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This story was written for Serling. It contains TF of a sort and magical/supernatural form shifting type stuff in a relaxing massage setting. :3

Relaxing, Piece by Piece

A disembodied arm lay in the lap of an otter as she sat and watched TV, its fingers twitching in apparent contentment as she rubbed her thumbs firmly at the centre of its palm. At the joint between the upper arm and where a shoulder should have been attached, a metal band encircled the grey-brown furred limb, a gentle haze of blue energy seeming to cover what should have been the place where the limb was disconnected from its former body.

Cynthia giggled at the show she was watching, shifting the arm within her lap and beginning to work the entirety of her hands up and down its length. The fingers of the limb flexed in apparent delight as she hit a particularly sensitive spot just below the elbow, and her own hands remained focused on that point for a little while longer until the arm grew more limp and relaxed once again. The sound of a door opening close by caused the otter to turn her head, and she smiled as one of her colleagues wandered into the break room.

"Hey Cynth. Who's that?"

The wolf gestured casually to the arm. Cynthia, though tempted to lift the disembodied arm up and wave it at her co-worker, remained profession. Well... as professional as it was to be conducting a massage while on break.

"Serling. Well, part of him. I think Kari has his head."

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, the wolf nodded. He wandered over to where Cynthia was seated, gazing down at the arm resting atop her smooth pale green masseur's uniform. His gaze drifted up to the TV, then back to the arm.

"Man... I missed a football game I was really hoping to watch live while I was working last week. I kinda hope this technique catches on."

Still half focused on the TV as she rubbed and soothed Serling's arm with her dextrous hands, Cynthia smirked and nodded.

"Division of labour. It's a wonderful thing. Now, shush. You're making me miss the best part."

*********

Bare feet pressed against the fur of Serling's torso, five separate metal rings glowing upon each of his limbs and at the base of his neck, the protrusions that would once have rested beyond them utterly absent. The body lay flat upon the obviously padded floor of this particular massage room, its tail sweeping wildly from side to side even as the bear's broad and sturdy footpaws walked over his back with practised elegance. Of course, traditionally Dylan would have been able to listen to vocal feedback as a way to judge how his massage was affecting the coyote. But over the years, even before this more recent development in massage technique, the polar bear had learned to feel through the soles of his paws. To pick up on the twitching of muscle and the reflexive tensing that came from either striking a spot that needed to be tended to, or to be avoided depending on the nature of the reaction.

For ten minutes already the polar bear's rather sturdy form had been resting upon Serling's own, his feet rocking back and forth, toes digging in and working loose knots of tension. In that time he had felt all sorts of motion from the body beneath him. Intense shudders, squirming and shuffling, the near constant wagging of his tail and on a few occasions rather sudden, abrupt arching of the coyote's back. It made Dylan chuckle as he felt all these things going on beneath his feet, but not as a result of his own touches to the male's back. No doubt these were being caused by his companions. His fellow masseurs as they dealt with the other portions of Serling's form in their own particular specialities. He could only imagine how that must have felt for the coyote, being tenderised and soothed by six different experts in six different techniques. Feeling feedback coming from parts of himself he could not see or feel, separated out across the entirety of the Spa complex.

Chuckling to himself softly, the polar bear briefly wondered if he might use his staff discount to one day explore these feelings for himself. For now though he was the masseur, not the client, and he had a job to do before he could think any further about letting others do the same to him. Once more his feet began to move, and once more, beneath his gentle and measured stomping and stroking, Serling's torso squirmed as elsewhere something forced the entirety of his divergent form to react.

*********

Kezzia giggled as she ran a single finger down the centre of Serling's sole, watching his leg and the foot itself writhe and kick at the ticklish sensation, but unable to escape from where it hung, bound by delicate silken cords. Her other hand drifted across the back of the coyote's left knee, touching and tickling that equally tender and receptive flesh before tending to the base of his paw once more.

"The more you laugh, the more you relax. Let yourself grow tired... fatigued by your happiness. Let out all the tensions through joy."

She murmured softly, the red panda's thick tail sweeping happily back and forth across the floor. If she knew that Serling's leg couldn't hear her, she didn't seem to care. She spoke to it as she would have spoken to any client, though perhaps more purposefully than normal, as though unaccustomed to the lack of laughter, of squealing and shrieking and general mirth.

"It's funny, we put such focus on the hands as our primary method of feeling the world around us. And yet it is our feetpaws which so often overwhelm us with their sensitivity. There's a lesson to be learned there, don't you think?"

As is to make a point the purring jaguar raked the clawed fingertips of one hand down the base of the foot, watching and smirking as its toes splayed rather sharply outward, then curled tightly in as the whole leg shook uncontrollably in its restraints.

"We should always seek to render ourselves open to every feeling. Every experience. Not narrow our vision to that which we expect to be most useful. Only that way can we remain at peace with the world, unsurprised and adaptable to whatever changes it sends our way."

