From Feet to Paws

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Corey had not been dealing very well with his changes. Of course, most guys had "things" happen to them in their lives, but most of that came during puberty and, well, everyone expected that. What they did not expect was, still later on, to find themselves becoming rather...furrier, to put it politely.

He shook his head as he sat before his computer screen, not wearing his usual beanie hat, which he always needed to have crammed down over his ears to hide the fox-like nature of them. They had grown slowly, so much so that he had not known what to do with them at first, though work had been an issue too, asking why he was covering his hair so much. Yet transforming into a vulpine, even if only a fox satyr, was hardly something that Corey wanted to dig into and neither was it something that he could go to a doctor about. They'd experiment on him -- ship him off! Everyone knew that things, over there, weren't fair.

So, he'd hidden his transformation, from the time when his fox ears had grown and perched higher up on his head, shaving off the russet "sideburns" religiously every morning, though sometimes he had to tackle them at midday too. He worked with it, one way or another, even as part of his legs transformed too, around his calves but not his feet becoming coated in typical red fox fur, the bright orange of the ones that he'd seen running through the woods on early morning walks before. He didn't see many foxes anymore, though Corey did not know if that was because he was partly one of them now or if he simply had bad luck. Maybe all those foxes, with their black, twitching noses and knowing stares in the frosty air, had been trying to tell him something all that time ago.

He had to hide it, couldn't go swimming anymore, couldn't even wear shorts in winter as the russet fur had taken over his calves, leaving him partially transformed, thinking that he knew what was coming next but never quite sure. But he still managed to complete his college work somewhat adequately, to tackle his part-time job, and Corey had thought that he was doing well enough for himself.

That was, until his feet started aching one day, when he was heading back to his car from his work in the mall, the shopping centre that had promised so many easy part-time gigs. He wasn't so sure about the "easy" part there, but it was a good stopgap for the time being while he worked at getting a better job.

"What the heck..."

He muttered to himself, checking automatically to make sure his hat was securely in place on top of his head, though the weather was getting a little warmer. He would have to swap to a baseball hat soon or maybe a military-style flat cap that would squash his ears down a little more. He wanted to hide them, to pretend it wasn't happening, though not even Corey knew how far the transformation would progress.

He rubbed his foot, not caring about having his sock out in public. There were far more embarrassing things to worry about in the world, yet he couldn't understand why every step he'd taken across the smooth, easily cleaned mall floor had been more difficult than the last. It was as if he was drunk, not quite knowing how to walk anymore, though he, of course, hadn't had anything more than coffee and water to drink that day.

His jaw dropped as the sick realisation of what was happening sank into the pit of his stomach, squeezing and massaging his foot through his sock, panic flooding him.

Not now! Why was it happening now? His thoughts raced through his mind, one chasing the tail of the other (or the paws, as it was) as frantically as the one that came before it, snarling and snapping like tiny, red foxes for precedence. Yet all Corey could think to do was to stagger upright again, crushing his shoe back onto his changing foot, gaze leaping erratically from one spot to the next, seeking an escape.

The shop? No, that wouldn't work. What about a changing room? No, someone would catch him, find him. The car? But what if he couldn't drive...

He didn't know what to do, but whipping down a side corridor, the kind that led to staff areas and rear entrances to some of the shops held inside the mall for security reasons, where cleaning supplies were held in storerooms too. He yanked at the doors, his palms slippery with sweat, though those were, thankfully, still human. Corey didn't know what the hell he would do if he had to deal with fox hands too, if he changed from human to satyr...to full fox.

It didn't make sense why it was happening and he hoped that there would be someone else in the world going through the same as him, though that had not yet been uncovered, not as he scrolled through internet forums and IM services late at night. It was all people trying to play out a fantasy that they could not even know was a reality.

There! A handle popped down under his hand and he whipped around into a storeroom that had been left unlocked, not that anyone would have wanted to steal cleaning supplies anyway. There, amongst the mops and the bleach and piles of industrial floor cleaning equipment, he pressed his back to the shelving, yanking off his shoes, his socks, his toes already shorter and stubbier than they had been.

Stumbling, Corey jammed a mop behind the door handle, propping it out so that it stopped the handle from being pushed down, though he didn't think that it would stop anyone who was determined to make their way in, as much as he might have liked it to. Though he could try, only try, muttering to himself, sweeping his fingers back through his hair, his hat askew. When had that happened? Corey could only hope that it had been after he had slammed himself into the storeroom, though there was no way to be sure.

