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Transforming the Family

Part two of three

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Growly

_ _

_ _

“Wakey-wakey… Rise and shine, my darlings…"

Ricky struggled, feeling as if he was bound, though his limbs were dull and heavy. There was nothing around him, but, sprawled on the living room floor like a dead weight, all he could do was groan. What had happened? How had he gotten in there? Was his mother there? He didn't know, shuddering in place, barely even able to turn his head as the prone form of his brother, Paul, came into view.

Paul ground his teeth, letting out a pained grunt as a needle shot into his neck from a handheld injector gun, appearing like something that would have been used in a horror film or something about true crime, maybe with animals. Ricky clenched his jaw, wondering if he should pretend to be asleep soon, though he wanted to step in, to scream, to get between his younger brother and the strange person, the person who had not yet come into focus. For nothing there, not with the sick, churning feeling in his gut, was normal and nothing was sane.

It never would be again.

“What…" Dan tried to come back to himself, the man of the house, even though he had not been able to protect his family at that time, had not been able to do anything at all, in fact. “What…you…want…"

It was not much of a question, but that was all he felt he could get out, his face burning, presumably, from where he had been dragged over the carpet. The strange woman above him with the long, brown ponytail tutted and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head at him.

“Really, Dan, don't you know better than to ask questions?" She grinned as she grabbed a handful of his hair, dragging him up from the ground, though only his head and shoulders, a play on control. “There are so many questions you could ask, Dan… And that's the best you've got for me? Frankly, I don't think you need to be speaking at all – don't you agree?"

Dan tried to stay something as she dropped him and he thumped back to the ground, but the strange woman was not someone that he recognised, one that he had never seen before, not even once in his life. Or had he forgotten her and done some heinous wrong to her? His stomach turned over, chilled to his core.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

But he didn't get the chance to do anything, not even to hold his sons again, not as she injected something into his neck. It bit deep, though the stabbing pain was not even one that he could outwardly react to, caught up in the moment, eyes fixed on his sons.

Paul tried to say something lips parting, though he was drooling too heavily from the effect of the dart, his heart pounding so viciously that every beat blurred into one, an endless drone.

Da-dum-da-dum-da-dum-dadumdadumdadum_dadumdadumdadumDADUM_!

He flinched and tried to squirm away in fear as Kate came for him, though he didn't know her beyond seeing her, in passing, at the big cat sanctuary a few weeks ago. She had seemed amused by his interest in the lions, but they were his favourite big cat and, really, was there anything about that? What on earth was she there for, what did she want from them?

Yet he would soon find out as she injected both him and his brother in the neck with the same serum.

Paul stiffened, a strange, cool feeling flowing through him, struck by the sense of his body not being his own anymore, as if something had happened to him that he could neither explain nor control. Yet that was true, of course, because he was there, looking at the weird woman who had done something to him, sitting back in his mother's favourite armchair with one leg casually crossed over the other. It was as if she knew that too with the smirk on her face, the sadistic smile that showed too many teeth.

He shuddered, though barely moved at all, even as his guts churned and wrenched, his brother, Ricky, letting out a pained groan beside him. That was the look of a killer. In the back of his mind, he hoped that it would be quick. For his sake, for his brother's sake…and his father's sake.

And yet that was not to come as Paul's body…shrank, as if he was shrivelling up and in on himself, clothes falling loosely around him. He had more control over his body – as in to say he could move his limbs a little and flail, but that was about it. He couldn't move one arm to put a hand down on the carpet to push himself up or anything like that, aching fiercely, his spine feeling like it was stretching.

Horror gripped him, but all that ripped itself from his lips and throat was a twisted amalgamation of a howl, something that should never have come from human lips and, truthfully, was not coming from the lips of a human being. Yet Paul was not to know that yet, oh no, not as his body twisted and contorted, everything out, everything obscene, everything on show as it never should have been, though the horror of everything was not to be believed. He tried to howl, gargling and hacking, but he could barely get his hands under him, pushing into the carpet and then falling again, face first.

But things were changing, his body rippling, pulling, a burst of red hair, like fur, streaming over him. Yet it was not all over, white fur rippling down his stomach and chest, up to the point at which his neck connected to his jaw, heaving, panting, gasping, though it did not feel as if his lungs were taking in enough air. His blonde hair fell out, the curls drifting away, though they disintegrated the moment that they hit the carpet as if he had never had hair to begin with. Paul was too far gone as his bones cracked and shifted into a new position, stopping him from raising his arms near his head, huffing, grunting, a groan that terrified him reverberating through him.

Things were little better for the older brother, for Ricky, though he'd managed to heave himself up onto all fours. He was only two years old than Paul, though he still saw himself as the one that looked after his “little" brother, the brother that he wanted to make sure was okay, all the time. That was why they had gone to the same college, even if Paul had been going to graduate two years ahead of him. At least it had let him keep an eye on his younger brother for a little while longer, to do a little more for him, even if things were spiralling drastically out of control, quicker than Ricky could keep up with them.

But he could see a little more, understand a little more, his brother's horrifying transformation proceeding a little more swiftly than his own, but only so that he had maybe ten or fifteen seconds more notice of what was happening to him. And not the same things changed between them either, his face pushing out first into an animalistic, terrifying snout that made him want to throw up, not even able to bring his hands up. On all fours, if he wanted to rub his face, he had to lower his head, fur sweeping over him, his spine squeaking and aching, stretching out into what he could only describe as a tail, struggling and craning to get his neck around all the way.

But something was different, something was incredibly wrong, even more so than he had anticipated. He couldn't get it, not quite at first, struggling weakly out of his clothes, underwear hanging off his back end, but that did not hide his cock shrinking. At first, he thought it was just part of the twisted, perverted transformation, but it was something worse than that, his cock sucking back up all the way into his body and the area where it had been, between his legs as his back end pushed up in the air, standing on his feet and hands, smooth and furred.

His heart wrenched, guts twisted, yet Ricky was locked in place as if a huge, imaginary hand had him by the scruff at the back of his neck, pinning him down, forcing him to go through it all, every last sickening moment of it. For it was hardly something that he could escape from, not now that the process had begun and that he was still heaving and trying to come to terms with everything, at least the best he could. That was easier said than done and even thinking it came with a great strain of mental effort and will.

