Saturday, July 30, 2022

Vixen Society - Cycle 6

Vixen Society

Cycle 6
When she was finished eating, Vincent stood up and stretched for a second, letting her ears spread up as far as they would go and her tails all splay out straight briefly before the four of them went back to wriggling around each other like so many fluffy tentacles. Luca got up to take the dishes to the sink. "So uh, hey! Was it, good?" he said. "I was trying out a new recipe, but I worked super hard on it 'cause I wanted to make sure you had something to enjoy, uh, in case the pranks didn't do anything to cheer you up..." He was on his way over to the sink, and particularly the rug in front of it. Vincent thought about not warning him, but realized that could mean some dropped and then broken plates.

"Hey, dummy, stop!" The slightest twitch of her will sent a gust of wind coming at him from his front side, slowing his advance just enough for him to not put his feet on the bubble wrap before coming to a halt. "You're gonna scare yourself again. Here." Vincent ran up and waved her hand, more wind sweeping the rug up and the bubble wrap away, up and around in an arc to her hand—then setting the rug down again. "There."
"Oh, heheh, yeah. I totally forgot!" Luca said. "Thanks."

While he worked on the dishes he said, "Soo, you have uh..? Wind powers?"
"Guess so." The four-tailed fox-girl turned toward the entrance they'd used to the room to find a mess of confetti and ripped newspaper there, and crossed her arms. Given his track record so far for cleaning up, this stuff was probably going to make Luca trip seventeen or so times before he decided to sweep it up. "Far from the only thing I can do, but it feels weirdly natural." She made a slight gesture with a hand, summoning a miniature whirlwind suck it all up and deposit it into a garbage can for him.
Luca turned to watch this feat in amazement. "That's actually super cool! Isn't it?"
"Pretty sweet, I guess."
"So, so, it's not so bad that I kinda accidentally girled you, I guess?"
"Oh, whatever. Blaming you for this is like blaming wood for catching on fire." She went over to him, reaching over to ruffle his hair again. "Anywhere there's a gullible victim, the sharks are bound to come closing in."

"H-heheh...sorry." He blushed and chuckled nervously in response to her touch, grinning a little bit. The vixen was starting to feel like this reaction out of him wasn't quite enough; she wanted more. Thinking about what a kitten he was, she knew of a way to arrange that. But she needed to reel him in, first.
"Hey, your living room's a gigantic mess by the way. Let's clean that up too, seeing how I'm a living vacuum cleaner now." She swept around and went that way, prompting him to excitedly follow.
"Uh—wa, wait! I've got all that stuff carefully organized for my work! And hobbies, and stuff..."


Troy could barely believe it: Carter's car pulling up to his place, early. He tried to push back his hope with more reasonable thoughts—maybe she was early by accident today; maybe she wouldn't even get out of the car until the others showed up. But get out she did, and he could see her out the window, those amazing ears and that big, fluffy tail out behind her...! However, any hope of her saying yes this time faded when he read her body language. Her ears were folded way back, her tail barely moving, and—well, there was also a big frown on her face, too. So..she was angry.

That made him a little nervous, to be honest. What kind of horrible things could an angry Kitsune, with all their magical powers, do? But even then, he'd take it. He went to the door and waited for a knock before answering. "Uhh, hey—"
"Coming in." She pushed past him, tossing the door shut on her way, and then stood a short ways inside the door, glaring up at him with her hands on her hips. Every bit of her posture, and her canine features too, communicated stress and anger, but she didn't say anything for a long moment. There wasn't even any growling.
"Something—"
"I'm doing an intervention here," she snapped over him, like she'd been waiting for him to say something just so she could verbally pounce on it. "What is your problem, man?!"
He was confused by both the statement and the question. "I don't—"
"Don't even tell me, you don't have a problem! Look—I get it, I'm hot, and every guy I know has to take a chance to hit on me at least once. I'd hit on me too, sure. But every other guy knows what it means when I say no! Why do you keep doing it?!"

"Uh—" Troy's voice sort of caught in his throat. "I—" Carter crossed her arms, waiting patiently for him to form a satisfactory answer, but he didn't really have one. "Look, I'm not gonna give you any dumb excuse," he said, scratching the back of his head. "My whole life, I've kinda fantasized about people, I guess cute girls especially, with big fuzzy ears and fluffy tails, and...suddenly a couple of years ago, I find out they're real, but I, still don't know any, and...you just.." He gestured vaguely in her direction. "I'd do anything to even get close to someone like that."
"I guess us being friends isn't close enough, though? Huh!?"
"I didn't even notice it was stressing you out this much!" Troy said. "I mean—like, I shoulda, but I..fooled myself in to thinking you were enjoying it, I guess." He felt ashamed—he knew very well the body language she'd given him ever since the second night he tried to ask her out had been stressed, upset, unhappy, but he'd kept telling himself he was just reading her wrong, or she—being a Kitsune and all—was just messing with him. It was a lie he'd invented entirely for himself. He'd never acted this way toward any other woman before, and he was sure he'd judged other guys for being this way for pretty much his entire life.

