Shift

This story is set in the Dhase universe. If you enjoy reading it I highly recommend running a keyword search for 'Dhase' for more tales of the supernatural. The Dhase, and everything in their universe are the creations of my (some would say 'twisted') mind and as such are my own Intellectual Property. If you see this story anywhere other than Literotica, please contact me. I hope you enjoy, and please remember to vote.

Fox paced past her computer for perhaps the billionth time. She knew there wouldn't be any messages waiting for her there. After all, the only person who ever sent her more than simple junk mail was already on a plane as she paced.

In fact, he should already be on the ground and on his way.

That was what had her nervous enough that she would have been shedding in any other form.

That was what truly terrified Fox. Although he knew that she was a Shapeshifter, the chances were pretty high that he didn't actually believe it. That was both the blessing and the curse of the internet. When everyone online could be whoever, and whatever, they wanted a girl who transformed into various feline forms seemed almost normal.

What if he thought I was just holding character when I told him that? What if he wants to know how I do it? What if he thinks I'm crazy?

The last was the easiest to console. After all, if he truly thought she was insane, he never would have asked to visit her. Or, if he still thought she was crazy but had decided to visit anyway, she could certainly prove the truth to him when he showed up.

Frankly, she had to show him. Fox had been dating Marco, online, for months and they had been talking for over a year. She thought there was the potential for a very real, very serious relationship between the two, but the possibility disappeared if he could not handle her gifts.

Fox forced herself to sit on the couch and try to relax. Although it was an incredibly plush couch, she could not seem to get comfortable. She shifted from one position to the next, but nothing seemed to work. In the end, she decided it had to be the outfit that gave her the difficulties and hurried off to the small bedroom.

Before she even crossed the threshold Fox's shirt and bra were off and tossed casually in a corner. She hopped on one foot and then the other over to the dresser as she pulled off the tight jeans. They were much more in fashion than her typical choice, which she had been told made her look like a librarian. Unfortunately, while they flattered her muscularly thin figure, she felt constricted by them.

It was, she had been told by her father and the couple other shapeshifters she had met in her short life, an opinion shared by all of their kind. They all seemed to prefer not to wear clothing whenever possible. However, when that was socially unacceptable, they went for as baggy or loose as possible. Which led their wardrobes to skirts and kilts and lots of untucked shirts that were two sizes too big.

It had probably been that same 'bad boy' image that had attracted Fox's mother to her father. She had been a businesswoman ahead of her time, having inherited control of the family finances when her parents, Fox's grandparents, decided they wished to retire by traveling around the world. She had met Fox's father in a small town and was instantly attracted to him. By the time he had shown her how to cut loose and enjoy life once in a while, she was hopelessly in love.

While it wasn't uncommon for shapeshifters to marry each other, there was no proscription that they had to. Fox had avoided that route herself, mostly because feline shifters were rare to the point of extinction. For all she or her father knew, they were the last of their breed. The problem was that most other animals didn't get along well with cats. They tended to view the loners with an air of suspicion. And shifters usually surrounded themselves with at least one or two natural versions of their animal form.

As if in answer to the thought, Casper, an albino polydactyl cat, jumped from his place of hiding to land on Fox's tabled back. Fox managed to untangle the tight pants from her ankle, which was the reason she had bent over in the first place. Casper seemed to think she had been thoughtful enough to give him a place to sit. Fox sighed and tried to shake him off, but he decided to lay down and curl up instead.

Fox hung her head in defeat. She checked her wrist to find out how long she had until Marco was due to show and remembered she'd left her watch, the only timepiece in the house that wasn't part of the computer's programs, in the kitchen. Bent nearly double to appease her haughty passenger, she moved back through the living room and into the small kitchen. Blindly, she reached up to the counter and felt around until she found the watch she had removed to clean the dishes.

"

Fox?

"

Fox froze at the sound of the man's baritone voice. Her hand was still on the counter, she was still bent over with a cat on her back, and her legs and butt would be perfectly framed in the kitchen doorway. Slowly, her head shifted to look past her narrow hips and into the living room and at the front door.

