The Beginning: A Furry Saga free porn video

The Beginning A story by R. d. LePew Legally copyright held by R.k. February 2, 2003 The Beginning Prelude Even as I sit here today to write this, not everything is known about Eric Laska and Mark Wingfield. In fact, little at all is known about their lives prior to the start of this story. We do know, through readily available records, that they grew up entirely separate from one another, one in Upstate New York, and the other in Ohio. We also know trivial things, such as their grades, part time jobs, family situations, and the like. These details have previously been combed through time and time again, in search of the answer. What common link lies between these two prior to the November of 2002? A handful has been found, but none of them shed any light on the one word that has haunted this new world since; why? Now living throughout our world are these new individuals. At the time of this writing, very few people were alive during the transitional period, the period in which chaos reigned supreme. Of course, only a blind Utopian would claim that any and all prejudice has been washed away, but in those early times, there was actually a debate about whether or not human rights and regulations applied to the furred. However, that is not the topic of this writing. You see, over the years many books have been written about Laska and Wingfield, yet none of them provide any sort of satisfaction. They are largely clogged either with scientific jargon, or conspiracy theory style ranting. The purpose of this writing is not the how, it is not the why, nor the when or the who. I am writing this simply about the what. My only intention is to show you, through painstaking attempt of recreation, what exactly happened in the early weeks of November 2002. 1. Mark squinted against the sudden brightness as he flipped on the light. He closed them against its painful glare, but, just like every morning, even that wasn't enough. He turned on the cold water tap and went though his daily routine of splashing his face and matting down his frizzy hair. With this done, it took only minutes to gel his hair into place and put in his contact lenses. Only 5 minutes after that, he was fully dressed in shirt, slacks, tie, and jacket, "ready" to face his day at Walton High School. His 15 minute mornings allowed him to milk as much sleep as possible out of his snooze bar. Sure, his showering was somewhat inconsistent, but that was the cost. A little extra deodorant, and a little splash of aftercare (whether he was shaven or not), and no one was the wiser. Like every other morning, Mark left his apartment and immediately made his way to the subways. He had quite a bit of a commute ahead of him, and he hoped to sit down as soon as possible and snooze his way to his stop. As he descended the stairs, he saw that a train was already at the station. Summoning all of his available strength, he dashed down the stairs and scrambled to the nearest door. Just before he made it, the doors began to close. He dove forward and thrust his left arm out. With the tips of his fingers, he managed to keep the door from closing. Unfortunately, it hurt too much for him to do anything but yelp and pull his arm back as quickly as he could. Mark sulked as he waited for the next train to come. He knew for a fact that this was the worst finger injury he'd ever had, because already the pinky and ring fingers on his left hand were completely purple. 2. Later that same day, Eric was driving home from work. His teeth were firmly gritted against the pain his knuckles were causing him. As the weather changed, handling money all day at the bank was drying out his skin faster and faster. Sometimes he swore he could feel the paper bills sucking the moisture from him. He had been using a little bit of hand lotion here and there while at work, but had reservations about buying a bottle. It seemed to him as if it would be unmanly. Who could blame him, as hand lotion was seemingly marketed exclusively to women. This afternoon, however, had proved to be enough. His knuckles were actually bleeding. Mark pulled into the parking lot of the first drug store he came across and went inside. The variety of skin care products was staggering, as was their mingling scents. What ended up catching Eric's eye was a hand care kit that included a pair of gloves. The gloves were plain and white, and would be able to heal his hands faster with little or no one even bothering to ask why he was wearing them. Smiling at his future relief, he bought the kit and left. Eric didn't wait to put those gloves on. Seconds after he closed his car door, the remnants of the box were on the floorboards, and his fingers were in the gloves. He didn't take them off until the next morning, before his shower. As he was drying himself, he noticed that the last two finger of his left hand had a slightly bluish tint. Eric supposed that it was some sort of reaction to having the gloves on for too long and continued with his routine. He left the gloves on the back of the toilet without any more thought. 3. Mark got through the rest of his day without any major incidents. Only two people had asked him what happened to his hand, and he quickly told each of those people that he had a minor run-in with a closing subway door. That quite easily dealt with the questions those people had posed him, yet something was bothering Mark throughout the day. Though there seemed to be no swelling, and no pain, the purple tint continued to spread down his hand. By lunch, there was a small band of coloration that went halfway down his hand; and even more disturbingly, it also spread to the right and began to creep up his middle finger. On the subway ride home, Mark noticed that the discoloration had kept on creeping, as slowly and surely as the hour hand on a clock. All four of his fingers were tinted with a deep bruise of purple, and almost his entire hand was the same hue. All that remained untouched at this point was the second knuckle of his thumb to the tip of it. During the long ride he sat and stared at it, and could swear he could see it advancing further. Finally, his stop came, and Mark rushed out of the train. He resolved to call the doctor first thing in the morning if there wasn't any improvement. He also resolved to drink half a bottle of NyQuil the moment he stepped in the door and just sleep until it was tomorrow. And that's just what he did. 4 Before Eric had driven a quarter of the way to work, his hands began to ache. He grimaced as he remembered that his medicated gloves were back at home. All day he wrung at his hands, wincing and biting his lip, as they felt more and more dry and tender to the touch. At a couple of points during his shift, he could swear that the bluish tint on his last two digits was becoming worse, in fact, it appeared to be spreading! Eric came to the conclusion that this blueness was actually a sign of desperately over dry skin. He managed to get his supervisor to let him out of work, and he sped home as quickly as traffic would allow him to. The moment he got in the door, he scrambled to the bathroom and thrust his hands into the white gloves. Eric breathed a deep sigh of relief. The pain almost instantly faded to nothing. With the rest of the day to himself, Eric set upon doing absolutely nothing. It bears noting that throughout his day packed full