Becoming One of the Girls

A fox girl gets a makeover from a pair of trashy rats. Explicit, crude language.

"Hey, mine aren't as fake as yours, barbie-tits." Maria pulled the collar of her leather jacket open and shoved her chest forward. It was true. Rita's tits sat higher and tighter than Maria's.

Rita clicked her tongue and flexed an arm. "That's 'cause I got muscle. Means it's harder for me to be a fatass than it is for girls like you."

Maria scoffed at the other rat girl leaning on the counter. "Like you don't love my fat ass. Why else are you hanging out here?" She gestured around, at the racks of trashy clothing and slutty clubwear. There weren't any customers, so The B*tch Boutique was quiet, aside from the constant pulsing club beat over the speakers.

"Body shop's closed, TV sucks, might as well talk to a skank," Rita said. She hopped up onto the counter and dragged a cigarette out of her pocket. Maria didn't bother to tell her not to light up inside. Number one, she didn't care, and number two, Rita looked so fucking butch when she smoked that it drove her wild.

"You just wanna watch hot chicks trying on slutty clothes," Maria said.

"If that was true, I'd just hide in your closet."

BXBI 2

Tess talks her boyfriend Chris into trying out BXBI and temporarily turning into a bimbo himself. Explicit.

Chris and his girlfriend were in the middle of a trip to the mall, and she was bimboed out on BXBI.

It was both a dream come true, and a bit of a nightmare. Yeah, he'd always been into the whole bimbo thing, but being out in public with Tess like this... Were people staring at him, wondering how he'd ended up with a girl so hot her selfies looked fake? Or worse, could they guess that she was on BXBI? If someone figured that out—

"Hey, you're blushing," Tess said, spearing thin french fries with a plastic fork.

Chris laughed under his breath and sipped some soda to try to cool his cheeks. "No I'm not."

"You've been all bashful all day. Is it cause I'm hot now?" she asked with a wink.

Tess was hot. And she was having fun flaunting it, from her white, pink-trimmed tank top to the pink hair ties she'd picked out to hold her long pigtails in place. She'd never had a ton of fashion sense, but with a drug-enhanced body like hers, she could squeeze into almost anything and make it look hot.

Her shoulders shifted. Her tank top stretched a little wider around her defiantly fake tits.

Chris realized he wasn't looking at her face and sipped his soda again. "No. I'm just...we're in public. It's a little weird."

Tess spread her lips to take a big bite of her hot dog. A knot wriggled around Chris's stomach. No way she wasn't doing that on purpose. She brushed off her fingers with a napkin, then reached down into her purse. "You need to unwind," she said.

Chris looked down at the remains of his orange chicken. "Probably," he said. "This is just really new to me, you know, having it be real instead of..." Tess pulled something from her purse. He looked up. She had brought the bottle of BXBI pills with her.

"You should try one," she said.

Hooked

A fox girl and her friends succumb one by one to addictive, transformative, brain-draining cigarettes. Explicit.

1 Hazel, Monday morning

Hazel hadn't seen Jordan all day. At this point, she was convinced that Jordan was home sick and hadn't texted her about it. Hazel knew the rabbit girl would be more pissed about missing track practice than missing class.

Her two other friends were already sitting at their table in the cafeteria, so Hazel headed their way. Her fluffy fox tail flicked behind her, weaving through the tight gaps between people's chairs. Between her short, crisp red hair and sharp green eyes, she had the look of someone who could be confident one day, once she got over her own teenage awkwardness. Right now, she was more lanky than anything.

Hazel slid into a seat at the table. Zoey and Evie barely noticed her sitting down.

Zoey was the biggest of their bunch, thanks to her panther genetics. She had dangerous scowls down to a science, and she was on her last strike for violating the dress code. The grinning feline skull on her tank top peeked above the table.

Evie, the doe, had her hoof-tipped fingers wrapped around her fork, halfway through jabbing it into her salad. Her glasses made her wide-eyed stare look even wider. Her flannel shirt had been scuffed in spots, a veteran of one of her many hiking trips, and her hair was pulled back in her usual short ponytail.

Zoey and Evie both were staring in the same direction. Hazel glanced between the two of them, waited a few seconds, then broke the silence by saying, "What's up?"

"Jordan," Evie said.

Hazel followed Evie's gaze, but she didn't see Jordan. All she saw was the school's varsity quarterback and some sexed-up bunny sitting on his lap. "I don't get it," Hazel said.

Zoey reached across the table, wrapped one arm around Hazel's shoulder so they were looking from the same angle, and pointed at the bunny girl. "That's Jordan," she said.

Hazel's eyes widened. That couldn't be Jordan.

Spots

A short partial jaguar transformation, as a kind of experiment with non-anthro animal hybrids.

Mia shut the door behind her and tossed the plastic package onto her bed. She wasted no time pulling off her clothes. Her underwear went too, tossed to the side along with her socks. Shaking out her short black hair, she brushed her fingers along her temples, above her pierced ears.

