Shalira

By Strega

Shalira sighed. It'd been a long day at the tavern, and her shoulders slumped a bit as she walked. Her tail, normally swaying gently behind her, hung limply. Its tip actually dragged along the ground, something she'd never have allowed if she'd had the energy. The dusty road had already changed the brilliant white tip to brown.

A cart rumbled past, piled high with firewood, and she waved wearily to the driver. He was a sweating, muscular human, and she managed a faint smile as she caught him checking her out.

For her part, she was a volpa. Five feet ten inches tall, her legs were longer than a human's and digitigrade -- if she'd walked on her heels like a human, she'd have been about five foot four. Her face was entirely non-humanoid, with a slender foxy muzzle and upright, blackfurred ears. The rest of her was orange-brown, with white chops, cheeks, throat, chest, and charcoal black 'socks' from elbow to fingers and from the knee on down. At the moment she wore a red dress that covered her from shoulders to mid-calves, along with sandals shaped for her foxy feet.

She was, to put it simply, a foxwoman. Her auburn hair surrounded her face in its curls before tumbling to her mid-back; her waist was narrow, her furry bosom more than adequate; her dress was snug in all the right places, and whether you were a human, foxman, praka raccoon-man, or nearly any other race of humanoid male, she was attractive. That, of course, was why she got tipped so well at the tavern. Everyone liked volpa, just as nearly everyone liked praka. But praka-femmes weren't lusted after the way her kind was.

What was that? Something lying in the weeds next to the track. Something…shiny?

Padding a few steps off the road, she leaned over to have a look. It was a foot-and-a-half-square parcel about four inches thick, a folded-up -something- made of smooth, dark brown material. It didn't seem to have a weave to it. So it wasn't cloth…maybe it was an oiled hide? A simple cord encircled it, with a loop for a handle.

Another cart rumbled to a stop on the road, and the driver waved. "Hey Shalira! Want a ride?"

If she'd been less tired she'd have refused, but as it was she climbed gratefully onto the bench seat. "O gods, it's been a long day. Thank you." She put the oilskin-wrapped parcel of tavern food, her dinner, down between them. Without thinking about she'd picked up the folded thing as well -- it'd been surprisingly heavy -- and it lay between her feet, forgotten for the moment.

He nodded, clicking his tongue at the horses to get the cart going again. "I hear there's something going around."

"It's never just one barmaid down sick. This time it was three. Two of us, doing the work of five. Ugh." She patted his knee, a bit guilty about sharing her troubles. Harmon was one of the nicest men in town, and he made no move to take advantage of her friendly presence. He just smiled, nodded to the people they passed, and pretended that the bulge developing in his breeches wasn't.

Though it didn't show through his tunic, she knew about it. The smell of arousal came through the wood-smoke smell of his outer clothes and the tang of his sweat. It was a common reaction to her presence. The humans living with the Maker's creations here in Violha-town were curiously repressed. They dealt with praka, volpa, and the occasional gul on a daily basis, and some of them clearly wanted to do more than talk to their furred neighbors, yet they never broached the subject. She supposed it had something to do with their fire-breathing pastor, who made his opinion of what constituted a 'sin' extremely clear.

Harmon was handsome, if unwashed, and in another life…but no. As always, she politely pretended not to know about it. She just watched the trees go by, and smiled.

Eventually he flipped the reins to slow the horse, then offered her a hand down. "Here you are, Shalira. Sleep well."

With that, he was off, steering the wagon down the track between the houses. She watched him go, then washed her hands in the rainwater barrel. It wouldn't do to have his scent on her when Briahan got home. She grabbed a few sticks from the woodbin, then went into their cottage.

She stirred up the coals in the fireplace and threw the sticks in. Soon there were cheerful little flames, and she settled into a chair with a sigh. Briahan…he was so handsome! Tall, slender, muscular, with a wonderfully symmetrical muzzle and clear, amber eyes. Such a good companion and lover, with gentle, skilled hands. So easy to fall in love with.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one who had. Oh, he tried to conceal it, but no matter how well he washed, she still picked up the scents. Other vixen, human women and even praka-femmes with her Briahan! It made her so angry that more than once she'd nearly left. But he always soothed her with gentle words, then would come his strong hands….

