Shapeshifter: Quickie with Catgirl

The shapeshifter didn't take much effort to slink into his apartment. Its fingers flowed into the lock, pushed the pins and twisted the tumbler. Silently, the door opened. The only thing moving down the dark hallway was a humanoid blank canvas. It was a colourless figure, a broad brush stroke suggesting female, lacking any details to bring it to life. Moving silently, they stalked the house. Sweet scents of their prey's fantasies guided them to the small room, to the figure hunched over at their computer, writing a story he'd never go back to because the mere association to this night would be too much of a distraction.

His desires were written like a scratchy shopping list. Some items were clear, thought about for months or a regular occurrence in his fantasies. Others only appeared after the shapeshifter had probed for them, in chicken scratches. If you knew how to read the wild and unruly handwriting, the shorthand terms only the mind could understand, and separated the wants from the needs, it was easy to go through and optimise. The shapeshifter was a master at sieving for the lust in someone's head. Instinctively they took the list, created a shape, a personality. Not a single conscious thought covered the process, so the end result, whatever felt natural, was a surprise to even the shapeshifter.

She was now Erika. The name was a natural thought, as if it was always there, even if nothing else was yet. It would sound better out loud than in her head. Especially from him. The initial shift hit the hardest, always left her wanting the most. A shapeshifter had to be perpetually aroused, always ready to take a target when the opportunity arose, and that created a new baseline for spikes of arousal to rise up from. Her form shimmered in anticipation.

His progress with the story had reached a lull. No combination of words sounded right. The sentences were basic. The sentences were boring. The sentences were repetitive. Writer's block had stacked into a fortress preventing all progression. Tom sat there, staring at the page, waiting for a new burst of inspiration to hit him. Any second now...

Something moved in the corner of his eye. After being blasted by the pure white word processor, his eyes were in no hurry to adjust to the dark of the rest of his room.

The shapeshifter doesn't have a natural speaking pattern. There's no need to, because the shapeshifter doesn't really exist to anyone but itself. But Erika had a speaking pattern, a natural voice that was a part of her. And Erika was more than happy to use that voice, especially for him. "Hey!"

Tom jumped and locked onto the voice. The cute, feminine voice, with just a hint of a giggle behind it, like she had noticed something unkempt with his appearance. He looked harder into the dark. It took a lot of focus just to catch the two eyes staring back at him. Two big, bright, blue eyes, catching the faint light so beautifully he found himself staring. The eyes got closer. The light off the monitors outlined a vague, faint figure.

"Call me Erika, 'kay Tom?" she said with a wink.

Erika's eyes grew bigger and brighter. The way they grabbed his attention was already so delicious, it was easy to let her natural instincts take control. She inched towards him, taking inches out of her height with every step, until she compressed down to under five feet. Her skin settled on a white-pink tone. Now she was a doll-like body, a rough outline without any details. It was unbearable to be so plain for so long.

She leaned forward, putting her head into the light, shaping it as she did. A heart shaped face with a cute button nose. She pouted and her lips turned glossy pink, grabbing the pure white light, begging for his attention, before pulling back into a smile to flash her perfect teeth. Darting eyes recorded his reaction. First at his face; his eyes widened as her appearance appeared. Her own eyes rolled up for a moment as she felt his approval, then flicked down below the belt; the dawning realisation that she was already getting a reaction behind his jeans put a wide smile on her face, like she'd just seen the waiter bringing out her food from across the restaurant.

"Got a type?" Her eyes narrowed, and her wide smile turned into a smirk. "Everyone's got a type." She raised one finger and tapped her temple. Colourless hair burst straight up from her head. By the time gravity took hold of the strands, several colours had shot through it, from natural blondes and brunettes to extreme dyed colours. The shapeshifter studied Tom's reaction to each split second snapshot of a hair colour. When the hair fell into a shoulder length, wavy hair style, it was pastel pink. At the last second the roots saturated into a slightly darker pink, putting a smooth and consistent gradient through every single strand of hair. The locks of hair danced like a rubidium flame test as she pulled her head back into the darkness.

