Other Apartment
He wasn’t in his apartment for more then five minutes that night before he was stripping down to his underwear so he could try on the onesie. It was laid out on his bed, awaiting his use. When he was down to his underwear, he picked it up and gave it one last look. So real. Nylon, polyester, whatever, it was perfect for making skunk fur. He looked at the collar and saw the zipper. It was small, which is probably why he missed it the first time. He pulled it down and split the belly open. He noticed that the inside was shiny like velvet, inviting him even more. With a giddy smile he stepped his foot into one leg, then the other. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled it up until his feet popped out the bottom. He wiggled his toes and rolled his ankles, loving how soft it felt against his legs. He stood up and put his arms through the sleeves. He zipped it back up, then finally flipped the hood onto his head.
Voila! He was a skunk. The soft interior clung to his skin snugly, tingling him with delight. He rubbed his bare hands over his tummy, savoring the outer softness. He could feel the tail hanging from above his butt. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve said it had bones running through it. But forget how nice it felt, he had to see how it looked. He scampered off to the bathroom and turned the lights on. He saw himself in the mirror, decked in that mephitine suit like a toddler on Halloween. An ecstatic smile split his face. He looked so cute! He turned his back to the mirror and checked out his tail. Oh yeah, it was perfect. He ran his hands down his back, noticing how snug the suit was so his skin. Funny, he remembered how loose it looked on the mannequin. Maybe it was way smaller than he was.
He turned his frontside to the mirror. He stood there with his arms akimbo, looking and feeling proud. There was no need to be ashamed, not when he felt so comfortable. He had found his new pajamas. Heck, it was a good thing he lived alone, because he definitely planned on wearing this thing as often as he could. Only when he cooked meals or had people over would he take it off. Oh yeah, and he would clean it of course. He loved it, but not that much. Something so special had to be taken care of anyway. Just as he thought of it, he realized with a rumbling tummy that he hadn’t had dinner yet. He grasped at his collar for the zipper.
There was nothing there.
He patted his hand around to confirm that the zipper he very clearly remembered using was gone. He slid his hand up and down his belly. There was no crease or stainless steel teeth like before, nothing but faux fur. He clawed, picked, and stretched the fabric across every part of it, including the front and back sides. There was no zipper. The first throbs of panic settled on his heart. He stared down at the suit and saw with his own eyes that there still was no zipper. Where did it go?
He had no time to formulate a theory before he felt the onesie tighten around his body like a bag being vacuum-sealed. His spine shot into a straight line. He looked at the mirror and saw that whatever slack the suit had was now gone. It had fit into the contours of his body, leaving absolutely no room in between whatsoever. Most alarming was the hoodie which had fallen on his head like the top portion of a wetsuit. He was terrified that the suit would continue shrinking and crush him.
But the suit was not shrinking. It was assimilating. He felt something tingle down his wrists. He looked down and saw the fabric lengthening down towards his hands like a living liquid spreading its territory across his skin. His wrists disappeared, then the bottom half of his palms, then his hand entirely. “What is this?” he screamed. He shook his hands frantically. It didn’t work. He shook them harder. Nothing happened. He shook them so hard that they nearly flew off by the joint. The suit continued claiming his hand until no skin remained. What replaced it was a thick cushion of fleshy padding where his palm had been. What felt like a tugging sensation on the very tips of his fingers was his fingernails sprouting into long, white claws made for digging.
He felt a pressure on his feet. He looked down and saw the same process happening to them. What had been a tightening of the suit was now more like a physical melding. Flesh bonded with fabric. The cells of his skin melted and fused with the velvet liner. The hilt of the skunk tail drilled into the base of his spine. He wasn’t wrong when he thought it had bone inside of it. He knew that now that it was latching onto his vertebrae and rendering the tail a part of him. When he tried pinching the suit off of him, he could only wince in pain. There was no suit, only skunk.
He looked back into the mirror. The outer limits of his face had been consumed by fur. The rim of his eye sockets were black. A white stripe ran down his forehead. His formally brown mop of hair was now a shaggy white cumulus. He thought a black cloud would consume his vision as the fur crept down into his visor, but was spared that punishment at least. What he was not saved from was the black fur closing in on his nose and lips. “Ah!” A great pressure pushed out from inside of his head, right behind his medulla. He went cross eyed and looked at his nose. What were two bumps on the bottom corners of his peripherals became long, black protrusions that reached out to the center of his vision. His nose and jaws were sprouting forward into a snout, a painful process that felt like someone had stuck a hook in the roof of his mouth and was pulling it straight out of his face. He gripped the rim of the sink growling through the pain. It escalated around his lip when a forest of whiskers sprouted from his upper lip, each one coming out individually.
He was in the final swing of his transformation, one that fell upon his pecs and around his groin. A groan mixed with agony and queer delight belted out of him as his manhood started to retract into his body. He looked down in horror to see his reproductive organs shrinking back into his loins. “No! No no no nonononnnonnono!” Blocking the view of his disappearing genitals was the sudden inflation of his chest into a pair of white breasts. His crosses eyes stared down at them in abject terror and confusion. The first notes of a scream started their way out of him but were cut off by his paw slamming over his snout. The sound that came out of him was not his own, but that of a woman’s. It crackled like a teenager’s, but instead of a sudden deepening in his pitch, it was a rapid incline. He cautiously uncovered his maw and let out a tepid “Ah.” It did not crack this time, but remained the smooth, unmistakable tone of a woman’s.
Then, just like that, all sensations stopped at once. He looked into the mirror to see not a reflection of himself, but that of a buxom skunkette. He- no, she? He still identified as a man, but any and all physical remnants of that were gone. God, even his visage had taken on the soft contours of a woman, albeit with the inclusion of a short snout with a pink cherry nose. He lifted his hand- no, his paw, -towards his cheek. His entire body jerked the moment his tough paw pads touched his sensitive whiskers. Yes, it was real. It was all real.
Terror set in. “Oh God! Oh no! Why?” He rubbed his paws all over his face, stretching the skin to find any breaches that would reveal normal human skin beneath. All he got was the sight of sharp canines sticking out from his gums. Nothing human besides his upright posture remained. Even his underwear had magically vanished. What was he going to do now? Was this permanent? He had to call someone, but who? 911? How was he supposed to explain that over the phone? Who would they even send? It had to be someone who trusted him, but he doubted even his own mother would believe a single word of what happened.
Written by TheGreatJaceyGee on 24 January 2023