"Uh...I really messed things up, huh. Guess 'sorry' doesn't really cover it," he said.
"Nope. You can't just apologize for something, you have to not do it again," she said. "You gonna leave me alone from now on? Act like I'm still one of the guys, like everyone else learned to last week?"
"I can do that, but..you're not, I mean—I won't still make you uncomfortable, being around?"
Carter crossed her arms, glaring at him. "It'll take me some time, but as long as you stop, I can act like an adult and get over it. But right now, I'm still mad, so I'm gonna make myself feel better by cursing you."
"Uh—c-curse!?" Troy staggered back slightly.
"Yeah, that's right. I'm not just some fox-girl, I'm a Kitsune, which means I have powers," she said, advancing a small step toward him. She paused then, strangely, to make an aside: "Look, it's not gonna hurt you or anything, and I'll dispel it later if you want. But you should be punished for being a jerk, or else you'll never learn. So hold. Still." Near the end of this, she raised her right hand, and an eerie red, firelike glow began to surround it.

In the face of actual magic, and still reeling from the entire rest of the conversation, Troy just sort of froze up and stood in place. What was he going to do, run away from her after she forgave him? Leave his own house to get away from her? She could probably curse him from behind, or a long distance away, if she wanted, and letting him know about the curse was practically a courtesy. So she took the opportunity to step forward and place the blazing hand square in the center of his chest. It didn't feel like anything but her hand, but the glow spread out from there to envelop his entire body.

Carter softly cleared her throat, then recited (or maybe incanted): "Take from my hand this canine curse, for being annoying, obtuse, and perverse!" After that she dropped her hand and stepped back, and the glow suddenly flickered out, like it had never been there in the first place.

"...Uhh..?" Troy took a moment to look around, and to examine himself, and didn't see any evidence that the curse had actually done anything besides glow. "Did that...doo...anything?"
"Sure. I feel better already," Carter said, her body language agreeing with this. It was a neutral expression she had on now, not a particularly happy one, but that was indeed an improvement.
"No, I mean—"
"Oh, it's one of those 'delayed-action' curses," she said, turning away and waving dismissively. "So you have to stress about what it's gonna do until it actually starts up. You won't notice anything 'till after our game, at least."
"Oh..okay...?"

Troy took a mental step back while he watched her walk farther inside. He knew full well that Kitsune were tricksters, and could make illusions like glowy lights and things easily enough. He wasn't particularly familiar with them cursing people—that was more of a demon/witch thing, right? Maybe she was just messing with him...but then, maybe she wasn't. He couldn't completely dismiss the possibility that he really had been cursed after all.

Either way, he acted like everything was cool during the game, and it seemed like Carter definitely enjoyed herself a lot more as a result. Really evaluating things carefully, Troy noticed that it wasn't just her seeming less stressed—the friction from her because of what he'd been doing had been straining the whole group. He felt a little worse about it once he realized that, but also even better that he'd stopped—maybe even grateful that the fox-girl had blown up at him like that before things got irreparably bad.


Angus was actually a pretty fascinating guy. He had a lot of interesting stories to tell from his long life, although it was possible that not all of them were true. Oliver enjoyed his time eating with the old man much more than he'd honestly expected to. Of course, those stories were peppered with complaints about how awful his life had become in the past few years, but that was forgivable. Oliver wondered if he would've had an easier time himself if he'd just had someone to vent to during the worst time of his life.

What the old man really wanted was a job, and a home—job first, he said. He wanted to be useful to someone, work with his hands one way or another, and thereby make the pay for a better life. The desire to be useful and not just happier was something Oliver respected; it made him feel like his own view of things had been upside-down all along.

