FSE

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It's All Fun and Games

Chapter One

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

28th September, 2017,

All Rights Reserved.

Jack had always been an outsider in the furry community, never truly fitting in, he skulked around the edges feeling unwanted and ignored – as he couldn't afford a fur suit, nor could his find acceptance as the creature he had adopted as his own. He watched others prancing and displaying – like Peacock's in a mating dance, their fur suits drawing crowds of people, affection and photographs left right and centre – yet even amongst the non-suiters, he found himself ostracised and excluded. He wondered why he kept going to the weekly meets – sure – some would take time to talk to him, but he never knew what to say, or how to find a way to fit in with he group as a whole...or so he thought...

*

Dejected, he headed for home and pondered his lot in life – did it mean anything – did anything mean anything? His mind turned and clawed at him, trying to drag him down into the depths of misery and depression, as he walked along a dimly lit street, kicking a pine cone in inconsolable frustration and dejection. This week was like every other week – he felt more and more ostracised and excluded, and as he turned the corner and come to a halt, as a gaudy shop front caught his eye.

“Something For Everyone" - claimed the marque that hung over the doorway. With an indifferent shrug, Jack walked into the shop, and found it cluttered with all manner of things – most of which he couldn't begin to comprehend or understand, before a concealed bell tinkled merrily over the door and a velvet curtain swished aside at the rear of the store, and Jack stared dumbfounded as an old woman tottered out, peering from beneath beetling brows at him.

“A customer - “ Come a low, quiet voice, sounding like it clawed its way from the depths of the hells. “How lovely..."

“I...should be going, sorry to bother you ma'am - “ Jack stammered, as he backed up to the door, then frowned as he gripped it – yet the door remained tightly closed.

“It always sticks in this...weather..." Wheezed the old woman, as she suddenly appeared before Jack – almost as if she had crossed the store floor in the blink of an eye. “I think I know what you want - “

“I really should be going, my train comes in - “ Jack looked at his watch, then tapped it with a fingernail, before he frowned and looked around.

“Time be time - “ Cackled the old crone, as she laid a spidery hand on Jack's arm, making him involuntarily shudder. “Something for everyone – yes – yes indeed..."

“I - “ Jack moaned, feeling trapped like a deer in headlights, as the withered old crone cackled again, then reached up and tapped him with a bony finger, right on the centre of his forehead.

Jack's eyes went wide, as it felt like she was a part of him, physically, emotionally and spiritually – her clawed hands fondling through his deepest wishes, desires and memories, letting them trickle through her hands like jewels, as she snickered in his mind and he saw her – standing in his mind – before the coldness come down on him like a hammer...

*

“Have you seen my cat, Duchess?" Croaked the old woman, as she peered at Jack, who stood as immobile as one of the old store manikin. “She's got a white spot...right...here..."

Touching Jack on the forehead, right in the centre, Jack suddenly blinked and snorted, before he found himself outside a store, its rotted marque hanging in shreds, door padlocked shut and old newspapers from forty years ago plastering the dusty glass windows – corpses of dead, desiccated flies sprinkled here and there on the windowsill.

Jack shuddered and frowned, before he pulled his cloak tighter around himself, as he looked around at the dark, lifeless street and began moving quickly, the cold breeze that blew down the street blowing a few sheets of newspaper and leaves in its wake, before Jack jumped and heard the distant tolling of the town clock, three chimes in a row, before the ringing echoed off amongst the quiet buildings and alleyways.

“It...it can't be - “ Jack moaned, as he looked around and frowned, confused and bewildered. “It was only 8pm when I left the meet..."

He began to walk quickly, his shoes slapping against the pavement, then he began to jog, then began to run, feeling like something unseen and threatening was stalking him, until he was running in a panic, crossing streets and avenues, uncaring where and how he ran, through this quiet, lifeless city...

*

Jack had no recollection of how he got home – he was at the meet – then something – happened, he ached from toes to hair, feeling like he had run a marathon, his clothes were soaked in sweat and sticking to him, as he found himself laying on his bed, then the grandfather clock began to chime six PM...

“Oh...no, that can't be right - “ Jack moaned, as he rolled out of his bed and staggered out into the living room, throwing back the curtains – to be met with the last rays of the sun as it peeked over the distant ranges – then as he watched – it slipped behind the mountains and darkness washed over the land, street lights reflecting and cars and buses moving, as he scratched at his neck, feeling an itch.

