Timothy pulled out the experimental key he'd put in and smiled. "Let's see what these things will unlock," he thought to himself, picking up another key and inserting it in the lock. After a little experimentation, he found that it corresponded to the last gemstone. Satisfied, he pressed the button and turned the key. It clicked in the lock.
Slowly, he opened the lid and looked inside.
A small puff of reddish dust emerged from the box and Timothy coughed as he waved his hand to brush it aside. When he stopped squinting, he peered closer and saw ... nothing. The chest was empty. But he'd *heard* something clattering around inside, earlier!
He sneezed from the dust that he'd inhaled and brushed his face with a handkerchief. Glancing at it, he saw a bit of the red dust had wiped off his face. "Great," he thought, "I must've gotten my face covered with red dust..." With that, he went into the bathroom to wash off.
Quickly filling the old basin with hot water, he soaked a washcloth and brought it up to his face. A strange, warmth had spread through his body and he wondered -idly- if he was coming down with something. Slowly, his eyes reached the mirror. He dropped the washcloth as he stared at his reflection.
Timothy's nose stuck out much further than it should have and a fine, downy red fur was covering his face. He gasped as he stared at himself and took a step back. "This ... this is ... impossible..." he stammered, still staring. Looking down, he glanced at his hands. His lithe, long fingers were also covered by the red fur and -as he watched- it continued to grow.
The warmth became a tingle as Timothy sat down, stunned on the rim of the bathtub. He groaned as he could now feel his face -his bone and muscles- pushing their way outwards, forming a muzzle beneath his eyes. He could smell the world's scents getting stronger and -even more abrupt- he began hearing sounds more clearly ... more sharply. He put his hands up to his head, feeling his ears shift and rise ... growing more pointed and fur-covered as they shifted back and up along the side of his head.
A tightness pressed against the small of his back; against his tailbone. It started to hurt as he stood up and felt along his rear. Something moved and was growing underneath his pants!
He groaned as he saw the reddish fur creep over his arms and felt it move to cover his legs. He was growing a tail! Minutes passed as he fumbled with his hands (paws?) behind his back, trying to get them under the rim of his pants. Stumbling, Timothy fell over, but managed to rip the back of his pants with a fingernail ... with a claw? His tail -long, thick and bushy- sprang out as he rolled over with a groan from his fall. His hands had grown tiny clawtips and he could feel his metamorphosis slowing down.
Steadying himself on the toilet, he slowly rose and looked into the mirror again.
What looked back was a slender, boytoy-ish, humanoid fox with reddish fur and black highlights. "Oh god ... what ... what am I going to do?"