Even Ricky, however, had to acknowledge the lack of his balls, the thick fur fluffing up there, body shrinking, his legs cracking without pain as he set himself, strangely, on all fours. He wasn't a man anymore or even a weird, four-legged version of a man, but a quadruped, becoming something else. But before Ricky could even grapple with that, his strange tail, fluffing out thickly with red fur, springy and bushy, flipped up, whole body straining.

There was…something. Something that he could feel, up under his tail, a sense of pressure there, gasping, grunting, something pressing into him, inside him. But he didn't know what it was, even if Kate could see from her vantage point in their mother's armchair, watching with avid, rapt attention as a female sex formed under the fox's tail.

No more would Ricky be a male, oh no, even though Ricky did not yet know that he was a she. Or however the pronouns would change, to be fair, though it was interesting, at the very least, to see the change. She didn't often get to watch her unwilling victims twisting and curling back and forth, howling, whimpering, whining, cries turning from human to animal, even if she adored leaving their minds intact within. She wanted them ruled by instinct, yes, driven by raw need, but it was the process of breaking them down, moment by moment, gasp by gasp, that really appealed to her.

That was an understatement, to say the least, the foxes what she wanted, twisting Ricky and Paul to her whims. Dan, on the other hand, would have a very different fate indeed, one that she couldn't wait to unveil.

And yet Ricky didn't know that he was becoming a vixen, losing his feet and flopping onto his side, staring down his new, narrow muzzle as he tried to understand. Yet he couldn't understand that he was no longer the sex that he had been since birth, his masculinity ripped from him, gasping, heaving, feeling like he was so warm, even then, that he was bursting out of his skin. And yet none of it made sense, not as he craned his neck, looking back down the length of his body, about the size of a medium dog and still shrinking.

The red of his fur… How he had a muzzle… Ears pulling up to points on his head, thinner and yet catching far more sound than Ricky could ever have before imagined hearing.

No…

_ _

But yes.

A fox, Ricky thought dimly, shuddering, quaking, even then trying to tuck his tail down around himself, as if he could protect himself simply by doing so, a display of pure fear. We're…becoming our college mascots! Foxes!

_ _

Horror swirled and strained, but there was nothing Ricky could do, nothing any of them could do, though the transforming foxes tried to stagger and whirl, even as their hands and feet formed into paws, toes, shorter and stubbier and yet more beneficial than human appendages would ever have been. On both at once, their nails tucked in together into short claws, though they were not quite blunt, pulling at and catching on the carpet.

Paul groaned, shaking his head back and forth, though that was one fox of the group that didn't have to worry about their sex changing. For Paul's destiny was to be the male of the group, a fox with a sheath and a tuck of balls, even if they were covered in fur, hidden up under the back end of his belly. He twisted and grunted, eyes wide and strained, bulging with fear, yet his fingers solidifying into toes, claws digging into the carpet, denied the truth of the matter.

He knew that he wasn't human anymore, that something dreadful had happened. Because there was a creature there, right there before him, that looked more fox than human, even if he had seen it happen, even if he had seen where skin had become covered in fur, where his brother had contorted, transforming before his very eyes.

Foxes… Animals… Paul grunted and whined, a yowl breaking his lips, a desolate shriek. It didn't sound like him, didn't sound like him at all, though he didn't know what else to do, what to say. He didn't even know the woman that was there, sitting above him so imperiously, towering, dominating, even from her seated position. Why had she done something to him? Were they tripping on drugs? He'd hardly even drunk at all at college! It wasn't his thing, let alone drugs!

Their father was little better, grunting, watching, his sons… Well, they were his sons, but Dan could barely move, trying to stagger up from all fours, though his whole body just seemed to want to be dragged down to the ground over and over again.

What the hell had she shot him with? Dan heaved and panted, eyes bulging, but he didn't know, couldn't know, for his transformation was slower, his body dull, slow, heavy, as if he was something that was no longer meant to be up and out on land – at least not full-time. He didn't know quite why that thought entered his head, but it was not for him to concern himself with, not at all, not as his son's tail tipped with white, the newly made vixen yowling and staggering, trying to find her balance in a new body, a form that should never have been hers.

One did not know what they were, however, Ricky not knowing that he was a she, not knowing how to refer to themselves anymore. Paul grunted, skin prickling, heat coursing through him, his form settling over him, though the newly made tod fox didn't even know what to do, what he was, how to at all come to terms with what had happened. His mind reeled from reality, pulling back, heaving, grunting, his tail stiff and tucked down, as if there was no other signal he could give with it.

And yet he staggered, eyes wide and on his father, though his father…didn't seem to look like his father anymore. His features melted, softening, melding together, becoming shapeless and undefined, smaller and small, disappearing down to the floor in a slow pooling of clothes, fabric folding over itself. Paul grunted, shaking his head, pawing at his face, though he staggered, toppled, tried to get up again and find his balance. It was not as easy as it had been as a man, as a human being, but it was not right, not at all, not as his cock throbbed from its sheath, pink and fleshy and pulsing. It even gleamed as if slick when, weakly, the fox craned his head and neck around to look at it, even if he didn't know at all what he was doing.

If Ricky didn't know that she was female, it all became clear when the arousal hit, panting, tongue lolling out pinkly, tail lifting. There was no shaft there to speak of, even though she could see one, very clearly, slipping from Paul's fluffy sheath, the soft tuck of flesh and skin doing nothing to hold it back. It didn't need to be, she thought, not for a fox, not for an animal, trying to whip in circles and run from her own arousal.

They weren't human anymore, but there was nothing they could do about that, Ricky's nose assaulted with too many things, one smell after another cloying, clinging, demanding attention. From the must at the back of the sofa, where the hoover had never reached to clean, to the remnants of their breakfast in the kitchen, the faint aroma of shower crème drifting down the stairs. Even the musk of the male fox right there before her, looking at her with eyes that faded to a place where there was no spell for a human pupil, the iris expanding, taking in more light.

The male fox… Ricky inhaled deeply, whimpering. That wasn't what she wanted, no, but it was what she wanted too, as her sex tightened. She didn't know how to say that she was female, only that the need to bark and present, to do something more feminine than masculine, her tail wanting to lift, even if it felt like there was something more there, something that she was supposed to do.

But it was not Ricky's fault, of course not, that she did not understand the intricacies of vulpine mating, how they screamed and yowled, how disruptive their rituals were. She didn't know, only whined, clamping her jaws shut, doing her best, howling through a locked muzzle, needing something that she could not put words to.