She sighed. She wasn't hungry yet, and it was too early to go to bed. She could if she wanted to, though. Briahan was away -- 'Visiting relatives' -- and wouldn't be back until the next day. She wagered that when he arrived he'd be -very- well washed, with maybe a whiff of scent or two on his pelt still. If she ever had a scent on -her- pelt, there was hell to pay. But -he- could have them.

Her lips skinned back from her fangs. Maybe she should just…go. She could stay with Taila or even sleep at the tavern for a few days. Or maybe she should leave town. The last time she'd left him, he'd come and talked her into coming back. And the time before that.

Growling, she tugged on the loop of cord. The unexpected weight attached to it reminded her of the parcel. She'd carried it in without even realizing she had it still! Gods, she was distracted.

It had to be more interesting than writing in her diary. That'd been what she'd been leaning toward. Instead she hefted the thing into her lap and worked on the cord.

As she untied the knot, she noticed how very smooth the material was. Her fur had rubbed the road dust away, and the brown…hide?…was so smooth as to glide beneath her fingerpads. What on earth was it? Some sort of treated hide?

As soon as she unfolded the first bit, she realized it was much too large for her lap. She carried it over to the dinner table and continued to unfold the odd thing.

The first thing she noticed was the colors. The smooth, smooth material was mahogany brown, but parts of it were much lighter, a sort of golden-tan. Her fingers exposed another color still as she unfolded more: a star-like blotch of near white. The colors seemed eerily familiar….

By the time she unfolded a particularly intricate bit and found the molded 'hand' on the end, she knew. Soft, white claws with blunt points, molded finger- and palmpads, an 'arm' darker than the mahogany brown of the 'body'; golden-tan stripes down each side of the body to the 'tail'-root. Two white blotches over the collarbones, another along the groin….

She stared at the unfolded, softly flexible gul on the table and tried to imagine who would make such a thing.

The flat anthro-wolverine was as long as she was. An adult male gul would stand up to a foot or more taller than she, but this one was smaller…not to mention much flatter. She rubbed the smooth material, manipulated the lighter-colored cheek ruffs molded into the muzzled face, and marveled at the detail. It even had molded testicles! Who would go to all this trouble?

Her first thought was that it was some gul struck down by a curse. But about that time, she found the nozzle at the end of the tail.

It was a balloon!

"Curiouser and curiouser." Gul weren't a well-known race. There were only about a thousand, and most of them lived near the Maker in his valley to the Northwest of the village. While a few did wander as adventurers, she'd have thought that no one more than a few hundred miles away would even know what a gul was. And yet, this…thing…could only have been made in a city. Or by some tinker race, like the gnomes or elves.

She smiled at that thought. Elves and gul didn't get along at all well, and she'd never heard of gnomes in this area.

Well, it was clearly meant to be blown up, and lacking anything else to do, she did.

It was surprisingly easy. The thing was of heavy material -- the walls of the balloon were almost fingerbreadth thick -- and altogether it weighed thirty or more pounds. She'd have thought it'd be hard or even impossible to blow up. But it was easy. In minutes she had the body full of air and the limbs bulging, and five minutes after that the whole thing was taut.

She was panting a bit by the time she finished. Still, it'd been almost too easy. Maybe there was a spell on the thing to make blowing it up easier? She could believe that, considering how much effort had obviously been put into making it.

Now that it was inflated, she examined it in more detail. The smooth 'pelt' on the balloon had a pattern now, tiny lengthwise ridges resembling fur. It had the golden-tan side stripes and cheek-ruffs, mahogany-brown body and even darker arms and legs. Stretched out on her table, it looked like a real gul, right down to the white splotches over the 'collarbones' and the white stripe where the…sheath was….

