An amorphous furry monster grows by turning hapless victims into new parts of its body. Explicit.

Tom opened the door onto a completely dark apartment. Usually at least one of his roommates would have been around at this hour, using the TV in the living room or cooking in the kitchen, but all the lights were out. It was quiet. Slipping off his pack, he set it down by the front table, then grasped for the switch on the lamp.

When it clicked on, he was confronted with a total mess. One of the floor lamps had been knocked to the ground, the living room table was on its side, and the couch cushions had been tossed in all directions. It looked like someone had ransacked the apartment, but everything valuable was left in place. Leaving the front door ajar in case he needed to run for it, he picked his way around the strewn cushions and called out, "Hello? Guys?"

As he rounded the back of the couch, a heavy thump brought his attention to the floor. He froze in place, staring down at a big, purple, furry...something. It was long and oblong and lumpy. His eyes couldn't make sense of what they saw. That mass looked a bit like shoulders, that protrusion could have been a thigh, but the whole thing was too big and too jumbled-up to be a body. All that was clear was that the entire thing was covered in thick, almost silky, magenta fur.

Then it moved. The fur flowed across its surface as two of the closest lumps lurched outward and swiped at his ankles.

Tom yelped and stumbled back. His feet caught the corner of a pillow; he kicked it, spinning, off into the living room. The huge furry mass lumbered towards him, bulging and rolling like a body writhing beneath tar. Tom turned to run for his bedroom. The thing swatted at his ankle, knocking his feet from under him, sending him tumbling toward the ground.

Then everything smelled like pain and went black.

Tom woke to find his cheek against the floor and his nose swollen and tender. His thoughts were sluggish and groggy. He pushed himself up on one arm, bent a leg underneath him, and felt a weight tugging the base of his spine back down. With a grunt, he slumped against the floor. He groped behind his back, and his hand met thick fur.

The furry thing was on top of him. One of its thick protrusions was pushing down against the small of his back. It felt almost like a neck in shape, rising from a pair of broad shoulders. Panic rushed back into him. He tore his shirt off over his head and grabbed at the big mass of fur, trying to lift it away from him.

But it wasn't on top of him. It was attached to him. There was no border between its mass and his back. And it was spreading; the site where it had attached to his body bulged slowly outward, and as it did, that rich purple fur spread across his skin.

Tom's heart pounded. His head was heavy and throbbing; his saliva was thick in his mouth. He propped himself up on both hands, trying to drag himself forward, but he couldn't move with the entire weight of the thing behind him holding him in place. After a minute of struggling, he flopped forward against the ground, taking heavy, ragged breaths.

Pinned to the floor, he felt the weight bearing down against his crotch. Against his erection. Wait, what the hell? This was absolutely not the time for that. He didn't have time to question why, because it was so stiff wedged up against his body that he had to do something about it. He tipped himself up on one side and shoved his pants down. His cock flopped free against the bare floor. It had swollen larger than he'd ever seen it. And wider, like a hand was squeezing it flat. A pale, unnatural sea-green. With a grimace, he reached for it, picked it up in his hand—the skin was slick and wet—and squeezed. It bulged outward against his hand.

With a gasp of "Fuck!" Tom jerked his hand away. Even without help, his penis kept swelling. Just like his back, bulging outward between his shoulders; by now the fur nearly reached his neck. It took effort but he propped himself up on his knees, lifted his head, and was struck by a sudden, pulsing dizziness.

He clutched his head, trying to steady himself. His fingers squeaked against the taut skin of his cheeks. His face was puffed up like a bad allergic reaction. It sloshed and stretched under his hands. When he cracked open his eyes, he found he could only squeeze them halfway open, and could watch the the green color ripening across his cheeks.

All that weight against his knees hurt. After some tight maneuvering, he had his legs out in front of him, body bent at the waist and head down around his ankles, like he was stretching his hamstrings. His cock sat across his thighs, with its broad and flattened tip reaching down to his knees. The magenta fur stretched across his ass and along the backs of his legs.

Tom lifted his torso as far as he could, squinting around the dark apartment. "Help!" he yelled. His tongue flopped against his lips and his cry petered out into a weak sputter. While he cradled his head in his hand, his hair receded, leaving behind nothing but bright green skin. His neck had almost disappeared into the mass of his back.