But what in hell had the bitch done to them? She snarled, or at least tried to, her black lips rippling where they had been folded over her teeth before. There was anger there, yes, even though she didn't know what was happening, twisting through arousal, broken between anger and being turned on, so very turned on. Even Ricky's legs quaked, not knowing honestly how to hold her up.

“Ah… I see the serum is kicking in," Kate said with an evil smirk. “But I think you need a little more… I mean, there's only so far that I can improve the original concoction when it already does so much, but I can help you two along. You may not be brothers anymore, but you are still related… You deserve the chance to get to know each other so much better than you already do in your current form."

Paul growled and stepped back, though his eyes slid to their father, the man shapeless, though he didn't seem to be in pain. Yet the fox didn't know what to do, where to focus – not that concentrating on anything was at all easy with his cock throbbing. His dick had never been that hard before – and before he knew it Kate was there grabbing him by the scruff and injecting him. He tried to yowl, jaws agape, showing his teeth, but it was over too quickly to count, even if he was a little steadier on his feet than before.

“Oh, shush," Kate said disapprovingly, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Now, for your mate… Hm? I'm sure she needs just a little more to get her hot and wet and dripping for you… No real fox gets treated like this, you know, so you are two of the lucky ones, very lucky ones, in fact."

Ricky didn't feel like that, grabbed by the tail and hauled back as she tried to escape, screaming, a ragged cry ripping itself from her. Her tail shot through with pain, lancing all the way up her spine in a way that she had never considered possible before, but the needle was in and so was the serum.

The effect was instantaneous, taking her attention entire from their father, heaving and panting, her muzzle tipping down so that she could barely lift her head from the ground. What was it? What was in that stuff? Ricky didn't like the way that her brother, Paul, the younger of the two, was looking at her too, with hunger in his eyes.

No… Paul… No…

_ _

She tried to talk, but all that burst from her lips was a cacophony of broken yips and growls, even a moan. But there had to be some way for her to communicate like that! She had to be able to talk to him, had to do something, had to tell him no, even if there was a big part of her that already knew that everything was inevitable, what with the horniness coursing through her, pulse after pulse, ache after devout ache.

“Now… My darling little foxes. Your father is a little engaged right now, but, don't worry, I'm going to make sure he sees everything. It will be fine, so don't you worry, you will be reunited soon enough."

To make her words clear, Kate fished out the father from his clothes, though he had only shrunk by a third by that point, shapeless, limbs retracting, slowly becoming something else. Fondly, Kate petted his head, his hair falling out. Dan's lips were already too fat and stretched, grotesque and monstrous, to speak, though the fear in the human eyes remaining was evident in his face, the defining feature that carved some scrap of humanity back into it.

Ricky reeled, but Paul was there, shaking his head, grunting, panting, acting as if he was trying with all his might to look at her. Paul stepped back, helplessness in a whine that needed no translating to make sense to Ricky.

They were both as trapped there as the other.

Kate grinned.

“If you listen to me carefully and obey," she said, standing tall, dropping their father back on the floor, naked and transforming slowly. “I will spare your mother. If you entertain me enough, she doesn't have to hold any interest to me. I would much rather play with my lovely little foxies and…well…hm. You'll see for your father. I daresay it will be an improvement."

Ricky whined and shook her head, though she wasn't disagreeing. Did that mean they would be transformed back? Did that mean that things could be reversed? She didn't know, didn't know if she wanted to know, for everything was out of her control anyway. She didn't feel as in control of things as she had before, as a man, but she didn't have to be that anyway.

Not if she wanted to save her mother… And what more worse could Kate possibly have them do?

Oh, that was a question that Ricky very much should not have asked herself, Kate's wickedly sadistic grin telling all that the family would ever have needed to know. Like lightning, her hand lashed out, nails digging into the vixen's scruff and the back of her head, growling softly.

“Like yourself… You want it, don't you? You want to show your brother that you're a slut, that you want to be fucked. All good little vixens want that, after all…"

Her eyes hardened, bending the fox over into a C-shape with her backside and tail on the carpet, though Ricky twisted and fought Kate instinctively, not in her right mind.

But with her sex right there before her, what Kate wanted was clear and even Ricky had to admit that licking herself had to be better than her brother… No, no, she didn't want to think about that.

“Lick yourself!"

Kate's words snapped out into the air between them like the crack of a whip, but a whip would have been better than the humiliation to come. Ricky knew that it was better than something else, torn with fear, locked into the moment, her brother there, watching her, though she desperately didn't want to see the horror in his eyes, for him to see how far she had fallen.

I'm so sorry, Paul…

_ _

But she could not resist, could not do anything else, sliding her tongue out and lashing her own sex blindly, licking without thinking about it, just trying to do something, anything, to get Kate to stop. Maybe it would all be worth it if it kept their mother safe, if it kept her away from the absolute shit that they were going through.

Or maybe their mother would appear as she was in the throes of debauchery, even though Ricky knew that her mother would not recognise them. But she could interrupt it, rescue them, stop it, somehow. Surely Kate would have to leave and escape if their mother came back early?

“What a good, slutty vixen you are…"

Ricky shuddered and jerked. She had not realised that she was licking herself willingly until Kate drew her hand back a little, running her sharp nails over her head and through her fur. She tasted better than she thought, the slit of her sex up close to her anal ring, a hole just under her tail, though that was muskier, as if there was a scent gland up under there. She didn't know much about foxes, not at that time, but she would come to learn. Vaguely, she was emboldened by the fact that Kate said and thought she was doing well, that she was doing a good enough job to stop her from turning her attention to her brother.

Ricky growled and lapped over her sex, her tongue even dipping inside, the fur around her slit growing wetter and wetter with every passing lap. Maybe that was how she could protect her younger brother. Maybe that was all she could do for him.

And yet her body responded all the same as Kate cooed to her and murmured sick encouragement, already caught up in enjoying the show as much as possible. It was something she couldn't do all the time, after all, and there was a process to be undertaken to get her victims to her sanctuary too, all so she could play with them for longer and longer, making the best used out of them for as long as she ever could have wanted to.