She boggled. Gul didn't have a sheath as such. From her brief and somewhat painful experience with a gul lover, she remembered the ridge beneath the pelt where the shaft lay until it emerged. The only sign of it, normally, was a slight ridge and a nipple-like bump where the thing came out. A bump just like that the one on the balloon.

She shook her head. How much detail did this thing have? She had noticed that it had a simulated vent -- an anus -- while she was unfolding it, but now that she looked, not only did it have its bump and the vent, but the mouth had soft rubber fangs, pink tongue and another puckered opening at the back of the mouth. She explored this one with a finger and found a tube leading downward, like a throat.

Wonderingly she put her hand on the thing's groin. Through the 'pelt' she could feel something stretched along the inside from the 'balls' upward. She rubbed (Squeak-a!), and felt something move. It even had a cock.

A wicked smile curled her muzzle as she lifted the thing from the table. Something so well made deserved to have a place of honor. "Let's see…or my, you are heavy, Mr. Balloon. I will have to plop you down somewhere."

Naturally, a humanoid balloon needed a place that a human might lie, and in moments, she had it stretched out on her and Briahan's bed. Bulky as the inflatable anthro-wolverine was -- if it had been flesh it'd have weighed three times what she did -- there was plenty of room on the two-fox bed.

The smile stayed on her face as she stretched out the arms and legs, weighing them down with pillows. Now it -- he -- looked as though he was tied to the bed.

At her mercy. She grinned. "My, what have we here. It wouldn't do for me to take advantage of a captive, would it?" Her hand found the groin-ridge again. "It wouldn't do at all."

Charcoal-black fingers rubbed the ridge, her little claws scraping the smooth material. There was a definite hardness beneath the surface, and she put both hands on the long bulge and tried to find the mechanism. After all, whoever made the thing wouldn't have put a dick in it unless there was some way to bring it out for use.

Rubbing and kneading the bulge (Squeak-a! Squeak-a!), she felt a change, a perceptible swelling. No doubt that was the mechanism -- her fingers were squeezing the area around the 'penis', and the displaced air had to go somewhere. She kept rubbing, working her fingers along the length of the now-hard ridge, and gradually a tapered black point emerged.

"Oh my, my prisoner is letting himself get excited. He is naughty, naughty indeed." More of the smooth, black 'cock' emerged, and she took the tip in one hand. It was as thick as her wrist, flexible (after all, it was air-filled) and yet very stiff. "My. He is…generously endowed." Less so than her one gul lover, though. Kuran had been painfully large. This one was merely…interestingly so.

Like the rest of the balloon, this part was smooth as glass and slippery beneath her fingerpads. Leaning down, she sniffed the still-emerging shaft. It had a peculiar, slighty bitter scent, not like anything she'd ever smelled, and it had a strong muskiness to it as well. No doubt that was from the previous owner's…use…of the thing.

Gul were a proud people. She knew that if she had a real one strapped to her bed he'd be foaming at the mouth. They needed to be in control, and no matter how much the male might enjoy the attention, the surrender of control would drive him into a frenzy. She smiled at the thought of the fierce warrior tugging at the chains, snarling. One hand went down her side as she lifted her leg. She slid her fingers beneath the hem, ran them up her thigh to cup her mound, and opened her lips for the latex cock.

Thick, smooth black cock, real to the feel if not to the taste, filled her long muzzle. It just fit between her canine fangs, sliding down her tongue until the pointed tip poked at her throat. Lips wrapped tight, she sucked, rolling her tongue against the underside, and it almost seemed that it went even harder.

Fully ten inches was out of its 'sheath' now, well over two inches thick. Only its light weight and flavor separated it from a real gul cock. Kuran's had been longer still, and that gul had used it with a violent energy that'd had her limping for days. This gul…this gul was at her mercy.

Her palm rubbed her sex as that thought ran through her head. To have a gul here…to have Briahan here! Her muzzle pulled off the erection, leaving it slick and wet, and her hand pushed down her leg, carrying her linen underpants with it. A few seconds later she was peeling her dress up over her head. Had she ever been so anxious to get undressed? She'd left her clothes scattered on the floor a few times, but this time she tore her dress where the v-neck came to a point.

