Lupine Printer Trouble (Wolf Girl Tg)

Paul hated Fabian.

It wasn’t even a complicated kind of hate. No deep-seated rivalry or dramatic backstory. Fabian was just lazy. Stupidly, stubbornly lazy, and somehow, he still kept his job because he played golf with the CEO every other weekend.

Every time something needed to get done around the office, Fabian would find a way to worm out of it. Forgot to file the reports? Oh well. Missed a meeting? Oops. Paul always ended up picking up the slack, and nobody seemed to notice. Or worse, they praised Fabian for "Managing so well under pressure."

Paul slammed his coffee mug down on his desk, staring at his computer screen. He was done.

Instead of finishing the weekly reports (which, surprise, Fabian had skipped out on), Paul opened a browser and typed into the search bar:
"How to punish an asshole at work without getting into trouble."

He wasn’t expecting anything useful. Maybe some passive-aggressive advice or bad jokes.

But a forum post caught his eye, titled:

"Creative Revenge at Work: My Story"

Curious, Paul clicked.

Inside, a guy was bragging about how he’d gotten back at a lazy coworker by using something called "The Printer Curse." No details, just a short message and a link to a private thread.

Paul clicked again.

This new thread was weirder. It talked about an old office "hack" — a program you could install on a company printer. According to the thread, the program would magically punish the next person who used it. Something about “giving them what they deserve.” No instructions, no guarantees, and definitely no warnings.

There was even a picture: A dusty old printer with glowing purple symbols scratched into its side.

Paul leaned back in his chair, smirking.

It was probably fake. No way this would actually work.

But at the same time... If it did? And Fabian ended up with a face full of ink, or had to sprint naked through the building because of a prank virus? It would be so worth it.

He downloaded the file. It zipped into his downloads folder under a plain name: "printer_enchant_v2.1.zip".

Looking around to make sure nobody was watching, Paul grabbed a USB stick from his drawer, copied the file onto it, and slipped it into his pocket.

—

Later that evening, when most of the office had cleared out, Paul made his move.

The main printer sat against the wall, humming quietly to itself like it always did. Paul approached like a ninja, feeling stupidly excited. He plugged in the USB stick, clicked a couple of buttons, and waited for the loading bar to fill.

Nothing flashy happened. No dramatic music, no evil laughter. Just a little pop-up that said:

"Installation Complete. Next User Will Be Judged Accordingly."

Paul yanked out the USB stick and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. The printer looked exactly the same. Boring, beige, and completely harmless.

Tomorrow, Fabian was going to pay.

And Paul couldn't wait to watch it happen.

—

Paul barely slept that night. He was too busy imagining all the ways Fabian could get humiliated.

First thing in the morning, he camped out by the main office printer, pretending to reorganize files on a nearby desk. Every time someone walked past, Paul tensed up, ready to "accidentally" spill coffee on them if they got too close.

Hours ticked by.

No one touched the printer. Not even a paper jam to worry about.

Two hours after shift start, finally, Fabian strolled into the office like he didn’t have a care in the world. Wearing sunglasses indoors. Holding a smoothie.

Paul almost cheered out loud.

He jumped up, grabbing a folder off the desk. "Hey Fabian," he called, keeping his voice light, "HQ said they need these forms printed and signed today. Apparently you missed them last week."

Which, Paul thought smugly, is actually true. I don't even have to lie.

Fabian barely glanced at him. He pulled the straw out of his mouth with a loud slurp and said, "Print it yourself, man."

Paul plastered on a fake smile. "Yeah, but they said it needs your signature. You’re supposed to handle it."

Fabian shrugged. "Then print it and bring it over. I’ll sign it later."

Paul’s eye twitched. "It’s your responsibility," he said, trying to stay polite but firm. "They specifically said you need to handle it personally."

For a moment, Fabian just stared at him. Then he snorted, stepped forward, and gave Paul a shove on the shoulder.

"Quit whining," Fabian said, laughing. "You do it."

Paul stumbled back, caught off guard. His hip bumped the side of the printer. He waved his arms, trying to catch his balance, and slapped his hand right across the big green PRINT button.

A low mechanical hum filled the air.

Paul froze.

A weird tingle shot up his arm, like static electricity times a hundred. The printer beeped once. Then twice. A strange ripple of heat crawled under his skin.

Oh no.

The realization hit him all at once. He wasn’t supposed to touch the printer. The curse was set to trigger on the first user.

And now the printer thought he was the user.

Paul yanked his hand away, heart pounding, but it was too late. The machine beeped again and for a moment, he thought he saw the buttons flicker with weird purple symbols.

Fabian just laughed and wandered off toward the break room, smoothie in hand.

Paul staggered back from the printer, shaking his hand like he’d just touched a live wire.

