A faint inclination to return to your laptop passes rather quickly as you are more compelled to remain complacent upon the ground in your primal stance reverting your attention to the odds and ends of your room. Your thoughts feel rather light; human consciousness drifting aimlessly as you continue to fall easily to the whims of rodent desires and behaviors crawling around your bedroom, scurrying about. It still feels rather difficult to traverse on all fours in you current state, legs too long and paws abnormally shaped to balance and posture naturally like the mouse you believe you are. But that doesn't stop you from exploring becoming unusually allured to new and old scents suddenly much more fragrant and pungent than you once thought possible sticking your head between gaps and under spaces of your furniture to seek them out and discover.
Your sniffing nose happens to return to your dropped clothes littering the floor when you left them pawing at the nightgown attire as you drink in your own scent. They certainly smell of you, but there is something more to the marked aroma that squeals rodent lying down on your knees as you scoop up your shirt and run your nose along the wrinkles and creases. Your fingers seem to struggle to hold them properly despite the fabric clinging under strangely sharpen nails, obviously to a separate fact that your shirt appears almost twice as large than you feel you remember them being before. Your focus drifts to the stained panties letting the shirt fall from indifferent paws, knelling down and drinking in the strong musk you left behind. You wonder how it is that this string and cloth fit around your waist before.
Why do you care? A mouse has no use for clothes.
Such thought strikes a chord with you briefly, but the reservation slips by as you once more become entranced with the world around you and how equally taller and large everything seemingly felt around you. You even finally climb up on your haunches; your feet, to stand straight peering up to the tops of your dresser and desk and shelves noticeably understanding you would have to climb to even peek over their surfaces. You turn to the laptop sitting upon your bed and tilt your head letting out a soft squeak mildly stunned how your gaze is eye level with the humming machine.
The humming crescendos almost deafening your ears, ears that has begun to feel wider and rounder as beady black eyes expanding over the whites pry away from the loud machine shifting your focus to something less anxious. Tucked forearms hug your sides feeling the racing rhythm of your beating heart and quicken breathes from the sudden excitement, pressure building down the center of your chest as small pops sound drawing your gaze down. You watch as your torso appears to slowly push out; rib cage barreling into something that felt oddly better and natural despite the pings of discomfort. You also notice a thin line of hair trailing up from naval to neck tickling above your breasts as the light matte gradually thickens. You look about your shoulders to see similar patches sprouting, feeling a fuzzy line drawn down from the back of your shoulders along a twisting popping spine to your romp.
You nose crinkles as fine hairs slowly jut from swelling cheeks, claw tipped hands caressing the thin coat developing over your nude body inviting arousing moans and rodent squeals sounding indistinguishable elation. A force throbs over your face that pulls at your nose and mouth, maw agape continuing to sound mousey moans of ecstasy as a protruding muzzle starts to form, the fronts of your teeth lengthening into small yet familiar rodent incisors. The molding ceases before you feel your face a proper mouse, but the sensation extends down your spine feeling a growing bulge wiggling behind above your rear. You fall back to the floor postured on all fours, pushing your rump out and stretching your body compelled (and delighted) to help push your rodent tail to grow and curl freely, happy for your animal appendage to finally become a part of you.
A mousey squeal strains from your voice as you can push you tail out no longer huffing and puffing for air. You tremble where you stand weak from your metamorphosis leaving you drained. Your experience leaves you wet between your thighs, surprised at how orgasmic your transformation felt. Yet you still feel unsatisfied, part of you wishing your climax had been accompanied by a good rut from a horny mate. Perhaps more...your changes are only half complete. Exploring your body your rodent hands comb through a thin coat of mousey fur, but you feel it is not quite as thick as it should be. Your ears may have rounded and shaped to match your mousey appearance, hands and feet clawed and molded into mousey extremities, and the feel of a long thin tail curling around you feels pleasant indeed. But your muzzle is short and unfinished, and the rest of your figure remains quite human.
Though maybe that is to your benefit. It felt good to feel like a mouse, but it still felt good to have a womanly figure.
You sit up on your toes knelled, forearms once more hugging beside your chest as you look around your bedroom once more, primal aspirations drawing you away from contemplative human thoughts for more pressing needs. You feel a slight ping of hunger. You smell other smells that lure you to continue exploring. You wonder if you can escape your room; you are at least still as tall as a child to reach the knob thingy sticking out from the framed wall...what were they called again? You also still feel bothered, moist petals left wanting from your pleasurable transformation. What is a changing mouse girl to do with herself?