Tom stared in amazement at the spot the figure was standing in. The perfect face was fading into the void, aside from the bright eyes and lips which refused to be taken by the darkness. He wanted to move closer, to see more. His office chair had wheels to roll on. His phone was on the desk, and it had a flashlight. Even a little turn of the monitor would show more of whoever was in his room. And yet he couldn't move. If he did, he could confirm it was all a dream and it would fade away. So he sat there, enthralled by the woman intruding.

She reached out with her vaguely humanoid hand. Once it crossed an invisible boundary, it shifted, becoming a dainty, delicate hand with small, precise fingers. She twirled it around, wiggling the flexible fingers to as far as looked normal, inspecting it herself. Brow furrowed, she complained, "Hands are always so tricky." Minute changes, too subtle to notice in the low light, flowed across her hand, smoothing and massaging the flesh to sculpt every part of herself to perfection.

Tom had nothing to reply with. He kept watching with curiosity, a silent bystander in this dream. Moving could be seen as threatening to leave or run, the opposite of what he wanted. So he sat and watched everything with all his attention. It wasn't uncommon for the shapeshifter to take control, but this was a different sort of reaction to her prey making a move. Erika would be controlling the pace of tonight. She knew he wouldn't move

"At least the hard part's out of the way!" She celebrated with a smile, which morphed into a giggle when she thought a little more about what she said. She licked her lips and looked down, "Seems like your hard part is still gettin' started." Her body continued to slender up her arms to her shoulders, matching the finesse of her fingers all the way down to her legs. Redrawn as someone more lithe, she shifted the weight from foot to foot, twirling her finger about. She took his attention to her fingertip and pointed at her own eyes, now backlit by bioluminescence.

"So, what are we gonna do?"

The only response was an incoherent mumble. Inside his head, at the opposite volume, was a siren of screams and exclamations, equally incoherent.

In the seconds where their eyes met Erika toyed with the idea of pouncing at him. Her head lolled to the side, tilting naturally, as they stared into each other. He saw two bright blue eyes. She saw an ocean of ideas and expectations to plunge through. Tom the passenger was in shock and anticipation, expecting every moment to be the one where the dream crumbled like the ground on an old hiking trail, ending up with him on the floor and longing for where he was before. The fear of fragility, the concern of it all ending, formed like an island in his head. She flashed a cruel, cheeky smile.

Erika shuddered in excitement as the process began. She felt hot - overwhelming so. Like she was burning up from the core. Loud, feverish panting followed, outstretched hand bouncing with every breath. She balled her hand up and brought it against her body. The burning became an unsettled fizzing and churning inside. Despite having total control of her anatomy, the shapeshifter knew very little about it. Erika took solace in the fact this feeling was natural for her kind, and that this turbulence would result in her getting what she wanted. All Tom got was a silhouette of this beautiful girl having an apparent breakdown, all with a maniacal smile on her face.

The phoenix was reborn. The light off the monitor body framed herself for her prey. And to get her prey, the current lack of contours and curves to catch the light was unacceptable. A slow burning fired downwards, into her legs. From the outside, instantaneously her hips flared out. Her thighs grew to fit her flare, before she turned sideways and popped her ass, filling it out to match the huge thighs that would've looked outlandish on her frame in anything but a fantasy. Turning straight again to show a stomach tucked flat, a slim waist, and a hard V where her stomach met her thighs. It was too dark to see what he desperately wanted, what finally got him to inch forward to peer into the light. In a way she helped him by taking a step forward. But the Shapeshifter noted how Erika would always delay being helpful, and panties weaved themselves into existence over her crotch. A knot on either side tied low and tight to demonstrate how soft and plush her thighs were. One firm tug was enough, if she allowed it.

She bounced and turned on her toes, turning to catch his reaction to her ass behind the stretched panties. As it turned out, he was too distracted by the sway of her ass to notice another offshoot of the shapeshifter tampering with the monitor's brightness, revealing more of her as she backed deeper into the light.

As she turned around she completed the outfit. The shapeshifter's impatience fought with Erika's false modesty, creating a short, tight, strappy top, with a heart shaped cutout in the centre of her currently flat chest. She brushed her neck, and by the time Tom had looked up to follow her hand, the glint of a choker was there - a black leather one, with a chrome heart that winked in the light as her body moved while breathing. She had calmed down from the frantic panting before the changes, but to say she was relaxed would be an understatement.