The buzzing under his skin didn’t stop. It got worse, crawling across his whole body, almost tickling, almost burning. He stumbled a few steps and grabbed the edge of a desk for support.

"Uh... guys?" he called out weakly. A few coworkers glanced up from their screens, then immediately went back to typing.

Paul’s heart hammered. Something was happening. Something was wrong.

His shoes suddenly felt loose. No, he was shrinking. His whole body shuddered as he lost a few inches of height, his pants pooling slightly around his ankles.

He gasped and his voice cracked sharply upward, a squeaky, breathy sound he didn’t recognize.

"No, no, no—"

There was a weird pressure in his chest. Paul slapped a hand against it and then yelped as two soft, warm mounds pushed out under his shirt. His plain button-up strained against the sudden weight, buttons pulling tight over his brand-new boobs.

He stumbled forward, waving his arms, but no one so much as blinked.

Why is no one helping me?!

Paul’s shoulders narrowed with a weird crinkling feeling, his frame slimming down. His arms looked thinner, smoother. His sleeves, once snug, now dangled loosely around delicate wrists.

Another shudder ripped through his body as his face tingled. He could feel his jawline softening, cheekbones rising, chin slimming into something rounder, cuter. A heavy curtain of silky hair tumbled down past his shoulders, dark and slightly wavy.

Paul clutched his head in both hands. "This isn't happening," he hissed, but even his voice betrayed him, now light and feminine, almost musical.

The changes kept coming.

His waist pulled inward sharply, his whole torso reshaping into a dramatic hourglass curve. His hips popped outward with a sharp, aching tug, and his butt ballooned out behind him, tight and round.

Paul gasped, feeling the seams of his pants straining hard, especially as his thighs thickened, growing smooth and plush. His legs reshaped themselves into sleek, feminine curves, calves tightening attractively.

Then came the final, most horrifying change.

A deep, wrenching pull twisted through his core, and he felt something important vanish between his legs, replaced by an unfamiliar, soft warmth.

Paul clamped his thighs together in panic, staggering again, chest heaving under the weight of his new boobs.

He looked around desperately. "H-Help! I think I'm—"
No one even looked up. The girl at the nearest desk just popped a piece of gum and kept scrolling through spreadsheets.

Paul stared at her, open-mouthed. Was this seriously normal to them?!

His clothes, meanwhile, shifted to match his new body, his baggy officewear tightening into something far more snug. A tight little pencil skirt gripped his widened hips, and his shirt shrank into a form-fitting white blouse, the top two buttons undone to tease the curve of his cleavage.

Paul looked down at himself, wide-eyed.

He, no, she looked like something out of an office-themed cosplay. Cute, curvy, and utterly helpless. 

And judging by the weird, fuzzy feeling creeping up her legs, this nightmare wasn’t even over yet.

Her ears tingled, and then shifted. She reached up instinctively, gasping as she felt her ears slide up the sides of her head, reshaping into soft, pointed triangles. Thick fur sprouted from them, twitching slightly at every sound.

Pauline yelped and slapped her hands over them. What the hell? Wolf ears?!

She caught her reflection in the glossy side of a filing cabinet and sure enough, a pair of big, fluffy wolf ears now twitched on top of her head, blending perfectly with her silky hair.

The tight blouse she wore didn’t even budge, fitting snugly over her bust like it had been tailored for a wolf-eared office girl.

Another pulse ran through her lower, this time.

Pauline stumbled forward, grabbing the desk for support, just in time for something to burst out of the base of her spine with a pop.

She screamed a high, feminine squeal  as a big, fluffy wolf tail whipped out behind her, swishing wildly. She tried to grab it, but it flicked through her fingers, impossible to catch.

The pencil skirt didn’t even tear. A neat, perfectly tailored slit had appeared in the fabric, letting the bushy tail sway freely without ruining the outfit.

What the hell is wrong with these clothes?!

Pauline panted, face burning with humiliation, but the changes kept rolling.

Her legs prickled all over. She looked down just in time to see thick, soft gray fur sprouting up her calves and thighs, blending into her smooth skin.

The shape of her legs changed next, her ankles pulled upward, shifting into a digitigrade stance. Her feet stretched out, toes thickening, nails hardening into small, sharp claws.

In seconds, her once-normal human legs had become strong, sleek wolf paws, covered in fur up to her knees.

The stupid pencil skirt still fit perfectly, somehow. It even clung flatteringly to the curves of her newly-formed wolf thighs, like it had been designed for this exact nightmare.

Pauline whimpered, looking around the office for help but no one so much as glanced her way. A guy passed by, coffee in hand, and gave her a casual, "Morning, Pauline," without even blinking.