of doing nothing at all, Eric never once took the gloves off. In fact, once they were on, he seemed to totally forget that they were there at all. 5. Mark woke up about an hour before his alarm clock was set to go off. It was partly because he had gotten as much sleep as he could handle, and partly because he was painfully hungry. He had, remember, taken this dose of NyQuil before eating anything for dinner. Mark fumbled in the darkness for the switch to his lamp. For some reason, he was having quite a bit of difficulty in flicking it on. His hand just didn't seem to be responding to what he was instructing it to do. Finally, in frustration, he reached across with his other hand, and cut the light on. Even before his eyes had totally adjusted to the sudden blast of brightness, he could tell that something was seriously wrong. The purple coloration on his left hand had deepened. If Mark had been forced to apply a better adjective, he would have said that the purple seemed to be more vibrant. As his eyes adjusted, he soon discovered exactly what was going on. Instead of a bruise-like purple discoloration, his hand was now entirely covered in bright lavender fur. Fur is the only was it was to be described. It was finer, shorter, and softer than hair was, and it was on his hand. Mark sat bolt upright in his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. Before he could calm himself down, he noticed that the changes to his hand weren't limited to just the lush coating of fur. First, his hand and wrist seemed to be a little thinner, a little more... dainty, despite the fuzzy coating. Secondly, and most upsetting, was the fact that he now possessed only 4 digits on that hand. His thumb, although also more delicate looking, was still intact, but it seemed as if his ring and pinky fingers had joined forces. Still reeling from this rush of new discoveries, Mark yanked up the sleeve of his shirt. Sure enough, the fur was there. It had progressed to about midway on his forearm. Already the part of his forearm that was closer to his hand looked thinner, and the effect of seeing the slight, furred forearm end sharply at the arm he had known all his life was quite dizzying. Mark calmed himself and began to plan out what he'd do. Calling the doctor was defiantly out. Who knows what he'd say, though Mark suspected that there'd be a good chance of him ending up being volunteered for a extended stay in some medical research facility. Calling in sick was also out. He was a student teacher, and regardless of this personal problem, he had to show up and do his thing or face consequences that were too ghastly for his school representative to even speak out loud. "Just don't get sick" was all he had said to Mark when asked. Besides, it was Friday. All he had to do was be a presence in his classroom, give out some easy group work, and sort this whole mess out over the weekend. Mark decided to generously wrap his left hand with an ACE bandage. He had it left over from an old tennis injury, and he figured the cab ride would be long enough for him to concoct some sort of story that would give reason for wearing the stretchy gauze all day. Hell, he'd probably gain a lot of respect for coming to work with an apparently mangled hand. Mark generously wrapped the bandage around his fingers and wrist. He was careful not to expose anything that laid below the tan strip, while being certain to double wrap as often as he could to create the illusion that the bulk of his forearm had not changed. With a button down shirt and loud tie (to distract the eye), Mark felt that his look was about as complete as it would get. He fixed himself a small breakfast and waited until it was time to head to the subway station. 6. When Eric's alarm clock went off the next morning, he didn't experience any of the fumblings that Mark went through. In fact, his gloves had been on since the afternoon before, and he was quite used to them. As Eric was pouring himself a generous cup of coffee, he noticed something a little awry. After a brief count, Eric realized that he had only 4 fingers on each hand. It didn't appear to him as if he were missing a finger, it just looked and felt as if he had always had the streamlined hands. While he was surprised, Eric wasn't at all scared. Even when he pulled back his sleeves to find soft blue fur had extended out of the wrists of the gloves and had began to progress up his arms. He smiled as he noted the fur stopped just before his elbows. He even chuckled a bit. He had never felt so at piece in his life before, and this bizarre development on his arms just seemed to fuel that feeling of Zen. While he was calm and at piece with what was happening to him, Eric was by no means careless. He had a pretty good idea that anyone who happened to notice this change would be more than a little freaked out. He smiled, as the solution became apparent. He'd just have to leave his gloves on forever, and wear long sleeve to cover the lush, soft, sky blue fur on his arms. If someone pointed out the finger difference, Eric would feign surprise that the questioning person hadn't noticed sooner, for his hands had always been that way. Eric chuckled to himself as he began to dress for work. There was only a small delay as he took a few moments to admire and stroke his new fur. 7. Mark's classroom session was thankfully uneventful. He gave the group work as he had planned, and deflected questions about his bandaged hand by saying that he had a nasty infection that should clear up in a day or two... And no, it wasn't contagious. The only problem that he faced was the mostly subconscious knowing that the fur was spreading up his left arm, thinning it out as it went. He caught his reflection in the glass of a closed door and swore that he noticed that his sleeve had become roomier. After not being able to take it for another moment, Mark excused himself to a bathroom to check up on himself. Sure enough, his arm had changed up to his mid-bicep. As he stroked the fur absently with his right hand, he marveled at how soft and sensuous the feel was. He was more than a little disturbed when he received a positive reaction from his neither regions. Rather than risk further chance of discovery, Mark pleaded his way out of the rest of the day by claiming that the pain was getting to be too much. That was true in part, as he suddenly wanted to continue the exploration he had started in the bathroom in the worst of ways. The ride back to his apartment seemed to be the longest in his recent memory, and he rushed to his place the moment he was released at his stop. The very moment the door was closed behind him, Mark ripped the ACE bandage off of his hand and forearm. Next was his shirt. In his haste, he popped one of the buttons off instead of unbuttoning it properly. In a matter of seconds, it was puddled next to the bathroom door. Mark stood a little agasp for a few moments as he checked himself in the mirror. His left arm was covered in the light purple fur all the way up to his shoulder. His shock wore off, as a few tender strokes through the soft fuzz seemed to put his mind at ease. In a stroke of momentary genius, he began to draw his dramatically more slender and delicate left hand across his unchanged chest. The feeling was divine. An involuntary moan escaped Mark's lips as he once again became aroused from the feel of fur against flesh. With his