Mane: For Men
TransCo-branded shampoo turns Riley into a beastly male gnoll. Whoops. Explicit.
Riley had run out of shampoo. This wouldn't normally be a problem, but she didn't have enough time before work to go to the supermarket for her usual shampoo. The gas station on the corner only had travel-size bottles of Mane: For Men.
But even shampoo marketed to insecure teenage boys was better than nothing. Riley closed the bathroom door and kicked off her shoes. She tugged her shirt off over her head and shook out her black curls, then bent over and pushed off her pajama pants. She took a glance at the mirror; no surprises there. Fair skin, average figure, and unremarkably cute.
Riley stepped into the shower stall and swung the door shut. At first, she just let the hot water spray over her scalp. Then she rolled her head, soaking her curls and combing her fingers through them until they fell flat against her cheeks. Once she'd thoroughly rinsed, she reached for the bottle and popped the top.
The shampoo's scent ('Gnollspike', which she'd chosen over the alternative, 'Bristleboar') wasn't as bad as she'd feared. The sweet smell of soap was warmed by spices, but it wasn't overpowered and musky. ...At least, not too musky. If she rinsed it out well enough, she would be fine.
She squeezed a splurt onto her hand and slapped it onto her forehead. She spread it back along her hair, then with both hands, she scrubbed the shampoo into her scalp, working it down through her tangled curls.
The shampoo tingled into her hair follicles, like the pleasant burn of popping a cinnamon hard candy into her mouth. If she let it linger, it started to hurt, but feeling it wash across her scalp was invigorating. She leaned into the spray and closed her eyes. The water rolled down her face and hair, carrying the suds down her body. She flicked her wet hair back and squeezed another squort of shampoo into her hands. She wanted to feel that tingle again.
Riley tipped her head away from the shower, so the water ran down her neck and chest instead. She let the shampoo sit in her hair and work its warming magic. Its hot tendrils squeezed down into her skin. She waited until her scalp began to sting, then dunked her head under the water and rinsed it out.
The shampoo ran down her front and between her legs. The suds clung to her bush and began to tingle, but her skin was more sensitive there. Riley let out a small grunt and stepped back, trying to angle herself so the water would hit her crotch directly. Her fingers rubbed through the short, dark hair, but the tingling feeling had already sunk in. Her skin was hot and swollen, and her knees were a little weak. Her cheeks were red. The initial burn dissipated into a tight tenderness.
Just one more, she thought hazily. Her mind veered off into the pleasant warmth or the ache between her legs or how she had been in a months-long dry spell. I've got work to get to, she told herself.
She let out a warm breath and filled her palms with more shampoo.
First, Riley scrubbed her hair. While her hands still were slick, she slipped one between her legs and rubbed the tingling shampoo into her bush. It sunk into her skin. The swell and ache grew. She pressed her thighs together but it didn't help. She hadn't felt this horny in weeks. She rinsed her fingers off by rubbing them up and down against her belly. Then, leaning one shoulder against the cool tile, she spread her pussy open and tucked two fingers between her folds.
No time for playing with myself, she thought. But that didn't stop her body from leaning against her hand, or her knees from bending, or her fingers from rubbing eagerly between her swollen folds. It wasn't just being horny; she had never felt so hungrily dedicated to getting off before. Nothing else was as important as bringing herself to orgasm. Between the shampoo tingling away, forgotten in her hair, the hot water rushing over her, and the damp heat between her legs, she felt feverish and light-headed.
The shampoo oozed down over her ears. The tingling brought with it growing fur, sprouting out in dark brown and lighter tan. The tips of her ears poked out from under her hair, then rose higher, parting her curls around their rising points. They curled, cupped like canine ears, but broader and with a curved outer edge. Trails of tawny fur ran like sideburns down her cheeks and jaw, fading to short, dark stubble on her chin.
Riley balled her free hand into a fist and pressed it against the wall. Her hips rolled against her fingers and she was panting, open-mouthed. She barely had space to think around her urge to orgasm. And then, finally, the heat inside her reached a peak. With a half-strangled grunt, her body jerked and tightened around her fingers. A thick, cloudy fluid splashed onto the bath mat beneath her. She pushed a lock of wet hair from her eyes. The water washed the glob into the drain. She'd never squirted before, even a little.
"Jesus," she hissed. Her voice was rough and heavy in her throat. She ran her fingers under the water, but after washing off the sticky fluid, they still felt tacky.
Just one more, she thought. Her orgasm hadn't quelled the urge inside of her; it had only made it stronger. The rest of her brain was pleasantly numb. It felt good to be this horny, right? Why ruin it by trying to worry about other things?