Another itch, down near his ankles, then on his chest, his back, within seconds, he felt like millions of tiny insects were crawling over his body, as he moaned and scratched until he couldn't take it anymore! He tore his shirt off, then his shorts and socks, boxer briefs following, as he writhed and scratched at his pale skin, wanting or so it felt, to tear it off just to get relief from the itch that wouldn't relent. He didn't know of anything he was allergic too – thinking it was a histamine reaction – but as he scratched and clawed at himself, he moaned and crumpled onto the carpet and twitched helplessly.

His mouth fell open, as he stared down at his toes, that seemed to begin to fuse together, the bones crackling and changing – yet there was little pain. Three toes merged and turned black, stretching and forming something Jack knew was impossible...two more toes followed, then as he stared horrified, his foot bones crackled as they turned into a short, broad black hoof – that clove painlessly, forming a cloven hoof.

“No, no, no!" Jack moaned, as his fingernail's scratched at the cloven hoof in disbelief.

Pale tan fur sprouted from his ankle, spreading up his shin, knee, leg, the other followed, first the hoof that clove, then the fur, as he squealed breathlessly and writhed, moaning in fear and disbelief as he began to – change – into something...he shuddered as his testicles vanished, his penis inverting and becoming a furred vagina, the pale white fur running from his inner thighs up his belly and chest then under his chin.

“This can't be happening..." Jack croaked, then frowned as his throat constricted and he felt the jaw bones crackling and morphing.

Staring at his hands, he watched the fingers shorten and form miniature hooves at the fingers, two fingers merging into one, then the other two, the thumb shortening into a black tipped hooflet. Again, the skin prickled like it was itchy, before the pale tan fur erupted from beneath the skin and swirled incomprehensibly up his forearms, muscles realigning, becoming more feminine as the changes twisted and altered him. Fur covered his body, it was short, yet surprisingly warm, before Jack clutched at his face, feeling the bones of his skull crackle and melt – forming a short muzzle, the jaws widening and then he clutched at his ears, feeling them grow and lengthen as the fur rippled through his fingers.

His eyes took a moment to adjust, as suddenly he had a much wider field of vision, as his conscious mind denied what had happened to him, but he felt the fur, the muscles, he heard the click o the hooflets on his fingers as he gripped clumsily at the coffee table – even his hearing sounded more – acute was the best word, like a thousand fold sharper than human norm. Squinting his eyes, that blurred with tears, he crawled on his hands – paws really – and swatted at the light switch, his fingers feeling clumsy and unresponsive, before he managed to turn off the light, plunging the room into a murky twilight. His mind whirled, uncomprehending what had happened, as he gasped and felt his tail bone flick and he reached back, feeling the wedge-like tail that had grown and sprung from it – his fingers feeling its outline, guessing it to be about eight inches in length – and definitely – not something human...

“No - “ Jack gasped, his voice the last to undergo the change, as he felt it become a different tone and pitch, more female and sensual, as he wept great sobbing tears, clawing at his new muzzle with his hooflets until the pain of gouging at fur and flesh made him stop. “No...it...it can't...this isn't real it's...I'm dreaming...I'm - “

It's real... Come a thought in his mind, as he heard the cackle of the old woman's voice that sent his blood to ice water in his veins. Something for everyone...

*

Jack dragged himself to the bathroom, then spent two hour trying to pull himself up onto his newly formed hooves, that clicked and skittered on the slippery tiles, as he stared incredulously at the creature that stared back from the mirror. It was a Whitetail Doe, the long, black tipped ears twitching and flinching, as Jack stared, the muzzle fell open in disbelief. He held up one paw, seeing the short, black hooflets on the finger tips, the soft leathery pads where the palm would be, and he moaned and shook his head, causing the long ears to snap from side to side.

“No, I don't believe it – this can't be real – I'm a human, not a - “

You got exactly what you wanted – a fur suit – just...not how you envisioned it, is it? Come the cackle again, before Jack's mind reeled, as he felt the paws involuntarily slide down the pale furred throat, then over the firm breasts – the leathery pads rubbing the sensitive nipples and making Jack gasp in pleasure.

Felt good, didn't it little Doe? Come that voice in his mind. You can not begin to imagine, the pleasure I can show you, little one...

To Be Continued...