He tried to shift his legs. They wouldn't part. He tried to bend his knees, or move his feet, but they were locked in place. A bulge of flesh like a rim formed where the skin on top of his legs met the purple fur on the bottom. Just inside of that rim, pointy white nubs poked up through his skin, along his legs and across what used to be his feet. The wet, green flesh that had been his cock lay along the valley between his calves, slick with a fluid like drool but thicker and more viscous.

Tom groped blindly at his chest. It curved inward instead of outward; large rubbery ridges ran across its flesh. More white nubs had sprouted on either side of his torso and along the top of his chest. His cock arched up of its own accord, slapped against his chest, and slathered it in saliva, like a tongue licking the roof of its mouth.

He was turning into a fucking mouth.

A confused and panicked groan left his actual mouth. He squirmed and struggled, but his legs—his jaw?—only worked up and down now. His cock—tongue—lashed from one side to the other and flopped over his growing fangs. He grasped at his face, hoping to squeeze his eyes open, but he couldn't find them, just round, swollen skin and a pair of holes that had been his ears. Slowly, his hands were pulled away as his arms were dragged down and plastered against his sides. Fur covered their backs, while their fronts grew slick and green, squeezed across his jagged teeth.

Every sensation from his tongue was vivid and uncomfortably exciting. It slipped out between his growing canines and fell down across his lower lip. Was that what his toes had become? It was harder and harder to keep track. His tongue slurped up over his purple-furred cheeks, then wrapped around his nose—head, damn it, his head—and dragged back down with a long, slobbery lick. Ugh, why did lapping at things have to feel so ghh-good?

His willpower crumbled in the face of his animal instincts. Were they even that? They were all so oversized, so satisfying, so much more potent than hunger or lust.

Each moment seemed to stretch as his proportions grew less and less human. Fresh mass flowed in, bulging out the front of the snout. The cheeks broadened, the jaw swelled. Fangs stretched taller from their gums. The fat green lower lip popped out. And the nose, plump and round and bulbous, snorted eagerly.

The two jaws swung shut, gulped, and then fell open again. Those huge fangs rolled wet with too-thick drool. The corners of the lips curled into a grin. The green tongue spilled out, dangling, dripping, panting. The nostrils flared with each heavy breath.

There were so many things to lick and sniff and slurp and gnaw and swallow.

Maw was ravenous.


Meg had her key in the door and was just about to head into her apartment when she noticed that her neighbor's door was left open. It looked dark inside, too. For a moment, she debated what to do. Maybe they'd left it open because someone lost their key or something. But on the other hand, if someone saw the door wasn't locked, they might try to rob the place...

Sticking her key back into her pocket, Meg walked over to the door. She knocked. After a few seconds of silence, she pushed the door open. In the light from the hall, she could see that the place was a wreck: couch cushions torn up, a coffee table smashed to splinters.

"Oh my god," she whispered. She took a step inside, peering into the dark while groping along the wall for a light switch. "Hello? Is anyone home?" she called out.

Something huge plowed into her. The room went sideways. She fell into the dark, catching herself roughly against the floor. Heavy footsteps thumped around her; panting and snarling seemed to come from all sides. Then, above her, caught in the light from the hall, it loomed.

Even hunched over, it filled the space between the floor and ceiling. Its form was hard to make out, but the one thing in perfect detail was its hungry grin, its massive fangs, and its lolling tongue. Like a dog blown out of proportion...or a bear? A cat? Whatever it was, its fur was magenta, and its flesh—its huge nose, its tongue, its drooling lip—bright green.

Meg screamed. She scrambled on her hands and knees and feet toward the door, thinking of nothing but making it to the hall and slamming the door shut behind her. But before she could stand up, a weight slammed down on her back and shoved her to the floor so suddenly her teeth clacked together. She scrabbled at the ground and tried to stand. Craning her head around, she saw a great mass of purple fur pushing against her back. Not just pushing, flowing, like thick syrup, spreading out in ripples as it piled up against her.

"Get off!" she shouted. She kicked and squirmed. The door was so close. If she could just get out from under this monster, she could make it.

An unsettling prickle crept along her spine. Her shirt rode up along her back. The fur crawled up underneath her clothes. It oozed around her hips and clung to her. When she tried to pull away, she felt a force tugging her back, like it had grabbed hold of her spine.

She was fused to this thing.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening," Meg said, teeth gritted, while she clawed at the floor. Purple fur tickled under her shirt as it sprouted along her spine. The joints in her fingers burned. Her nails scored tracks into the hardwood floor.