Ricky had to obey, forced to do it, though Kate dragged her back and hauled the other fox in, the younger brother oddly compliant. She grinned, baring her teeth like a wild animal herself. Good… That was very good. It would be easier for her if they didn't fight back too much, though she did so love a struggle too.

Paul stepped back, though his paws dangled as Ricky's muzzle was shoved down by his cock, though he was practically paralyzed with fear already. Mouth agape, all he could do was stare and let out a weird, twisted moan as his brother's maw descending on his cock, Kate using her hold on them to pump his cock in and out, over a suddenly wet and willing tongue.

Oh, and it felt good… He didn't want to admit that, not in any way, but he had to, a long, wet tongue, slavering on his cock. He was too wound up to do anything but squirm, Kate down on her knees with them on the living room rug, holding them there, working Ricky back and forth on his cock as if Ricky was a sex toy. Ricky didn't look like his brother, not then, not with the sweet, rich, earthy scent of vixen in the air, something spicy mixed through too. Maybe that was her arousal. He didn't know, head reeling, the vixen dripping before him. His cock was already hard and yet he didn't fight as he could have, lost in the moment of pleasure, how it arced through him, spiralling and flooding out from his cock as if it was the be-all and end-all of everything.

“Do it, Ricky, do it…" Kate egged her on, shoving her head down and leaving her there, gulping down her brother's dick. “You want it… Keep your mother safe and suck his dick for me."

Although Kate still held Paul in place for Ricky, the vixen, encouraged, hoping that she was doing the right thing, lapped up and down the length of his cock. If she thought of it as a stick of jerky or something, maybe that would make it better, relenting a little, the encouragement from Kate and the woman's fingernails running down her back telling her the right thing. It was both the physical pleasure that kept her going, as confused as she was, and the thought of keeping her mother safe, though she hardly knew what Paul was feeling, whether the pulsing twisting of arousal within him was just as bad as it was for her, something that they could not hold back or contain.

Maybe they were not to blame. Maybe they could…

No. She would not complete that thought.

Their father was helpless to do anything other than to watch, not knowing what he was becoming, but he knew that he was not transforming into a fox like his sons. No… Very much not, not the fox and the vixen before him, not with his skin getting slimier and slimier, limbs retracting slowly so that he became a strangely shapeless blob. He hardly even wanted to know where the horror was leading him, lost in it, groaning, heaving. If he had been at all capable of it, he would have thrown up, legs melding together into a blob that could have been a tail, fingers folding together into something spiky, something wet.

Slowly but surely, as the foxes grunted in lust before his eyes, he shrank down to no more than a foot long, his body wriggling, gasping, mouth agape. His head took on a little more shape again, though only to frame his jaw, a long, gaping mouth without obvious teeth, gulping and gasping, eyes bulbous and strained. Dan could see more than he should have at that time, if he had known what he was becoming, but the little, wiggling appendages that had been his arms faded into fins, flapping uselessly, slapping against his own, tiny sides, skin mottled with brown and grey.

Kate grinned at him, watching, eyeing him up.

“A catfish, dear…" She laughed, shaking her head at him. “Feel it… Feel your fins… You can produce electricity too – well, in the realm of what a catfish like you is capable of. Oh, there come the tendrils – whiskers!"

They were not like feline whiskers, however, not as they curled and drooped around his face, the fish wiggling and slapping over their clothes, not knowing what else to do, the human mind trapped within screaming. Yet he couldn't make a sound, not as his tail, finned and ready to swim, flapped uselessly back and forth, offered little to no sense of smell as his body trembled with strange pulses. Of course, his genitalia had shrunk back into the blob of his body during the transformation, but knowing that did not change the horror.

“Oh, and you're female too," Kate explained, for a catfish's body, even with the brain of a human locked inside, did not have the capacity for sensing that – at least not with time that she didn't want to spend on it. “A female, electric catfish. It's sublime, don't you think? You can hear me, for the moment, so I'd best get all my words out now, hadn't I? I wouldn't want you to miss the final show of your transformation, but you're going to be key in the fun your sons…or daughter and son, will be having."

Shuddering, Dan screamed inwardly, gargling and gurgling, flopping about, slithering in the slime of her own body. No, oh no, no, no, no. Yet there was no scream and no cry that would stomp the woman who had transformed her, furiously and wickedly so, from male to female, entrapped and forced to obey her whims.

Well, to the extent that the body of a catfish, even an electric one like her, could…

“So… A catfish like you," Kate explained, enjoying the explanation of her plan, as she always did. “You are just the right size and a lovely shape too…for a sex toy. Nice, slimy, thick skin. What a gorgeous, gulping mouth! Size whiskers… Mmm… That will feel lovely, I can imagine, with all your little pulses."

Kate laughed, even as Dan squirmed in horror, mouth agape, unable to do or say anything else.

“The fines will not have spines now, not now that they have formed – which is quite unlike other species of catfish! A truly inspired choice, of course. And, perhaps the most fun thing of all, is that your body, of course, can generate an electrical charge! You come with your own power source, my sexy girl, and you're going to please everyone that you get squidged into, worked inside, a slutty sex toy that needs all their juicy moisture just to stay alive."

She kept to herself that the catfish, like other types of catfish, could survive out of water for a good amount of time, if she remained moist. She'd better keep that one to herself, all to increase the urgency of the situation, even though the catfish was clearly breathing, at least minimally, even then, her gills opening and closing, heaving, gasping, dragging in what she could. Really, she was designed to breathe underwater, but skipping from small puddle to puddle was a catfish speciality, at least where Dan's species was from.

Dan bubbled and gurgled but Kate paid them no mind at all, the man made into a catfish, female, the only entrance to their body that of the slit close to her tail. It was there for a mate when it was the season to spawn, but breeding Dan, at that time, was not Kate's concern. She didn't care about that, didn't mind what happened to her for the time being. Maybe later she would have a better use for her than even acting the part of a living, squirming sex toy?

Only time would tell as Kate grabbed her triumphantly, holding the horrified catfish high before plunging into the fish tank that had been set in the living room for nigh on several years. It had held a thriving colony of freshwater fish, but they wouldn't be useful to Kate, so she ignored them, leaving them exactly where they were. She had been known to take pet fish, depending on species, for her active collection at the sanctuary, but there were more entertaining things for her to do in the meantime.

