Another one of the guests, Martin Bell, idly flexed his right hand in the paw of his raccoon fursuit, as he walked in the direction Brad had pointed him. It had felt unusually warm when he’d given Brad a pat on the back over his new costume, and since then, his hand had felt tingly. He adjusted the paw glove with his other hand, trying to make things a little more comfortable, but it didn’t help. He could swear it felt like his hand was swelling up.
He tried to get the glove off, and have a better look at it, but it just wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he tugged. He stopped after his firmest tug had actually hurt. Good thing this second costume was supposed to be hidden out of the way in the hall closet, out of everyone else’s sight. Though when he got there, he couldn’t see the costume Brad had talked about inside. He took a breath and leaned against the wall with his right hand, still feeling tingly. Then he felt something else.
Bare flesh, and thick fur, against a hard wall. Not the inside of his suit.
He stepped back, holding both of his hands up to his face. His left hand’s glove still had the oversized paws, with big, black pads, and thick, stubby digits, and gray and black fake fur, but his right hand’s ‘glove’ looked about normal size, with little leathery pads, claws on the tips, and brown fur all around them, with no trace of cloth whatsoever. His eyes traced down his arm, where he could see, and feel the looser, duller fake fur of the costume tightening around his arm, becoming a part of it.
“What the Hell?” He shuddered and shook his right arm, futily hoping he could somehow just dislodge the glove and the changes would stop. But they continued, his elbow tingling as it was absorbed, followed by his upper arm and shoulder. As each part of the costume became real, it’s color grew darker, turing a rich, deep brown color. He groaned as it reached his chest, feeling the t-shirt underneath the suit vanishing as the fur pressed into him and became a part of him. He grasped his belly as he felt his gut swell, his thin figure getting wider and rounder.
‘What’s happening to me,’ he mentally pleaded in a panic. ‘Why am I fusing to my suit? Why am I getting fat? How is any of this-’
Not the best thing that’s happened to me? A voice in his head filled in, the only difference from his own that one could notice being a slower, easygoing tone.
‘Not the best thing that’s ever happened to me?’ Martin pondered. Yeah, it was weird, but he’d known so many other furs who would jump at the chance to be their fursona for real. ‘But then, I’m not turing into a raccoon, if the fur changing color means anything.’
He wriggled, feeling the back of his spine stretching, then felt new segments forming, punching back into the tail of his costume. The tail went gray and black rings to alternating light and dark brown rings, twitching at first as he began to gain feeling in it, blood rushing into the new limb.
‘If I am changing, shouldn't I be a Tanuki?’ He shook his head, and wiggled his toes as they grew to fill the costume’s paw-shaped boots, his black, leathery pads touching the wood floor He supposed, if he was going to be anything but his fursona, a Tanuki was a great choice. They looked close enough to a raccoon that they were sometimes called “racoon dogs.’”
‘Yeah, it’s definitely not the worst, being a Tanuki’ he thought to himself, feeling his ears getting wider and moving to the top of his head ‘still, my folks are gonna freak if this interferes with college. Good thing Tanuki can shapeshift.’ He paused. ‘Oh yeah, tanuki were supposed to be shapeshifters in old stories. If this magic stuff is changing me into one, maybe I can do that magic stuff too. No reason to rush that, though. I wanna stick with the new me for a bit. Heh heh.’
Thinking back to Brad and James, he suddenly got an inkling as to why their costumes looked so realistic.
He felt the headpiece tightening, while his face grew to match the shape of the short snout and little wet, black nose. He was about to turn around and head back to the party, when he suddenly felt an unexpected warmth in his crotch, coupled with a heavy sensation. He looked down.
His old fursuit had been, in no way, designed to look explicitly sexual, but now... He figured, if his costume was becoming real, maybe he should have suspected he’d suddenly have his junk on display, but he hadn’t imagined anything like this. He did his best to stifle a moan as he watched his “little Martin” poke through his fur, looking a little bigger than he had ever remembered it being. But that was nothing compared to the sense of weight he felt in his balls. He could see them swelling larger by the second, as he stood back, their growth only finally slowing after each one looked too big to hold in his hand.
‘Ooh boy…’ He shook his head. ‘Can’t let anyone see me like this. at least, not until everyone else’s changes are done. Stupid human ‘decency’ expectations.’ He reached down and grabbed a leaf off a nearby potted plant. He focused intently on it for several moments, and suddenly, it was covered in a cloud of smoke. When it cleared, an apron large enough to wrap around his big belly, hanging down well past his knees, had appeared over him.
‘This’ll do for now, heh,’ he thought, shuffling back to the party, the only unchanged people paying enough attention to notice a difference at all mostly just wondering where, and why, he had gotten that apron to put over his costume.
He saw the kitsune, who was currently sipping a little punch, and enjoying the gaze of a number of the guys around her. He’d heard that kitsune and tanuki were supposed to be rivals, but he could easily make an exception for a hottie like her.
He slid up to her side with a grin. “Heh heh, hey there… Rosa, right? You’re looking WAY better than the rest of this party, here. If you ask me, most of these guys don’t really have the balls to handle you.”
Rosa glanced over at him, with an amused smile. “That’s the line you’re going with, hm?” She turned her head, seeing James glaring daggers at the tanuki moving in on his treasure. Her smile became a smirk. “You’re a bit chubbier than I’d go for, usually,’ she said, poking his large belly, “but you strike me as a guy who’ll make this party a little more interesting… I’ll let you hang out for a bit.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m all about ‘hanging out,’ if you know what I mean, heh heh.”