"Tell me the truth there, Oliver. You're really not some sorta big shot?"
"No. I'm..barely out of a pretty horrible time in my life myself, to be honest. I live in a tiny apartment, and I'm still hugely in debt," he said, taking the opportunity to complain a little bit himself. "My job sucks, and I'm—well, I used to be hugely overweight and have just zero energy, but I've been working on that lately. I've still got a ways to go before I'll even be what I can call 'stable'."
"Ehh, you're young, you'll bounce back," Angus said. "But if you could give me a job, any job—don't care how hard or demeaning—would you?"
"Listen," Oliver said, leaning forward slightly. "If I ever find myself in a position where I can hire somebody for a job, you'll be the first person I come to."
"You promise that?"
"Yeah, you've got a Deal." Oliver's mind seemed to settle on that particular word as though it had a special significance that he wasn't used to it having, as though it should be rendered with a capital letter. He stuck out a hand across the table and Angus shook it, and then Oliver had the strange sense that the agreement was now particularly binding—not impossible to get out of, but...difficult.

But he didn't regret making it all the same. For as unlikely as he was to be in any such position any time soon, he'd happily recommend someone like Angus to anyone he could. And just agreeing to 'come to' him didn't guarantee he'd get the job or anything, so Oliver could technically fulfill the terms of this agreement without all that much effort anyway.

A short while after that, Angus made good on his promise to pay, too. He even put in a pretty generous tip, noting that the waiter had worked hard serving them and deserved it, 'especially with the way waiters get paid nowadays'." Then, as they stood up to go, it was time for Oliver to spring the rest of his trick on everyone.

On their way out of the restaurant, everyone saw (and smelled) Angus for how he really was. The workers at the restaurant, from the waiters to the host to the manager—and all the customers, too—turned and watched the two of them leave, too stunned by this sudden change of appearance to say a single thing. They walked briskly out and went back to Angus's perch across the street before anyone could even think of something to say.

"Well, it's been fun, son. You let me know if you want to go out somewhere again," Angus said, shaking his hand once more.
"Sure. We can go dutch next time," Oliver offered, and got a friendly nod back. After that, he went his way back to his apartment, getting himself a good block away before allowing himself to start laughing.

"Haahahahah!" Even then, he hid it from view and from everyone else's ears. Just thinking of the expressions everyone had given, realizing the kind of person they'd served. Imagining the conversations the people who hadn't even noticed Angus being 'fully dressed' before were having with everyone who'd come up close enough to see him that way! And after he'd paid up and tipped well! Those people were going to have to think twice about how they evaluated people coming into their doors, Oliver thought—if they knew what was good for them, at least.

Going the rest of the way to his apartment, Oliver realized: He hadn't had a good laugh like that in a long time. Nothing but slight, pathetic grins or chuckles at whatever humor there was on TV. It had felt great, and now he couldn't wait for the next time he had an opportunity to fool people in such an entertaining way!


Kieran awoke in the same slow, mostly-asleep kind of way that he had nearly every morning since his roommate became a pink-haired fox-girl. The difference was that this time, unlike most of the prior two weeks, nobody and nothing came along to interrupt him. He turned over onto his side, wriggled around under the covers, and kept his eyes tightly shut. There was this strange, impossible thought fixed in his head that his wish wouldn't be granted if he didn't keep dreaming for just a little bit longer—even if he had to do that dreaming here in the real world, while awake—and because of this thought, he tried his hardest not to wake up any more than he already was.

He could remember the soft, brown housecat that he'd watched—that he'd been—in that dream vividly: its soft, fuzzy ears and long, slim tail. He could remember it so very, very well that his ears were beginning to stretch and spread themselves out—remembering their shape from the dream in a very physical sort of way. The growth of fur made them tingle, faintly at first and then steadily sharper, until they had grown big and tall, a pair of huge furry triangles poking out well past his hair, one of them folded awkwardly off to one side to keep itself from being fully sandwiched between his head and the pillow.
His tail, too, began to remember itself, stretching its way out from the base of his spine. The feeling of its soft, sensitive fur slowly playing across the sheets around him drew a strange sound from his throat, a low "Rrrrr~rrrh" kind of noise that he only very gradually recognized as a purr. As the tail kept on getting longer and longer—far outpacing its size in his dream in order to match his larger, human body—his purring was joined by a sensation of mild change in his teeth. He could remember his mouth being that of a predator—but his mouth itself only remembered a few key teeth, stretching only those out into some feline fangs.

Kieran knew now, as his tail reached its full length, that he was part cat. This seemed..good, like a step in the right direction, and yet he didn't quite feel like his wish had been granted yet. He kept his eyes shut and turned over, slowly, onto his front—freeing a pinched ear in the process. He shuddered slightly as his face landed on top of the pillow, feeling more tingling spread from the base of his ears to across his scalp and face, through the neck and on downward, falling like a river all the way down his body. He could feel the hair on his head flowing out at the same time as this tingling, soft locks making their way out in front of his face and falling all around it, sliding down his neck and then farther and farther along his back. He wouldn't be covered in fur like a real cat, but this way there'd at least be more hair to keep him warm, even as the rest of his skin grew increasingly soft and smooth.