Alone, panic gripped him, grabbing his foot as he plopped onto his seat bones, trying to press his toes back into shape.

"Come on... Come on..."

Of course, it was not something that he could do anything about as the familiar tingle of coolly prickling magic seeped through him, seeming to only speed up now that he was alone. It was as if it knew, though that could not be so, even if he had no reason to honestly believe otherwise. His previous transformations had all happened when he'd been alone too and it was as if the magic, or whatever it was, tried to give him time to get to a more private location before enclosing him in its soft grasp.

Yet as soft as it was, the transformation was not something that he wanted either, grunting, rubbing his foot as his toes pulled in, better matching the rest of his legs with a coat of russet fur. It spread thickly, between the toes, and he bit his lip, holding back a curse at the ticklish sensation. It didn't hurt to transform, though he could not stop the fluttering panic gripping and yanking at his chest, striving to urge him into motion, action of some kind. But what the hell could he be expected to do about something that was well and truly out of his control?

Corey didn't know, thumping his head back against the shelves, the rattling hastening him to be still, only the frantic pounding of his heart for company. His feet would no longer fit properly into his shoes as his toes settled into a shorter, chunkier form, his toenails curling forward and darkening into black claws. He didn't have to look to know that his right foot too, not just the one that he'd been holding, was transforming. He could feel it, how the arch of his foot disappeared, losing the humanity of a foot and becoming a paw.

But it was not wholly like the paw of a fox that would have been seen running through the forest or even rummaging through the bins in a more residential area (they were opportunistic at best). No, it was something that he could still walk on, thankfully, on two feet...paws...whatever. The base of his foot-paw was still flat, though it was as if he was pushed up onto his toes, the bones aching as they adjusted themselves.

No more was his knee the only bend of his leg, but a backwards-facing bump poised where he thought his heel had to be, allowing him more flexibility in his leg. He didn't know how it would feel to stand on it and, truthfully, a big part of Corey didn't want to find out either. But he'd have to, even if he didn't know how the hell he was going to hide what had happened to him that time, to find some way to make his transformation hidden, to go away.

Not swimming, when his feet would no longer even fit into his regular shoes, would be the least of his worries...

His heel ached as he tried to stand, though he knew it was too soon, even though it felt like he was most of the way through his transformation, his body cooled, settled. Wobbling, he gritted his teeth, ignoring the prickle of furious tears in the corners of his eyes -- why now? Why did it have to keep happening? -- and hung onto the shelving just to keep himself upright.

"Come on... Shit..."

He wasn't one to swear, more on the reserved side, though that had been partially a result of his transformation, changing slowly, hiding as a direct result of that. He shook his head, the click of his black claws on the hard floor out of the realm of his imagination, though Corey might have supposed that it was going to happen eventually. If the rest of his legs and, of course, his ears too, had transformed, it would not have made sense for his feet to be left out.

How was he going to get back to his car? He tried to shove a paw back into his shoes, the trainers that were falling apart already, and winced. There was no way they were going to stay on his new paw...not even if he walked like a drunkard, bow-legged and staggering.

He did not swear, however, sighing, his head tipping forward, the fur fluffing up a little. If he'd only glanced at his foot-paws, he would only have seen the paws of a fox, nothing of a man remaining there. His tails hung sadly behind him, trapped down the legs of his jeans, though they were one of the easiest things to hide, except when they tried to move, wiggling. Usually only when strong emotion was felt, though, in the dim gloom of the storeroom, there was little better place for strong emotion to be shown.

Grunting, he pressed his hands to either side of his head, gripping his hair, the beanie slipping higher, letting out a ragged cry. But, like every time the transformations had come before, Corey would find a way to deal with it.

He always had before.

Later that day, wrapping socks around his foot-paws and trying to bodge something together to make his shoes somewhat wearable again, Corey chewed at the inside of his cheek. The worry was still there, even after that hair-raising drive home, his bare foot-paws slipping on the pedals of his car, but he was a little more resolute, trying to make a plan. Whether he could hide things forever or not was a moot point, but Corey would try, seeking out a way through the cover of his bedroom and the life that he had stubbornly built for himself to be himself, through it all.

It was all he could do, even if he was destined to become a fox satyr.