Her fingers curled around both sides of Serling's paw, the heels of her palms rubbing at the furred flesh at the top of his foot soothingly, while the fingers pressed against its underside simultaneously stroked and tickled on and on.

*********

Upon two separate tables in another room, two more figures stood over Serling's remaining leg and arm. The twin rabbits, caramel coated and lop eared, worked diligently on their own dedicated limbs, but chatted to one another with competitive delight as they did so.

"There's no way. I'm telling you, when we ask him after this is over he'll totally agree with me."

Christie's hands were hard at work as she spoke, leaning over the massage table as her hands kneaded and rolled a glistening, fluffy ball of softened and conglomerated flesh. Within its matter she could see a ring of metal glowing with a blue aura, but she worked around that single solid element with relative ease. Her fingers glistened with massage oil in their own right, but remained protected from the effects of the body softening substance even as she manipulated and twisted what had once been the coyote's right leg like she was about to prove it and bake it into a loaf.

"You're dreaming, sis. I've been doing this for as long as you, I've tried it both ways, and I'm certain my way relieves more stress. Applying as much oil as you do... it means they can barely feel anything. How can you work the tension out of a muscle if the muscle barely exists to be massaged any more?"

Christian's own paws were working on the coyote's left arm, but while they too were shimmering with a delicate coat of massage oil, the amount visible upon Serling's limb was substantially less. Indeed that was rather obvious simply by the fact the arm was still even remotely recognisable as a limb, though one that had been stretched out to bizarre and elongated proportions from just below the shoulder, and twisted, knotted into a writhing and trembling mass all the way down its length. Even the elasticated lengths of Serling's fingers had been interwoven into a rather pleasantly neat plait, and as the male rabbit's fingers tapped and teased their way delicately over each segment of the knots he had formed, he applied precise and pin-point pleasure to any remaining spots of tension which hadn't yet been squeezed free.

The brother and sister looked up, grinning at one another once again.

"Ten bucks says he thinks his left arm is more relaxed when he's back together."

Smirking, Christie looked around conspiratorially.

"You know the boss hates it when we bet on who can do their job better."

Christian raised an eyebrow with cocky bravado.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Afraid you'll lose?"

His sister snorted with laughter, and rather forcefully thumped a fist down into the squishy blob of Serling's leg.

"Fine. Ten bucks. Deal. But if you think I'm holding any of my tricks and techniques back now?"

Cracking his knuckles over the already twisted, stretched and knotted mass of Serling's arm, Christian shook his head towards his grinning sibling.

"Give him your best shot, and so will I. Then we'll see."

*********

In one last room, a stallion stood before a small pedestal, his hands outstretched and fingers working to firmly massage the scalp of the coyote's head. He could feel the head shaking beneath his touch, quivering and barely able to contain... something, or perhaps various somethings, as he massaged its ears and down the back of its neck.

After about ten seconds of silence, the coyote's muzzle opened wide, and he began to helplessly, uncontrollably laugh.

"A-aahhgodnoooooooo-oaahhhahahaah!"

Serling yelped and wailed with laughter as he felt fingers tickling unbearably at one of his feet, howling for some fifteen seconds before his mirth trailed off and a different, deeper groaning of satisfaction began to escape him.

"Oohh. Oohhhh, aahh..."

He could feel intense pressure upon his back. Feel his spine popping oh so pleasantly, and the tension in the central parts of his shoulders just melting away.

Another few moments however and he began to yelp and whimper, feeling both the intense relief and calm of his other leg being squished and manipulated under the tingling influence of the Spa's patented massage oil, and the simultaneous surges of potent sensation... not quite pain but similarly distant from pleasure, as his arm was twisted and knotted and manipulated with much less liquefied flexibility.

Only the motion of the fingers upon his head and those tending to his right arm were gentle enough to pass without much comment, simply pleasant and relaxing as any massage should be at its core. But when combined with all these other sensations, overlapping and fighting to be experienced foremost by his mind, those feelings were swiftly and near completely overwhelmed. Decimated by ticklish laughter, by the intensity of the weight of bare feet upon his back, by the soft and squishy contentment of his gooey leg, and the strained twisting and manipulation of his other arm.

Never before had Serling experienced such a barrage of varied sensations all at once. Together over the course of a whole day at the spa, sure, and even then he had felt immensely overwhelmed. But to experience it all at once? To have his brain lighting up in so many areas as he was forced to experience all these physical sensations in the same overlapping and interwoven moments of time, it was so impossibly extreme.

His eyes rolled back in his head. He gave one last cry, somewhere between laughter, pleasure, and overwhelmed anguish, and then his face fell limp. His eyes fell closed.

For the first time in all that he had experienced, all the strange and wonderful things done to him at this massage parlour, it had proven too much for the coyote to bear.

He passed out. His head. His torso. His arms and legs. Everything went limp.

And in that moment, just before the last vestiges of his consciousness faded into a fainted slumber, he felt a relaxation more pure and true than anything he had ever known before.

By Jeeves

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