Her head ached and her temples throbbed. She felt swollen and numb, like the pressure on her back was cutting off circulation. Her chest ached; even when she pushed her elbows underneath her and pried the front of her body off the ground, the straining feeling still stretched across her front. A snap stung her in the back as her bra snapped open. With every shallow breath, she felt her chest inflate fuller, until it was touching the ground again.

Meg leaned on her elbows and clutched her face. Her cheeks were puffed up, pale, and tinted green. So were her palms, bulging out smooth and round from her hands, swelling outward from her knuckles to her wrists like balloons. Her nails curled from the ends of her fingers and ended in sharp points. Though she couldn't see them, she could feel similar pads on the soles of her feet when they brushed against one another.

The weight on top of her shifted. Thick fur bristled around her shoulders and slid under her sleeves. Her hips popped and her legs bent forward, leaving them splayed to either side of her torso, almost frog-like.

The green-skinned pads bloated outward, outgrowing her hands. Her fingers curled and stiffened, with the middle three on each hand wedged together and the thumb and pinky wiggling uselessly on either side. Her chest filled outward. It strained her shirt tighter and tighter. What was underneath wasn't breasts, either—it was one continuous mass, stretched wide across the front of her ribs. She threw back her head and let out a groan as the cotton finally gave way. The green swell of skin tore through her shirt. Gasping for breath, she pawed at her chest with her hands. Smooth, featureless, not even a trace of nipples: a single giant pad, squeezed firmly against the floor.

Queasy relief washed over her as her elbows and knees popped. It was like cracking her knuckles: the tension built and then there was a burst of satisfactions. Her arms and legs shortened and thickened, they curled and pressed up against one another. The swollen green pads that had been her hands crowded up against her head. Beyond her right hand, there was another big pad; beyond her left, one stuck out at an odd angle.

It wasn't until she tried to kick and saw one of them move that she realized: those were her legs.

The throbbing in her head focused in on a single point, dead center on her forehead. As it pulsed harder and harder, the surface of her skin grew stiff, then bulged outward. White as keratin, the strange horn slowly curled down over her face.

The thing on top of her shifted its weight again. Instead of leaning against her hips, it now put all its weight against her chest-pad. She had no choice but to lean against it, and the more she did, the more its ballooning mass lifted her off the ground. It was so big and round and felt so good and kept getting bigger.

Meg's eyes fluttered. She tried to focus; not on the strange sensations, but on getting free.

Her neck creaked and snapped; it bulged and rose and pushed her head away from her shoulders. The hair on her head sunk into the spreading fur. Muscle and tendon tugged and flexed all the way through her back and up into the mass of fur on top of her. She tried to reach out and clutch the ground, but only splayed her pads and flexed her claws—huge white things, jutting out right between the purple fur and green skin.

Claws. She squinted up at the horn curled over her forehead. It wasn't a horn. It was a claw.

She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound caught in her throat. Her lips hung open as she gagged and tried to force it free. A bulging membrane stretched out into her mouth, filling it, pushing out between her teeth. Then it had overtaken her teeth, and her lips, and her featured were swallowed up beneath the swelling skin.

The contours of her face and eyes and nose and lips stretched against the surface of the paw pad. Frantic at first, their motions became slower and more sluggish. The intensity of the new sensations distracted her from what was happening.

The thing forced her to grow. She felt the pressure surging down into her, filling out each digit, pumping the pads up rounder and fatter. Her claws didn't even touch the ground any more. Why was that so exciting? Why did it feel so good to have all that weight pushing her against the ground?

Because it meant she was big. Big and thick and strong. Her knuckles curled and her claws dug carved grooves into the floor. She felt like she could squeeze, crush, cut through anything.

The hand lifted itself off the ground and clenched. The pads squashed together, fighting for space between one another. The digits began to tremble under the strain, then they finally let go and relaxed. They were so big and puffed up that gripping anything would be a challenge, but that didn't matter. Strength and size were more important.

There was a sharp snort right against the palm pad. Something broad and warm and wet dragged across it, bottom to top. The paw reached out curiously and found furry cheeks and a round, bulbous nose. Its claws plucked at a thick lip, then pried open a pair of jaws so the pads could poke at a set of fangs so big they put even the claws to shame.

Once Paw had become acquainted with Maw, it pulled back and clenched eagerly, hanging from the end of its arm.

If only it had something to really wrap around...


