The van continued down the road for several minutes. Then, just as it had for every passenger before you, the driver pulled off to the side of the road, walked around back, pulled out a costume, then slid open the side door.
Finally! As soon as the door opened, you jumped out of the van and grabbed the costume out of the driver’s hands. What had you gotten? A mountain lion? Wolf? Maybe an airborne predator like an eagle?
You were filled with wonder at the endless possibilities of what the next two weeks held in store for you. That was, until you looked at the piece of cloth and artificial fur in your hands.
It had a pelt of brown and white fur, hoove tipped arms, and two massive antlers sticking out of it’s head – a stag.
A stag. Prey.
PREY.
You were going to be devoured – or you were going to spend the rest of your life as a stag in the forest, neither of which sounded particularly appealing to you. You were supposed to be a predator for the sixth time. You were supposed to be doing the devouring, not getting devoured. Plus, Andrew had said… That’s right, Andrew had said. There must be a mistake!
“Hold on!” you said as you held a hand up to the driver, “there must be a mistake, this is the wrong costume!”
The driver heard your words, but rather than responding, he just took a step back and lowered his hand to the syringe on his belt.
“Stop!” you cried out in full realization of what was about to happen, “I’m not saying I won’t wear it. I’m Andrew’s friend, you know me. A few of us were supposed to get special costumes. You know, not normal stuff, real kinky shit. There must have been a mistake. Just call Andrew, if he tells you that’s my costume, I’ll wear it but I’d prefer to have the kinky one, you know?”
Kinky costume? That was a new one, but it wasn’t really that far out of the realm of possibility and, besides, it was all you could think of in the moment. Hopefully when the driver calls Andrew, he won’t hold you to that.
The driver looked you up and down. He was a longtime employee for these parties and he definitely knew who you were, if for no other reason than he’d seen what Andrew had done to you when you’d been stuck as the raptor.
Seemingly satisfied that you weren’t trying to get out of becoming a prey animal, the driver moved his hand from the syringe gun to the cell phone holster next to it. Pulling out the cell phone, he quickly dialed Andrew’s number and held the phone to his ear.
“Ya boss, I’ve got your friend here… you know the raptor… ya that one… hah ya she sure was… well he’s the last of the bunch and got the stag… no he says you had a different costume for him… ya he said a ‘kinky’ costume… you don’t… ya I could… ok see you later.”
The driver hung up the phone and held out his arms, “he said there’s been a mistake. We have a backup costume in case anything goes wrong so he said to give that to you.”
Phew. You exhaled a sigh of relief as the driver took the stag and walked around to the back of van, returning with a new costume for you to wear. It didn’t take you long to figure out what it was – it’s back was covered in bright, crimson fur, while its stomach was a creamy shade of white. On top of its head sat two triangular ears and coming off it its back was a poofy tail that ended in a splotch of white.
It was a red fox. Not the best predator – you would have preferred something more apex predatoryish, like a wolf, but it was a predator nonetheless. That mere fact would keep you safe from the other, larger predators and ensure that you would end up as a participant in next year’s festivities, even if this year you were going to be hunting small game like rats or rabbits.
Grabbing the costume out of the driver’s hands, you took off your clothes, unzipped the back, walked your legs into it, the pulled it up over your torso before inserting your arms. The last step was to put the head over your own, at which point you could feel the soft inner lining pressing up against your skin as the suit hung loosely around.
You stared into the blackness of the backside of the suit’s holeless eyes, waiting for the driver to zip you up and the transformation to start.
“A little help?” you asked as the driver seemed to delay the inevitable.
“You sure you don’t want the stag? That costume isn’t…” he tried to say as you cut him off.
“What? Male? I’ve been a girl before, its not nearly as bad as being a stag. Zip me up.”
You could hear the driver sigh from behind you before his hands gripped the zipped on the back of the suit and pulled up.
Like magic, the costume’s lining went from hanging loosely on your skin to absorbing into it. Within seconds, you could feel the breeze blowing through the suit’s fur as though it was your own – which, for the next few weeks, it very much would be.
The suit’s face glued itself to your own and you found yourself looking out at the world through new eyes, smelling with a new nose, and tasting it with a new, long muzzle. You ran your tongue along the inside of your mouth, feeling the small, razor shard incisors that now ran the length of your new muzzle.
You felt plush fur waft back and forth over the backs of your legs as you felt a similar feeling on the front of your tail. It took your brain a few seconds to process the new sensory information before you realized that you… had a tail. That wasn’t surprising, since you almost always did, but it still took a minute to for the feeling to properly register as your tail wagged back and forth between your legs.
Just like with the skunk, there was a cracking noise as your body shrunk, your hands turned to paws, and your body adopted a more quadrupedal stance. The ground rose up at you as you dropped to all fours, feeling the cold dirt press up against the pads of your front paws. Then, another crack came from your rear as your rear legs pushed apart and your hips widened.