unchanged right hand, Mark unbuttoned and pushed away his slacks. He began to manipulate himself slowly, almost offhandedly, focusing more on the way his furred hand felt drawing across his chest. Once again Mark had a moment of great thought, as he switched hands, enveloping his manhood with soft, velvety fur. He was quickly struck with a groan that seemed to shake the very foundation of his body. His right hand crept over to finger through the fur that had just progressed past his shoulder, his pleasure doubled. As he slowly drew himself near to a climax, Mark became dimly aware that in stimulating himself, he was causing the change to progress at a greater rate. Wanting nothing more than more of that wonderful fur to stroke and caress, he forced himself to slow down and make it last as long as possible. He looked down at himself, watching as the lavender fur seemed to puddle up around the boarder of his chest, before a wave of cream colored fur went sweeping over the threshold. The cream colored fur was just as soft and luxurious as the lavender, and Mark thanked himself for delaying his orgasm as he raked his fingers through it, never slowing his leisurely masturbation. The cream colored fur only went as far as the cleft between his pectoral muscles, and he watched in wonder as it seemed to wait there. Waiting for what, he wondered. Mark's question was answered in a matter of moments. The nipple that had been swept over suddenly became painfully erect. It jutted out from his body as if being electrified. His wandering right hand swept casually over it, and he was struck with a jolt of pleasure strong enough to jolt his hips forward. The sudden rush of pleasure was too much of Mark, and he intensified the stroking of his left hand until he was furiously beating off. Mark felt as if he was right on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm, but he couldn't hit the release threshold. Without thinking about it, or knowing he was going to do it, his right hand wandered over and briskly pinched and tugged as his engorged nipple. Mark immediately squinched his eyes closed as a massive climax overtook him. "OOHHHHH GAAHHHHHD!!!" he cried out as he unleashed a torrent of spooge that he had never been able to muster even at his most frustrated. Ever after the initial wave passed, it seemed to take Mark longer than even to come down. He sat there, panting, one sticky paw (yes, paw, he was ready to admit that at this point) in his lap, his hand still clenched on his left nipple. When he finally felt he was ready, he cautiously opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the mess he had made around him...the second thing was that his right hand wasn't just pinching a nipple, it was full to overflowing with furred flesh...a breast, a very sizable one at that, and it was his, on his chest. Unable to decide whether to scream or not, Mark just sat there in shock, cradling his single breast with his unchanged hand. 8. Work was torture for Eric. He stood at his post, doing menial task after tedious task, all the while wishing he was home so he could just kick back and enjoy, well, himself. He was thankful that today was Friday, and that the bank wouldn't be needing his services the two days after this one, but that just seemed to frustrate Eric all the greater. On his lunch break Eric announced that he'd be taking a drive for a bite to eat, but rather than doing that, he drove himself to a secluded spot that overlooked a small creek and rolled up his sleeves. The half-hour seemed to fly by as he sat there and idly ran his gloved fingers through the soft blue fur on his arms. He was surprised that no one had given him any problems over his lacking in the finger department, but eh, that was just one less thing to worry about. Regretfully, Eric's lunch break ended, and he was forced to clock back in. The knowledge of being less than 4 hours away from a weekend of freedom had a doubling effect on Eric's frustration. On at least two occasions his temper flared at a customer, and his supervisor commented on this change in his attitude. Eric supplied a weak excuse without apologizing, and continued to slog through his day. Finally, it was quitting time. Without waiting to be excused, or to say goodbye to anyone, Eric rushed to the clock and punched out. He was in his car and heading home in a matter of minutes. Once through the door to his home, Eric relived himself of one of the major annoyances of the day, his long sleeve button down shirt. Eric tossed it aside and sat down in his favorite chair, bare-chested. He smiled as he looked down and saw that both of his arms were completely covered in fur the shade of a summer day. He sat there for quite awhile, basking in the relief of being home, and taking great delight in combing his glove-encased fingers through the softness. He was quite surprised at the way the gloves failed to dull the sensation of the soft fur, if anything, his fingers seemed to have more active nerve endings than ever before. After quite a bit of this, Eric noticed a small stirring in his crotch. Smirking to no one but himself, Eric guessed at what a large portion of that frustration from the day was in regards to. Those damn pants, God were they constricting. Shifting to and fro, but not getting up, Eric shimmied out of his slacks and boxer briefs together. The cool apartment air provided a sense of instant relief, while at the same time allowed his stirring member to wake up fully. As an afterthought, Eric used the big toe on each foot to slide off his socks, before focusing his attention on the business he really wanted to get down to. He slowly wrapped his fingers around his shaft and gave himself a series of brief squeezes before just simply holding himself firmly. He was amazed at how ward and soft his own hand felt, this wasn't the first time he had done this, yet everything seemed to feel new. With his free hand Eric petted over his shoulder and down his arms as he enjoyed a series of long, slow strokes down where it counted. It seemed as if each time he brought his free hand to the top of his arm there was more fur there than before, and sure enough, when Eric looked, he could actually see the slow progression of fur rather than just know it was happening excruciatingly slowly. A huge, goofy grin spread over Eric's face as he began to pump his cock in earnest, the warmly and softness of his own hand adding to the sparks of pleasure that caressing his arms and chest were triggering. After only a few short minutes of this, Eric was bucking in his chair as what can only be called the most intense of all orgasms wracked through him. He looked down at himself as he came and was shocked to see the amount of spunk that gushed forth from him. Each blast sent out a thick rope of cum that traveled an astounding distance in the air before audibly landing on the carpet. A casual observer may have thought the force of this expulsion was causing Eric to recoil as if shooting a large gum from that area of his body, in actuality, the wild bucking and thrashing were just indicators of the rip-roaring orgasm that Eric was thoroughly enjoying. After what seemed like quite a while to Eric, he was once again in full control of himself. Breathing heavily but without any sort of discomfort, Eric decided to lay back for awhile longer before tending to the mess he had created. He was more than happy to