Becoming a Fox

It felt like the meeting in Dallas had drained every last bit of energy I was saving for the evening flight home, and now I could barely stand in front of the girl who was staring straight at me, still smiling.

– Name? – she repeated, like I hadn’t heard her. Which I hadn’t, actually, but that didn’t mean I… Ah, whatever.

– Greg... Greg Henderson – I blurted out my full name for no good reason, just as she grabbed a marker and, with a sharp, confident motion, scrawled it on a sticker and slapped it onto the cup with my “Americano, double, nothing else.” Her handwriting was bold, angular – almost like my former boss’s, who always signed papers like he was carving his initials in with a knife.

I stood there by the counter, feeling the dull ache in my lower back from all those hours sitting on planes, and the sting in my eyes from the cheap screen I’d been staring at during the meeting – and, in a way, from the exhaustion of always being the one holding up everyone else’s mess. I’m fifty. Two failed marriages behind me. One son, who’d picked Colorado over my company. And a solid reputation as a “tough but fair” boss. I’m that Greg – the one who always shows up first to the meeting and leaves last. The one who doesn’t let it show when anxiety gnaws at his chest. And now I stood in Terminal C, next to some basic coffee stand, and the world around me felt like it was slightly warping – like on an old TV when the antenna goes wonky.

– Greg? – the girl at the coffee machine called out, and her voice made me flinch.

– Yeah, that’s me – I replied, stepping closer. The cup was hot, solid, somehow heavy. Yeah, the day really had been a heavy one.

I walked out into the main hall, surprisingly spacious: soft light spilled across the floor from the giant windows, reflecting off chrome railings and the polished suitcases rolling past in people’s leisurely hands. I approached the departures board, squinting to read the numbers better – and then sighed, not sure if it was out of annoyance or relief.

The flight to Denver was delayed. An hour and fifteen. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, even though I didn’t really want to hang around here. But home wasn’t much better right now – empty, with the hum of my old fridge probably the only sound, a noise I now couldn’t sleep without. And my bed was definitely cold.

I took a sip – burned my tongue. Winced. And then...

Something jabbed me in the back. It didn’t hurt, but it was sudden and sharp enough that I turned around on instinct. People were walking by, some rushing, some yawning, but no one even glanced at me. No sound, no apology, nothing. Just a faint chill crept up my spine, like someone had touched me with an icy finger and drawn it slowly from my lower back to my neck.

I jerked my shoulder, rubbed the spot, sliding my hand under the collar of my shirt. Yeah, there really was something there now – a slight bump, clearly tangible and cold. Like something tiny and foreign had hardened just under the skin – maybe the trace of a needle prick. Or maybe something else entirely. That thought made my breath catch for a moment. The air in the terminal suddenly felt thick, heavy, like someone had clenched the space around me into a fist and was slowly squeezing.

My spine tensed. My shoulder blades shifted, like I was about to sneeze or turn inside out. My whole body began to vibrate at some strange, barely noticeable frequency, changing every couple of seconds. I took a step, and suddenly coffee splashed onto my palm. I never understood how it happened, but all of a sudden, my fingers just refused to hold the cup. The cup hit the floor with a dull thud, spilling out beneath my feet. My gaze darted between the brown puddle and the people turning to look at me, but no one said a word.

I bent down, tried to pick up the cup – and instantly felt my legs give out. My body turned... mushy? Clumsy? My knees buckled, my stomach twisted the way it used to back in college after cheap bourbon on an empty stomach. I whispered to myself – 'No... this can’t be it... Breathe… come on… it’s just exhaustion' – and staggered toward the nearest hallway, instinctively searching for a restroom sign, trying to shove away the thought that maybe what just happened to me was what they whispered about on those forums – the "Veilers."

That’s what they called the ones who, about a year ago, started vanishing out of nowhere and were officially marked as "missing without a trace," though some people claimed they didn’t vanish – they changed, transformed beyond recognition. There were even supposed security cam videos, but for most, the official narrative in the media – that it was all fake news and photo/video manipulation – seemed like the most reasonable explanation. I’d always believed it was just some dumb made-up bullshit. Something that didn’t even sound remotely believable.

Still, people loved to speculate. Some said it was a virus, artificially made, a government experiment. Others claimed it was revenge on humanity or some ancient curse. There were tons of interviews with all kinds of people. One guy stuck with me – wide-eyed, swearing his college roommate had turned into a mermaid. Another one, same talk show, insisted his own brother became a bunny girl and ran away. Back then, my friends and I joked that the quadrobears had leveled up – and wondered where the hell they got drugs like that.

But I wasn’t laughing now. The world around me was blurring. I barely remembered how I got to the restroom door. The walls looked like they were swaying. Someone called out to me, but the voice was drowned in a wave of noise pouring into my ears, rising and falling in volume for reasons I couldn’t make any sense of. The door handle gave a metallic click, and I stumbled inside. The place reeked of cheap air freshener and something else... sharp. I slammed the stall door behind me and collapsed onto the toilet lid, breathing heavily, like I’d just run a marathon.

A shuddering jolt ran through my whole body, like getting zapped – from my heels to the top of my skull. I gasped, but my chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside. No, not crushed – changed. Something inside me was shifting. I could feel bones moving, like someone was slowly, deliberately, and cruelly reshaping my body to fit a whole different mold.