Riley scrubbed her hair with a fresh handful of shampoo. Warm shivers trickled down her spine, following the black hair creeping down from the back of her head. The dark stubble grew along her spine, down to the middle of her shoulder blades. The prickling feeling of her hair standing on end continued further down, all the way to the base of her spine.
Her tailbone creaked. Her muscles twitched and squirmed. A short nub pulled its way out of her skin, and prickled with fur along its length. It dangled behind her, a stubby tail covered in brown-spotted fur, the same fur that now covered a broad patch along the small of her back.
On her front, her pubic hair grew. The short, dark hairs climbed up toward her bellybutton. Her swollen clit throbbed every time she moved. It was tender, and much too sensitive to even touch. Maybe fingering herself had been a bad idea, she thought. With gentle splashes of water, she tried to wash her crotch without setting off another jolt of pain.
Then a sudden, gut-wrenching jerk came from inside her, like her insides were being pulled down by some unseen force. Riley yelped and grasped at the shower knobs for something to hold onto. Her heart hammered and her clit throbbed like a strobe light. Then there was a push. It flowed through her torso and out between her legs. Another push, and her clit, madly engorged, twitched up and down. Another, and another. With each push, her clit grew, and the debilitating tenderness eased. Her guts churned as three inches of tight red flesh poked out between her legs. The sight was strange, but the feeling of it was stranger—all the air and weight around that one stiff piece of meat.
"Oh god, oh ghhhk—" Riley gasped. Sudden vertigo strangled her gasps. Something, no, two things squeezed out of her and hung against her legs, tight and warm. With each swelling throb of her clit, muscles she'd never known about flexed and pulled. It swung heavily through the air, tapered at the tip and achingly hot. Another throb hit her, one that popped and snapped in the pit of her stomach, and then the churning subsided. She lifted her head, trembling and teeth bared. Her lower canines stuck out prominently. Propped up tall between her legs was a cock. It was real. And it was hers.
Her right hand wrapped around her cock. She didn't want to touch it, but she couldn't help herself. It was a queasy mix of strangeness and familiarity. She knew that tightness, that swollen feeling, but had never been able to hold it like she could now. Her left hand slid down around the base, feeling the coarse fur covering her balls, and gauging how big they were. Like...two peaches. Was that big? Judging by the scale of her hand to her cock, it was about eight inches long. Okay, that was big.
Riley's hand started to slide. Up and down, nice and slow. She had to take it easy; she didn't know how this worked, but her instincts were glad to help. Her fingers tightened and she made a low grunt in the back of her throat.
The flat of her nose had turned black. It spread wider, drawing her face forward into a small snout. Hints of whiskers dappled her upper lip. Her growing canines and heavier chin dragged her jaw open, making her pant. All along her body, taut muscle tone emerged where before she had been soft. Her shoulders rippled, her biceps stretched along her arms, and her torso thickened with extra muscle mass.
Riley tried to stop, but she couldn't. Her need had a shape and weight to it now, and it stuck out in front of her, begging for attention. The strangeness of growing a cock was background noise compared to the consuming need to fuck.
The joints of her toes popped and cracked and curled with claws. Leathery pads swelled from the bottom of her feet. Her claws squeaked against the rubber bath mat as she shuffled from foot to foot. One hand gripped the wall to keep her steady and the other pumped around her shaft.
Her coarse fur spread. It crept down her thighs and up her back; it crawled down her neck and over her shoulders. From her knees down, her legs were covered in a short, dark brown pelt. Her cock pulsed, and another surge of muscle spread through her. Her biceps tightened and her pecs pushed outward and the swells of shoulders drew her frame even thicker. Her thighs were thick enough to hold up her increasing mass. She flexed her free arm just to feel the way her skin stretched around her muscle.
Riley's cock felt like the most important thing ever. Forget about every other obligation, forget about work, about shampoo, about wasting water, and just stroke. At least, that's what her body told her. If only she had something to shove her cock into, she thought.
The soft skin of her hands bulged and thickened and grew rough callouses. Her short-trimmed nails curled into claws. Her padded paw gripped her cock just as tight, still dragging up and down the shaft. The more crude, less delicate touch made her growl deeply and thrust against her own palm.
Her teeth had grown into stout fangs that fit together like two sets of jagged mountains. But her front canines grew out of control, large enough that they no longer fit behind her lips—they pushed out against her lower lip and poked their tips out in front of her whiskers. The larger they grew, the more they forced her lip to curl over. The black, glossy flesh of her thickening lower lip matched the flesh of her broad, bulky nose.