spend the time catching his breath stroking down through the fur that had surrounded his neck, all around his upper chest and back, but nothing above the neck line. The wide, silly grin didn't leave his face for quite some time. 9. After quite some time had passed, Mark began to shake himself free of the post-orgasmic haze that had swallowed him up in the hours after his bout of self-exploration. During that time, he had sat there in a state of semi- consciousness, still clutching his new breast. Now that he was free of the cobwebs that had clouded his mind, Mark held his left breast against his chest for another reason. He was afraid that if he were to release it, and felt the weight of the plump breast swinging on his chest, he'd lose his sanity. Still, Mark was fully aware that he couldn't sit the way he was forever, so with great hesitation, he forced himself out of the seat and to the bathroom. There, in the full-length mirror, would be were he was take his paw away from his new endowment. While looking at himself in this mirror, Mark was able to take a fuller stock on what had happened to him over the last day or two. His left arm and shoulder, as well as the upper portion of his back were completely changed. In addition to this, the fur was beginning to sweep down his right arm, and had already reached the mid-biceps area. The slimmer, daintier musculature did wonders in complimenting his new endowment, and Mark had no doubt that if he didn't do something, and fast, he would be a lavender-furred female in no time. A very attractive lavender furred female, judging from the size of his breast and the suggestion that his slimmed down gave. After taking a deep breath, Mark lowered his paw from his single bosom. The cream colored fur covered globe was a thing of beauty in itself. Mark guessed that it was easily in the c-cup range, and yet there wasn't the slightest hint of sag. In addition to that, his formerly small, male nipple had blossomed into a beacon for fingers, mouths, and teeth. At it's epicenter was a nipple the width and height of a pencil eraser, surrounding it was a field of light pink easily the circumference of a silver dollar. The sight of it alone sparked images of Mark kissing, licking, nibbling, and sucking on a work of art like this one. This one nipple that actually belonged to him. Partly unable, and partly unwilling to stop himself, Mark gently took his left nipple between his thumb and index finger and began rolling it slowly. He literally swayed on his feet as he let out a heavy moan. The pleasure was like nothing he had ever felt before. Mark immediately sat down on the edge of the bathtub and began to grope himself with great enthusiasm. His jaw was clenched as tightly as both of his nipples felt, as his paw worked the breast, and his hand attempted to do the same with the remainders of his original chest. He was dimly aware of his member stirring and rising to the occasion, but he ignored it as his efforts on the right side of his chest were beginning to be rewarded. He could first feel an increased amount of sensation from his right nipple, and as this intensified, so did the amount of flesh surrounding it. Mark forced himself to stop and took a peek at himself in the mirror. From his neck to the very top of his stomach, Mark was unmistakably female. He was also unmistakably hot. His breasts heaved in time with his panting breaths, yet he still waited before continuing. He cupped and admired his chest, then watched his own face contort and react as he teased the very erect nipples. Mark then looked down, and seemed a little distracted by the waving, straining member that was just barely visible under his soft mounds. Without putting any thought into it, Mark sunk to his knees on the bathroom floor. On all fours, he crawled to the sink, delighted in the sensation of his generous breasts swaying and jiggling with his movements. Mark then opened the cabinet below the sink and immediately took out the hand lotion. He giggled as a thought ran through his head. He didn't know where it came from, but he didn't object as it passed by either. He looked at his paws while the voice inside his head spoke... "I won't be needing zis for much longaire... but I can theenk of a use for eet now..." Without knowing exactly why, Mark heaped a generous amount of the lotion into his right hand, he then pitched forward, "Ooooh"ing as his breasts were pressed into the cold bathroom tile. He shifted his weight a bit from one knee, and then to the other, then reached back toward his upraised ass with the lotion-slathered paw. His knees slunk further apart from one another as his paw, seemingly by itself, slathered the lotion generously over his pucker. Shivers of delight passed through Mark as he then teasingly rimmed himself, neither the position nor the action itself striking him as odd or "gay." Finally, when he felt like he could take it no longer, he eased finger into himself. His moans filled the room at an almost shout-like volume as he felt his inner muscles clench and reclench around his finger. After getting acclimated to the sensation, he began to slowly work his finger in and out, before long adding a second digit. Mark literally saw stars behind his tightly shut eyes, and didn't even notice the soft, pillowy feel of something brushing over his back. At first it was just a little, and even then just at his lower back, but as he got closer and closer to the edge of orgasm, this soft bushing was at his shoulders, and even over his hair! Still he failed to notice it, as he began to squirm on his chest, the added pressure and movement on his bosom was the very last straw. With loud screeches and moans, Mark shot his second tremendous load of the day, this time without even touching his member directly. He felt his spunk splash off of the tiles and ricochet up into his furred tummy and over the lower swells of his breasts, and moaned again as the fluid heat seemed to satisfy an urge deep within. Still panting, still moaning, and still with two fingers in his rear, Mark allowed his knees to give out completely, as he slowly sunk tummy first into his huge puddle of spooge. 10. Meanwhile, Eric himself was just recovering from his own previous round of activity. With a groan of exhaustion, he pried himself out of the comfy chair and went about finding a rag to clean up his mess with. He didn't take the time to put his clothes on, and as he was walking towards the kitchen, he became aware of the way his member was practically swinging between his legs. Prior to today, Eric had been known as "a grower not a shower", but it was plain to see that his maleness, even while completely flaccid, had become much larger. Eric stopped in his tracks to inspect this change, and found himself becoming almost instantly aroused by his new size. Forgetting about the rag for the time being, Eric lay down on the carpet and began to paw at himself. His member eagerly responded to the attention, and in a matter of moments, Eric had reached a state of total arousal. Looking down to confirm his growth, Eric saw that even with his right hand completely wrapped around his cock, a good 4 inches were still exposed from the head of his wang to his topmost finger. He also noticed that he had gained some ground in the girth department, as he confirmed with a delightful squeeze. Eric let his head fall back to rest on the carpeted