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So, you say to yourself as you examine the cryptic spray can again, there is a vixen at the bottom of the can. But what kind? After thinking about it for a minute you lift the can and spray quickly across your chest.

 

The fur comes in first, red on the sides and white in the middle. You wait. Then the swelling starts, and you nod. You don't know much about foxes but you do know ordinary ones don't have breasts, so it looks like the vixen in your future is anthropomorphic and not a four-legger. Or maybe the amount of spray used is the determining factor? That would explain your all-fox voice (which sounds rather feminine too when you think about it) - you did get quite a blast down your throat back in the shop. You may have been a bit heavy on the button "downstairs" too...

 

To test your theory you spray lightly on both sides of your left hand. It shrinks and darkens, turning small and dainty, black and furry - but it remains a hand, not a paw. Looking at your fingertips you realize that you don't have fingerprints any more. Not that you plan anything that would make that handy (!), but it's nice to know nonetheless.

 

You put down the can and clap your uneven hands for a bit before you realize there is something else you have to try before going on. Actually it may be a bit late if it doesn't work.

 

Stepping over to the washbasin, you turn on the tap and run the water about as hot as you can bear, then after a moment's hesitation you shove your fox hand under the tap and start scrubbing it with the other. Nothing happens. Your hands get wet and warm, but there is no magic moment. Did the shopkeeper lie to you??

 

No, wait, he handed you a soap bar, right? It's in your bag out in the hall, but if it's as ordinary as you assumed earlier you have what you need right here. You grab a soap bottle, squirt out a healthy dollop in your free hand and proceed to work up a lather and rub it into your handfur.

 

Nothing continues to happen. You move your soapy hands under the tap to rinse off, and just like that they are both back to normal.

 

Fascinating. So clean water isn't enough, it takes soap as well. Of course nobody would want a transformation that runs off as soon as you go for a swim or get caught out in the rain!

 

Having verified that the way back remains open, you ponder going further. You have to go one way or the other anyhow - you look totally weird with random vixen parts.

 

After rinsing and drying your hands and doing some general cleanup (taking care not to get soap on your transformed parts) you proceed to transform your hands, arms, shoulders, neck and the upper part of your chest. Then you sit down and do your legs. The fur and colors come out fine, but the legs still don't look quite right, so you give them another round and watch in fascination as your joints shift and you become a digitigrade. Now that's going to take some getting used to!

 

You put away the spray can, stand up and walk carefully around enjoying the new spring in your step. You still look weird naked, but now you have transformed all the parts that show when you are clothed. To test this, you pick up your clothes, put them on and look in the mirror.

 

Blah. The visible parts look fine but your plain figure doesn't really do them justice - apart from the bulge up front there isn't really anything feminine about it. You look like a tomboy. Or should that be a todboy when you're a fox? ;-)

 

Stripping again, you give your breasts another quick spray before you start working on your waist and hips. When you're finally satisfied, the fur covers so much of your body you might as well fill in the blanks, so you do.

 

The vixen in the mirror looks pretty good now, but there is still something missing, and you feel kind of front heavy.

 

Oh yes. Of course. After checking your body for bare spots and making some minor adjustments, you put the can on a shelf, nozzle outwards, turn your back to it, adjust the height, put your dainty hands behind you and push the button to spray your tail bone.

 

It itches as something starts growing. When it stops you step forward, arch your back and look over your shoulder (the transformation seems to have made your body more flexible) to see the cutest little tail at the end of your back. With a little effort you even make it wag a little.

 

Sure, it's cute, but not very 'foxy', and you still feel kind of off balance. And the can still isn't quite empty...

 

After a quick spot check to verify there's no other spot to use the spray on, you assume the position again, reach behind you and press the button until the can is empty. Realizing that you need space to grow, you step quickly forward, spin around and grab the empty can off the shelf just as the shock hits you.

 

It feels like your spine gets kicked up your back and pulled back out to twice its length. You moan like a sick puppy as your newest appendage goes through the grandmother of all growth spurts.

 

A minute later it's over. The can is empty, and you let it fall from your hand without a care for where it lands. Feeling dead tired, you stagger over to the mirror - and stare in disbelief at your mirror image.

 

You bare your sharp teeth in a sly foxy grin, and the vixen in the mirror smiles back.

 

She is complete now.

 

She is perfect!

 

She is the cutest creature you ever saw.

 

And... she's you.



Written by Won-Tolla on 30 May 2007


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