...A Kitsune vixen.
Ty felt himself... stretching. His feet bending down, ankles shifting into hocks, lower feet into paws. His fingers becoming longer, his hands slimmer. Face pulling out into a muzzle, spine into a tail, his ears pulling to the top of his head and becoming pointed. His chest, hips and ass expanding, taking on feminine curves. Very full curves. His hips and spine shifting into female posture, emphasising those curves still more.
Fur fluffed out all over him; strangely visible in the darkness; white in front, red behind. Black covered lower arms and legs, and his ears; and marked his muzzle. His human hair changed from dirty blond to black, tumbling from his head in long, shining tresses; whiskers sprouted by his nose and over his brow. His eyes changed from pale blue to burnished gold with slit pupils.
Disquiet penetrated through the detachment he had been feeling as his genitals retracted into his body, leaving him with a thick-lipped entrance to a hungry hollow in his lower belly. Not that it felt bad, quite the contrary... but if he had been reluctant to commit to playing a girl, he definitely was uncomfortable with the raven-haired bombshell the darkness had molded him into. A literal vixen...
And not just any vixen. As indistinct forms began to emerge around him, a name came into his head: Anne. He was Anne Therese Laplace, a barmaid at the Green Oak Inn and Tavern. More and more memories of his life as Anne began to filter into his subconscious -- from sighing over tales of brazen courtesans and gallant knights to learning how to bake.
He could recall growing up in the town of Vale. There were gaps in the story -- like what had happened to Anne's parents. They seemed to be Kitsune versions of his real parents, only they seemed to just disappear from his life; from the age of ten he'd been raised by the human innkeeper, Morgan, alongside his own children, Cadmus and Arthur.
On the other hand, other memories were very vivid -- like his deflowering by a handsome Kitsune bard in one of the inn's rooms. He blushed at the "memory" of the knotted penis throbbing inside him, filling him with seed in the rite of passage from girlhood to adult vixen.
Anne had known many men since the bard moved on, both strangers and townsfolk, including the innkeeper's sons. She didn't do it just because she was a slut -- though she was. She turned a pretty penny from her tricks, more than doubling her income. She wasn't always paid in coin -- handsome boys could give her other gifts to remember them by. She made enough though to purchase a nice cottage of her own.
But her first time with the bard -- that well-endowed and well-spoken male of her own species -- retained a special place in her heart. The memory of the encounter burned hot in her...
Wait... Ty protested feebly. Was she really starting to think of herself as a girl? To fantasise about sex with men!? No no no!
As Ty made a belated effort to hold onto his own identity against the deluge of Anne's persona, the indistinct shapes began to resolve. At first blurry and dim, the ambient light grew more focused, becoming...