floor and began to pump himself with vigor. His approaching orgasm was far-off, and as tangible as an oncoming truck. Eric somehow knew that he would be going on for quite some time, yet there on the horizon was his goal. As the almost literal object of his climax drew nearer, a sense of warmth began to spread down his back and stomach. Eric's smile grew wider as he remembered what the results of his last self-indulgence were. His hard-on was now to such a degree that his gloved hand brushed through the fur on his tummy as he pumped himself. Without warning, Eric felt his balls draw up nearer to his body, and then was immediately engulfed in a euphoric heat. As this was happening, he felt an intense discomfort in his lower back, just above his ass. He shifted his weight to the right and lay on his side as to continue manipulating his cock. The heat he felt around his balls began to creep slowly up the base of his shaft, until he bumped the fleshy base in rapid succession on the down thrusts of his hands. Each time he struck this ridge, Eric let out a pornstar like "Oh! Oh! OH!" Until after only a few more pumps, he again erupted in gigantic proportions, cum blasting out of his cock and practically whizzing the first few ropes went right past his own face. As the orgasm died down, so did the power of his ejections, but they didn't completely stop until Eric himself was as limp as his manhood. He looked down at himself with that same silly grin as before as he watched his deflating cock pull back into the hot fleshy sheath that had formed just before the peak of his session. Touching in tentatively, he was pleased to find that he could still feel his cock even as it was nestled in it's furry home. Eric rolled back to his back in order to rest there for a bit, but yelped as he felt as if he had pinched a part of him. Rolling once again to his side, and looking over his shoulder, his smile spread into a grin as he discovered the soft blue bunny tail that had formed just above his ass. A second's hesitation confirmed that the blue fur had now progressed just past the lower curve of his ass. Leaving him human only from the upper thighs down, and from the neck up. Eric rolled the rest of the way over, now settling down on his soft tummy, and allowed himself the chance to nap for a bit. 11. Mark dozed for quite a while this time, in fact, he didn't awake until early the next morning. He body was a little sore from sleeping on the uncomfortable surface, but what puzzled him the most was the question of why he had brought himself in a blanket without going to bed. Mark tossed the plush, warm covering off of the side of him, but felt muscles working at the base of his spine that he didn't know he had. The covering hovered over him, then swayed... then Mark remembered what was happening to him. The fuzzy covering was a tail, a large, thick, soft- looking, lavender and cream tail that was striped in a fashion that was unmistakably skunklike. Mark dimly remembered feeling it brushing over his back, then over his head while he was in here the day before, then he remembered what he was doing while he felt it. He sprung to his feet to look at himself. His moan was one of half horror and half pleasure. From his neck to his waist, he was completely covered in fur of either lavender or creamy white. The white fur seemed to be limited to his tummy and chest, although it was beginning to creep down to his pubic area. The lavender fur covered the outside of his body, including the very outsides of his breasts, and his arms. The lavender fur had dipped past the waistline while he had been sleeping, and now outlined his hips and upper thighs. Mark also noticed that with the spreading of the lavender fur had come the drastically enhanced curvature of his body. He wondered how he failed to notice before, but the lavender fur made the way his waist drew in then expanded drastically into his hips even more apparent than a normal woman built like this would look. His lush breasts didn't hurt the strikingness of his curves... either. His crotch had not been affected, and Mark could only guess that the cream colored fur was meant for his inner thighs and intimate area. Just what type of intimate area that would be exactly was anyone's guess... but Mark had a pretty good idea. Still, Mark couldn't deny that he looked good. Very good. In fact, his only problem was the fact that the fur on his tummy was now all clumped together unnaturally and sticky. With a smirk, Mark remembered exactly why that was. It seemed like something to take care of immediately, so Mark began to warm up the water for a good hot shower. Mark was already undressed, so the moment he felt as if the water was ready, he stepped in and let the steaming water soak into his fur. He let out a "MMmmmmm..." as he felt the water run down in tiny streams down his newly shaped body... particularly the ultra-sensitive valley between his breasts. Mark couldn't help but giggle girlishly each time his own tail got in his way, the more sopping wet it became, the harder it was for him to manage. Finally, he learned how to relax the correct muscles for it to droop to the floor. Again he was struck with a stream of giggles as seeing it lying there made it so obvious how huge it was. From base to tip it was the size of Mark's entire upper body... Mark could just imagine how long it would take to soap up... and blow dry, before he again was struck with giggles as he pictured himself wrestling with it. Getting to the more serious matter at hand, Mark poured out a large amount of shampoo into the palm of his dainty paw, intending to start with his hair and work his way down as usual, but instead found himself lathering up his fur coated breasts. He smiled, thinking it a good idea to attack his sticky areas first anyways, but his smile was soon replaced by the expressions of passion as he lingered, then opened caressed his furry globes. With great determination, he forced his hands lower, soaping up the tacky areas on his tummy, before his gaze fell further south. Although he felt, no, knew he was in a state of high arousal, his member showed no response. In fact, it looked smaller than usual, as if he can just been swimming in a cold pool. He allowed his hands to trail down further, and he moaned as he stroked and fondled his cock. Still he got no reaction out of the appendage, as it dangled indifferently. In fact, Mark could almost swear it was shrinking even more... Mark now fondled his old self with a determination to make himself erect, and was finally able to achieve a meager, three inch erection. The only thing working correctly seemed to be his balls, which were drawn up so close to himself that Mark felt as if he could blow at any moment. Mark continued to work his undeniably shrunken member, until a slipping and pulling sensation caused him to stop abruptly. With wide-open eyes, Mark cupped his now empty ballsack. He then grimaced as he felt two small masses migrating from within him, as the surrounding interior anatomy shifted and altered itself as well. Mark knew what was happening. The mass he could literally feel forming in the lower center of his abdomen could be nothing else but a uterus, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind as to what would become of his former testicles as he felt them come to a stop on either side of this budding feminine epicenter. Still, he