"Mnh..mrr~roowh..?" A confused mewing sound came from Kieran's lips as he tried, while still at least half-asleep, to understand why his wish still hadn't been fully granted yet. What was still missing..? His bleary mind thought back through all of the experiences the cat in his dream, and asked a question it hadn't during the whole thing, a rather un-dreamer-like "why?" Why had the cat been so well-cared-for all its life? The answer was obvious, and it was just the key he needed: It was because the cat was cute. So, to fulfill his wish—Kieran, too, needed to be cute.

"Mnh...!" The realization seemed to hit him right in the gut and pulse outward, and then it began to physically push in at him from all sides. "Mrr~rrh..." Kieran shivered again, beginning to purr, as he felt himself starting to rapidly shrink. His face molded itself small, round and soft; his frame collapsed, his shoulders narrowing and arms and legs getting shorter and slimmer. "Mrr~rraah..!" His voice lilted upward slightly in his throat, making itself cuter as he continued to get smaller and smaller. "Aah aa~aah..!" His manhood had to go, too—so it began to tug and slip inward, tingling sharply the entire way, and drawing a white-hot blush to Kieran's cheeks.

"Mrh, rr~rrh...!" Kieran's body settled on a nicely small, adorable size, every last bit of masculinity gone from his build. "Mrr~rroo~owh.." His voice lifted itself quite adorably high before plunging itself deeper again, settling down to a fairly mature, almost-alto tone. Now the only obstruction to cuteness was the thing between his legs, and.."Aah, aa~aah..!" His girlish voice traced the upper edge of its range as he felt that too slipping away, beginning to disappear completely, until finally out came a low, womanly "Aa~aahnnn~nnh...!" as Kieran's sex changed fully and completely, for good.

"Mnh, mrr~rrRRrrh...!" The new girl was immediately assaulted by feminine pleasure, and found it very much to her liking. Her ears went low against her head, her slim tail flicking around excitedly, as she felt femininity pouring out into her, drawing her hips out wider, her thighs pushing thicker, and pulling her waist just that little bit thinner. "Mnh, ah, aa~ahnn..!" Her face thrashed back and forth against the pillow as she felt her nipples tingle and raise up, pushing themselves wider and taller, before quickly beginning to fill themselves forward and outward, each one drawing a bump of flesh up beneath it so they could became a pair of girlish breasts.

"O-oh..!" The little breasts began to grow bigger, and Kieran welcomed them, feeling like each wave of girlish pleasure poured a little more femininity into the very core of her being. " Mm~mmnh, mrr~rr~rrrh..." As they pushed out faster and faster, the new girl found herself purring deeply, delightedly, as their sensitive skin gave her ever more intense fuzzy sensations down between her legs. At the same time, she could feel her clothes changing: The shirt she had on, which had grown terribly loose from all of the shrinking, peeled itself apart near the top and grew longer sleeves as it became a button-down nightshirt—but remained quite loose on her slim, girlish form. But her boxers shrank quickly, losing their leggings so they could pull taut and snug against her hips as a pair of soft, girly panties.
"Ah, aa~aah...mrr~rah!" Finally, there was one last little push from Kieran's chest, blossoming what had once been a pair of tiny bumps out into a sizable pair of breasts, two nice big globes that squished satisfyingly into the mattress beneath her. "O-o~ooh...." The completion of her change came with one last, particularly satisfying wave of pleasure down below, which the new catgirl responded to with a low, sexy sound that was as mature as it was feminine. And then...it was done.

"Mh..mrr~rrh..." She pulled back onto her side, curling up tight and grabbing the pillow up into a close hug, gently nuzzling it. Kieran found that she was still tired—maybe even more exhausted than before, and so she waited to catch her breath from all of the excitement of the transformation, and then slowly, steadily drifted back to sleep, even as part of her wondered whether the entire change itself had also been a part of the same dream.

Yet—as Kieran awoke once more—she found herself every bit the small, cute, curvy catgirl she'd been at the end of it, still curled up under her sheets and hugging the pillow close against her soft face and big, plushy breasts. She pulled herself away from the pillow and slowly wriggled up enough to poke her head out from the covers, surveying the room around her. Was this anything like what Ella had experienced two weeks back, she wondered? Probably at least a few parts of it...but speaking of the vixen, she was nowhere to be found. The clock next to Kieran's bed reported that it was just slightly after noon.