Sure enough, the masculine voice was the very one she had heard daily as they called one another every morning to wish each other a good day and again nightly to wish each other a good night. He noticed her, and for a brief moment he stared. Finally he looked away. The moment she heard Marco's voice, she turned beat red.

Casper apparently decided that his mission was well and truly accomplished, because he stood up, careful not to use his claws, and jumped down. He proceeded to go over and investigate the newcomer with all the intensity he paid the keyboard as she tried to type; which is to say 'it was in his way.'

Fox had no idea what to do. There was no possible way to salvage this reasonably. It wasn't as if she thought he would storm out or anything, but the romantic and thoughtful greeting she had planned was now out the window.

Instead, Marco came in to see her nearly naked. Only her panties, nude colored string bikinis which had been washed slightly orange to match her skin tone, covered any part of her, and they were emphasized by the pose. And to add the ultimate insult, that beautiful baritone caused and instant reaction when he had called her name, enough that she was fairly certain the incredibly thin cotton was now fairly transparent.

To be fair, however, Fox knew that the combination of her pose and the view had a wonderful effect on Marco. She now knew that he hadn't lied about his size. If anything, Marco had

de

emphasized his attributes. Unfortunately, the sight of the solid bulge only made her own condition worse. She could feel the tight, soaked, cotton cling to the contours between her legs. And although he tried not to look, he couldn't help the nearly constant glances that snuck her way.

Fox had never been one to waffle with indecision. With her original plan out the window, she figured she might as well get everything over with at once.

At least I know he honestly finds me attractive!

That marked one concern off of her list.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, Fox straightened. Without any attempt to cover herself, she turned towards Marco. With effort, she worked her way across the room to stand before him.

While most shapeshifters were completely comfortable with nudity, both their own and others, Fox had never been able to be. Somehow, her mother's relatively conservative upbringing had sunk in only that far. Or perhaps it was simply a reaction to the differences that her body held. If she was clothed, no one would ever notice if she lost control and grew a tail, or perhaps began to sprout fur all over her body.

It didn't happen often however. In truth, she rarely had any problems with control so long as she remembered to transform for a few hours every few weeks. That was where part of the myth of werewolves and the full moon came from. Fox had made sure to spend nearly all morning transformed. Not only did it ensure that it wouldn't accidentally happen should he not be able to handle the truth, but it had also allowed her to make sure there were no rodents living in the small cabin.

Fox knew what she looked like as she crossed the room. She couldn't help the way she walked. She virtually stalked across the room, her hips rolled back and forth, and her head slightly lowered so that she had to look up to watch her destination. Honest with herself, she watched her prey. She was a tigress in human form.

Marco's breath and heart rate both sped up. Fox could hear them easily with naturally heightened senses. She knew what he was feeling. She could see it in the eyes that no longer tried to pretend to look away. They gazed at her with a combination of fear and absolute lust. Although shapeshifters were ruled as much by instinct as reason, and instinct generally insisted they run from trouble, when they were cornered they exuded an aura of magic that humanity had learned to fear when they still lived in caves and ate raw meat and berries.

Fox slid up to Marco, her head tilted back slightly and she captured his eyes. "You're early." Her voice had dropped slightly in both volume and pitch. It came out as a cross between a purr and a growl. Marco's body responded instantly and she felt the warmth that his jeans masked pulse against her bare stomach. "I wasn't ready for you yet."

Her hands found the waist of his pants and tugged at the tight tank-top. Her hands slipped beneath to feel the tight muscle of his stomach beneath his soft flesh. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled herself close. She let her gaze fall away from him, closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his solid mass. She had dreamt of this moment nightly since they began to talk.

Marco's skin pressed cool against her. It wasn't that he was cold, simply that her body temperature ran overly warm. Without letting go, Fox lifted his shirt higher to feel all of that cool flesh pressed against her naked chest and face. His chest and stomach were covered with a light sheen of hair. She smiled at the natural, familiar, feel of it.