continued to stroke his unresponsive tool as it too began to change. It shifted down, set lower in his crotch than before, before beginning to pull in slowly. Mark finally drew his hand away when only the head of his penis remained, jutting out at a very low, very odd angle. Then, as if being manipulated by invisible hands, Mark's scrotum split in two and drew upwards, shimmering in the cascading water until forming what were no doubt the outer lips of his new sex. The head of his penis then split in two as well. Mark was repulsed as he watched the underside of it form a dense nub, and move upwards, as the once soft, spongy flesh of his cockhead formed a very narrow, and very inviting looking set of inner lips. There was a moment's hesitation as the receded shaft arranged itself into the ultra sensitive inner walls of Mark's new sex, and the remaining scientific anatomy was formed seemingly out of thin air. Mark stood there gasping, panting, in shock and in horror, as he watched himself officially become a she. He cautiously reached down to touch her new anatomy, as if to confirm it's reality, and was rewarded with a shock of pleasure as the back of her hand brushed across her clit. In that instant, Mark lost all sense of the horror and realization of what he had become, as it was replaced with nothing but an intense desire to be penetrated. Right there in the shower, she laid down on her back, her tail extended flat and down between her outstretched legs, and let the still intensely hot water fall on her huge (for her frame) breasts. She grunted and moaned as she continuously thrust two of her fingers into her new sex. The scent of her drippings now overpowering the ones of freshly washed off shampoo. With her breasts heaving and shuddering, Mark first pinched the nipple on her right breast with her free hand, before being inspired to give her clit the same attention. In just seconds, Mark came with a, "Ooooh OOH! OH MON DIEEEUUUU!!" Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, in his, now her, entire life prior to that moment. Mark allowed herself a few moments to gather herself after than, then left the shower to begin drying herself off. She soon found herself extremely pleased that her ex-girlfriend had left behind a blow dryer after their messy breakup. 12. Eric, too, slept from that moment until the next morning, and finally got around to cleaning up the two messes he had made. The act of cleaning the results seemed to have put a damper on his previously raging libido, but finally, before going to bed, Eric allowed himself to jerk off. He was careful to do it in an area that he would be able to clean up without many problems the next day, when he got home from work, so all carpeted areas and furniture was out. He ended up doing his business in the shower, much like Mark, and went to bed as soon as he was "clean". He felt no need for covers, as he was now covered soft fur, either blue or white, from his neck down to his mid-calves. He had every intention of going to work the next morning, as his changes were still constricted to areas that he could cover with normal clothing. The only issue would be forcing himself into them, and then lasting for eight hours. 13. Once she was dry, a painful rumbling shook Mark's stomach. She moaned, and braced herself for further change, but then remembered with a giggle that she hadn't eaten so much as a bite for the past three days. She supposed her diminishing body size (in most places, anyhow) temporarily had made up for the lack of nutrition, but that little window of not having to eat was over. This, of course, presented Mark with a challenge. From the neck up, she was his original self. That is, his normal, human, unchanged face now sat atop of this lavender bombshell of a body. Less troubling were her feet, which were also yet to be changed. The soft fur had pushed it's way all the way down her legs and had stalled out at her ankles though, so she had a strong feeling that her feet would soon be changed. Most perplexing was the fur's seeming refusal to move up her neck. It had been there very early on, and was still there. Just waiting, doing nothing. The only sign of encouragement had been her occasional tendency to slip into a soft, feminine, French-tinted dialect in times of ecstasy. She supposed that soon this would become her normal voice, but when? Stomach still growling Mark opened his cupboards. Inside were an opened box of Frosted Flakes, and a single box of generic Macaroni and Cheese. Grocery shopping was normally done on Saturdays, as it was often Mark's habit to order out on Thursday and Friday night. However, due to her personal journey, the shopping hadn't been done at all this week. The refrigerator revealed what Mark feared it would. No butter, and expired milk. Not only was the mac and cheese out of the question, but so were the Flakes. That left her with the option of ordering food. As she leafed though her variety of takeout menus, she considered how she would manage to pay for and receive her food without having the delivery person alert the police. No matter how hard she thought, she could think of nothing better than the plan used by McCauly Caulkin in "Home Alone." She sighed to herself and decided that a small serving of pasta would be her best bet. Luckily, quite a few of the pizza joints in the area offered less triangular food items on their menus. Figuring she would figure something out when the delivery person arrived, Mark went ahead and called in a small order of ziti. The person on the phone told her that her food would arrive in about 20 minutes, and that was that. She had nothing to do other than wait. She sat down in a comfy chair and peeked down at her feet, hoping to see signs of recent progress. Sure enough, the tops of her feet were showing a trace of fur. She smiled brightly and sat back with her hands in her lap and closed her eyes to wait. Within moments, she reopened them. Despite her innocent placement of her own hands, she could literally feel the needful heat radiating from her sex. She bit her lower lip, hesitated, and then quickly folded her arms across her chest. She sat like this for a minute or two before realizing that this also was no good. The warm crushing pressure across her bosoms felt so wonderful that she actually hugged herself a little more firmly. Adding to this was the fact that her forearms were placed almost directly over each of her huge and hugely sensitive nipples. Mark forced herself to take a deep, calming breath, and recrossed her arms, this time under her breasts. With a sigh of relief, Mark realized that this was much better than her other two attempts. She was still well aware of what her body wanted, but this way she was able to convince herself that she could delay her personal satisfaction until after her pizza had arrived...then she made the mistake of looking down at her feet again. Instead of a view of her slowly changing feet; Mark caught an eyeful of her own cleavage, greatly enhanced with her crossed arms hefting up the soft cream-colored mounds. In a heartbeat, she was upon herself. With both hands, she cupped and caressed her chest, taking extra care to pinch and tease her own nipples, which seemed to beg for the attention in their highly erect state. The heat in her private regions seemed to double, then triple, then ooze slowly down her inner thighs and