By the time she'd climbed the stairs up to her floor, Sarah was ready to tumble into bed. It was far too late for a weekday night, but some of her colleagues at work had wanted to hit the bar and she needed to make friends with them...but now, all she was thinking about was getting to sleep.

Then she stepped out of the stairwell and saw a huge furry creature standing in the hall a few doors down, staring in her direction. The two of them stared at one another—its eyes were wild and purple—and for a few moments, neither of them moved. With its magenta fur and green skin, it almost looked like one of those...animal costume people. She didn't remember what they were called. But it was almost twice the size of a normal person, and the way it was panting looked far too real.

Keys in hand and mouth agape, Sarah squinted at the big beast, lost in trying to figure out whether it was a wolf or a dog or what. While she stared, it lunged forward, dropped to all fours, and broke out running towards her. Her mind took a second to realize what was happening. Then she turned, gripping her keys like her life depended on it, and sprinted for the stairs.

She didn't make it. The beast tackled her to the floor. She caught herself on her hands and knees but it was on top of her, looming over her, grasping at her shoulder with an oversized paw. It smothered her back in thick, fluffy fur. Its growling and panting reverberated through its chest. She swatted at its limbs and tried to crawl free, but with one paw it pinned her shoulders against the ground and left her ass propped up in the air.

Then it started to hump her.

Thankfully, there seemed to be nothing between its legs. It was just bumping its hips against her, but that was enough to send Sarah into a brand-new fury. She thumped her fists against its chest and shouted, "Get off me, you fucking—whatever!"

Its green tongue dangled in front of her, panting eagerly. It was enjoying itself. The constant bumping made her skirt ride up until she felt bare fur against her skin. Sarah pulled her arms in beneath her, getting ready to drag herself out from under its paw, when her hips were suddenly jerked backwards. The monster pumped its hips; Sarah was thrust forward, then back again. She tried to bend her knees and pull herself away from its body, but she was rooted to its body, stuck as if they were glued together.

Fur crept along her legs. It was spreading—spreading along her skin, slipping underneath her stockings and splitting them open. At the same time, an uneasy tenderness tickled its way up her spine. The weight of her blouse and jacket suddenly dominated her thoughts: the way the fabric brushed against her back as she bobbed back and forth.

Sarah broke out in a sweat. Her skin felt warm and moist and smooth, like she'd just shaved in the shower. Her blouse clung to her shoulders, the lining of her jacket stuck to her arms, and her hair fell into her face. She fumbled with her clothes, trying to pull them off despite being pinned down. The paw on her back curled, sunk its claws through her jacket and blouse, and tore them clean off her shoulders. They fell in a tangled heap beside her, while the paw planted itself once more on top of her bare back.

She let out a choked gasp and arched up against the thick, cushioned pads. Her skin was so sensitive, but that touch felt so...good? Why? Why would that feel as good as being squeezed against the smooth, polished floor, sliding back and forth with each thrust of the wolf-monster's hips? Why was she enjoying this?

"Wh-what's wrong with me?" Sarah groaned. She buried her face in her hands, but seconds later, she was rubbing and kneading her cheeks, eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open. She lifted her head and ran her hands from her face back to her neck. Strands of her hair slipped out between her fingers, but being stroked felt so good she could hardly care.

From her lips down to her waist, her skin grew smoother and glossier and took on a pale green color. Her knees were still braced against the floor, but her feet hung up in the air; the purple fur that had enveloped her legs had also stuck her thighs to her calves.

The shape of Sarah's head slowly changed—tapering, smoothing over her nose and cheeks, thickening her neck—but she couldn't do anything about it. As her skin grew greener, her torso bulged and squeezed into a rounder shape. Her arms were pulled down against her sides, unable to lift away and slowly sinking into her swollen body.

Her legs went limp and her knees dangled loosely in the air. They swung back and forth as the monster bucked its hips, bobbing against one another in a loose furry sack. Her whole body relaxed at once, as if her bones suddenly turned soft. But she was stiff and swollen enough to remain arched, throbbing steadily against the overstuffed paw holding her down. Her throat bloated out against the underside of her body, forming a bulge that ran all the way down to her waist.

Her eyes were glazed over and slowly swelling shut. Her lips formed a tight O at the tip of her head, and they gaped open a little as she gasped out, "Harder...!"