My stomach caved in, my back arched like a bow, and I let out a choked, broken moan I couldn't hold back. It felt like my whole body was boiling from the inside. I looked at my hands — just a second ago, they were normal, veiny palms of a grown man... And now the skin was darkening, fingers thickening, nails growing longer, thicker, sharpening into a shape that couldn’t possibly be called human.

– What the f... – I started, but my voice cut off.

My voice sounded... off. Still mine, but like I was hoarse and suddenly pitched up to an unnaturally high tone. My throat was dry and scratchy, like I’d inhaled pollen, and my whole body broke out in sweat. A stabbing pain hit my temples. I tried to swallow, but my tongue suddenly felt too wide for my mouth. It tickled the roof of my mouth – like it had become... longer? Softer?

Something clamped tight in my chest, and when I looked down, I saw it was my shirt — hopelessly stretched over two rapidly growing bulges. I didn’t even get it at first — but then I felt the weight. Real, solid, warm weight. Something soft shifted under the fabric, and I actually heard a button pop off with a sharp crack, bouncing off the tile. I sucked in a sharp breath — and instantly, to my horrifying shock, my nipples rubbed painfully against the inside of the shirt. The fabric clung to them, and I couldn’t tell what hurt more — the sudden contact or the realization that I now had... tits.

– This... no, no, no... – I breathed out in a trembling voice, and again, it didn’t sound like a man panicking — it sounded like a teenage girl on the verge of a meltdown.

I was breathing hard, feeling my ribcage narrow, the bones shifting, reshaping into something more delicate. Every crunch inside me made me flinch. My hands — no, at this point, better to say my paws — touched those absurdly big boobs that were now part of my body. And then, as if in a single second:

*Vwhoooom

Everything got bigger, taller — the ceiling stretched, the stall dividers suddenly seemed unnaturally high, like I’d been dropped back into childhood, shrunk into a teenager. I just hadn’t realized it yet. All I felt was the weight of my breasts pulling me forward, my back not able to keep up, and a weird unsteadiness in my legs, like my center of gravity had shifted. I swayed in place, accidentally scratched the divider, and left a mark behind.

*Whimper!

What?! What the hell was that sound?! I literally felt something between my legs — like it got sucked inward and... oh no! No-no-no! Not that! I grabbed at my fly in a panic, but there was nothing there — just tight, smooth fabric... and absolutely nothing beneath it. Nothing at all. My brain refused to process it. I groped around, searching for something, anything, any proof that I was still “me”... but under my fingers — no, under the clumsy, soft paws that now ended in clawed fingers with reddish fur — there was only the flat part of my body.

I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a pitiful whimper — more like the sigh of some anime girl.

My hips were shifting, widening, and all over my body that strange feeling lingered — like tickling and at the same time like something was crawling out from inside me. I knew it was fur, I could already see it everywhere, including in the cleavage that had formed because my shirt just couldn’t handle the size of my massive tits anymore. They blocked my view, weighed down like a couple of watermelons smashed together, and were already moving like they had a mind of their own.

Finally, my stomach clenched even tighter, like in response to my thought — the unspoken question, the answer to which was already obvious. I curled in on myself, folding into a fetal position, feeling my pants split at the seams. My pelvis was changing, spreading, pushing out in the back — the feeling of fabric stretching over this new shape was so humiliatingly vivid I actually whimpered in horror. My ass was swelling, rounding out, growing heavier. And then — zip — the fabric tore, and from the rip burst a reddish, fluffy tail. It twitched like it was alive, and every flick of it sent shivers up my spine — like this new limb was wired directly into my back.

– No... – I rasped, in disbelief. But the voice that came out sounded completely different: sharp, nervous, girly.

I threw my head back toward the dull light of the bathroom ceiling — and then something sharp, hot, and ticklish hit my ears. Right from the top of my head, through my hair, new pressure points began to push outward, swelling, growing. My vision split into layers — I was seeing details I never noticed before: scratches on the tiled walls, droplets on the floor, even the dust suspended in the air. Every second, my hearing sharpened too — I could make out footsteps behind the stall, the low hum of the vents, the clicking of old pipes.

And then I realized… I felt… that my ears — my actual ears — weren’t where they used to be anymore. New ones, big, soft fox ears now stuck up from the top of my head, twitching at the slightest sound, the tiniest shift in air. They quivered, pulsed with living fur, like they were catching every fucking thing happening around me. My hands — paws — were trembling. I raised one and saw the pads pulse nervously. Tiny claws slid out, just like a cat’s.

I gasped, whimpered — and felt my whole face begin to change. My nose — pulling forward, sharpening, my cheeks — tightening, lips plumping, turning soft. Beneath my fingers — my paws — I could feel it: this face wasn’t mine anymore. Like a mask had been pulled over it, but it wasn’t a mask. It was me. The new me.

– N-n-no... – I whimpered, curling up, burying my muzzle in my knees — yes, muzzle, because my face was stretching out now, my nose narrowing, my teeth pressing outward from inside.

I tried to get up, but my body moved strangely — my back legs gave out, and something fluffy suddenly lifted behind me, brushing against the toilet tank. The tail. Huge, fluffy, alive. It twitched on its own — and it stole my breath away.

I wasn’t even breathing anymore — I was gasping, wheezing from fear, from sheer panic. My head was spinning, ears twitching, and my vision was swimming. The world tilted again — and this time, for good. The last thing I felt was the sound of someone’s footsteps approaching, the echo of shoes in my hyper-sensitive ears...

And then — darkness.

It swallowed me whole, instantly, like someone flipped a switch.