"What'sh happening ta me?" Riley asked around her longer tongue and growing teeth. Her voice didn't sound like her own. It was deep, growling, and masculine. She lifted brown-furred paw from the wall and brought it to her chest. There sat the thick slabs of muscle that were her pecs. With a small snarl, she flexed and they surged out firm against her hand. But heavy and meaty though they were, they weren't breasts. She grabbed her heavy, broad chin, felt all the way up her fur-covered face to her thick cheekbones.
She wasn't just a beast. She was a male beast. And her instincts were telling her to find a female to sink her cock into. No, she tried to tell herself, you're a straight girl. You have a crush on a guy at the office.
Her instincts shot back, not with words but cravings for the scent of a woman's arousal and the tight grip of penetration. She let out a sharp growl and her cock throbbed against her fingers. Her thick tongue hung out, rolling over her protruding lip. Her beastly urges made her mouth water.
Her stout muzzle stuck out into her field of view. The dark fur at the tip gave way to her speckled brown-on-tan pelt between her eyes. And just beyond her snout, she could see her sharp tusks, poking up on either side of her nose. Her hair prickled where it receded into fur; it left a strip of muddy brown-black mane running from the center of her forehead down to the middle of her back.
The fur covered her from the tips of her ears to her claws, speckled and gloved with a hyena's markings. Her body creaked with still more muscle and more sinew. The sheer mass of her shoulder and back muscles forced her neck forward into a hunch. Even with her forced slouch, she was still taller than she'd been by far: eye-level with the shower head, tall enough to peek over the top of the stall door.
The sense of size and strength was intoxicating. She felt like she could push walls aside if she wanted, like she could tower over everyone and lift boulders. Unwittingly, she had begun to internalize her instincts. A deep, masculine growl rose from her throat as she tried to will more strength into her body. The power, the virility; she wanted more and more.
Another surge shot through her, coursing along her muscles like electricity following the path of least resistance. Her neck creaked, forced forward by the mass of her shoulders. Her biceps squeezed against her pecs, fighting for space on her torso. Her thighs clenched, struggling to hold her hips still. Her paw flexed around her cock. The muscles along her arm pulled taut to pump even harder.
Riley couldn't deny it. She was male. As she—he accepted that, his chest puffed, barreling out thicker. His mane bristled. He bared his big, curved tusks and curled his thick lip. His hips went wild, bucking and slamming against his hand, like he was fucking a female sprawled out beneath him.
The billowing steam of the shower rolled his musky scent through the air. His chin was level with the shower head now. He slammed his hand against the wall and the tiles cracked, spider-webbing between his claws. Hearing his own grunts and snorts only drove him on harder. His bones creaked and his fur bristled, spreading the intoxicatingly masculine feeling over his hulking body.
His eyes rolled, his head tipped back, and he let out a rumbling bellow. And then he came. It was surprisingly familiar, but there was a force and energy in the violent jerking of his hips and the surge of cum. Thick streams of his seed splashed onto the wall, then dripped down the tiles.
Riley's thoughts were sluggish and weighty in the afterglow. He needed to find someone to fuck for real. He had to know how it would feel. Everything was so much more visceral in this body.
At the same time, the afterglow gave him some clarity. He had turned into a huge hyena beast. As hungry as he was for raw, animal sex, he had to find out what had caused this, and sort out work too.
His cock bent slightly under its own weight, hanging heavy in front of him. He cranked off the water, then pushed open the stall door. He was so large that he had to wedge himself sideways through it, squeezing his ears and mane against the top bar of the door.
Riley gave his fur a quick ruffle with the towel, then used it to wipe the fog from the mirror. He recoiled at his own reflection. He stood some seven feet tall, hunched over, and monstrous in stature. He shoved a thick claw under his fat lip, dragging it down to inspect the roots of his tusks. It snapped back, rubber-like, when he let go. He opened his jaw and stuck out his long tongue. He tugged at the skin under his eyes. He couldn't see the whites, just the predatory reddish-brown of his irises.
He tried to straighten his back, but the mountain of muscle across his shoulders held him in his primal hunch. Wincing, he rubbed a paw along his hairy mane. Under the musk, he smelled like shampoo.
A thought struck him. He stooped into the shower stall and grabbed the empty shampoo bottle. Laying it on the counter, he turned it over and squinted down at the letters.
"Use a porrrtion about tha size of yer palm..." he read. His new snout and tusks tripped up his tongue. The more he tried to read, the more the writing seemed to fight his efforts. "Do not...youse morrr than tuh-twice thuh wrrreck..."