Seemingly while the dress still hovered in the air, she leaped up onto the bed, straddled her 'captive' gul, and impaled herself.

"Oooo, yes, my prisoner is being naughty. He shouldn't be letting me take advantage of him, oh no." She grinned down at the balloon face as she began to rock her hips forward and back. "What will your fellow warriors say, that a little foxie woman took advantage of you?"

Warm, stiff, but oh-so-smooth 'cock' filled her to the brim. There was more than she needed, and she yelped and moaned as she used her 'captive' gul. He couldn't stop her, though he snarled and spat, for her hands and mouth had brought him to hardness. Maybe he'd be able to keep from giving her his seed, but she didn't need that, did she? All she needed was the hardness moving through her, even slicker now with her freely flowing juices. Firm balls pushed against her ass, molded to seem tight up against his pelt, full of seed and tight with lust.

The balloon twitched under her as her thighs squeezed its waist and her rump pushed down against its groin. Her tail brushed its much shorter inflatable one, and the entire construct wriggled slightly as the air displaced from its midparts moved to other areas. The hands clutched at the bed, the face seemed to move and the muzzle to yawn and gnash, but that was just the air. Faint squeaking noises as her thighs squeezed it added to the feeling that it was trying to get loose.

It made things so realistic that she gasped from more than pleasure. The balloon seemed to struggle beneath her, as though to free itself from its 'chains', and she leaned into her downward thrusts. "Is my prisoner protesting now? Is he trying to whine stop me?" She giggled, then gasped. The pressure against the balloon's hips and belly was pushing air rhythmically into other parts of its body, and one of those parts was the inflatable cock. The thing pulsed larger inside her, swelling and contracting as though he was thrusting up into her.

It was intolerably pleasant, and she giggled as she made rude use of the captive. Fantasizing about his reaction -- the snarling rage, the struggle as he tried to snap the chain, the refusal to acknowledge the pleasure her sex was providing. For all the imagined rage, her captive had no choice in the matter. He was simply something to use. When not fantasizing about Kuran chained to the bed, she visualized Briahan in his place, just as helpless to stop her.

"He's not going to get away, no he gasp isn't." Her hands stroked the smooth brown chest, then clutched her breasts, charcoal-black fur on white. Heat was building up in her groin, the smooth, stiff, wet 'cock' driving her toward --

"Oh yeeeeeaassssss!" Her sex clenched around the throbbing shaft, and hot pleasure ran up her spine as she went over the edge. She pinched a nipple painfully hard and rocked through it, gasping and moaning.

It only lasted a few seconds, but for those seconds it was like liquid heat running through her sex and up her spine. She moaned, rocking, and as the orgasm ebbed, something unexplainable followed.

The stiff inflatable cock filling her sex so tightly pulsed, twitched…and, deep inside her, gushed out a hot torrent of seed. The balloon-gul seemed to stir beneath her, arching its back as it…he…sent his semen as far into her as his long cock allowed.

For a moment, she was too startled to react. It…he…had moved! Hadn't it? The hot goo still spurting into her gave the lie to the inanimate façade the balloon gul maintained.

But as the flow slowed and stopped, nothing else happened. "Maybe…you are even more detailed than I thought." She laughed to herself. "After all, if someone takes the time to make a usable cock for a balloon, why not make it so it can --"

And just then the thing's hands came out from beneath the pillow 'chains' and grabbed her upper arms. In an instant they had tugged her down against the balloon-gul's chest. Her breasts deformed the equally flexible inflated chest (Squeak!) , and her nose poked against the hollow at the base of its neck.

"-- Ahhh! No wait, what are youmMMFff!" In the time it took her to blurt out the few words, the eyes that she thought painted-on brightened and the massive inflatable head leaned down toward her. The rubbery-fanged jaws gaped wide and fixed themselves around hers, the thing's chops folding down over her eyebrows and her snout trapped in the broader wolverine-muzzle.

