The attractive, silken-furred, unmistakably virile boy-fox advances toward you. While you may have vixen stirrings, it's a good 29 days, 23 hours and 30 minutes until your behavior is 100% consumed. Your human-male consciousness is still utterly dominant, and right now, it's ticked.
You're convinced this was arranged, the species change, the gender change, and the match-up, to satisfy some kinky, rich... magic-dabbling old sicko, who was even now watching somehow, from the shadows. There's only one logical course of action; you must find the core of this twisted mansion, if not its creator, and destroy it. It's an uneducated conclusion, yes, but one that will keep you focused.
You snap out of your internal monologue to feel the male fox nuzzling your flanks. Aaargh! For a sick instant you can't move, caught in a web of hormones. But then you manage to break free and rip a stately Roman numeral III in the shoulder of the male. He (she?) is surprised and backs down. You snarl as if to say there's plenty more of that, and bolt through a nearby door. You find yourself in a dining hall. The male fox enters behind you through the swinging doors, noticeably tamer.
Three mysteriously shaped cheese wedges sit upon the ground before you. Which one do you pick, and which one will your follower pick?
Written by Mr.Peaches on 10 February 2006
The end (for now)