Water streamed from Dan's skin, for she was only given a quick dunking in the tank, gills working to filter water through, taking oxygen from the water, but she was out again in a moment. Yet it was on Paul that the worst horror was going to be performed, even though someone who was not quite as depraved as Kate might have thought that the woman was going to use the sex toy that was their father on Ricky first.

The foxes had had to keep going, quivering from the horror, thoughts of their mother in their mind. They were turned on, the vixen dripping, marking her own legs with her arousal, as if she was out of control, so far into heat that she was mindless with it. Still, Ricky grasped onto her humanity with all the last jabs of control that she possibly felt she had in her arsenal, doing all that she could, everything she could imagine.

And yet that liberty and luxury, as small as it was, was ripped from Paul in a strangled yowl, panting over the vixen and unable to do a damn thing, even though he was not restrained anymore. Quivering, the tod fox stood on all fours and thrust into the vixen's mouth, who was bowed under him with her forepaws and legs stretched out, hind end raised, as if in position to play. The position Paul was in, however, left him woefully exposed as Kate, much to the vixen's horror, dragged Ricky away, only to replace her lustful, lapping tongue with the “gluppy" suction of a catfish's gob.

“Aaaarrrggggfff!"

Paul hunched and twisted, but could not help but thrust, too lost in the moment, swarmed by pleasure, the catfish dragged back and forth on his cock as if there was never to be any end to it. Used like a fleshlight on his bare, vulnerable cock, the catfish's thick lips were shoved down over his bulbous knot, which had already swollen, leaving him on the peak of orgasm, as if the fox was about to tip over the edge at any moment. Yet he didn't know what he was doing, what was happening, if there was anything at all more that he could do to stop it, grunting, heaving, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting as if there was nothing else at all in his mind, nothing else that he could lean into at all.

He had to cum, had to ejaculate, grinding, humping, his jaws hanging open soundlessly even as Ricky could not help but to curl back in around herself, trying to lick herself. She had to contort, working out the twisted intricacies of her new body even more than she had before, though it was one way, at least, for a fox to learn how their body twisted and moved, even if they did not understand it. Everything had happened so quickly there, rushing from one thing to the next, one terrifying transformation to slutty sexuality, forced to perform acts of incest on one another, Ricky's sex not even what it had been before. And the vixen hadn't even been fucked yet! Left lapping helplessly at herself for any pleasure possible, she moaned and grunted against her own sex, lost in the moment, not knowing what else to do, not in the slightest, not at all.

But Paul felt everything, hating the fact that it was his father squelching and squishing over his cock, as good as it felt. Why did it have to feel so good? That was the worst thing of all as he yelped and yipped, squealing and trying to thrust, doing anything that at all felt like it could be right, just to get a bit more feeling, any more feeling possible. It was tight and wet, at least, which was more than enough for a fox pushed to the edge of horniness, lost where he had to cum at the exclusion of all else.

“That's it… Good foxie…" Kate crooned sadistically. “Cum for me… Give your father all the moisture she needs!"

It was sure that somehow pronouns, with their sex changes, would be confused at some point, though there was always the question as to whether they should have thought about themselves differently anyway, Dan and her son, when they had been transformed against their will. That was not for them, not even as Paul thrust and ground rampantly into the catfish's mouth, knowing that she was her father and yet not able to stop either way. He could only thrust and ground, knot inflating, finally finding just the right sensation to get over the edge with a ragged fox's scream, nothing at all like the howl of a wolf but as if he was trying to show something, nonetheless.

He spent his seed with shuddering jolts of his hips, though Dan's hearing had softened, barely using the sense anymore. Yet the fish felt the touch, the slick sensation of cum flowing into his mouth, spilling over, excess dribbling out even as she was used as nothing more than a living fleshlight. She would have coughed and spluttered if she had even been capable of that. But there was so much that would be new to her in her new form and body, shedding the skin of humanity as Kate rubbed excess cum around her body.

“There now," she laughed. “That will keep you nice and slippery, nice and moist. Can't have you drying all the way up and dying on me now, can we?"

She laughed, but the sound was without any semblance of true mirth, especially as Paul hunched down, quivering in place, his cock still out. The fox didn't know what to do, eyes flicking from the vixen to the woman to the fish, hardly even wanting to acknowledge that two of them had been his family. Or were still his family, even if he didn't want to think about what he'd done, done to both.

What more was to come?

Kate wrapped a silicone band around the fish's head, careful to avoid the edges, an embedded electrode carefully situated just above the pacemaker nucleus. Slithering and flapping her tail uselessly back and forth, Dan couldn't stop her, gaping her mouth open repeatedly, helplessly, as if it was the only thing left that she could do.

“This is the spot that triggers the electrical ability that is, of course, characteristic to your species," Kate explained, even though they weren't really interested in anything she had to say, only in her leaving them alone, forever. “I'm sure it is going to be very, very interesting for you, Ricky…"

The vixen groaned, but she couldn't move, lying on her side, panting, frozen in place. She needed to fuck, needed sex, needed a mate, needed anything, something, everything, with such lust trembling through her. She had never been so turned on before that she couldn't move, horrifying to the extreme, yet was helpless to do anything as the catfish, as if she was moving of her own free will, was rubbed over her body.

The electric sparks of the catfish were not like anything that Ricky could have imagined, coursing through her, a short, sharp shock that surely, if the catfish had truly been just a catfish, would have forced a predator to jolt back and away from them. It was a good defence mechanism, but in her heightened state of lust, all the vixen could do was squirm in place, flinching away from every jolt but returning to her position, especially as Kate rubbed the fish down over her nipples.

She hadn't noticed those before, but there had been so much going on in her transformation that it had been impossible to take note of everything, from the prickling of fur coating her body to the twitch of her toes, the short claws digging down into the carpet. Yet they were sensitive, more sensitive than she could ever have expected nipples to be – six of them in total lining her belly in pairs.

Ricky squealed and wriggled, though the whiskers offered something more, tickling her nipples through her fur, her fur swiftly becoming slicker and slimier with the coating of the catfish's body. She hated knowing that it was her father and still recoiled from it, though she came back for more and more, wanting it, wanting that pleasure as treacherous and as illicit as she was.

