2020-05-27 A Thief's Fortunate Misfortune

Story by Veronica Foxx on SoFurry

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#28 of Stream Stories

Morris manages to wheedle out of an apprentice alchemist that there is a potion which would make his thieving a much easier job, and sneaks into the mage college to steal it. There are a few unexpected side effects.


**A Thief's Fortunate Misfortune

By: VeronicaFoxx

For: Morris Wolf**

Unlike some thieves, Morris didn't skulk in the back of the tavern with a hood pulled up to shadow his face and shifty eyes scanning the crowd for marks. No, Morris was a much better thief than those wannabes, so concerned with projecting a brooding and dangerous appearance. That wasn't the way to discover a good score or pick up a tip about the route of the tax collector. The way to do that was to get people talking, and who better to do so than a jester?

With the pink tipping his tail and trailing through his hair, along with the effeminate attire he wore, most males already thought him a joke and a pansy, so why not play up to it? He joked, he juggled, he danced, and he worked the crowd, learning their names and homes, learning their professions and inclinations, listening to their tales of woe. All of it was to find those tasty tidbits of information that would lead him to a strike that would carry him to the next town in comfort and keep his coffers comfortably full.

Not a few of those clever swipes had been from those skulking rogues who insisted on hiding in the corners. They were so conspicuously suspicious, but frequently hornier than goats, and the wolf took every advantage of that. Once they were balls deep in a warm hole, they tended to stop caring about his male bits, and the pillow talk could leak further information for him to exploit. No, no, Morris wasn't a common thief at all. He was a masterful thief, and he had just dug up the hint of a score bigger than anything he'd had yet.

"A potion that would let you slip into anywhere you want unnoticed, you say?" he inquired, twirling knives through the air as he bantered. "Well, if it'll let you slip into my bedroom tonight, then I wish you luck!"

The braggart mage waved a hand through the air and answered, "Well, it would certainly let me do that, but it's not quite perfected yet. I still need a little more tinkering with the ingredients, but I'd bet any adventurer would pay a king's ransom for something like that!"

"And you're studying under the archmage at the college, you said? I've heard the dorms are quite crowded!"

"Oh, no, no! Not the archmage, the alchemy master! And, because I'm such an advanced student, I have a room all my own right by the labs!" The fox cast a glance around and lowered his voice to a near whisper, just audible to the wolf over the tavern's babble. "Third on the right, just past the labs. If you care to visit tonight. I'll be in the lab until near midnight, but I'll be... all alone, afterward."

Morris gave him a wink and wended his way towards another table, exchanging the flying blades for firesticks, one end alight as the knives disappeared. A potion that could let you slip unnoticed into anywhere you desired? That would be quite a valuable potion, even unperfected. And since the vulpine mageling was keeping it under lock and key in his own rooms to prevent anyone copying his recipe, that meant that it would be free game for a clever wolf with talented fingers.

Morris continued to ply his talents and tongue to the crowd until sundown neared. That was when those pesky adventurers would start arriving, and they were far harder marks, aside from the occasional quick snatch of an enchanted item. He did conform to the stereotype of the common sneakthief in one way, though. The cloak he donned was black as a moonless, starless night, and made so that the eye skittered away from it, allowing him to pass mostly unnoticed by the average individual. Only a highly perceptive or willful individual could so much as look at him, but he was looking forward to an even better method of escaping detection.

Entering the college was child's play. The guard were lazy and unattentive. Snagging one of their passkeys allowed him entry into the halls and identified him as one of them to the wards. And since the fox had so generously provided him with the exact location of what he was after, mere minutes had him slipping into the alchemy student's quarters. The safe beside the wardrobe was another matter. These mechanical contraptions had only been recently introduced by a dwarven artificer, sometimes enchanted with traps or alarm wards.

A swift wave of a handy wand over its surface detected no magical presence aside from the wards that permeated the college. There was probably a security precaution that forbid students from setting their own wards. Then it was just down to determining the correct combination. Morris knelt with his ear pressed tight against the metal door, listening to the soft clicks as he turned the dial, seeking out that particular, slightly louder click that indicated a pin setting in its socket.

It was difficult work. The wolf was beginning to sweat, losing his concentration as he bore on, straining to focus and fearing a sudden entrance of the vulpine alchemist. Perhaps an hour shy of midnight, the last pin finally clicked into place and the door gave a slight pop as it cracked open. Morris wasted no further time in pillaging the contents, a pair of vials and a sheet of paper covered in some runic language, no doubt the formula.

Then came a sound he had dreaded, the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Without thinking, he downed one of the vials, a cold and clumpy mixture that was like jelly sliding down his throat. If it could allow one to slip into anywhere, it could certainly let one slip out! And yet he felt nothing but a chill in his stomach as the steps neared further. A knock on the door.

"Jillamy, you in there?" came a call from the other side. Then softer, "Must still be in the labs..."

The footsteps began again, receding, and Morris had time to regret his hasty decision. The chill sensation in his stomach was spreading, making his muscles feel weak and wobbly. With a groan at his idiocy, he fell to his knees, throwing off his cloak to gaze down at himself, wondering what he had taken. Beneath the dark blouse he wore, he could see his stomach. The actual organ. Though it faded even as he watched. His skin and fur had become transparent, his organs either melting away or becoming likewise clear.

Peeling off his shirt, he could look all the way through himself to see the furniture behind him,, and it was spreading. Down over his hips and sliding down his legs. Up over his chest and arms. And as it spread, he felt a heat bubbling in his... well... where his stomach had been... A heat that spread to wash away the chill, flooding him with need and desire. Now he wished sincerely that it really had been the fox, that sexy, slinky vulpine, a nice warm body to join with his own and share some of this bedamned heat!

As the transformation claimed him fully, leaving behind faint pale rose streaks through otherwise transparent fur, he stripped free of the skirt that covered his groin. He couldn't see it, but he could feel the hardness between his legs. Memory served to let his hand clasp around it, and he let out a soft moan. His knotted shaft seemed all the more sensitive to his touch, as if every nerve had been doubled, even tripled, letting him feel every slight twitch of his fingers. He let out another moan as he stroked himself, base to tip and back again, his hand squeezing to clamp tightly at his own length.

It was good, but not as good as it could be. He imagined that slender little fox instead of his hand, imagined those slim hips rising and falling above his own, the tight pucker beneath its tail clasping around him instead of his own hand. And he realized that the sensation had changed. He paused and strained, trying to see what the difference was. After a few moments, he realized that he could make out the outline of himself slightly, a distortion, and his hand was no longer his hand. It was a pair of hips, and a further distortion within it, his own hard cock.

Morris grinned and began sliding his morphed hand again, upwards to the tip and then a hard press downwards to press disembodied hips to his own. Oh, this was far better than merely getting into any place he wanted. And just wait until that fox finished in the labs! There were some tasty possibilities waiting!

The End