The Difference between Cats and Dogs
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Douglas groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. His head was pounding.
What the hell happened last night?
He frowned and rubbed his forehead as he tried to remember. It was his
twenty first birthday, his father had just named him his successor as
alpha male, he had gone out with some of the guys from the pack to
celebrate... and everything after that was a blur. Damn it, how much did
he have to drink?
He took a look around at his surroundings. He was lying in a bed, under
soft silk sheets. It was clearly an apartment bedroom, if the view from
the window was any indication. The walls were painted a hot pink colour,
skanky women's clothing was scattered across the room, a scratching post
was tucked in one corner of the room opposite a vanity table, and an
unmistakably feline scent assaulted his nostrils. Oh god... it was a
cat's room. He must have wandered into their territory and bedded some
tiger slut or something.
The city he lived in was infamous for the rivalry between two major
groups; the canines, led by his father's pack of wolves, and the
felines, led by a pride of lions. The two were constantly at each
other's throats. They had eventually settled into an agreement where
they stayed on opposite ends of the area, but a cat walking into canine
territory or vice versa was just asking for trouble.
Of course, Doug didn't care about the potential fallout of that. He was
the new alpha, a couple of hissing kittens didn't scare him. But his
friends would never let him live it down if they found out he fucked a
molly. He sat up, thinking maybe he could spin it as a show of defiance
and dominance...
He felt something on his chest. He looked down.
He screamed.
Kicking off the covers, Doug sprinted as fast as he could to the vanity
table and looked in the mirror.
No doubt about it. Hanging from his chest, moving up and down with every
inhale and exhale he took, was a pair of breasts. And not just any
breasts; they were huge, round, impossibly perky, and jiggled with
almost any movement. They were the kind that would catch the attention
of every straight male and more than a few females in a room. The kind
that would never be called breasts or boobs; they were melons, funbags,
hooters or most commonly, "Jesus, look at those tits!" As if that wasn't
enough, he had the backside to match. His ass was now a big, round,
cushiony booty just begging to be spanked, while his hips were wide and
curved, perfect to be grabbed as he was taken from behind.
But that was just the first thing that horrified him. The second was his
fur. Gone was the silvery grey fur that his pack was known for. Instead,
his lower face, chest, stomach, inner thighs, palms and soles had been
bleached white, while the rest of him was a vibrant orange colour. Jet
black stripes ran across his back, along his arms, legs and tail, and
even a couple on his face.
His muzzle, tail, build and crotch were plenty to leave him visibly a
male wolf. But with his new assets and fur colour... he looked like a
male wolf that really, REALLY wanted to be a female tiger.
"What... what the FUCK happened to me!?" Doug screamed, staring at his
reflection.
"Like the new you, kitten?" a deep voice spoke. Doug froze and turned to
source of the voice, seeing a tall, muscular lion leaning against the
doorframe. His handsome face framed by a burnt-coloured mane, standing
out against his pale tan fur. Doug recognised him immediately; he was
Mfalme, pride leader of the feline area.
"You!" Doug growled, glaring at his father's rival. "You son of a-"
"Watch your language, kitten," Mfalme said sternly, pressing a finger to
the wolf's lips and silencing him. "I can't blame you for being shocked,
of course. It's amazing what some top class surgeons, a visit to a salon
and a little hypnosis can do, isn't it?"
"Hy... hypnosis?" Doug echoed, his face going pale underneath his orange
fur. "What... what do you...?"
Rather than letting him finish, Mfalme's hand reached out and groped
Doug's sizeable chest. Instantly the young wolf's face went bright red
and his manhood instantly stiffened, but instead of the shocked yelp he
expected, what came out was a high pitched "meow~!" Doug's paws clapped
over his mouth in horror, while Mfalme let out a loud triumphant laugh.
"You...!" Doug finally spoke, his face flushing red. "Y-You son of a
biscuit!" He snapped, only to pause at what he said. "Wait... what the
fudge? S-Sugar! Darn it, why can't I swear!?"
Mfalme let out another laugh as he listened. "Oh yeah. Part of the
hypnosis is, quite simply, you can't disobey me," he said with a smirk.
"So when I said to watch your language, well..."
"No... no fudging way..." Doug gulped. "Y-You're making it up... this is
just stress, is all!"
"Oh yeah?" Mfalme grinned as he whipped out his phone. "Head on over to
your scratching post and get on your knees."
Doug glared at him defiantly... yet he began to walk. It was like an
irresistable urge, an itch that HAD to be scratched. Once there, he
lowered himself down to his knees. Mfalme chuckled as he readied his
phone to record.
"Now, give us a big smile and start scratching it, like a good little
kitty."
"N-No..." Douge protests, but despite his best efforts, his mouth pulled
into a friendly smile and he started to run his clawed fingers up and
down the rough material. His face burned in shame as he heard the click
of the phone, snapping the photos of the new wolf alpha performing such
a blatantly cat-like action.
"There we go!" Mfalme sad with another laugh. "Now stand up, kitten.
Time for you to get dressed."
"Y... you can't make me..." Doug said nervously, even as both he and his
tormentor knew otherwise...
* * * * *
The wolf gulped as he slowly tottered through into the living room where
Mfalme was waiting. As Mfalme had ordered, he had gotten dressed; on his
feet were a pair of shiny red pumps, his heels raised up by a five-inch-
tall stiletto. They were the kind of bright, vivid footwear that
practically screamed "I'm a slut!" all on their own. They clicked with
every step on the hardwood floor, alerting everyone when he was
approaching, even as he stumbled and wobbled in them. His legs were
otherwise bare, showing off his new tiger-stripes until they reached hem
of his dress. Tiny, tight and tantalizingly short, the dress was a
matching red colour. It clung to his newfound curves, and only just
barely covered his ass and nipples. Over the dress he wore a tiny bolero
jacket, too small to actually close over his bust. It was leopard-
patterned (because of course it was) with white faux-fur around the neck
and wrists. On the back in glittery pink script were the words "Make Me
Purr
Haven
- 18.11.2022
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