Could she really be blamed? It was as if she was going to lose her mind if she didn't get fucked, especially as the catfish's whiskers trailed down between her thighs, the helpless vixen panting on her back, legs splayed apart. Ricky didn't even know what the hell she was doing, only that she had to be there, had to obey, thoughts of doing it all to save her mother, sadly, far from her mind. She was only thinking of herself, the situation she was in at that current moment, grunting, groaning, the catfish's body sending electric shocks into her, heightening her sensitivity, her sex aching for it.

Paul watched, horrified, as his brother accepted it all – but was it any different to what he'd done? He had given in to it too, he had allowed it all to happen to him, as if it was all inevitable, as if it was going to happen, one way or another. Yet the shocks didn't seem to affect the vixen as much as they had in the beginning, a paw jerking and twitching, her tail stiff, the tip flicking sharply back and forth. That caught his eye in particular when it was white, drawing his attention, holding his breath as if that was one thing alone that could wake him from the horror of the moment, everything that he had never even known was possible and, frankly, wished had never happened.

Still, his cock throbbed. He didn't even know how he could be hard still, not when he was disgusted, his body still aroused. But a cock had to soften sometime, didn't it? He'd thought that things with knots would soften after a while, the knot slower to do so…but perhaps that was wrong.

He couldn't do anything to help his older brother, not as the catfish was pressed over her sex, rubbed back and forth so that the whiskers ticked her, though the fox was surprised to see a nub of a clit there. So, it wasn't entirely like a fox, but some twisted form of a fox – at least to what he thought. Surely, otherwise, it would be hidden inside or a part of the body that he couldn't see… Ugh. Paul trembled. He hated that he even had to think like that.

Ricky wasn't thinking, however, not as she twitched and groaned, rolling onto all fours even as every roll of the catfish's body against hers brought another throb of pleasure, one eye and whisker tickling her clit with every pass. It left her humping and grinding back onto it as if she had lost all sense of herself, didn't even know who or what she was, driven by lust and sexual pleasure above all else.

Yet it was not for her to control or dictate as Kate squelched her father, as the catfish, inside her virgin passage, straining her open for the first time, though she dragged it out. From Kate's point of view, there was no rush, wanting to draw it all out for her perverted pleasure, smirking openly as she pumped the living toy in and out, easing the catfish deeper with every thrust. A foot long, the catfish was an excellent shape, though Kate only lamented for a moment that she could not more easily enjoy Dan's horror from it, how she was surely screaming inside.

Oh, she did love those screams. At least the foxes could scream for her, begging, in their own broken language, for release, their minds intact. At least, until she broke them, though all that would be for her own purposes and whims, nothing more and nothing less: exactly as she pleased.

It was always as she pleased, as she rotated the toy and worked it back and forth, taking care to grind over the fox's obvious, swollen clit.

“Oh, you must be so turned on by this," Kate snickered. “Look how wet you are… I'll get your brother to mount you, slutty fox, don't you worry, but this seed, mmm… Isn't the risk so delicious?"

Ricky didn't know what that meant, but she did when the fish was forced deeper, something wet squelching lewdly out of her. She trembled, her legs splaying apart a little more, but she didn't know, didn't care, only wanted the moment exactly as it was, grunting, panting, lost in pleasure. It was so good to be filled, whatever virginity her new body had ripped from her, even though she had not been a virgin as a guy. The strain and the stretch, how the subtle pressure and flexibility of the catfish's body allowed her to take more of it.

Yet the grind of the sex toy back and forth within her slutty passage, clenching around the fish, helped squeeze more seed from the catfish's mouth and guts, where it may have been swallowed, but had to come back out again. It was not up to Dan, the fish dulling and slowing, more mindless, though it was easier for her in that form to slip away, to let her mind do whatever it was that it needed to for her to get through it. Yet, even then, Dan didn't have any hope left in her of saving her sons, perhaps only of making sure that her wife didn't suffer the same fate.

At least she was able to control the electric shocks that her body had instinctively wanted to give at first, seed flowing from her mouth directly into her son's canal, the slit of a sex that should never have been present on Ricky's body. It was not him, but it was her, the catfish whimpering inwardly, apologising, even when it was not her fault.

She'd never wanted to hurt her sons, never wanted to put them through anything. But who knew if any of them would ever come back from the terror of the women that, at least for the time being, controlled and owned them?

Ricky grunted, close to the edge, trembling. She'd only taken so long to get there because she had been getting used to her new body – as a guy, it had practically only taken a few well-timed pumps to get her hard and dripping and drooling. She squirmed, though the catfish seemed to have controlled herself, even though Ricky didn't want to think about who and what the catfish really was. She grunted and tried to pull away, though only succeeded in grinding harder still onto the fish jammed into her cunt, her sex stretched and strained, mind broken beyond all repair.

And yet she could not hold back from the pleasure, not as the eye and whisker of her father rubbed over her fat clit, again and again. Pleasure like that was not for Ricky to hold back from, even as her breath caught and hitched, her chest juddering to take in air, flanks tight as the abdominals under her belly contracted. She wanted to get off, wanted to feel that high, her toes curling, short claws digging into the carpet. She felt the bite of it, how it caught on her claws, yet didn't have the presence of mind, even then, to shuffle back, to allow the moment to ease by all on its own.

She panted, heaving, though Kate was not that kind to her, letting her stand there, quivering, her head hanging, tongue lolling out pinkly as if even that small part of her was not under her control. Kate smirked above her, grinding the catfish in deep, not forgetting the band and conductor on the catfish. Those little bursts of shocks that Dan had not even been able to control would be nothing in comparison to what she could force the fish to produce through her little remote control…

It would be more than enough.

Kate's grin could not have gone any wider as she pressed the button, sending a shot of electricity straight into the fox's cunny. Ricky jolted, her eyes wide. The fox didn't have to know what a good conductor, at least in that instance, her bodily fluids were, her arousal slick around the fish, moistening Dan's skin even while they allowed a much stronger jolt of electricity to zap into her.

“Arrrgghhh!"

She didn't know what she was crying out, not as she was brought to the edge again and back down, frozen in place, her back legs locked, front paws paddling at the ground. That was wrong, so very wrong, that she was enjoying it, but there was only so much she could do, only so much she could hide away from Kate. And that was very little indeed, her nose dipping, whole body trembling.

