You squeak loudly and begin to scratch at yourself, your skin tingling like mad as the stone tablet begins to glow again. It’s like your whole body is covered in pins and needles, and all of your tails begin to flick agitatedly behind you. It’s the worst itching you’ve ever had in your life, and no matter how much you scratch, you can’t sate it!
Just when you think that the horrible itching will never end, a cool relief begins to flow out from your pores, like sweating after a hard run. A sigh of relief escapes your plush lips, and you glance down to your arms to see the source of your relief.
You regret this decision almost immediately as your eyes recognize what can only be described as a coat of orange fur growing across your skin. “No, no, no!” You exclaim, running your hands along its silky length as though you can wipe it off of yourself.
You only succeed in petting yourself, the sensation of your fingers moving through your fur acting as a reminder that you’re no longer human. Your tails begin to thrash about wildly behind yourself in a panic, and you squeak as they pull down your pants, revealing that your legs and even your groin are covered in this same animal fur.
But instead of moving to pull them up and regain some semblance of modesty, you instead pull off your shirt as your chest begin to feel abominably warm. You can see what almost immediately: The fur has even spread here, though the lush hairs that run along your breasts and belly are white, instead of orange.
But the worst thing about the fur that cloaks your chest is how uncomfortable it had made your shirt feel. You realize that your furry body has denied you the use of things like clothes, and you moan in distress as you step out of your pants, realizing that pulling them up again would only be a futile effort, at best.
The fur seems to be grateful for his, flowing up past your shoulders to cover your neck and even your face, and you whimper as you realize you’re now hairier than someone at a freak show, covered from head to toe in fox’s fur.
Loathe though you may be to tempt fate, you wonder how it could possibly get any worse. Then an aching sensation grips you, coursing through…
Written by SketchySeraph on 01 December 2015