down the valley of her asscrack before Mark was distracted away from his breasts long enough to remember her newly acquired equipment. With a little squeal of anticipatory glee, she trailed a soft hand down to her neither region, and plunged two fingers inside of herself to the hilt. "UUUuuuuuunnnnnngggghh!" she cried, bucking up once before setting back down and bracing herself for what she was about to attempt. Unknown to her at this time, her attentions to herself had encouraged her feet to completely change. They were now much daintier, and of course, covered in soft lavender fur. As Mark was settling herself from her initial buck, the fur finally began to creep up her neck. With her two fingers still buried within her, Mark trailed her other hand down to her intimate area. She flicked, then pinched her clit, before grinding down on it in a circling motion. Her hips rocked and bucked as sparks of pleasure shot all throughout her body, all Mark could do was lean her head back and close her eyes. As she began to once again pump her fingers rhythmically in and out of her dripping pussy, Mark felt an odd stretching sensation in her face, as well as a tickling sensation on the back of her neck. She forced her eyes open, just in time to see the last movements of her emerging muzzle. The bridge of her nose was actually a little stouter than she had expected, but the warm, fuzzy spreading of her cheeks more than made up for her. With a quick shake of her head, she confirmed that the tickling on her neck was her new hairdo. Moderately long, and a shade of purple only slightly lighter than her fur. As she intensified her efforts down below, she crossed her eyes and watched the tip of her nose swell from a small, flesh colored button, to a lush, pink, upturned triangle, that was just a small cleft away from being a heart shape. Vowing to check herself out in the mirror the minute she was finished with herself, Mark slithered out of the chair and onto the floor to allow a little more creativity in her self-pleasure. There was a knock at the door. Mark's eyes snapped open, as she took stock of her condition, she realized she was in big trouble. The entire apartment reeked of her sex, while this wasn't an unpleasant scent, the delivery person was sure to notice. Not only that, but she was naked as a jaybird, and in a clear state of arousal. Even the prospect of being caught in the act couldn't kill the sexual high she was riding, if anything, it fueled it. Mark stood there, frozen, before his nose picked up another scent. It was coming from the door, or rather, behind it. The delivery person... was male. With a small giggle, Mark pranced to the door, and cracked it open just enough to poke his newly shaped head through it. What she saw was an average looking manboy, aged somewhere around 18 or 19. He wore khaki shorts and a shirt that was too gaudy to be anything other than his given work shirt. Mark guessed that the boy had been making his deliveries by bike, because the musky scent of his perspiration was quite strong the moment she opened the door. Mark took all this in a matter of moments, and said nothing while she observed. The delivery boy almost immediately exclaimed, "Holy SHIT! A Fifi mask???? Where'd ja..." The boy's question was cut off as he saw the look of confusion spread over the "mask's" face. When the Skunkgirl said, "Mask?" in response, he became almost paralyzed in fear. "Looklooklook," he stammered, "I don't know if this is a joke or what but..." That was enough for Mark, she thrust the door the rest of the way open, and took extreme pleasure in the way the boy's eyes seemed to bulge out of his skull at her revealed nudity. In the moment's hesitation the boy's open gawk allowed, Mark had enveloped his chest, waist, and arms in her tail, and pulled him toward her. Fortunately, the boy was still too terrified to speak. He simply squeaked and looked at the floor. Mark lifted his chin, forcing the boy to look her in the eye. "What did you call me?" she asked him "A m... m..." "No. No. Before that. My name." "Fifi?" A smile of delight spread over "Mark's" face, "And how did you know my name? Hmm?" "You... you kidding? Everyone knows Fifi LaFume... I just... kinda thought you weren't real." Fifi chuckled warmly, "Do I look fake, mon amie?" The boy simply shook his head in the negative. "Do I look... intimidating?" The boy shook his head again. Fifi's smile seemed to brighten as she pulled the boy through the frame of her open door and closed it behind him. With the door closed, she lowered her tail, once again displaying her naked state to the boy. "So what do you think, garcon?" The boy didn't give a verbal answer, and didn't need to. His excitement was already quite apparent through his straining shorts, as well as the scent that seemed to be pouring off of him. Fifi grabbed a double handful of his shirt and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. If the boy still feared for his life, he was doing a good job of hiding it, as he kissed the skunkette as eagerly as she kissed him. When she felt it was long enough, Fifi pushed the boy back, licked his cheek, and whirled him onto the living room sofa. He had scarcely landed before Fifi was upon him again. Her nimble paws relived him of his shirt in short order, and before he even had a moment to register this, she was pulling his head down into her bosom. The boy caught on quickly, licking and sucking on Fifi's large, erect nipples with reckless abandon. The slurping and smacking sounds that were produced seemed to give the two temporary lovers added urgency. Fifi snaked her hands down and unbuttoned the fellow's pants for him as he introduced her to the agony/ecstasy of teeth gently scraping and pulling at her nipples. Unable to play the passive role for another moment, Fifi wrapped her tail around the nameless boy's waist and tugged him away from her chest. With a push and a slide, she had him forced deep into the cushions of the sofa. She looked down at him, and favored him with a toothy grin, before practically tearing off his shorts and boxers in one smooth motion. His member, while not overly impressive, made up for any shortcomings in it's eagerness. It stood jutting proudly, silently enticing Fifi to taste. Fifi herself was more than willing to be enticed. She kneeled between the young man's legs and took a moment to drink in the scent. She then parted her lips just enough to allow the head of his manhood to slip into her hot mouth. She giggled as the boy writhed beneath her as she sucked on his cockhead as if it were a lollipop, then, wanting to experiment further with action-reaction, she pushed her muzzle forward, swallowing the entire length of his maleness. The boy practically folded in half, as she pitched forward and caught himself by placing his hands on the top of Fifi's head. "My dead sweet God Fifi," he panted, "I'm going, going... t... to COME!" With a deliciously dirty "SsssccccchhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrP!" sound, Fifi pulled her head back. "Oh no you're not, sweetie. Me first." Saying nothing further, Fifi rocked back onto her behind, then splayed her legs wide, giving the late teenager quite an eyeful of her sex. She ran her hands down her body, parted her lips while looking up at the boy, then slowly repositioned herself on her hands and knees. With her tail raised high and her hot, swollen