The monster was enjoying this just as much as she was. Maw was spread wide open, taking great heaving pants and alternating between lapping at its lips and letting its tongue spill over its fangs. Paw pushed as hard as it could, squeezing with its over-inflated pads, slowly rubbing up and down that swollen shaft while it throbbed harder and harder.

Sarah had never wanted to cum harder in her entire life. Every pulse of her body drove the need to get off deeper and deeper into her mind. She gagged and sputtered. Slick hot fluid drooled out of her mouth and coated her underside. N-no. Not enough. She needed to cum cum cum.

The monster's humping grew harder and more labored with each stroke. Its balls grew and ripened until they were wrapped taut in purple fur. A round knot swelled from the base of the shaft, sticking out just above the sheath. The bright green cock bulged down its length with each throb, until at last it burst. Spurt after spurt of cum spattered onto the floor.

Even as the last gout dribbled out of its tip, Cock wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck and fuck some more.

Maw sniffed the air. It caught the scent of more warm bodies and began to pant. Paw flexed its claws and led the way toward the stairwell. Cock bobbed side to side with each step, ready to fuck again at a moment's notice.

Monster felt like his parts had the right idea.


It was quiet this late at night. That was why Jake liked to go grocery shopping after midnight. The walk was quiet, the store was quiet, and he didn't have to worry about running into anyone he knew. Plus, what else was he going to do at two in the morning?

He'd walked the route to the store and back to his apartment so many times that he didn't see the lumbering furry creature snuffling at the front door until he'd almost run into it. His heels skidded to a stop as he stared at it—mostly at its back, as that was all he could see. It was huge, big enough to be a bear. Did they get bears this far into the city?

If he turned around, he'd have to walk all the way back to the store, and turning his back on a wild animal seemed like an even worse idea than facing one down. He tried to think what to do. Bears were afraid of loud noises, right?

"Hey!" Jake shouted. He clapped his hands together for good measure. "Hey, get out of here!"

The creature noticed him. It lifted its head and turned, rising up onto its hind legs. It wasn't a bear, but it was far too big for someone in a suit. The porchlight caught its purple fur and its slobbering green tongue hanging out of its broad-nosed snout. As it stared down at him, its lips peeled back into a grin. It arched its back as the velvet fur around its chest churned like rippling water. A pair of appendages sloughed free from its torso: two new arms, each with thick, hulking paws to match the originals.

Jake's clapping petered out into nothing. He stared up at the monster and tried to piece together what he was looking at. Dog?—bear?—hyena? He took a half-step back. The monster lapped at its lips and moved toward him. Jake didn't wait around; he threw his backpack into the bushes, turned, and took off running.

Over his own gasping breath he heard the footfalls closing the distance behind him. If he could reach the end of the block, maybe he could lose it, maybe he could—but then four huge arms snatched him off the ground. His feet kicked uselessly in the air.

"Fuck! Get off me!" he shouted, squirming, but the big green paw pads held on tight. The monster pushed him back against its chest; its fur brushed against his neck and tickled his ears. It leaned down and sniffed him, then unfurled its tongue and, in one long lick, slathered his head from one shoulder to shoulder with its drool.

He sunk into the heavy heat of the creature's body. It squeezed against his shoulders and around his sides, like settling back into a mud bath. He bent his back, but he couldn't pull himself away. Not only was he stuck to this thing's chest, but its fur was slowly swallowing him up..

"Let me go!" Jake shouted again. The note of panic was sharper in his voice. What was going on, what was this thing, how was it doing this?

The monster's paws manhandled him. They squeezed his legs until his ankles were pressed against his ass, then sunk his feet into its furry chest. Likewise, they grabbed his arms and shoved his fists into the fur on either side of his neck. His knees and elbows jabbed and swung around as he thrashed and twisted. It didn't work. His hands and feet were just as stuck as the rest of him. Each heavy, panting breath from above him pressed against his shoulders and forced his chest to rise and fall.

Each of the four paws took one of his arms and legs and began to stroke, from the base to the tip, out and back, over and over. As those inflated pads kneaded his limbs, a shudder ran down his spine. He had to stifle a groan. It felt good, like the strangest massage in the world. His eyes fluttered and blinked. He tried to kick and squirm, but the monster held him tight in its paws.

His arms and legs bulged outward. With each passing moment and each stroke of the monster's paws, his limbs grew thicker and rounder and softer. He craned his head back against its furry chest to gasp for air. His cheeks were flushed pink, but his arms and legs had turned pale green.