“How does it feel?" Kate hissed through her teeth. “How does it feel to be controlled, to be used? Look at you, horny little vixen slut… You'll have your brother fucking you soon enough, because that's what you need, isn't it? You need him on your back, fucking you, breeding you, filling you… There's no question about it, sweetie, like, seriously… Mmmph… So cute, all helpless and dripping and drooling…"

Ricky moaned, but she was not in control, even though there was no bondage in play, nothing tying her down or physically holding her there. Every bond was purely mental and emotional, locking her in place even more so than the strongest chains and locks. All she could do was clamp her jaw, snapping it back open to howl out her lust, shock after shock holding her there, right on the edge.

And it was all that Kate wanted, letting her juicy, slippery pussy hold onto the catfish, adoring and lusting, her body aching deeply. She wanted to get off so badly, yet didn't know how to get there herself, even if the option of control or permission did not enter her mind. All she knew was what she wanted, that she had to do what Kate wanted, shifting her hips back and forth, her tail lifting, exposing everything of herself.

“Good, slutty fox…" Kate crooned. “How many times can I edge you? Will you whimper for me? It's a good thing you don't have words anymore… Those aren't needed… Not for a vixen whore like you."

She licked her lips, though Ricky could not care that her tormentor was enjoying the show, that the hopeless eyes of her brother were fixed on her. All she needed was to climax, her body trembling, the electric thrills coming with a jolt of pressure that could have been pain but was mostly tangled in pleasure.

She couldn't tell how many times Kate brought her to the edge and then let her simmer back down, her father seemingly too worn out to do anything about controlling her own shocks. She was barely even aware of what was happening as she devolved into a creature of mere sensation, a hot, wet pussy closing and clenching around her fishy body, tail flapping weakly from one side to the other. Dan burbled, cum seeping from her lips and mouth all over again, but the quiver of her whiskers was not enough, nowhere near enough, to bring her back to any semblance of reality.

It was not sublime to have a human's mind in a fish's body, but she tried to force herself through it all the same, purely as she didn't want to think about it too much. Already, Dan knew that there was no hope for her, especially as she couldn't talk, couldn't make any sound that either her sons or Kate would recognise as speech. The words that she needed might have been right there in her head, but she couldn't force them out, couldn't get them past her throat, let alone her lips.

And neither could she do anything else at all as Ricky howled and rolled her hips back, climaxing, finally, on her face and body. Juicy, moist wetness slurped down her body, giving her skin all the slickness it needed, a fish body requiring moisture to survive, though she thought she needed less than most. She seemed, at least, able to breathe more easily than any other fish that was being used as a living dildo… Yet Ricky's body contracted around her as if it was trying to milk her like a cock.

Or maybe that thought only came to her as she was twisted further and further into depravity by Kate. She didn't know, couldn't know, not anymore.

She didn't have to.

Ricky panted heavily, head hanging, orgasm pulsing through her. It was stronger than anything she had experienced as a male, head spinning, ringing, time losing all meaning as her wet pussy squeezed around her father. Was that what sex was supposed to be like? Or was it just the loss of control? She wasn't supposed to answer that question as Kate worked the catfish-father back and forth within her pussy with a wet squelch.

“You'll likely be pregnant from that alone," Kate taunted her with a wicked smirk, Ricky's body stiffening. “But we should make sure of that. Paul. Here."

She snapped her fingers, leaving the catfish sticking out of the vixen's pussy, though the male fox, who had been watching with an aching hard-on, hesitated. He didn't want to fuck his brother? Or a vixen… Or anything!

He shook his head, growling, pushing back against the rampant arousal, though it was not as if Kate was going to allow him the luxury of refusing, after all.

She scowled, though Paul would be convinced, broken into such a state that he would not be able to resist fucking the vixen repeatedly, knot fat and swollen, wanting to tie. Grasping the catfish more tightly, she plunged it deep into Ricky's sex, working it back and forth until it was nice and slick.

“You will not hesitate for long," Kate said mockingly, withdrawing the fish, only to slap it lightly against the male fox's muzzle. “This is for you, all for you… Lick your father clean, dirty fox."

Paul whimpered and pulled back, but Kate had her trump card right in hand.

“Do you want me to do this to your mother too?" She threatened, even if it should already have been known. “Do you want her to join you, to be fucked by you?"

Paul shuddered and shook his head. Kate smirked.

“Then lick her clean. Suck her clean. Every drop now…"

The fox whimpered, but he could not say no. It was not something that pulled at his arousal particularly, but his throbbing hard-on twisted his mind, trying not to think about what he was doing. He didn't want to know, didn't want to do, but he still stuck his tongue out and ran his tongue over the slippery, slimy skin of the catfish, lapping as the woman in control told him to.

And, once he had begun, he could not stop, slurping and lapping, lost in the moment, a fox who only knew what felt and tasted good on his tongue, licking and swirling his tongue around the catfish's whiskers. Paul could not forget, however, that the catfish was his father, that they were related, that they were not really animals…

But he couldn't stop, not as his lust switched up into overdrive, the direct hit of pheromones wiping away his entire sensibility. He growled, thrusting with his hips, though he wasn't really trying to push into anything. And when Kate directed his nose towards the vixen's pussy, his eyes greedily locked onto it as if it was merely the next thing that he needed, the only thing that his lust-addled mind could possibly need in a moment like that.

“Good, foxie…"

He didn't hear Kate, not as his tongue shot into the vixen's sex, needing more of it, so much more, eating her out with the force of a man possessed. Yet the fox was not a man, not anymore, just a whore of a fox that needed something that only a vixen could give him, practically moaning against her as his muzzle dripped with her juices. The fur of his face soaked through with her arousal, his mind reeling in horror, but it was a quiet part of his mind, one that was easily quieted and set aside, right where he didn't have to think about it.

At least, not until everything was done. At least not until his cock ached furiously, at least not until he could breathe easily again.

That would not come for a while, however, not as the vixen pushed back against her, moaning, whimpering, wanting it as much as Paul did. But they didn't really, not without the serum forcing their arousal to be as high as it was, working harder and harder, his tongue sweeping up against the vixen's inner walls. Her sex tugged lightly at his tongue as she flexed and pushed back desperately against him.

He couldn't resist, moving as if in a dream. It didn't feel like it was him, not really, not as he took vague control of his new body, pushing up over the vixen's back. His throbbing cock ached for her sex, wanting her desperately, though he didn't know how to thrust, wanting to push into her, though there were only so many times that he could miss.