"Do you think it looks cute, Master?" For a split second her eyes widened in shock at the name for him. In the following tenth, hundredth, thousandth of a second, whatever the minimum took for the superhuman creature to react, the miniscule twitch under his jeans switched Erika's mind permanently. She blushed with bright and enhanced rosy cheeks, and hid her face as she swung herself left and right, as she waited for him to speak.

It took a lot of effort to find any volume. The word wasn't hard. But the valve to flow any speech through his mouth was rusted and seized. With all the focus that wasn't stolen by her body, he replied, in a shaky, hoarse voice. "Ye-yes."

The pet name for him seemed appropriate for someone who loved to tease so much, mocking him in a way, for being so brutally unsure of what to do. There was no sense of dominance coming from him, no way he could ever be her master. But the way it made his dick throb meant the shapeshifter could perform all the mental gymnastics needed to justify it. Erika tested her feelings more. Her hands covering her face moved. Leaning forward, one hand behind her back while the other cupped her ear, she asked in a low, breathy voice, "What was that, Master~?"

He finally moved, to shuffle about as the attention bordered on too much. The situation was something he could comfortably enjoy, and made him uncomfortably overwhelmed, but all she saw, as he twisted in his seat, was someone thoroughly enjoying the show. Nothing felt better or more addictive than to be feeding desires, to be building up that delicious food.

She threw herself upright again, only to feel empty as her hair and the laces around her clothes swung back. Something was missing. Tom wanted more. As a human pats down their pockets when they lose their phone, the shapeshifter gave a mental pat down all over to find what Tom wanted. That's when she finally looked down, and turned a brighter shade of pink in shame.

She knocked her head. "Oh Master, I'm such a goof~," and offered a sheepish smile. "You want titties to match this ass, don't you?" She twisted to show the mismatched ass in question, panties hung just a little bit lower than the first time she showed it. Facing back at Tom, she rolled her hand as if presenting her chest. "A~!"

Her face scrunched up in faux concentration. In a single burst her chest bumped up a cup size, now beginning to strain the fabric. A gully of cleavage was starting to form in the heart cutout. "B!" She was positively beaming now with Tom's attention fixated on her bigger breasts now. The word 'More' came from both inside her head and from Tom's outward guiding desires. She gave him more, posturing herself as tall as her tiny frame would let her, chest thrust out. "C!" On cue her top stretched out again, the gully of cleavage turning into a valley. Erika placed one hand on the desk to throw her body at him, breasts bouncing and swaying inside the top mere inches from his face. "What do you think?" His stunned, blank, overwhelmed expression was everything she needed. It drove her.

All while acting, the shapeshifter discovered a new way to exploit their prey, when Tom was face to chest with Erika. He loved when she overwhelmed him, moving before he could fully process the situation, like he was running alongside a speeding car, barely gripping onto the B-pillar, legs windmilling under him while she controlled the pace. He wouldn't fall, not with her control, but there was no time for him to be comfortable. Erika could feel how much he enjoyed her forwardness, how every second he was flustered was like bathing in a hot, refreshing shower.

She rebounded backwards with a bounce, boobs jiggling about in a top that was tight and supportive only a moment earlier, and returned to that state as her tits returned to rest. "Personally Master, I prefer a little bit more~."

There was no pretence of effort this time. Only her eyes rolling back in anticipation, shapeshifter instincts already rewarding both predator and prey as her face turned lewd and she raised one hand. Snap. A long, low moan, and a sudden jerk through her bust when it burst up another cup size. She looked back down, unable to see her feet from the two perfect, perky titties. Gawking was the best reaction Erika could hope for. Open mouth, pale face, all because his blood had rushed somewhere far more delicious. "Much better," she said, voice breathy and weak from the pleasure of feeding arousal. Just as Tom looked like he was getting too uncomfortable to stay still, like he would move his weight even slightly, she threw herself back in. Offering the same close up view of her cleavage as before, Erika put her mouth close so he could feel her quick, passionate breaths on his neck. She spoke like her body was a deep secret only he was allowed to witness. "Don't you agree, Master~?"

This is real was all Tom could think. Her breath was a detail too fine, too obscure, for him to notice in a dream. This is vivid and this is real.