"…Doing? Mmmf!" The thing was far stronger than it should have been! She couldn't budge her arms -- each of its huge hands enclosed almost her entire upper arm. Its cock was still jabbing into her from below, keeping her from retreating that way even if its powerful arms didn't restrain her. The only advantage she had was that even slight as her bulk was next to the balloon's, she weighed four times as much. Her knees were still against the bed, and she strained to arch her back and pull away.

She succeeded in lifting the thing's body from the bed, but it was so broad and deep that she only managed to drag its rump and tail-root an inch or so from the covers. And while she wriggled futilely, it -- he -- bent down and took in more of her head. Rubbery fangs pushed her ears (already laid back in fear) even flatter, and the flexible jaws worked over her cheeks and forehead like a snake's.

When her chin and nose struck the sphincter-like opening at the back of his jaws, pushed through, and continued into a silky-smooth tube of gullet, she panicked. Not only did he push his head downward, but the moment her long muzzle was into his throat the thing swallowed. The smooth tube contracted around her snout, grabbing with rippling strength, and with a squeaky GULP her head slid entirely into the jaws. The broad muzzle stretched effortlessly to accommodate the mass of her skull, and already her face, too, was being pulled forward into the throat.

"Mmmuff! Nnn!" She jerked her head back, trying to free herself, but though she outmassed the 'gul' four to one, it was too strong, and most of all, too flexible. As she tried to pull her head out of its maw, it simply curled bonelessly downward and worked its rubbery 'lips' further over her. The soft, smooth grip of them proceeded rapidly down her slender neck as her cheeks met the sphincter at the back of his jaws and slipped past.

He was swallowing her! Her whole head was in his throat now, held in a fur-tight grip of latex and pulled downward by strong, powerfully rippling walls. Her cheeks stretched the material enough that a dim glow made it through the surrounding material: she could see the throat ahead of her, and could watch the pulses of swallowing effort that washed over her head and continued onward. Already her whole neck was into his maw, and the softly inflatable lips were creeping out over her shoulders. The whole process was almost silent: there was no pulse in the engulfing walls, and if it weren't for the rubbery squeaks as it stretched to take her in, there'd had been no sound save her muffled protests.

She had heard stories of gul that ate their lovers. She knew for a fact that at least a few gul could swallow a man -- or a woman, or a vixen -- in one huge gulp. She'd seen the aftermath of meals like that, heavy swellings with lumps and curves showing the shape of the victim. Bones were as digestible as flesh to a gul, and she supposed that the victims passed through the predatory humanoids like any lesser meal. But she'd never thought it would happen to her. Certainly not with an inflatable gul!

The elastic jaws enveloped her shoulders, and the rubbery tongue tasted her breasts as her upper body slid quickly into the thing's maw. As smooth and painless as the process was, she knew -- or at least suspected -- that she'd come to a bad end if he finished eating her. But though she struggled with all her might, there was no stopping him. He was just too determined. Like a real gul, he was far stronger than she was. She had first hand experience of a living gul's strength: one reason she'd broken off her relationship with Kuran was the time he'd not taken 'no' for an answer. Four hundred pounds of gul had taken her against her will, despite her protests. Afterward, he'd claimed that he thought her struggles feigned, just love-play.

Now thirty pounds of inflatable gul was taking her just as unwillingly, but this time, instead of merely shooting her full of his seed (though he'd done that, too) she was going down his throat. Her muzzle and cheeks were in his chest now, and though her shoulders swelled the elastic neck grossly, her head made not even a bulge in the inflatable gul's broad torso. The dark was absolute now, and smooth, slick lips slid down over her breasts, the latex gullet pulsing powerfully as it propelled her downward. Gulp, gulp, gulp, and her breasts and ribcage sucked into his lips and down his throat. He didn't even have to pin her arms any more, and his huge handpaws reached down to clutch her rump and pull her upward. She lay on the rubbery pillow of his inflated chest, bending double as she was eaten an inch at a time.

