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Loris isn't exactly the most sterling master mage I could have apprenticed myself to, but he has quite the reputation in the magical community as an accomplished and powerful spellcaster. Sometimes I wonder what I would have done with my life if I hadn't felt the stirrings of power in the depths of my soul, if I hadn't felt the tug of arcane might drawing me towards pursuits other than that which my sire and grandsire and his sire before him had felt. I would most likely have been a breeder of hogs.

I was reorganizing the library (again) when my tutor in the arcane arts came seeking me. As a fox, and a male, he was forever seeking companionship. I had, unfortunately, been drafted more than once to fulfill that role and supplement the almost endless stream of prostitutes that frequented his tower. Sometimes funds ran short. Sometimes a willing partner wasn't enough to satiate his... needs. Sometimes... blessedly infrequently... there were times when no willing female was enough. He was, after all, a fox.

"Begademus, I need you!" Loris called as he burst through the library doors. "Begademus, where are you!?"

"Here, master!" I called from the top of the very tall ladder I stood upon, shelving one of the last few dozen books. Hopefully the last few dozen.

"Ah, there you are, boy! Come down here! The brothel mistress has banned me from hiring her females again. For at least a month, if I'm any judge. Later she'll regret not taking my gold, but she's banned me for the time being..."

I descended the ladder slowly, hoping with every step that his next words wouldn't be what I expected them to be, but knowing that it was a futile hope.

"Begademus," my master and tutor proclaimed as my cloth-shod feet touched against the stone of the library floor, "I am in need of your assistance. I know you do not enjoy it, nor do I enjoy doing it to you, but... I have needs that must be met if I am to continue my research and studies of the arcane secrets of the universe."

"Please, master, do not ask this of me again," I pleaded futily. I knew, and he knew, that I had no real choice in the matter nor did he. His needs were real needs and must be tended. My desire to remain my own familiar self, though, was also very real and very important to me. "Please, I beg of you. I will venture into the city and find you a female of proper age to sate your... hungers..."

"It is too late, Begademus," Loris decried, his hands inscribing ancient and charged runes upon the air before him. "I am in need, and you must satisfy!"

I fled. Futilely, I knew, but I fled nonetheless. I ducked behind a bookshelf and heard a spell strike. The bookshelf tilted, nearly overturning, as pages and leather became cow and tree, time turning backwards for them so that they were returned to what they once had been. My master is, you see, a time master. He is a rare sort of mage, and I am a rare sort of student.

I scrambled as the shelf creaked, tilted further, crashed downward. It tumbled, smashing into the shelf behind it, and that into the shelf behind it, and so on. I soon stood at the end of a row of overturned shelves and scattered books that I would, perforce, be made to shelve once again after my master had sated his appetites.

I was cornered. The mage strode down the fallen aisles with a spell grasped in either hand, blazing with arcane fire, and the light of need that I had come to recognize so well in his eyes. There was no escape...

I fell to my knees as I felt the heat of his castings envelop me. I felt myself shrink and change. I felt my robes growing loose and tumble free of me. I felt my bones crunch and twist, changing my form as my size did so as well. There was little pain. There rarely was any, but I knew the pain would come.

When the changes completed I was but a vixen kit, barely able to walk on all fours, much less upright. I had been reduced to perhaps four years old, six at the outside. I had been transformed into a beast race, like my master, and I could feel the powerful yearnings and needs that surged through me, as always when such a fate befell me. My master did not like to force females, but he enjoyed forcing himself upon them. The body I possessed was, as yet, far too young to be experiencing such sensations, but Loris was never a stickler for the rules of nature. That was what made him a master mage.

When I had at last shaken myself free of the tangling robes of my station, the fox stood tall, towering over me. His own robes had also been discarded, and I could smell the heavy lure of masculine musk on the air. The precursors of his essence dripped from the tip of his pointed shaft to splash against the floor, every drop making my untried, undeveloped, and under-aged quim quiver. A hood of flesh covered the entrance that he would so soon violate, protective and preventative, yet it would be entirely ignored.

On four paws, like a feral beast, I padded toward him. I was drawn, unable to help myself. The internal flames fluttered higher and higher as I grew nearer the source of that scent, that delectable taste on the air, the source of the fountain that my body now craved. I hated him. I despised him. But I needed him, too.

I found myself sitting at his paws, my own forepaws tucked against my chest, head tilted upward, jaws spreading and snapping shut to nip every drop of his male essence from the air. He stood over me, grinning predatorily down, watching my every movement and action. Then his hands were on my shoulders, his knees between my short legs, the tip of his pointed maleness prodding at my hooded spade-shaped sex.

"You want it," he informed me. "Say it. You need me. You need your father, or any male for that matter. You have to have me in you. Tell me!"

"Please.... don't...." I pleaded futilely yet again. I knew it was useless. I knew it was pointless. Still, I felt compelled to plead my case before my elder and master. "I don't want this."

"You DO!" My master declared this as he thrust his hips forward. Each further word was punctuated by a jab of his hips, sinking his swollen shaft deeper into my untried depths. "You want every last centimeter of me! You want my kits swelling your stomach! You want my knot tying your cunt! You want me inside you!"

I couldn't help but whimper acknowledgement. He was right, as always. With the spells he had cast, I had no choice but to agree. His hands grasped me, then, turning me onto all fours. His fingers curled, tucking against the space between inner thigh and groin, claws digging into my tender flesh. He pounded against me, and I could do naught but whine.

I will admit, shamefully, that I did enjoy his attentions. What else could I do? When, at last, he stood facing away from me, his knot swollen and lodged within me, dumping his copious seed into my under-developed womb, I barely stood quivering with aftershocks of pleasure. When he at last slipped free, I breathed a sigh of relief, but I knew the rest would be short-lived.

Dutifully, I curled upon myself and began licking clean the mess he had left behind while he also rested, regaining his energies. It would be a very long night, and probably a very long few days, before I was once again in my own familiar and comfortable human shape. And even then, I would remember and feel every ache he inflicted upon me.