushed him forward that last inch.
It's nearly impossible to force someone to perform oral sex, under normal circumstances; without a threat of violence or ring gag, a clamped-shut jaw or the threat of teeth is more than sufficient to prevent an attacker from forcing another to perform fellatio. The situation changes markedly when the victim's teeth are just a memory, his mouth remade into something of soft muscle and yielding flesh, his lips sensitive enough that even the act of pressing them closed brings dangerous shivers of pleasure, and especially when the shaft he's about to suckle against his will is his own.
Much to his own surprise, Michael managed to moan as the tip of his own cock slipped past his lips; something shifted slightly in his throat, and he glanced at Fortuna, who grinned and nodded slightly. "It was a pity to silence such a nice, musical voice...but I don't think you'll have much use for words, just moans. They'll say all that you need to."
Realizing that he had his voice back in part - even if forming words would be nigh-impossible with his mouth changed so drastically - the wolf tried to cry out, to scream or shout, but when he relaxed his lips to make the attempt the fox just gave his hips a quick, strong shove and his shaft sank deeply into the wolf's mouth-cunt. His muffled cry instantly turned into a surprised gasp of pleasure, the feel of his velvet-soft tongue rubbing over the sensitive head of his own cock eliciting a steady flow of pre into his mouth, mingling with the love-juices he was forced to continually swallow.
A soft voice in the back of Michael's head wondered idly whether the vixen had somehow made him much more flexible - given the other changes she'd made to him, it didn't seem unlikely, but wouldn't he have felt it if she had? That voice was easily drowned out, though, by the aching, desperate need to cum, his balls drawn up tight to his body as he resisted the urge to actively pleasure himself. A ragged, muffled whimper escaped him as Fortuna gently caressed his full balls, her fingers playing with the orbs before tracing a fingertip lightly up and down the stretch of skin between them and his tailhole.
"You like this, don't you, puppy...I saw you, as soon as you walked into the casino. I could taste your mind...you're one of mine. Somewhere, sometime way back when, my power touched one of your ancestors..." The vixen leaned in close, nuzzling Michael's balls and drawing a groan from the helpless wolf, her pink tongue just barely tasting him before moving to the stretch of blank, furless skin and stroking it lightly. "For whatever reason...they prayed to me, begged me for aid, and...I responded. I helped them, and with that help came...a mark, of sorts...my mark...my dominion..."
Her voice softened as she spoke, soft and almost hypnotic as the persistent, maddening pleasure raged through the wolf's mind. Michael almost didn't notice a strange tingling feeling in that stretch of skin, or his balls shifting slightly and seeming to pull in even more than they had; he tried to protest, but it came out as a gurgle, cut off when he had to swallow again or let the frothy mix of pre-cum and juices spill from his lips. From his bent-double position, the wolf couldn't quite see what Fortuna was doing to cause the tingle, his balls in the way. He had a perfect view, though, as he saw his balls sink into his body, his sac left an empty pouch of skin before tightening into him; thankfully, the wolf could still feel his gems, just inside him instead of hanging like a normal male.
With his balls out of the way, Michael could see now what Fortuna had been doing; the skin had puckered out in a line, forming a long bulge with an indentation in the center of it. Even as the wolf watched, the crack deepened, the bulges on either side of it taking on very familiar shape and dimensions; with a jolt of panic, the wolf realised that the sadistic fox wasn't content with what she'd done to his mouth, and was giving him a real cunt! Michael squirmed, trying desperately to free his feet from their marble confinement, but he might as well have tried to push through a stone wall; he was stuck fast, held at the neck and feet, and with Fortuna's hand pressing on the back of his thigh with deceptive strength he couldn't even try to squirm out of the way.
The wolf whimpered piteously and trembled as the fox stroked her fingers over his new female sex, the lips becoming more pronounced and definite with each pass of her elegantly trimmed claws. As Michael's brand-new cunt took shape, the wolf slowly became aware of a tingling, slowly rising feeling, vaguely akin to someone stroking his cock but unlike it in a fundamental way. Even before his new cunt was fully formed, the vixen was forcing him to enjoy it...her silky fur, thinner on the underside of her fingers, glided over the newly sensitive labia, and drew a whimper from the helpless wolf, the piteous sound vibrating his cunt-mouth around his shaft.
