FSE

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Series Name: Vulpinicity

Story Name: Origins

Story Theme: Transformation

Character: Rik 'The Fox' Blackwell

Summary: Rik develops strange symptoms and the nurse doesn't know what causes them. Rik, however, finds out the hard way - changing his life forever...

Story:

Streetlights of London flickered and half-shone like tired eyes in the night and fires danced in the grates of fireplaces as the occasional cream-coloured headlight waded through the rain. Pools were filled even in autumn; they glistened in the little moonlight that broke through the clouds. Drops dripped from the eaves of the houses as Rik sat on his sofa, the Wii U GamePad buttons clicking under his fingers as he figured out where to place the Boo in his New Super Mario Bros. U level. The grass waved outside on the lawn and the flowers shone like little beacons from the smile of the moon. Very few people were out this late but Rik enjoyed this time of day; it was quiet and still, allowing him to think whatever he wanted with no repercussions. The sky was amethyst and the cigarette smoke-scented air was crisp and cool. The few stars which were visible winked at the ants below, and the moon beamed down upon them.

Rik had his all-important A levels to attend next week and he had revised a ton, so he was rewarding himself with a little time on Super Mario Maker. A can or two of Fanta were strewn across the floor and a handful of crumbs were scattered over the carpet in front of the coffee table, on which he had kicked up his feet. The time came when he closed down for the night and he checked his watch to see that it was already 3 in the morning. He cursed under his breath as he put all of the Fanta cans and crumbs in the trash before creeping upstairs and taking off his tank top and shorts, leaving only his hipster boxer trunks on. He clambered into bed and went to sleep - or at least he tried. At 4 o'clock he was still tossing and turning, trying to close his eyes and clear his mind, but he simply couldn't. 5, and he was still restless.

"Ah, Hell," he growled, getting back out of bed and getting a drink before hopping back in. No luck. He decided to turn on the CD player on his desk and he fell into a light, broken sleep as the insane electric guitar and menacing drums of Nickelback echoed softly around the room.

The next morning, Rik felt as if he was hung over. He had a pounding headache and could barely open his eyes from the tiredness, and he almost dropped the bag of sliced bread as he took two slices and put them in the toaster. The bleeping of the toaster felt like daggers in his ears as the toast sprang back out and he slid a plate under the toast as it fell, catching it.

"Still got it," he smiled queasily as he spread some strawberry jam over the slices and bit down on one, feeling the sticky berry sweetness of the jam perfectly mingle with the slightly charred crispiness of the toast.

He went back upstairs to get dressed and noticed how his ironed white shirt was getting a little too small for him. He made a mental note to buy a new one as he put on his grey blazer and trousers then struggled with the laces of the gleaming black shoes - nobody had told him how to tie laces, so he was left to fend for himself - before strolling out of the door, books, textbooks and files all in hand as he climbed into his gleaming silver Porsche Concept Study Mission E (look it up) and started the engine.

Except it wouldn't.

He twiddled every single dial and knob known to man and eventually, when he had turned the key two times, the engine roared into life. Someday he'll get the hang of this darn car.

"Jesus!" Rik cried as the car shot forward, blurring down the road towards the secondary school where he was taking his A levels. He never liked how quickly this car could accelerate but at least it got him to school quickly.

School was Hell. He could not concentrate for beans. He constantly adjusted his jeff cap and stared out of the window, and he had to be constantly reminded by an irritated Mr. Powell that he was on Earth and not flying through the cosmos on a rainbow-farting poptart cat with an annoyingly repetitive meowl.

"Want to explain why you weren't paying attention, Mr. Blackwell?" the teacher asked, leaning against his desk and folding his arms.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I got very little sleep last night, and I can't concentrate. "

Rik yawned. Mr. Powell's expression softened and he directed him to the school nurse, concerned that something was wrong. His star pupil was never this fidgety. Mr. Powell was one of the more lenient teachers - or at least with Rik - so he made sure Rik got to the nurse safely by escorting him there.

"You really didn't have to take me there, sir," Rik remarked as they arrived at the door of the nurse's office, "I know where the infirmary is."

"Oh - I - well - bye."

