Your face twitches wrinkling your nose, wiggling your ears as your voice murmurs pass puckered lips carrying what almost passes as the sound of a chittering mouse or rat. A soft numbness hits your eyes as you stare out almost blankly, thoughts drifting as posture crumbles stumbling forward catching yourself from falling as you rise on the tip of your toes. Its as if you were struck with an curious case of vertigo, your body gravitating inches to the floor as you feel unbalanced on your own two legs carefully crouching until your hands plant upon the carpet.
Such anxiousness driving your inner rodent darting your eyes around the room exploring what should feel like familiar dwellings yet timidly marveled under your new lowered perspective, your crouched posture and your primal behavior influencing such wonderment at how small you feel right now. You straighten up, hands limp tucked against your chest as you tilt and bob your head frantically; grooming your hair with the back of your fleshy paws.
Cool air sends shivers up your spine looking back as you find your pants slipping down under your rear, the strap of your panties following with it. You lean forward and rest on hands and feet stretching out your slender body, wiggling your lower half as you manage to step out and allow your undergarments to slip down to your ankles sweeping them away with your feet. Immediate relief glows within sighing in what was closest to a mousey squeal, lowering your head and letting your shirt plop behind your head and down your wrists accompanied by your bra; the sensual bliss of basking in your natural hide freely spouting another squeak from your voice.
How strange that your clothes conveniently felt twice as loose than they normally should. Then again; you feel you've had plenty of practice slipping out of your garments whenever your mousey fascinations take hold, as if undergoing a real transformation...even if it normal leads to nowhere.
It's a bit difficult to get into character when you are stuck at the size of your average human, fulfilling your feral needs to scurry and explore like the rodent you're compelled to emulate harder to accomplish. But that doesn't you can't allow your fantasies to teases such senses as you lie closer to the floor posturing intimately in as best fashion as the animal restless to exist. The desire to feel a thin rodent pelt warm and protect your body kindles such bizarre inclinations, thighs pressed tight around your sex as the phantom sensation of a long thin tail twitching from the top of your rump leaves you oddly aroused. To look like a mouse, to scurry like a mouse, to forage and nest and court like a mouse invites you into feral pleasures most people would ridicule or disown you for.
Round ears. Clawed paws. A nimble furry physique. Narrow pointed muzzle and beady eyes. Why did you crave to have such a body; such a life? Perhaps the transformation scene from that witch movie rubbed off on you at such a strange way, or maybe the idea of being a tiny creature to hide away from the real world was a escapists fever dream. Heck; you didn't have to be small as long as you body could shed this human shell for the rodent features you wish to bare.
This behavior; embracing this mousey instinct...how can it feel so good that you would entertain the idea of wishing you could transform into one like those stories you are fond of? You glance back to your laptop nearly forgetting your earlier proposed activity, wondering if you didn't need to read other people's fantasies anymore confident to produce a lovely daydream of your own.