You close the door and mentally punish yourself. You can’t believe yourself! Your first time having sex, and it was with a complete shut-in pervert. There wasn’t a cleanse or shower in the world that could change that, and you had a feeling your wereraccoon form would let you change that. You wanted to do everything in your power to get Richard out of your head, so you head back to your apartment and distract yourself with cleaning. You work up quite a sweat with all the cleaning you’ve done, but you are still wearing the clothes he let you wear out, meaning you will have to wash them and return them at some point. The only feminine underwear you own are the black and red polka dot set you stole from the laundromat. Somehow, you still had those intact despite your raunchy, wild sex as a wereraccoon, and they were not fresh thanks to the creature’s potent musk. You will have to go out and buy clothes, panties and bras included, otherwise you will look like a homeless woman in men’s clothes. With this experience, you can finally figure a few things out about your transformations. The other form can eat garbage with no effects or problems. The only way to turn back is to cum, and the human form is temporary. The triggers are time, garbage, horniness, and the moon. While you are out, you will have to check and see if you are pregnant, because you highly doubt you purged all the cum from your system in time. Hoping no one would really care about you, you stay away from people and keep your head down as you shop first for food and a pregnancy test. You pull out your wallet to realize you don’t even have enough for the food you bought, and you had no cards in your wallet. You sigh loudly and look around for anyone that might be watching you as you pocket the pregnancy test and head into the bathroom. You open the packaging and use it, waiting patiently for the results. While you wait, you hear the door open as an out-of-breath lady hurried into the stall beside yours. You can hear her whine as she never realizes you’re there. You hear a wet fart explode from the stall as the woman struggles to get her panties off. “Oh no, oh shit!” she exclaims, desperately trying to hold the storm brewing in her lower intestine. The woman finally sits down as her clenching fails her, raucous farts filling the small bathroom stall. “Oh thank Jesus.” The sound is bad enough, but the smell triggers your flight or fight response as your nearly chuck the pregnancy test against the wall. You look at the results: Not Pregnant. You sigh in relief as you toss it in the feminine hygiene disposal bin and attempt to leave, but you suddenly feel off. You feel like you should’ve held your nose, something is bubbling up to the surface, and your pretty familiar with the feeling. The woman continues to relieve herself on the toilet as it seems she is now triggering your transformation. You are put to your knees as you loudly wretch, digging in your hair to try and fight the transformation. Each wet splatter the woman makes pushes you further and further in, your irises turning yellow, your muscles growing, your hair and nails lengthening, and your feet and hands reshaping to look more like paws. You lose the battle as your fur grows in again, looking to mate with the creature trying to outdo you.
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She had no clue what was wrong with her, she ate her normal breakfast just how the doctor told her to prepare it and went out to do some shopping. She was hoping she could hold it until she got home, but a loud blast from her backside told her the situation was becoming dire. With her hand covering her back, Henrietta Ferrell, a 42 year old obese black woman, ran to the women’s restroom as lady-like as she possibly could. No god-fearing woman like her should be acting like such a child, she was so ashamed of herself. She ran to the closest stall she could, her muscles failing her as she could feel the filth trying to exit her body faster than she could undress. She pulls with all her might and sits down immediately, signing in relief as she sprays liquid feces into the poor white porcelain. She hoped that no one was in here with her, she would have to pray for forgiveness later as she had to get this demon out of her body right now. All the exertion caused her to work up a sweat as she pulled a fan out of her purse and started fanning herself. She thought to herself, ‘It must’ve been that cleanse he told me to take every night. My breakfast never leaves me this bad! This is worse than my food poisoning incident at Charlene’s anniversary. I told Charles not to trust the shrimp at that place but nooooo, got to save that money. Hmph, cheap bastard.’ After a good ten minutes, Henrietta finally feels empty enough to try and wipe. Just as she rolls out some toilet paper, the stall door burst open as a muscular beast is staring at her with glowing yellow eyes. Logically, she screams out in terror as she throws her purse at it, thinking one good hit will do so that she can escape.
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This woman, while big and smelly, is not that bright. She tosses a leather bag at you, which doesn’t even make you flinch as you prepare to have your way with her.