The long, wet inflatable cock pulled out smoothly, trailing hot semen across her thigh. Who would have thought the balloon could ejaculate? She should have known right there. No, she should have realized that the erection had swelled suspiciously at her mere touch. But she'd unconsciously assumed that some spell was involved. She hadn't realized the thing was alive and enjoying the attention, going hard like any other male whose cock she stroked and sucked.

If not alive, at least it was hungry. Her muzzle and head popped free of the smooth, pulsing gullet and into a softly expandable space. The walls were every bit as smooth as the throat (or for that matter, any other part of the balloon) and there was no stink of digestion, but she knew it was a stomach. Her last struggle thrashed her knees against the covers, and as her shoulders pushed into the 'gut' as well, she relaxed. Exhausted, she let the thing have its way.

Slippery latex lips slid smoothly over her belly fur, over her hips and rump and tail root as the huge hands pushed her ass out of sight. Stretched gullet took each bit of her and rippled over that inch of fur, pulsing rhythmically to send her downward.

At least there was air: The breaths she had blown into the thing to inflate it had filled every part of it with air, and there was plenty to breathe in its gut. She felt the covers against her calves as the horrid thing stretched out on the bed, swallowing her thighs down in long powerful gulps. The rubbery fangs tickled her fur, reaching her knees. With so much down its throat, each gulp took inches more of her, and her second 'knees' -- actually her heels, if she had walked on them like a human or gul -- reached the teeth in just a couple of swallows.

More and more, she had to curl up in the smooth stomach-bubble, and though the balloon was much bigger than she was, the material stretched enough that some light reached her again. A dim brown glow illuminated her orange and white and charcoal black fur, muting her hues so she appeared as colorless as the dirt-brown gul.

The end was not long in coming. Her 'lover' stretched out his muzzle, bumping his flexible fangs over her footpaws. As his rubbery jaws closed, only her tail remained, and his tongue shoveled her heels and ankles and feet into his throat as he swallowed. The entire gullet tensed and rippled, and she slid downward. Her tail rapidly sucked in after her feet, and in moments the last bit of it slid through his lips, past his fangs and down his throat. It only took three gulps to finish her, and with the last, she slid entirely into the rubbery, expandable stomach.

There was still some air, and she pushed at the walls. Her little claws weren't enough to damage the material, maybe not even if she'd had any room to slash. As it was, there was nothing to do but take in another breath and wonder. It didn't smell like bile, so maybe he was just imprisoning her. Maybe holding her to be coughed up later. After all, the thing clearly liked to fuck, and she was a volpa. Everyone liked to fuck volpa.

But the walls were more than slick now. They were becoming wet, and though the fluid coating her hands and fur didn't sting, she could feel it doing something to her. As though her fur -- and skin -- was softening.

She found new strength, and new determination, in her struggle. She pushed against the translucent walls, toward the firelight so close and yet so far away. She had to get out!

********

Shural belched contently.

The vixen's struggles still moved the stretched latex of his belly, but she was weakening. The belch didn't help: it let out still more of the air, and what she had left was going stale. It wouldn't be long before she succumbed.

Shural might not seem to be a living creature, but he was. He needed to eat just like a flesh-and-blood gul, and the vixen was just the latest in a series of kicking, struggling meals. She would gradually digest into him, becoming part of his very being. Unlike a true gul, there'd be no waste: the magical latex that was his body would simply absorb her.

He'd used the 'parcel left by the road' trick several times now. It usually got him a meal, eventually, but this was the first time his new 'owner' had voluntarily mated with him. He'd forced himself on some of the previous ones, but this one…he smiled and rubbed his fingers over the twitching bulge in his middle. Just as he had to eat, he still liked to fuck. His sole regret from this meal is that she hadn't kept sucking on his cock. It'd been a while, and he'd been entirely willing to startle her with a muzzleful of musky seed. That had been one of the surprises when he first changed from a real gul into this shape: his latex balls still produced real semen. Maybe someday he'd find out if he could still father cubs on a strong gul-femme. He knew from his Maker that he'd not be able to knock up a volpa, however hard he tried.

