Michael woke up to light flooding in his window. He groggily checked his clock, which read 7:45am. It was time to get up and go through his normal morning ritual, the first part of which was to relieve the immense pressure on his bladder from the night before.
Swinging out of bed, his body walked on autopilot to the bathroom, positioned himself in front of the toilet, and reached down to aim his dick.
Michael let his bladder go only to be confronted by two very different sensations. The first of which was the feeling of his palm clenching the air. The second was the sound of water slowly dribbling onto the tile in between feet.
What? He thought to himself, still in a half asleep daze, as he looked down. He saw his hand in the right spot but…
No dick?
Then further down, past his hand, a growing pool of straw colored water was forming at his feet.
Again, what? His brain didn’t have the time or power to figure out what was going on when he heard the sound of small paws clattering first on the carpet in his bedroom, and then on the tile of his bathroom floor.
“Yip!” came a loud, animalistic cry from behind him as his nose was flooded with the same skunkdog scent that had been present in his dream last night.
Something cold and wet forced itself underneath his butt cheeks, through his legs, and up into the front of his crotch. It pressed up, slightly penetrating into an unfamiliar hole, took a deep sniff of Michael’s internal scent, then stuck a warm slobbery tongue up against him. The tongue pulled back, licking Michael’s insides before eliciting a small jolt of pleasure as it rubbed over a tiny bulb located towards the back of Michael’s unfamiliar new anatomy.
“Ahh what the fuck!” he cried out as he jumped to the side of the toilet, spinning around and staring down at a large red fox – the same red fox he’d seen in his dream last night. Not the one on the bottom, the one that had been on top.
“Yaaap!” it cried as it jumped up on its hind legs. The strange fox did a little dance, then turned and ran out the bathroom door, followed moments later by a loud clacking from the living room.
Michael just sat in the bathroom hyperventilating. He looked down at his crotch, though all he could see was small mass of short, white hair. Bringing a hesitant hand down, Michael ran a finger down along his stomach and past the hair until he felt a finger press inside of him.
What his finger protruded into hadn’t been there last night, but he didn’t have to wonder what it was – something inside of him just told him. A vagina. And not a normal vagina, something about it felt like it was on backwards. At the top, closest to his stomach, were two strange notches that almost gave it a triangular feeling. Then, at the bottom, towards his ass, Michael felt his finger run over his still damp urethra before pressing into a small bulb – his clit.
Or should it be her clit? And was she even the right word? Everything about Michael’s new cunt felt wrong. Or rather, not wrong, but like his body was wrong for it. Something inside of him, perhaps the magic from the ring or just an inborn instinct, told him that his new vagina didn’t belong on a human body, it belonged on a fox.