The slurp of his cock sinking home into her pussy rang through the room, Kate shoving Dan underneath the join of their bodies so that the catfish had a good view – and could catch the drippings of their lust. Every thrust from Paul came purely from lust as the horny fox, no longer in control of his mind and body, left as a passenger to the horror of fucking his own brother, slammed into Ricky. He growled, tongue flickering out to lash against the side of his muzzle, but the pleasure washing through him was more than enough to keep him thrusting, humping, driving in hard and fast, filling the vixen with wild, ruthless abandon.

“That's right… Look how well your sons are getting along, Dan…"

Kate grinned, watching as the fish squirmed and flopped about, though Dan could not escape the leakage of arousal and some cum too that slopped from Ricky's pussy with every thrust. The vixen ground back at her brother, her back a little rounded, but she was not with herself in the moment, simply a beast lost in sensation. She could no more escape him than she could stop her own lust, her body aching for another orgasm already.

Paul growled and yelped, his body thrusting without any conscious thought, but thought did not have to be there, not when it felt so good to drive his cock into a willing, hot vixen. She was ready for him, he could tell, the two of them yowling and yipping with frenzied heat, needing it, aching for it. It was as if there was no fibre of their beings and bodies that would have been able to get away with not having sex at that moment.

Or maybe… No. No, Paul wouldn't think of that.

He just had to thrust and thrust, even as their father watched their coupling desperately, even if there was nothing that Dan could do about it either. The slurp and slop of a fox cock disappearing into a hot, ready pussy was not something that even the transformed catfish could forget, imprinted into her mind forevermore.

Paul didn't think, however, lost in what he was doing, even if there was horror rampant in the back of his mind. He growled, lips curling, though there was no menace in him, only lust. It was hard for Paul that he would ever feel anything other than lust ever again, each thrust bringing with it a deeper wave of pleasure than ever before. He simply couldn't help himself, grinding in, hammering deep, his hips moving like a piston as he slammed in roughly, crudely.

“Good… Very good… You're learning…"

But he wasn't. He moved with mindless instinct, lost in a moment that was not of his own design. He had to thrust, had to keep fucking her, had to be a mindless beast, had to do what was naturally required of him. There simply wasn't anything else at all in Paul's mind, not as her pussy pulled and ached around his cock, as if the horny vixen was begging him to cum. He wasn't talking to her, not with any words, but his desperately needy mind swore that she needed it too, that she was yowling out his name, yelping for him to cum in her, to fill her, to breed her.

And yet if he bred her, then his brother would be pregnant by his seed…

No choice in the matter and no time to pull out, the slamming, grunting thrusts doubling in their intensity. His knot swelled without Paul even realising what was happening, locking them together to the point that he could no longer pull out, though he didn't even register that it was past the point of no return.

All he could take in was pleasure, wave after wave of it, how it flooded his body, aching through him, making him want to fuck her harder, over and over again. There would have to be more than one breeding, a voice in the back of his mind that was not his own told him. More than one breeding, if there were to be fox kits. Yet he didn't know whether that was something he even wanted or not, or whether horny instinct had well and truly taken over, turning him into nothing more than a breeding beast, fuelled by desire.

The vixen's cries told him she was climaxing, his cock grinding over her fat clit with every thrust, yet he didn't stop. With short, sharp, driving thrusts, he ground into her with raw passion, without even thinking about the mechanics of it, arousal drooling onto the catfish's face even as he let loose. For there was no holding back the spurts of climax, cum flooding his brother's pussy, spurt after spurt of it flowing deep.

He stayed there, over her, the weight of his body holding the vixen's down. And yet he still had to think about what he had done as his cock twitched inside Ricky, trembling in horror, knowing that that was really his brother, that he had done something unforgivable. Even worse than that, Paul wanted to do it all again, to feel every sensation in the heat of the moment all over again, the pulse and drive of a kind of lust that even he had not gotten to experience as a man.

He never would again. But that was not for him to worry about, not as, slowly, the knot softened over the coming minutes – enough to pull out.

Ricky groaned, her legs bowing, shaking where she stood. With the last ounce of strength in her body, she twisted around, staring in horror, with her brother, at her gaping, drooling sex, the slit of her cunt that had been virginal, not all that long ago. It never would be the same again, cum dripping and splashing onto their gaping and gasping father's face, the catfish's eyes bulging, oh so very desperately.

Yet what could they do to help her?

The phone beeping on the floor, entirely forgotten by them, caught their attention only when a new text message popped up with a special tone. Kate might not have paid it any mind at all if not for Ricky's eyes locking onto it, the look of horror in her eyes. It was how her ears shot up that gave everything away, even though her drooling, aching sex should have been distraction enough for her.

“Hm, now what is this?"

Kate picked up the phone, ignoring the fox's grunts and groans, pawing at her, trying to get her to stop. Of course, it was a message from Ricky's mother, just a quick message to let her son know that she was heading home. Kate sighed and shook her head sadly.

“It looks like our time is up," she said, shoving Dan casually back into the vixen's wet sex as if it was a motion that came to her as naturally as breathing. “We wouldn't want to interrupt your mother, after all, foxes, with my presence, would we?"

She chuckled, working the catfish deeper into Ricky's sex, so that only the tail was left sticking out. A click of the remote had the shocks coming every few minutes, tweaking the settings until she was quite happy with the intensity, the vixen rocking her hips back and forth. Even then, after having her brother fuck her, she was lost to Kate's whims.

But Kate would not be without them for long.

“There…" She laughed, patting Ricky on the head. “That'll keep your father nice and moist. You know, that's the only way you can keep her alive now. Just one…thing…"

She knocked over the fish tank, set on a dresser at the side of the living room, with a bump of her hip, spilling water over the carpet, a stream that had Paul jumping back in horror. Laughing cruelly, she fluttered her fingers at them in a farewell wave.

“Keep climaxing, my pretties… Keep your daddy nice and moist now. That's the only way you'll stop her from drying out and I can only wish you the best of luck with that!"

Of course, Kate knew that catfish could live out of water for at least a little while – but their knowledge wasn't going to stretch that far, of course not. She liked that, wanting to see their urgency, the panic, the fretting.

Soon. Very soon.

Gathering their clothes, as if the family had never been there at all, she left in a flourish, Ricky's howls of pleasure echoing in her ears.

They would not be out of her grasp for long, but she had to do things right if she was to maintain her control over them.