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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
or my, you are heavy, Mr. Balloon. I will have to plop you down
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
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
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
endowed." Less so than her one gul lover, though. Kuran had been
painfully large. This one was merely
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
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
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
deep inside her, gushed out a hot torrent of seed. The balloon-gul seemed
to stir beneath her, arching its back as it
sent his semen
as far into her as his long cock allowed.
For a moment, she was too startled to react. It
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
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
"-- 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
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
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
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,
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
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
Albeit in another form.
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.
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.
Stiff with fear, it dawned on her that she felt
She had turned with odd slowness despite her fear, and the pillow
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
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
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.