My name is Alex Smith, or at least, it used to be... But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mast- Mister- A... Ashhh... Fine, 'Master,' as I can't seem to call him anything else, even in writing, doesn't know about this journal I'm keeping. That's probably for the best. He doesn't seem to like secrets, and I'd hate for him to tell me to stop writing in here, which of course I'd have to do.
But again, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Yesterday, I was an entirely different person than I am now, and I don't mean that in the way that most people do when they talk about how experiences can change you as a person. I mean that I literally used to be someone else, and now everything from my body (including sex and even species) to my very personality has changed (at least mostly, from what I can tell). I can remember everything, about how I used to look and feel and think, but I can't go back to that. I'm writing this all down so that I don't forget, either, though hopefully it won't come to that.
I remember looking at myself in a store window at the mall, noting I'd forgotten to shave the night before and was looking a tad scruffy, hopefully not enough to endanger my upcoming job interview but cursing myself for forgetting nonetheless. It's not like it was a particularly attractive job, either, but I needed rent money or I was getting kicked out of my apartment by the end of the month. With a face like this, I supposed 'random mall employee' was a fitting job for me anyway; I was about as generic looking as one could get. Muddy brown eyes and a matching mop of hair, slightly pudgy, and paler than an albino vampire. I didn't even hate the outdoors, but I never seemed to get any less blanker-than-a-piece-of-paper white.
Taking a deep breath and both hoping I wouldn't screw things up and lamenting the fact I was about to essentially grovel for minimum wage at an ice cream stall, I headed over to the kiosk for directions when I spotted something rather bizarre. Or at least, I think I did. I only saw it in the reflection of another passing store window, a murky reflection wedged between two faceless mannequins wearing the latest 'trendy fashions.' A man was wandering about the wide open hallway behind me, followed by a posse of animal women, some in maid attire. I remember finding it odd, as there wasn't any furry convention in town that I knew of, but even more oddly, such thoughts immediately vacated my head as if someone had plucked them free.
I furrowed my brow, confused in more ways than one. It wasn't weird for someone to have a group of humanoid animal maids following them around... Was it? Then why was I questioning it at all? What had just happened? The feelings of oddness about the situation were gone, but like footprints in the sand, their memory remained.
Things got even weirder when the man bumped into someone from the food court who clearly wasn't watching where they were going, splattering his burger and fries all over the man. The maids all squealed in fright, rushing to wipe away as much errant sauce from their master (why would I think 'master' instead of 'employer, I remembering wondering) as they could manage. The man yelled something angrily, the food courtier yelling back in kind before the man pulled out what looked like a tiny gun.
I should have run then and there, I suppose, but it was obvious even from this distance and in a window reflection that the gun was nothing more than a cheap plastic toy. No bullets could have possibly fired from the cheesy wannabe squirt gun, but then again, I'd heard distressing tales about real guns being disguised as fake. Thankfully, the man didn't pump the food courtier full of lead, but he did pull the trigger, and... Something happened.
Again, maybe watching everything in the reflection of a poor mirror is why I'm able to remember anything at all, albeit scrambled, as nobody else seemed to notice anything amiss. Nevertheless, one moment the food courtier was kneeling to pick up his dropped tray and foodstuffs, and the next, his clothes, his body, everything changed. Bright orange fur sprouted across his arms and face, dark stripes following swiftly behind as his clothes darkened and tightened, stretching down to a short skirt in some places but shrinking to reveal budding breasts and the creation of cleavage at others. In mere moments, where once had stood an angry man about to have lunch was now a buxom tigress in a maid outfit, curtsying to her new master (why 'master,' again?) and apologizing profusely for making a mess.
I remember thinking everything was strange. I remember thinking I shouldn't consider any of it strange. It was almost as if a voice whispered, commanded in my mind 'don't pay attention, it's all normal.' Part of believed, but not all of me, and why when others remained oblivious I imagine I'll never truly know for sure.
All I know is that next, I turned around, leaving what might have been my protection in the form of viewing things through the reflection, but something still lingered, perhaps the memory of it all happening, more footprints on a beach when the person who made them has long since walked away. That's when the man with the toy gun saw me looking at him strangely, confusion flickering across an otherwise impassive expression.
Seemingly surprised himself, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger at me as well.
The changes swept through me like wildfire. I hardly had time to gasp in surprise as I felt the itchy pins-and-needles sensation of fur sprouting across my skin, running uncomfortably under my clothes and covering my face as well. I noted it was a pearlescent white as my nose and mouth pushed forward into a slight snout, my teeth sharpening, ears migrating to the top of my skull where my muddy brown hair took a similar snowy white hue, growing longer and cascading down around my narrowing shoulders and upper back.
"No!" I shouted with a voice rising in pitch by the syllable, earning another surprised expression from the man as he toyed with his gun, or whatever bizarre contraption it actually was, as if something was wrong with it. "What are you doing to me?!"
I gasped once more as my waist cinched tightly together, shoving excess mass downwards to spread my hips into wide, womanly, perhaps even childbearing (?!) proportions, not to mention thicken my thighs and fill out my ass with full, soft flesh. My jeans and T-shirt darkened and melted together, dropping down below to create a far-too-short maid's skirt that ended well above my new knees. The upper hem dropped down as well, far more so, as I felt my modest pectoral muscles converting fully to fat and swelling, ballooning bigger, bigger, and BIGGER still into a pair of increasingly generous breasts. I squirmed as I felt my blossoming bosom stretch and fight against the tight confines of my new maid outfit, threatening to burst free at any moment.
Meanwhile, what was left of my masculinity shriveled and withered away in what used to be boxers but were now fast becoming tight, thin, lacy panties hugging and cupping my newly inverted sex, the feminine nether-folds clenching tightly between newly full thighs.
My hands sprouted claws, the fingers shortening and thickening a bit as they too fell to the white fur, becoming far more paw-like. My feet did the same, shoes disappearing to reveal a more digitigrade stance. Lastly, with a 'POP,' a fluffy nub of a tail sprouted above my pert rear through a hole in the maid outfit.
Looking in the nearest store window, I looked like some sort of cross between a busty woman, all curves and bounce, and a humanized polar bear. Though my limbs, build, and overall stature were still far smaller and thinner than a true towering arctic ursine, I was what I once would have described as 'thicc' in relation to any woman I fancied.
But now...
My eyes opened all the wider as I felt the final changes sweeping through me, focusing this time on my mind. I tried to fight the mental cloud, tweaking aspects of my personality while downright twisting them in others, but it was no use. I felt my standards of attraction shifting, the sort of country-road-curves lady I had become falling mundane and ordinary in favor of far more masculine features. My new breasts buzzed at the thought of a man hugging me close, nipples making little tents in the new maid outfit (that apparently lacked a bra), my nethers heating up between thighs I squeezed tightly about them.
That wasn't all that changed, of course. This was also when I learned the man with the 'toy ray gun' was my new 'master,' and I was his devoted maid. I was to obey him lovingly and energetically, and I wasn't even going to be allowed to keep my name.
Again, I tried to force my way through the fog of changes, but though I remembered everything, they changed all the same. I was no longer Alex Smith; I was still me, but a new version of me.
"My name is Aleksandra," I said with a new and for some reason thick Russian accent, not entirely sure why but feeling it would be right to introduce myself as I curtsied to him. "How may I serve you?"