"Stop," he panted. His limbs wiggled as he struggled. "What—what are you doing to me?"

One of its paws let go of his arm and gripped his head. Dwarfed by those paw pads, he practically vanished beneath them. They squeezed around his face, rubbing either side of his cheeks. His head rocked from one side to the other; he struggled to keep his eyes open. His cheeks puffed out, first swollen, then bloated, then ballooning out big enough to jut from either side of his face and narrow his eyes down to a squint.

The back of his head was submerged beneath the monster's chest. Its purple fur covered him from his throat down to his groin. He tried to move his knees and ankles, but his limbs had filled out into heavy, rounded mounds of flesh, and all his squirming amounted to a bit of wobbling. His arms had bloated up quicker than his legs, leaving them jutting out further and fatter. Smooth green skin covered all four of his...

No. They couldn't be breasts.

The paw let go of his head. Jake gasped for air, his swollen cheeks tinted green. He only had a few minutes to breathe before the monster reached up with two paws, each one tugging and squeezing and rubbing one side of his face. His head throbbed feverishly as his cheeks ballooned out into those paw pads. They felt so warm and so soft. His entire body relaxed and a dizzy groan fell from his mouth.

A pinch at the tip of one of his legs made him flinch and gasp. Two claws rolled back and forth, squeezing his skin as a tender green nub swelled up between them. Another pinch, now at the tip of his other leg. The nubs throbbed and grew under the constant attention from the monster's paws. Once they had bloated to the size of thumb-tips, it switched from its claws to its pads, but kept tugging and stroking them. His new nipples jutted out larger and thicker, fat and engorged, until he could feel his own heartbeat pulsing through the sensitive skin. They were nearly the size of soda cans now, big enough for the monster to tease them lazily between its pawpads.

Jake might have protested. He should have protested, but he felt so hot and heavy that he was struggling just to keep his breath. The huge, rounded protrusions of his cheeks dominated both sides of his head, so big that his face was sinking down between them.

Two of the monster's paws coaxed nipples out of the pair of breasts that had been its arms, while its other two steadily worked the pair that were growing out of his head. They were already the biggest and heaviest pair now; each set tapered in size from top to middle to bottom.

Now that they were the same rich green as the monster's skin, soft purple fur spread across his teats. It swallowed them up, while leaving the nipples and their swollen areolae bare.

Jake's face sunk deeper into the cleavage between his breasts, squashed between them and gasping for air. When the monster's claws began to mold nipples into his cheeks, he let out a low, hazy moan, muffled by the fur tickling his nose and mouth.

Everything was too warm and too soft and too tantalizing to resist. Being squeezed and stroked, growing stiff at a touch, swaying and squishing against his own weight. And as his skin drew tighter across his teats, the realization that he was growing sent a tingle down across his six nipples. Yes, grow, more! It was good to be big but it was better to be bigger.

All six breasts stretched outward, leaning against and on top of each other as they grew. The monster arched its back and brought its paws in to tug and grope and squeeze indiscriminately. The uppermost pair of teats was big enough to fill its massive paws. Each nipple ached and throbbed, stiff enough that every brush and bump from a paw pad only excited them more.The last traces of a gaping mouth disappeared beneath the deep purple cleavage.

Soon the throbbing rose to a peak. The paws squeezed around the breasts, as if trying to hold them back, but they couldn't stop six streams of milk from spurting out of the monster's teats and spattering onto the ground. As it panted, eyes rolled back into its head and its lips curled into a smile.

In the aftermath, Teats dripped milk freely onto the ground, glowing with pleasure. Monster bent his head down toward his chest, still panting slowly. Maw slurped up one of the nipples between its lips and lapped up the milk until the drops finally tapered off. It tasted like himself. Monster liked that. He liked Teats a lot.

Monster's two extra paws slurped back down into his body and his fur rippled in their wake. As he slouched toward the ground, a wave of fur rose up around Teats, filling in its cleavage and pulling its mass taut against Monster's body. The areolae vanished beneath the purple fur. In place of individual breasts, Monster's entire chest was broad and puffed out, studded with two lines of swollen green nipples.

With Teats taken care of, Monster slumped back onto all fours. At a quick glance, he could almost pass for a normal animal, though anyone would be hard-pressed to say which. A new thought budded in Monster's mind: Maw was fun—what if he had two?

By the time he caught the scent of another person, he was already drooling.