Mr. Powell promptly pivoted on his heel and strode back the other way. Rik pushed the door open and walked into a completely sterile, pure white room, and approached the nurse, who was writing something on some document that was of no importance to him. She looked up over her glasses at him and took them off as he sat down in the chair opposite.

"What seems to be the matter?"

"Well, I couldn't get any sleep last night, and I can't concentrate during lessons. Mr. Powell sent me over."

"When you say you can't concentrate, what do you mean?"

"I can't focus on what the teacher is saying, I keep staring into space, fiddling, that sort of thing."

He scratched the back of his neck and looked around at the disinfected white room shining in the weak winter sunlight, before he glanced at the paperwork the nurse had been working on and watched her go to the cupboard and pick out an aural thermometer. There didn't seem to be an abnormal temperature, so the nurse disposed of the lens cover and sat back down opposite him. She studied him curiously for a moment, watching him turn his attention to every little thing in the room, then made a decision.

"You were playing a computer game right up until morning, weren't you?"

"Technically it's a console game, but yeah. Can I have a glass of water please?"

"Certainly."

Rik got up, chose a glass tumbler from the stack in the corner next to the sink, then drew himself some water and drank it, noticing that he now had a mild tremor.

"It's getting worse," he moaned, "I can't stop shaking now."

"Let's get you to the sick bay then. You need rest."

The bed was warm and soft, welcoming him into its squidgy, fluffy embrace. He looked out of the window at the passing cars, and when no cars came, he listened to the silence. He felt quite alone, holed up in this room, sandwiched between duvet and mattress, the only company being his own heart which was thumping almost painfully against his ribcage.

"I just want to know what's happening," he murmured, closing his eyes and drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

The heat of the bed was making him sweat a little - he could feel the beads of salty fluid collect on his forehead and hands. Soon he was drenched in it and he had to sit up, breathing heavily through his mouth, but the warm air felt thick and clung to his body, and he was starting to panic, trying to cool himself down.

"I - I can't breathe!" he gasped, falling to his hands and knees, coughing. He tried calling out to the nurse but his voice had become croaky and small from the dryness, much to the dismay of its owner.

There was a sudden shooting pain all over his body, and the cracking of bones filled his ears as each of them snapped, grew and refused, his muscles expanding to suit the larger skeleton. Orangey-red fur spread over his body starting from his body hair - chest, arms, legs, pubic region - which changed to brown for his forearms and lower legs and feet. Speaking of which, his feet and toes thickened and pads developed on the sole, becoming a pair of big, plantigrade paws. His jaws pushed outwards into a muzzle as his canines grew into sharp fang-like teeth. His genitals were pressed painfully against the crotch of his trousers, until that is the zip exploded and they were free. Looking down, he was horrified to see not a penis but a sheath, encasing a crimson canine cock. He snarled as his coccyx grew new bone tissue and fur and muscle followed suit, forming a large, fluffy tail, which promptly folded beneath his powerful legs.

"Help me!" he howled, his voice a terrible guttural mixture of canid noises and human screams. He whined as he collapsed, shaking from the exertion. It had all happened so fast, too quickly for anyone to come and help, to reverse it. Tears rolled down his fuzzy cheeks as he brought himself to a sitting position, legs out in front. He studied his new muscular, supple vulpine body, and pulled his boxers on only to find that his growing cock had ripped the front.

"Where have I gone?" he sniffed, his voice back to normal, "I want to come back. I want to be me. I don't want to be a freak."

He blubbered and waffled on for a few minutes, nearly delirious, until he found the resolve to stand up unsteadily. A shudder of pleasure rattled through his body as his balls brushed against the inside of his thigh and he felt his cock slide smoothly from undercover, involuntarily making his hand close around it. He held himself steady against the wall as he found himself thinking of nothing but jacking off, all the education he had gone through all for nought as he stood there, pumping his long, thick, juicy member until an almost overwhelming wave of ecstasy crashed over him and his penis shot litres of cloudy white cum. He'd lost control, he'd lost himself in the bliss - but now rational thought returned to him and he realised just what he had done. He snatched up the tissue box on the bedside table and wiped the cum up, disposing of it down the toilet in the next room. He allowed himself a moment to blubber then collected his tattered clothes and began to wonder how on Earth he would get back home without publicly shaming himself.