She backed off to admire her work. His blood flow was conflicted. His face was flushed red, hot and lost in the moment. Everything else sided with gravity to pump down where it felt better, to his eager cock. It had never felt so hard before. Mentally, the situation was overwhelming, but physiologically, he understood the situation just fine. He wanted Erika. The bulge in his jeans revealed everything he was otherwise coy about.

She bent down at the hips, keeping her ass high behind her as she made another pass. Closing the distance sent waves of intoxicating affirmation into her mind, rippling down the body crafted for the reaction. A positive feedback loop of sexiness, where transforming into his desires made felt so good, it became irresistible. Now the process had started, she was her own passenger. Her eyes fluttered as she took a deep inhale of what was still so far away, the wisps of him still trapped under denim and Erika's own love of teasing torture.

So close to finding that treasure of perfection on a long, empty beach. A shapeshifter doesn't do less than perfect. Narrowing down the location of the treasure chest wasn't hard at all, but the exact dig spot was always a challenge. Erika could always cycle through shapes and types, brute forcing her way to being perfect for Tom. But that was no fun, it lacked the skill of reaching out to him to find whatever random combination of biology, psychology, and accessories set him off the most. So engrossed in feeling for what was best that her body went into autopilot. On instincts alone, totally zoned out behind the eyes, she looked up at Tom.

Tom saw full, playful eyes, a mouth slightly slack, and the gentle sway of her body from her breathing. She closed her eyes and took another deep inhale. "I can't wait~," she said, with a smile that Tom could only interpret as a lie. I can wait, if it means you can't. His jeans felt just a little tighter than they did before.

Metaphorically, Erika settled on a place on the beach and looked down. Either she would strike what she was looking for, and therefore what he was looking for, or take the expedition down a hole that could throw the entire venture off course. Her eyes were drifting half open when she pushed.

There was a flash, a spasm through her body following the twitch in his cock, where her eyes went wide and everything became clear. In a moment she composed herself, enough for a purr to escape and her eyes to settle half closed again. In a dreamlike state she asked, "Master, don't you want me to be purrrrrfect~?"

Erika never intended on listening to his answer. Ironic, considering how much better she became the following instant. One at a time, two pointed, fluffy cat ears sprouted from her head, pink to match her hair. They twitched and fluttered as they became accustomed to existing. His heavy, heaving breaths were more obvious than ever. And now his heartbeat was clear. A rapid firing, pumping hard, doing everything it could to get more blood around his body, to keep the pressure up where it was needed most in this instant. His cock was straining and fighting to burst out of his jeans, struggling against its boxer brief and denim shackles. Erika's pupils turned to narrow slits, becoming hyper focused on the movement caused by her latest change. She had struck hard, desperate, sensitive treasure.

Her movements were guided by an unknown force, instincts puppetting her body like a marionette sexdoll. If she was, one of the strings would've been attached between the bridge of her nose and the fly of his jeans. She stayed bent over at the hips as she took a few steps back, watching longingly at the spot she was plotting over. Even after turning around on one foot and standing upright in one, in a motion so fluid it could've been from a ballet, she continued to side-eye him over her shoulder. A pastel pink tail shot from her tailbone to the height of her head, stiff like the catgirl was frightened of her own tail, before relaxing and loosely coiling like a spring behind her. Tom watched it wherever it went. It went up, his eyes followed, tracing the path it drew up her body, which ended with it pointing at her eyes, giving them another momentary piece of eye contact. First she threw her hands up, to the side, hanging them into loose claws. "Nya~!" she called, winking, ears twitching again. "So this is what you really wanted, Master~? A cute, sexy, catgirl in heat at your disposal~?" She flashed teeth with more prominent canines than before, and there was a new glint and hunger in her eyes. The tail curled back around as she bent over to present herself. She was bent down, showing the newly formed cameltoe from the practically painted on panties. Her tail curled to point at it, to drag his attention where she wanted it, straight to Kitty's pussy. "Because that's what you've got!" A wave rolled through the tail, demonstrating how flexible and in control of it she was, travelling through the length of the curl to the tip, and the motion appeared to transfer through the air into her body. Erika let out a short, high pitched moan, instantly soaking her panties, body quaking in the self imposed aftershock.