His arms slid behind her after a moment of confused immobility. Although Fox could feel the hard length strain against his pants and press against her, his arms spoke of nothing but compassion and genuine affection. He too, she knew, had dreamt of holding her for so long that all else would wait.

Although she would love nothing more than to stand there, at the threshold of her cottage, and hold him there were more important things to deal with. Slowly, afraid, Fox took a step back. She could not even force herself to release him entirely. Her hands remained lightly on his hips.

"Marco. I...I know you didn't believe me..."

"Fox," Marco cut in, "I believe you. I believed everything that you've told me. I

know

you. The real you. How can I not?"

Fox sighed. Her eyes drifted down, away from his. He didn't understand. Outside of normal play, she had never truly told him about her abilities. "Marco, please. Come sit down. I...I need to show you something."

Perhaps he knew by her nervous voice, or maybe he simply was willing to accept anything. Marco let her guide him over to the soft couch. She crouched before him as she sat him down. She knew how close she was to his crotch. His reaction proved he was just as acutely aware of how close her lips were.

She couldn't help but smile. She hoped there would be time for that later. Just as she had dreamt of holding him, she had fantasized about other things. That hard length gliding in her mouth. Its width pushing her open to fill her very being. He wished for it all as well, at least until he knew. After that, she could only hope he still would.

Finally, she stood and stepped back a few paces. For both his comfort and her own, she rounded the coffee table to keep it between them. Of course it wouldn't stop her if she wanted to attack him and it wouldn't stop her from being able to see his reaction. It was a purely psychological barrier.

Fox shuddered with the first hint of the pain. She saw Marco tense to lunge to her comfort, and held up a hand to stall him. "Please! Stay there. I'll be all right. I just need you to sit and watch."

She hoped he would just sit and watch, clinically, but she feared he would simply run from the cabin in terror. Marco sat back onto the couch, but his body declared him anything but relaxed. There was concern in his eyes, but no fear. Fox only hoped it would stay that way.

Another, larger, shudder wracked her body. Fox dropped to her knees and gripped the edge of the coffee table. Part of her wanted, needed, to look up and gauge Marco's reaction, but another part felt more terror at that than anything she'd known in her life. Fortunately, she had no choice in the matter. Her eyes slammed shut as she tried to breath past the pain.

Fox was among the best of her kind at shifting. None were faster or more controlled. None could change more frequently. Unfortunately, that only meant that they suffered longer than she did. There were legends, so her father told her, that the shift had once been pleasant, even orgasmic, for most. But whether that had been a learned skill, or simply an evolutionary twist, it had been lost through the ages.

Muscles writhed visibly beneath Fox's skin. She could feel the almost invisible, downy, hair that covered her body stiffen. In a moment she felt each individual hair burst free, all across her skin. This was the slightly stiffer, but no less soft, fur of the great cats.

Even without her sight Fox knew that it would hold the trademark stripes of a tiger. She had chosen that, of all the great cats, because the stripes helped to cover her nudity slightly. Granted, he had seen her almost entirely naked, but she always felt even more self-conscious when she shifted. And while the fur did cover her skin, he would be able to see everything if he stared hard enough. While the thought of him being interested enough to watch her that intensely excited her to no end, it also terrified her. At least this way she could use the stark contrast of colors to mask her nudity.

Next came the sharpest and deepest pain. While muscular transformation hurt, and the fur nearly drove her mad, it wasn't until her skeleton morphed that she truly knew pain. Her skull began to reshape. Her teeth sharpened. Her hands and feet shortened slightly, while her nails shifted and grew into razor sharp claws.

Finally, Fox bent over double as that pain receded only to be replaced by a rumbling one deep within her. It was at this stage, she knew though had never seen, that her tail grew and her ears, nose and eyes transformed. Those were all secondary to whatever she felt within her. No shifter had ever known what happened because they never went to a doctor or scientist. It was too dangerous, and the shift was inherently magical. No science could explain some of the changes that they underwent.