Nipples grew in along your chest as your cock shriveled away into nothing and a new, moist cunt burrowed its way through the path left by your widened hips.
Well… you hadn’t been sure. The driver had certainly suggested it, but you could only tell from the how the costume looked if there was a huge gender disparity in the species – such as if it had an udder or a wildly different coloration. Nonetheless, as you felt the inside of your stomach rearranging itself to accommodate your new vagina and uterus, it became obvious that you were now a vixen.
Your body finished its shrinking and you took stock of it. Four paws, soft fur, swiveling ears, a poofy tail, and a warm cunt between your legs.
Looking up at the driver, you noticed just how much bigger he looked now that you were a 2 foot tall, 15 pound vixen, as opposed to a 6 foot tall, 165 pound man.
“Yip!” you cried out to him as you tried to signal how happy you were to be a predator before running off in search of prey, only for to feel a strange sensation begin to well up just in front of your hips. It was a squirming pressure, almost like your guts had been turned into a dozen worm. Were you going into heat, like the skunk? You hoped not, you wanted to spend the week hunting and having sex at your leisure, not trapped in your own mind as your body-
There was a surge of pressure in your belly as you felt a large mass pressing into the back of your skin – from the inside. The sudden shock of things caused you to lose your balanced, falling over onto your side.
Looking down at your stomach, you saw eight red, firm teats begin poking out of your fur on your as the skin below them swelled into tiny mounds. Your belly, meanwhile, began bulging out as you could feel a dozen small masses rapidly growing inside.
They grew and grew as the squirming grew more intense. Tiny feet kicked against the front of your body, little tails thrashed against the back of your belly, and a half dozen noses all pressed into a firm wall of flesh at the base of your hips – each fighting against the others in a vain attempt to escape into the world outside.
Before long, your belly was filled with a set of fully grown kits, and the aching set in. Everything – every muscle, tendon, and fiber in your belly was stretched to its limit. You had a sudden awareness of your uterus, and the fact that it was full to the point of bursting. On the other hand, everything else down there was being crushed against your bones and other organs.
Your bladder was squeezed tight and you could feel the pressure radiating down into your cunt. Getting back up into a squatting position, you tried to release that feeling of tension inside of you and pushed down. You felt a small stream of urine pass of your vagina, but it stopped just as quickly as it started and your continued attempts to push down only resulted in a few more dripples leaking out of your backside.
It was relieving to empty your crushed bladder, and the sense of having to go to the bathroom went away – at least partially – but you still had a vague feeling down there that you interpreted to mean that you would need to go again soon.
A small, firm paw gave a particularly enthusiastic kick that radiated down your back and into your ass, causing you to let out a small fart. Whining, you peered up at the driver with what must have been the same sense of embarrassment and shame as the skunk before you.
“I tried to warn you.” He said as he got back in the van, driving away and leaving you trapped as a pregnant vixen for the next two weeks.
And that wasn’t even the worst part – the worst part was that your body was telling you that the kits inside of it were almost ready to come out. Plus, you’d seen this before.
Pregnant animals during these parties weren’t common, and you’d never seen a pregnant predator before, but it was something that was used with particularly large or aggressive prey animals to reign them in. For example, it had been used during the savannah party to allow for a female elephant.
Normally a prey animal of that size would be far too dangerous for a party like this. Even if the prey was willing, they sometimes lashed out in their final moments, and an animal of that size could easily kill whoever it was that was eating them. The point of being a predator was to devour the prey, not to get gored to death. So, the elephant during that party had been made to give birth.
You remember her laying there on her side as a head peeked out of her vagina. She had been trumpeting as she pushed as hard as she could to get it out, but its shoulders had gotten wedged inside of her hips and her struggling was to no avail. You’d later learned that the female animals were usually impregnated with oversized offspring or eggs that were designed to get stuck in that position, rendering the mother helpless as she struggled against her own body.
A twinge of fear welled up in your heart and began to sink lower and lower into your body, only for the feeling to dissipate into nothing as it reached the kits squirming around inside of you. Something in your body, some instinct or other inborn, primal knowledge, told you that wasn’t your fate.
There were twelve, fully developed kits inside of you. That was a big litter for a vixen, and these were big kits. You’d been mated with a particularly large and virile todd, and your own body was abnormally fertile itself. But this was still within the realm of what was normal for a fox like you. If you gave went into labor – and you still weren’t sure that you were – you’d survive. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but you weren’t going to have any complications and you would make it through.
Raising yourself from your squatting position, you could feel a jiggle run through the milk filled teats that lined your stomach. You waited for a moment in anticipation of the onset of labor, but when it didn’t come, you set out into the forest in search of prey.