Riley grunted and rubbed his thick brow. A tight pressure was squeezing against the front of his head, thwarting his efforts to read the bottle. This was way more work than it was supposed to be. It wasn't fair, though—the letters all looked so similar to each other. He wasn't stupid, the words were just getting tangled up between the bottle and his brain.
His head snapped up, and he looked his tusked reflection in the eyes. "Oh, fuck. I got tuh call in tuh worrrk," he said.
His phone was in his bedroom, so he thumped across the hall and pushed open the door. Immediately, he was hit with the scent of a female. His broad nose flared and his cock twitched, eagerly rising up stiff again. His eyes darted across his room, hunting for...wait a second. He was getting horny off his own human scent, wasn't he? With a grumble and a growl, he kicked at the dirty laundry that coated the floor. He slumped onto the bed, with his cock sticking out stiff in front of him. He wrapped a paw around it and started rubbing again. His hips rolled, punctuated with small growls, as he thought about fucking his female self.
The bed sagged underneath his weight, and out from under the pillow slid his phone. He scooped it up in his free paw and fumbled with it until he managed to click the power button. Had to call work, he told himself, while grunting and thrusting against his palm.
He pushed awkwardly on the screen with his calloused pawpads. It was much easier to follow the sequence of pictures than it was to read. The picture of a person, then the picture of his boss Carol, then the picture of a phone, then the picture of a speaker. He tossed the phone onto the bed beside him and gripped his shaft with both hands.
"Hello?" came her boss's voice. "Who is this?" She could probably hear his rumbling breaths.
"It's Rurrk," he snorted, then tried again, curling his tongue better, "Rrrr-urrk." Still couldn't get it.
"Riley? You sound awful."
"Yuh, I used shampoo an' it turrrned me intuh a gnoll," he said.
"Okay, you can stay home today. I'll get Taylor to cover your work. Doesn't sound like you'd be able to get much done anyway," she said.
Rurrk wanted to complain that he wasn't dumb, it was just talking and reading that was hard. But, if he went into work, he'd have to try to be productive and keep his hands off his cock. He grunted sharply and jerked up against his paws. He decided to keep his mouth shut and take the day off.
"Thrrrnks," he snorted.
"Take it easy, I've heard stimulation makes stuff like that worse," she said.
"I know," he huffed. His cock was throbbing in his hands and he couldn't pull them away. His jaw hung open, tongue dangling out, panting heavily.
"Hope to see you back on Thursday," Carol said, then hung up.
Rurrk managed to hold out until the beep before curling his back, letting a roar rip out of his chest, and letting his cum spurt out into the air. It splattered onto the clothes strewn along his floor, sinking into the fabric. With an unpleasant snarl, he got to his feet and started shoveling clothes into his laundry hamper.
Rurrk didn't have to hunch under the gas station doors, but his mane brushed against it, now that it was dry and poking up like a Mohawk. None of his clothes had fit his brutish frame, so instead, he had taken a fleece blanket off his bed, wrapped it around his waist, and taped it there like a kilt. It hung around his knees, and didn't do a whole lot to hide the bulge between his legs. Held between two large claws was the bottle of Mane shampoo.
The cashier's head snapped up as he came in, a wide-eyed look on her face. She was a young woman, about Rurrk's human, non-gnoll age, with a ponytail stuffed into her orange-and-yellow ballcap. The Tictacs rattled in their cases as he stomped up to the cash register and pounded the bottle onto the counter.
"I wannuh rrrefund," he growled at her. He let out a snort and his hot breath curled around his tusks.
The cashier took in a deep breath. "We can't offer refunds on opened items...or items less than five dollars..." she said, cheeks reddening. The front of her shirt slowly stretched outward. Her nose stretched out broader and its skin darkened to black.
Rurrk breathed in a big bolt of her scent. His cock stirred, beginning to tent up underneath his makeshift kilt. He leaned forward, mouth watering. A thick drop of drool splotted onto the counter.
"B-but if you're unsatisfied," she continued, holding onto her hat as her rising ears pushed it up, "You can exchange it for...a product of equal...ohh..."
She took in a deep breath through her nose, and her eyes glazed over. Her tongue flopped out of her mouth; she was panting openly, tongue dangling between her growing canines. Her fingers gripped the counter with small, growing claws. A whine left her throat as a stubby tail burst out from underneath her jeans.
"Grrh...yew smell good," Rurrk growled, staring at her chest. He watched her shirt stretching, trying to hold in her heavier and heavier breasts.
"So do you," she said. She couldn't tell that he was staring at her chest, because she was staring at the thick shaft hidden only by his improvised clothes.
It was going to be a long time before Rurrk was well enough to come into work again.