Unfortunately for her, the newly-changed catgirl was now quite hungry. She couldn't very well keep on napping in this condition! So she peeled the covers off of herself reluctantly, set the pillow back where it belonged, and dropped off onto her feet, giving a soft, low voiced yawn as she felt a river of soft hair fall all the way down her back, her slender tail trailing itself down along her bare, soft leg to curl around an ankle.

"Auuw~wwh..."


She reached both hands up to rub her eyes, then stretched—"Mrr~rooo~ooowhh.."—feeling the sleepiness leave her in seemingly an instant as she mewed adorably. It was almost too bad there was nobody here to see this. "Awwh, man I'm hungryyy..what'm I gonna do for clothes...?"

The new catgirl felt herself quickly growing quite energetic, and what started out as a shuffle over toward Ella's dresser to see about borrowing some clothes quickly turned into a darting-over that lasted a tenth of the time she'd initially expected. She was, after all, hungry! Well—Ella's bras definitely wouldn't fit her, but there were some bottoms she could use, and maybe if she tossed her present top in favor of one of the shirts that used to fit her as a boy, her big, dangling breasts wouldn't be quite as obvious.

Only after putting on some of her roommate's gym shorts and a t-shirt did Kieran think to go get her phone and send along something to let Ella know what was going on. Even then, she couldn't really be bothered to say more than:
woke up a catgirl this morning
so
borrowing your shorts

After that, and feeling fully awake and energized by now, Kieran dashed out of her room, down the dorm hallways, and outside, all without so much as losing her breath. What might have been slightly superhuman speed and endurance really didn't mean much to her right this second, because the thing that drove her to go so fast was the simple fact that she was starving, and it was time for somebody to feed her!


Troy almost forgot he'd been cursed. That is—he didn't forget the event itself, but the fact that he'd been cursed didn't enter his conscious mind at all after everyone left and he put everything away from the game. He didn't think about it a single time for the rest of the night; he was too busy thinking about his plans for the next session, what he needed to do at his job, what he was going to do tomorrow. In short, he went to bed with the mindset of a man who hadn't been cursed at all.

He got a reminder when he woke up the following morning; it took the form of hair in his eyes. Of course, his first thought when he sat up out of bed and found black locks falling halfway down the sides of his face and settling across the back of his head wasn't "oh, yeah, the curse"; it was more like "oh, guess it's time for a haircut." But he realized what was happening when his morning routine—shower, breakfast, going out to get in his car—concluded with hair now falling all the way past his face and across the back of his neck to touch his shoulders. Hair definitely didn't grow that fast naturally, and so it was after he'd put the key in the ignition with a brief moment of confusion as to the length of his hair in the rearview mirror that he finally did think "oh, yeah, the curse."

Naturally, Troy had no idea what a 'canine curse' even was, or what it was supposed to do; long hair didn't seem like an obvious extension of the theme, especially not this long. Maybe growing thick hair where it wasn't supposed to be, like all over his face and chest or whatever; maybe literally messing with the human teeth known as canines. But—it was Carter's curse, and presumably she was the one who set the rules for what it did, so: hair.

The growth seemed to slow down while he was at work; he measured it to fall another half-foot or so of the way down his back by lunchtime, and it had grown about that much again by quitting time. On a whim, he decided to try defying the curse by going to get a haircut. While he was there, it didn't grow a single bit (well—not more than a person's hair would naturally grow with no magic involved anyway), but no sooner did he walk out and sit down in his car than he heard and felt a sort of dull flumph sound and his hair spilled all the way out to where it had been before and then some—an entire extra foot down his back, like the curse was expressing its annoyance at him for trying to defy it.

Well—that was that, Troy thought, shrugging. He decided to go pick up some shampoo and a better brush on his way home, figuring that if he was stuck with such long hair one way or the other, he might as well at least keep it clean and neat. He also more or less decided not to go out of his way to 'poke' the curse again, even if it started doing something else that seemed as easily reversible as hair growth—just in case doing so could actually make it worse.


I don't know which disclaimer I'd be more disappointed to learn was necessary: That you shouldn't expect just getting angry and yelling at someone to always get them to realize that you're really not interested and they're being kind of a jerk, or that you shouldn't repeatedly ask someone who clearly isn't interested out on dates in the hopes that they're secretly magical and will curse you. Just keep in mind that, as with all of my stories, I'm narrating the events surrounding specific fictional people, so none of their behaviors should be thought of as some kind of general guide as to how any member of any group of real people will actually act.
Posted by at
Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

2 comments:

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)