Still, he'd had his way with her. She'd had her game, she'd been 'in charge' and on top, but his balls were empty just the same. He yawned, and belched again. The bulge was nearly still now, and he could feel his belly working on the meal. She was softening, turned bit by bit into something like latex and drawn into the belly walls.

He could simply absorb her. It'd take the rest of the night, and then there'd be no trace of her at all. That form of digestion was very efficient. But he didn't always carry through with complete absorption. There was an alternative, and thinking back on her complaints about her unfaithful lover (so like his own frustration before he was changed) and about the lusty volpa-femme bouncing on his cock, he decided that this one was worth preserving.

Albeit in another form.

*********

Shalira woke.

She leaped off the bed with a scream, tail bristling and hackles up. Before she realized what she was doing, she had lashed out at a big brown pillow. Normally she'd have laid it open, even with her little claws, but it just bounced to the far side of the bed.

Panting, she looked around. There was no sign of the balloon, and gradually she relaxed. It'd bee a dream. Yes, that was it…a dream. After all, how likely was it that a balloon would have a dick, much less any of the rest of it? She chuckled.

"Shalira, you need to get out more. Or less. Where did that dream come from? Am I that angry at Briahan, that I think back on an even worse lover?" She rubbed her chin, grinning.

Squeak.

What was that? She spun, trying to look in all directions at once. That was what the balloon had sounded like when one part rubbed against another!

But it was nowhere to be scene, and again her racing pulse slowed. Letting out a long sigh, she put her hands on her hips.

Squeak-a!

"What?"

Stiff with fear, it dawned on her that she felt…different. Lighter. She had turned with odd slowness despite her fear, and the pillow…shouldn't it have torn? She looked at her hand…and that's when she realized she had changed.

Her hand was smooth, charcoal-black material. Her claws were blunt, rubbery white things. There were no seams anywhere, and no fur. Just the silky-smooth, tight material of an inflated balloon.

She looked down. Her breasts were the same, though white, and she stroked a hand down her belly and thigh. Squeak-a! A look confirmed that her tail was the same, tight with air and the same size as it had been before. She was the same size, and from a distance she probably looked the same, orange-brown, white and charcoal black.

A brief exploration revealed that yes, she had a nozzle on the end of her tail, and the same three 'holes' as before. One under her tail, one in the slit above that, and the one in her mouth. All were puckered shut, and all revealed a passage beyond when she explored with a finger. Even the one beneath her tail parted painlessly to her explorations. More than painlessly: even pleasantly. Clearly she could still feel, still enjoy contact.

She should have been shocked and terrified, but she wasn't. Instead, she was grinning. A leaf torn from her diary provided paper, and her pen and ink were ready at hand.

"Dear Briahan," She said as she wrote the words, "I have had to go out of town today on tavern business. I'll be back tomorrow. In the meantime, a travelling salesman stopped by the town and he had the most interesting things! I bought this one," (An arrow pointed off the edge of the paper), and thought I would leave it for you to look at. I'm sure you will find a use for it." (Several hearts around the words 'use for it'.) "Hugs and kisses, Shalira."

She straightened the covers on the bed and put her dress, underclothes, and uneaten dinner away. The note went on the corner of the bed, and she climbed up after. Somehow she knew how her new body worked, and air hissed from her lips as she deflated herself. Though she settled down into a pile of smooth latex folds, she retained control over herself, and in moments she had folded herself into a neat square. Her hands, face, and tail folded inmost of all, rendering the parcel a puzzle one must open to understand.

Just as she finished, she heard the door latch rattle. She poked her tailtip out of the parcel and made sure the arrow on the note pointed right at her, then drew it back in.

Briahan was right on time, feeling happy and positive from the sound of his pawfalls. Hidden in the folds of the parcel, Shalira smiled. No doubt her lover's balls were empty from his 'family visit', but if she knew him (and she did), he wouldn't be able to resist exploring the possibilities of an inflatable toy such as she had become.

Of course she would be just that, inflatable and use-able, but she had more planned than that. Even now she had a belly, she knew, and it churned with a new and yet familiar hunger.

Briahan would have his fun. And then she would have hers.

The End