sex proudly displayed, she looked back over her shoulder at her playmate licking her lips in her best possible imitation of a porn star. The boy was behind her in a flash, awkwardly leaning forward on his own hands and knees as he greedily drank the lavender queen's nectar. Fifi shuddered and cooed, using one hand to brace herself while her other teased and played over her own breasts. After a few moments, the young man had a stroke of genius, and lay down on his back. Fifi smirked as she lowered her soppy pussy firmly onto his face and allowed him to slurp and lick at his own pace. Fifi's smirk was soon washed away as she rebraced herself with both hands. Her hips rocked and bucked as she unconsciously humped the fellow's face until her first orgasm hit, pushing a fresh wave of wetness over the boy's hungry mouth, as well as down her thighs. When the moaning and thrashing had passed, she peeled herself up off of her living love doll. "Fuck me. Now." Once again, no further encouragement was needed as the boy scrambled back to his hands and knees. In too much of a hurry to even consider a position change, he grabbed each of Fifi's upturned asscheeks and plunged his cock into her sopping mound. Fifi jerked her head back as if her hair had been pulled. It was as if everything in her life had led up to this moment. By the delivery boy's third thrust, she knew that this was something she would never ever get enough of. She saw visions of endless nights and parades of different lovers, male and female alike, and loved everything she saw. In what seemed like an instant, she was brought out of her daydreams when she first felt the sharp sting of a smack on her ass, followed by an eruption of liquid heat right into her. The one-two combination sent her into her second climax of the evening, as every muscle in her body seemed to seize and spasm at the same time. As the boy slumped on top of her, and she slunk to the floor under him, she could actually feel the muscles lining her pussy tugging and milking the deflating cock, which was still buried within her. She allowed him a few moments to recover and snuggle, but before too long, she stirred under him. "Whazza?" the boy blurrily said. "It's time to go Hun, you have other deliveries to make." The unspoken message was clear. Thank you for playing, don't call me, I'll call you. The boy left wordlessly, leaving behind both his shirt and the ziti. 14. Work was proving to be torture for Eric. Torture. His entire body seemed to itch and fester under the clothing he had forced himself to put on in the parking lot that morning. What made it worse was how trivial and pointless his job was. Count, count, count; this job was fit for a 5 year old. Adding to his displeasure was the fact that the joke he tried to kick off the day had failed miserably. His first customer had requested $500 in hundred dollar bills, so Eric put on his best Transylvanian accent and delivered the cash with, "One! Ah ah ah... Two! Ah ah ahhh... Three! Ah ah ahhh..." The customer snatched the remaining cash without so much as a glimmer of recognition. Who the hell didn't appreciate a good imitation of The Count? Eric's day had been downhill from there. And to top it off, he feet had been hurting from the moment he put his shoes on. As the day dragged on they hurt more and more from standing on them. At about 11 o clock, Eric had just gotten short tempered with a customer for the 7th time that day. He manager had seen enough. She seemed to materialize behind him out of nowhere, and spoke directly into his ear. "My office. Now." With a hand toss of frustration, Eric left his post and took a chair in his manager's office. He was left to sit alone for a few moments, as this seemed to be Miss MacDoogel's preferred method of psychological torment. For once, the silent time out was a blessing. Eric immediately set to work upon taking off his shoes, which shouldn't have been much of a task at all. His feet had swollen quite a bit as they throbbed all day, and despite a concentrated effort of tugging and grunting, Eric couldn't budge them. Miss MacDoogel strode in as Eric continued to struggle with his shoes. She sat down across the desk from him and began without any sort of nonsense. "Eric, we have to talk about your recent performance..." Eric lowered his foot to the floor and gritted his teeth against the pain. "...your relations with the customers, which were initially very good, have begun to dip at an alarming rate..." Eric winced, as the pain in his feet seemed to spike, Miss M took this as a sign of his understanding. "...not to mention, you've taken on the odd habit of wearing those gloves..." Eric groaned as squinched his eyes shut as the sound of a low rumbling, "RrrRrrrrrrrrrp!" filled the air. "MIS-ter Laska! I should hope that you didn't..." Her words were cut off as Eric raised his right foot, and the tattered remains of the shoe that had been over it. Three huge blue and white fuzzy toes had burst through the topmost part of his shoe, two little pink circles poked through the white fur on the underside of his foot. Eric grunted and kicked his foot until it was entirely free of the shoe around it. Miss Macdoogel simply stared in semi- horror at the fuzzy triangle that Eric's right foot had become. Eric's wince returned, and he raised his left foot up into the air. RRrrrrrrrrrrrrp! Starting at the left corner, his toes burst out of the shoe one at a time. Plinkplinkplink. Eric smiled and wiggled them before "Rrp!" his heel tore out the back of his shoe. Again he shook off the rest of the shoe, and he held up both of his feet to admire. Miss MacDoogel sat, frozen to her seat in fear. She watched disbelievingly as Eric grinned goofily at his feet, and then with shock as she saw blue fur begin to trickle up his neck. Eric raised his gloved hand to feel the fur move up his neck, and grinned even wider. He quickly removed his shirt and pants in expectation, revealing his blue and white furred body to his boss. Miss MacDoogel wanted badly to run away, but just couldn't get he body to respond to her thoughts. Her eyes widened as she watched Eric's ears glide up his head, lengthening as they were covered in fur to become two very long bunny ears. White fur began to cover his cheeks and jowls as his face pushed forward into a little tiny muzzle. The finishing touches were the forming of a subtle bucktooth, and a little pink button nose. Miss MacDoogel stammered... "Buh, buh, Buster? Buster Bunny? What the hell is going on here?" Buster grinned, he had suspected, even hoped, all along that this is where his changes were heading. "That's me," he said, "You, ah... you're a fan?" She was upon him so fast it shocked even her. Neither one of them left that office until well after 5pm. Epilogue Bonnie MacDoogel and William Kidman became the 3rd and 4th known cases of furrification. Their first two lovers became the 23rd and 24th known cases (Buster and Fifi had been busy). And so on and so on, until the world is like it is today. There were, of course, some scandals involved, like the uproar caused when a handful of priests and nuns became furrified, as well as one member of a married couple before the other, and so on, but these things were forgiven as the general public came to grips with the fact that the world was moving on. People became part of the movement, got used to it, or got buried underneath it.