There was a strange noise coming from somewhere. It wasn't the painful keening that Fox knew she made only through her father's description. It took her pain battered brain a moment to realize it was a form of communication, and another to realize it was human and not animal. It was her name.

Fox pried her eyes open. She lay curled up on her side on the floor. Sometimes the final stage of the shift effected her balance. She had always assumed it was because of the changes in the location of her ears, but didn't know for certain. No other shifter she had contact with had even made that much of a connection. It was part of the reason her father thought her a genius.

Next, Fox felt the hand. Her entire body shuddered, but this time it was delight and not pain that motivated her. The strong, calloused, fingers trailed through her fur as they wandered from just behind her ear, down her neck and across her shoulder blade. Her first instinct was to remember her father's comforting caress as she first learned to shift when she was a child. But these hands were more gentle, almost uncertain.

What's more, this caress somehow made the core of her being, the very innards which only moments before twisted in pain, heat and tighten in anticipation. The slightest hint of the man's scent fogged her brain even further. The scent was unfamiliar to Fox, but a part of her brain screamed to try to explain it. This was the largest difficulty of any shift: Fox had yet to fight past animal instinct to take control of her mind.

"Fox!?" Only one man had seen her in this state. Instinct did not recognize the voice that called to her. Adrenalin began to surge as she realized there was an intruder close enough to have taken advantage of the complete helplessness that came with the shift. The only thing that saved the intruder was the fact that he knew her name. That mystery alone was enough to save him from her claws.

Fox turned her head to view the man who held her. He had strong but smooth lines around his face, short dark hair and a well groomed full beard. The deep, blue, eyes that gazed down at her from inches away held nothing but concern and no little wonder. "Fox, are you okay?"

The question finally provided the sentient Fox enough of a prod to struggle with her instinctive self. Her eyes closed for a moment while the two warred, but when they opened they once again held her intelligence. Her hand raised slightly to wipe away the lone tear halfway down his cheek, but stopped after only a few inches. She didn't want him to freak over her claws. "Marco?"

His eyes widened further as the wonder erased the concern. Fox knew her already soft alto voice took on an almost musical quality when she transformed into her halved form. Marco simply stared for a few seconds. His eyes traced her altered face as carefully, but no less lovingly, as he had looked at her in her fully human form.

Marco's eyes shut tight a moment before he dragged Fox close. Even as her arms wrapped around him to hold him just as tight, a rumble of a purr erupted deep in her chest. The hand that petted her as he tried to bring her back shifted down to support her neck with his firm, strong, grip.

Fox stiffened. Her breath became shallow, her heart raced. She would have panicked when her muscles refused to respond if not for one simple thing. The warmth between her legs spiked to a raging inferno. She had never felt this intensity of need before. Her depths literally ached from the strength of the clenched muscles that demanded release. The closest she had come had been the first time she had gone into heat when transformed, but even then it had been nothing compared to this.

She knew what had happened from lifelong contact with natural cats. The firm grip on the back of her neck, coupled with the mutual attraction they felt, acted as it did on all cats. She was helpless and expected to be taken. That he hadn't already could drive her insane. It was new to her. Likely because she had never before shown anyone, even her few boyfriends, her other forms.

She repressed the surge of terror that washed over her. The only blessing was that there were no other feline shifters to take advantage of the obvious weakness. She wasn't even sure she could speak through the short breath. If someone snuck up on her in this form, she would be unable to say 'no.' Her only consolation was that it would be next to impossible to surprise her in this form.

Fox's body began to shake with pent up tension. Marco pulled away slightly. With her eyes the only thing under her control, she was barely able to see the change in him. There was a very animalistic glint in his eyes. There, at the very edge of her perception, she smelled what had caused the change. She now poured forth pheromones and knew it was only a matter of seconds before her needs would be filled.