The ecstasy of the magic fled, Cerise was brought back to the harsh reality of her situation. She was still at the mercy of the heartless sorceress, still under obligation to her. And now she was... not human, that was for sure. But what was she?
"Oh g-gods..." she breathed, feeling the fangs and carnassials in her elongated jaw with her canid tongue. "Wh-what have you... what have you done?"
Unable to stop herself, she lifted her hands -- now gloved in black fur and adorned with dark brown pads and claws -- and ran them over her muzzle, her furry shoulders and sides. Shyly stroking the much heavier globes on her chest. She was once again self-conscious before her leering tormentor, nervously shifting on her unfamiliar feet -- paws. Not only bare-breasted, but with that... thing... hanging out below her. Still hot with arousal from having been reshaped to another's whim.
The shame of it brought the sting of tears back to her eyes. But her body... it was too strange, too new; she had to confirm by touch that it was really her. She sniffled, getting her emotions under control as she pawed the stone floor. Ignore the witch. Focus on...
Herself? What she'd become? Lowering her head, she looked down at her bust, tentatively slid a hand beneath one of the soft-furred breasts. She felt her cock throb in sympathy, and she took a slow, steadying breath. At least they don't feel heavier, she thought to herself as she flexed her shoulders. Shoulders which seemed... wider?
Her bosom's growth seemed to have been more than matched by her musculature. Indeed, her torso had gained a bit in depth and breadth, making her enlarged bust look a bit more natural than it would have on her old frame. But she felt even stronger than she looked; while she still appeared feminine, she felt as if she possessed the strength of a giant. Whether it was purely natural, or whether her strange, magic-wrought body possessed enchanted strength, she had no way to know.
"Legends speak of the centaur, a nomadic creature of distant lands with the lower body of a horse and the upper body of a man," the sorceress explained as Cerise examined herself. "I wanted something similar, but more... adaptable. After some study, I settled on the fox as a cunning omnivore able to survive in many environments. Originally, I termed my design the 'vulpentaur' -- but I think it would be easier to use 'foxtaur'. I have been waiting a long time to see my creation in the flesh."
Cerise looked at her from beneath hooded lids, but did not answer yet. She ran her hands down her belly, to where it merged with the chest of her animalistic lower half, marveling at her seamless it was. Then she twisted her torso, running her hands along her extended back and flank, noting the loose skin under the fur along the juncture of her upright and quadruped back that allowed her freedom of movement.
Fur, she realised with a fleeting smile, that now matched her name -- a sea of luxuriant cerise stretching beneath her fingers and eyes out to the large, white-tipped tail held behind her. Apart from the unusual amount of pink in her pelage, she seemed otherwise to have the markings of a red fox. She was not entirely certain if her build was that of an over-sized vulpine, or altered slightly to account for her unique features; but she felt limber and agile. And estimated that she had gained about half a foot in height, bringing her to around six feet.
Throughout all this she had continued to uncomfortably lift her paws, one after another. It was strange enough to have four feet now, although Cerise was bemused to realise the stance felt quite normal. She knew instinctively that she would have no problem walking or even running in this body, as if she'd been born to it. It was both disquieting and reassuring.
But the real issue was her unrequited arousal. She could feel it... them... her thick new organ hanging from its sheath, and the two heavy balls nestled behind it, large and full. The phallus felt like it was a foot long at least, from engorged knot to pointed head, and throbbing urgently in need to be touched, stroked; engulfed in something warm and wet so it could fulfill its purpose. Her now animalistic pussy also ached, wanting to be filled as it never had in her old life. She wondered if the witch had put her in heat.
She also wondered just how flexible her new body was. Would she be able to pleasure herself? She was pretty used to finding release on her own; flirty she had been, but not foolish, and was still a virgin. Now, it seemed likely she would remain that way -- for who would take a monster like her to wife?
The tears returned at that thought. Yet at the same time... Her cock seemed to magnify the feeling of strength in her new body. She felt like she could take on the world. Like she could fuck the world, and everyone in it. Turn them all into gravid vixens stuffed with her kits.
But. She snarled as she turned back to face the sorceress. She wasn't going to give in to either grief or lust in front of her. Cerise wouldn't give her tormentor the satisfaction.
The thought flashed into her mind, as she looked down on the witch like a knight atop a destrier, that maybe she could use her new power against the leering human. But she just as quickly dismissed it. She was physically powerful now, yes, but still unused to her body. And the sorceress had unknown magiks at her disposal. She had given Cerise this power; she could just as easily take it away. So the new vixen restrained herself. For now.
"Gods only know why you wanted me like this," she said with bitter coldness, her conflicting lusts and loss roiling below the surface, reflected in her golden eyes. "But here I am, a... foxtaur. So now what?"
"Now," replied the sorceress knowingly, "I give you my order."