It had finally come.

She tore open the plastic seal and dumped the bag out onto her bed. A pair of leggings and elbow-length gloves spilled onto her sheets. She scooped the nylon up in her hands. The jaguar-print rosettes stretched around her fingers. She was excited; a wide-eyed, dry-mouthed sort of excited.

Mia sat down on the bed and lifted up her left leg. The fabric stretched around her heel and flowed up her calf. Pausing, she wiggled the nylon over her foot until the toes of the leggings met her own toes. Then she stuck her right leg into the leggings, then stood up. The waistband snapped against her hips as she let it go. With a few gentle touches—the layer of nylon made her skin more sensitive—she smoothed the wild pattern across her legs.

The gloves left her fingers bare, but stretched nearly all the way to her elbows. Holding her left arm in front of her, she pulled the left glove tight, then did the same for the right. She wiggled her fingers to adjust the finger holes and brushed off the tops of her thighs.

Her reflection looked back at her from her bedroom mirror. Her tan skin made the jaguar-print glow.

And then it started.

The joints of her toes bubbled and curled back on themselves. The sudden discomfort and shift in her weight tipped her forward, but she caught herself on her bed. Her breaths came shorter and faster. With sharp cricks and snaps, her heels stretched into the air and forced her knees to bend. The tendons in her feet tightened like a guitar being tuned.

Matat Spa

A couple visits a spa staffed by faceless latex attendants, and slowly lose themselves to the hypnotic smoke.. Explicit.

The highway weaved along the coastline, between the warm beaches on one side and the orange cliffs on the other. Riley sat behind the wheel of her rental car with the window rolled down and her arm hanging out to feel the breeze. The wind whipped at the side of her short mane. Riley had the imposing posture, sharp smile, and sinewy frame that came with being a hyena. She watched the road from behind her mirrored sunglasses as she followed it north.

Julie sat in the passenger seat. While the lioness didn't look as tough as Riley did, their tussles in bed had proved that they were evenly matched. Julie's copper hair was brushed back behind her ears, though the wind blew around the inside of the car so much that she had to occasionally re-tuck it. A pair of gold studs sat in her left ear, nearly hidden against her tawny fur.

As they came around another ridge, Julie's ears flicked up and she leaned forward to point. "There it is," she said.

Nestled between two orange hills was a building shaped like a white cylinder, three stories high, and shaded from the road by lines of narrow cypress trees. It was smooth and nearly featureless, and if it hadn't been for the spacious parking lot and well-kept driveway, it might have seemed like a water tower.

Riley pulled off the highway and followed the driveway up into the empty parking lot. She plucked the sunglasses off her face, then asked Julie, "Is this place open? It looks deserted."

Administration (from The Merger)

A corporate takeover includes free mandatory bovinification for all employees. Excerpted from the paid anthology The Merger. Mature.

Stephen sat down at his desk and took a deep breath. The office was hot today, and buzzing with low chatter as people shifted cubicles and rolled their favorite chairs around. He wasn't moving; he wasn't important enough to get shuffled.

Aside from the bustle around him, it was a normal day at the office. His only new email was the one from Mr. Bayer about the merger. That was good, right? It meant he wasn't getting downsized yet. Right? He logged onto the project database and started updating each entry.

And then his chest felt tight. Not like a heart attack, not like something was clutching him, but like the front of his chest was snug against his shirt. It was the same white shirt and blue tie he'd worn a hundred times before, so what was different today? He tugged at the side of the collar and loosened his tie a little bit. A little bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He looked to his right. Craig was in the cubicle opposite his, earbuds in, working away, unfazed by the warmth.

Craig wasn't worried about his performance review. Craig wasn't worried about some new boss coming in and deciding to fire any employee who'd gotten a bad review.

Stephen got up from his chair and brushed back his short, dark hair. Quick trip to grab some water, that was what he needed. Each step, the pressure pushed against his chest, like it was swinging up and down. He folded his arms across his chest to keep it from bouncing as he walked to the water cooler. Was he gaining weight? He hadn't been eating too well lately.

He reached out to push down the blue lever, then froze. He stared at his black fingernails. When...? How? The water spilled over his cup and he jerked back, leaving a small splash on the ground. His eyes darted from the wet carpet to his hand. His fingernails were larger. Blacker. Thicker. A sudden flush ran across his cheeks and sweat prickled beneath his shirt. He shoved his hand under his armpit to hide it. As he rushed back to his cubicle, he tried to ignore the feeling of his skin stretching and his fingernails growing thicker and bulkier..

Craig still had his head down in his computer when he got back. Stephen plopped down into his seat and spun to the side, so Craig couldn't see him extracting his hand from his armpit. His fingers quivered. He tried to move his pointer and middle fingers independently, but they refused to separate. The thick black nails on both fingers squeezed together, and then with a pop of bone and sinew, his fingers had joined. He wiggled his new, broad finger and the bulky black keratin hoof on top.