With the shock of the new changes in him, Michael had managed to forget, for a moment, the thick shaft stretching his mouth to a pleasant fullness. Now, the vibrations of his voice on his own cock brought him back to the maddening, frustrated pleasure Fortuna had forced him to, though for some reason - perhaps the vixen herself - he could not quite cross the point of no return. Michael just suckled desperately on his shaft, his lips making obscene slurping sounds around the thick length as he felt the inside of his mouth squeeze and throb around the wolfcock in a way no mouth should be able to; it felt like the helpless movement of the new muscles in his mouth was trying to pull his shaft deeper into his throat, though as his knot started to swell, he realised that it would soon be stuck anyhow - in his position, he couldn't pull back far enough to let the knot slip past his lips.
A strangled yelp forced its way past Michael's lips when he felt a finger press insistently into his newly formed cunt, spreading the labia gently as it stroked around the inside of him for a moment. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but an intensely pleasurable one, mixing with the teasing of his poor throbbing cock to force the wolf to moan helplessly in frustrated pleasure. Fortuna added a second finger to the first, stroking them slowly in the wolf's cunt, a third finger playing with his tight ass as he squirmed, assaulted with pleasure from every side but completely unable to reach climax.
"Such a cute little bitch-puppy I've found to entertain me..." Fortuna fairly purred, pumping her fingers in the pleasure-hazed wolf languidly. "It is a pity that I only have you for the one night...of course, I could just let you free, put you back on the street with no memory of me...just this beautiful new body to remember me by." She laughed softly at Michael's panicked protests, the thought of suddenly finding himself in a mostly-female body, nude, in Las Vegas with no recollection of how it had come about cutting through the fog of pleasure like a knife. "Perhaps...of course, you could always stay with me for longer, and I might change you back to normal...eventually." She curled her fingers and dragged them slowly out of Michael's cunt, seeking out the slightly different texture of the wolf's G-spot - one she had intentionally made large and incredibly sensitive.
Michael's back arched of its own volition, the wolf's eyes bulging as he tried to scream in desperate pleasure but was muffled by the thick length filling his mouth and trickling pre-cum down his throat. Everything between his ribs and his knees seemed a constant, churning fog of sheer overstimulation, his nipples burning against the cool air as he suckled wantonly now on his own cock. There was nothing left to him but need, need for a climax and an end to the pleasurable but unendurable sensations...but still, no matter how much he writhed and trembled, he just could not...quite...get there.
Fortuna saved him from insanity by pulling her fingers from his sex, licking them clean before gently circling his clit with a fingertip, the little nub of flesh almost merging with the base of his cock. "Poor puppy...but one night's play isn't enough to let you come, is it? Just not enough time to tease and play with you if I know I'll have to let you go in the morning...of course, you could agree to stay...another day, for example..."
Michael blanched, feeling a chill run down his spine and cut through the hot pleasure coursing in his veins, for he knew with grim certainty that there was no way he could come if Fortuna did not allow it...and that she could, and would torment him just as much as necessary to make him agree. He could already feel his resistance crumbling, and his sanity with it, as drops of precum spilled from his lips to stain the fur of his chin, dripping down onto his chest.
Nearly a minute; that's how long the wolf managed to resist the gentle but insistent stroking of the vixen and the sensations from his mouth and cock. His eyes white around the edges, he moaned pleadingly to Fortuna, his cunt squeezing desperately around her fingers. "You agree, then? Another day of ownership, you give it freely to me?"
Tears ran from Michael's eyes, but he could see no other choice - he nodded the small amount that he could, the movement rubbing teasingly along the top and bottom of his cock. Fortuna smiled and leaned her head down 'til her nose just barely brushed over Michael's clit, breathing in his sweet scent, then reached out with her long, skilled tongue and began to lap at the wolf's cunny. She never attacked him the same way twice, switching up long, slow licks along the outer lips with teasing pushes of the tip into his cunny and deep lapping of his soaked, rippling cunt. It was not until she dragged her tongue across the small, intensely sensitive bundle of nerves at the roof of Michael's cunny that he managed to finally climax, his muscles going painfully tense as a rush of dew flooded over the vixen's tongue, his own cock filling his mouth with hot, sticky seed and his knot swelling wide enough to stretch his lips to just below the point of outright pain, pressing hard on all of the clit-like nubs ringing his mouth.
Just before the overwhelming pleasure carried the wolf into darkness, he saw Fortuna's cum-stained muzzle lift from his cunt, the vixen licking her lips as she rubbed the wolf's clit with deft fingers. "Mine, wolf...all mine, no matter the shape."
The last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back in his head and all thought left him was her eyes, her beautiful eyes, glowing vibrantly in a deep emerald.