Pauline? PAULINE?!

A tingling sensation shot through her arms next. She watched in horror as fine fur spread over her forearms and hands, dusting her skin in a soft gray layer. Her fingers slimmed slightly, nails darkening into short, clawlike points, still delicate enough to type on a keyboard, but definitely not human anymore.

Her white blouse sleeves rolled up just enough on their own to show off the new furred arms, hugging her changed figure like a second skin.

Pauline looked down at herself, breathing hard.

She was, without a doubt, a ridiculously curvy wolfgirl in a skimpy office outfit.

And somehow, no one cared.

Her big fluffy tail drooped miserably as she realized the nightmare wasn’t even close to over.

(Choose an Ending)

Ending 1

Pauline was still trying to make sense of her new wolfgirl body when she heard familiar voices behind her.

"Oh, there she is!" the CEO boomed, strolling into the room with a big grin, smoothie cup in hand.

Right behind him, of course, was Fabian, sipping on his own smoothie like he was king of the world.

"Fabian, my boy," the CEO said, clapping him on the back. "You really have an eye for talent! I don’t know how you keep finding such amazing staff."

Pauline blinked, stunned. What?

The CEO turned his bright smile on her. "You must be Pauline. Pleasure to meet you! Very impressive résumé you’ve got here, I can already tell you're going to fit right in."

Pauline opened her mouth to protest, to scream that this was all wrong, that she wasn’t even supposed to exist, but the words got stuck in her throat. Her body refused to move, her voice refused to argue.

It was like the CEO’s words were law.
The curse, Pauline realized bleakly. It’s making me accept this.

"Effective immediately," the CEO continued, "You’ll be Fabian’s personal assistant. Make sure he’s got everything he needs to keep up his excellent work."

Pauline felt the last shreds of her dignity shrivel up and die.

Fabian grinned wide enough to show teeth. "Awesome," he said, tossing his empty smoothie cup into a nearby trash bin without looking. "Hey, Pauline, be a champ, and print that dumb document HQ sent me."

Pauline felt her body move on its own, her paws clacking softly against the floor as she turned back to the printer.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

She pressed the button again, fresh documents sliding neatly into the tray. Her new claws were surprisingly good at it, another little insult layered on top of everything else.

Fabian sauntered over, plucked the papers from the tray, and gave her a lazy thumbs-up. "Thanks, wolfy."

Pauline’s tail bristled.

Her ears flattened against her head.

Her hands curled into tiny, useless fists.

And with a low, helpless growl rumbling in her chest, she glared at the ceiling, silently screaming at the universe.

This was supposed to punish Fabian!
Not me!

Ending 2

Pauline was still reeling from her new wolf ears and fluffy tail when familiar voices echoed behind her.

"Oh, there she is!" the CEO boomed, strolling in with a smoothie in hand.

Right behind him was Fabian, slurping loudly on his own smoothie like he didn’t have a care in the world.

"Fabian, my boy," the CEO said, clapping him on the back. "You really have an eye for talent! I don’t know how you keep finding such amazing staff."

Pauline stiffened, ears flicking in confusion. Here we go again...

The CEO turned his bright smile on her. "Starting today, Pauline, you’ll be the new department head. And Fabian here will be your personal assistant!"

The office went dead silent.

Both Pauline and Fabian stared at him.

What.

The CEO blinked at their stunned faces, then checked his phone. "You did apply for the department head position, right? It says so here in my notes." He took another lazy sip of his smoothie. "Was there a mistake?"

Pauline didn’t even think. "Nope! No mistake!" she said quickly, forcing a bright smile. "I'm thrilled to take the job."

The CEO beamed. "Excellent!" He turned to Fabian. "Just follow Pauline’s lead and do whatever she says. She’s proven she knows what she’s doing."

Fabian, to Pauline’s amazement, nodded dumbly. "Uh... sure. Yeah. Totally."

Pauline blinked at him, half-expecting some kind of sarcastic comment, but nothing came.
The curse, she thought. It must be forcing him to agree, just like it was forcing me earlier.

Pauline straightened her shoulders (as much as she could with a wagging tail) and turned to him with a predatory grin.

"In that case," she said sweetly, "How about you print that dumb document HQ sent you? And sign it properly this time."

Fabian blinked, confused, but shuffled over to the printer without a word and started pushing buttons like an obedient intern.

Pauline folded her arms under her chest, her tail swishing smugly behind her.

Sure, she hadn’t planned on becoming a curvy wolfgirl.

But if this was what it took to get promoted, land a cushy leadership role, and have Fabian running around doing her work for once?

Well.

Pauline smirked.

She could live with that.

—

Printers are always awful. Especially when they don't turn your coworkers into submissive Wolfgirls. (2 Endings)