The Old Hag and Her Dinner
I awoke then, amidst the fumes of her foul cooking, in a dark and dingy basement of some old cottage, to the sound of her cackling, as she took a spade and stirred her brew, saying to me--
"All's well, and just the last ingredient, to make this meal complete. Now get up in and sing my song, and be my tender meat."
She twirled in her green gown, a woman of eighty-two or so, long locks of wavy silver, claw-sharp nails, decked with a bosom surely stolen from some younger maiden. She stood not curved or hunched, but tall, slender, spindly like a gnarled branch of some ancient oak, her fingers outstretched high over her brew, the yellow light shining on her time-wrinkled face, her heart-shaped black lips--and most of all, in her slitted demon eyes.
I stood to run, and then came forth from that black cauldron, a deluge of beastly figures, each a slender tetrapod, a sleek and vile fox. Not one had eyes, nor true features--each a liquid sillouhette. The first of three cast fast over me, and to my ear, it thrust its snout.
"Snatch of fox, scent of scat--" it quickly rasped, in haunting, foggy, malicious monotone--and my ears, they burned! I felt them stretch and contort, and spring to the top of my head, broad and pointed, the skin thinned, the folds opened, ready to hear more insidious things, as fur grew within them, and I cupped them helplessly with my hands.
"Crawl in her den, lick her rack, never wanting to change back..." the next suggested lewdly, and my nose stretched and fused with my upper lip, straining to match my competitors, as it rolled flat, turned black...
"Kiss the hag and take her bed, eternally, you will be wed..." the third dictated, standing over me and stooping to lick at my neck, up my chin. As it did so, my jaw stretched to meet my lower lip with its mate, and a broad pink tongue sprang out of my thick black lips, hanging stupidly as I stared bug eyed, rolled over, and clumsily tried to crawl away on my hands and knees.
"What's the matter, handsome fox--lose your nerve to change and bend? I'll be your prize here, at the end!" the hag cooed, opening her dress to reveal her naked tits and play with them in her clawed fingers, as the three forms swirled and twirled about my body, rubbing vile urinous flanks against my soaked shirt, swatting their tails against my body with palpable splashes that rained down drops of piss onto the flagstone.
I could feel, as I pulled away from them, that they were dragging, sinking their forms into my clothing, making it heavy, hot and wet--pulling it tight, until it tore with a FLOP, and sloughed off my hot, sweaty, naked body. I tried to stand and run, and was almost to the door as the smallest and swiftest of the trio caught my back with its forepaws, and continued to tug... And my body resounded...
With a crunch...
..._and a _crack...
...and a PLOOT...
...and a soft, wet, pop!
As the filthy figment pulled and stretched a tail out overtop my ass, and the creature gave the thing a kissing lick on top, spreading stinky fur that blossomed out tight patterns of red and yellow hairs, fanning up its end into a white, black-ringed tip, and back toward my rump, to conquer the rest of my nauseated form.
I felt myself instinctively curl my spine, felt my torso crack and crunch as the fatter of the three, the piss-soaker fox crawled under me, beneath my dick, beneath my belly, raising its tail, somehow providing resistance, propping me up, as the third and largest circled to my front, and took my snout in its jaws.
Together, they poked and prodded me toward the cauldron, wrestling me like a bull as my unwilling form stretched and mutated, as my ankles sprung up high and became leg joints, as my pelvis melted and swiveled, my knees reducing as my thighs formed haunches. With a lift of its back, the fat one hefted me up, the small one put its flat hot head into my groin, flipping me over, and the large leader dropped something burning hot and bitter into my mouth, and down my throat--though I dared not imagine what. I screamed a helpless, bestial cry--a yowl instead of a human shout--as that fire took my voice away, and warped my taste and appetite.
"The best, my pet, is yet to come--it's time to make you small and dumb... cover your body thick in hair, come, meet my kiss and vixen's stare." the hag chanted, disrobing, flinging off her dress as she stood over the pot with a look of crazed hunger in her expression.
With each article she shed, a stocking, bra, or piece of her dress--which she tore like lettuce for a salad with eager nails--fur sprung up yellowish white on her exposed skin, her body warped and changed.
"Dinner time, open up, it's TIME--my filthy little pup!" the witch cried, leaping in the pot with pride, her face a phallic foxy snout, tongue hanging over wicked rows of canine teeth. She whipped and snaked her tail about, curling up against my form, as three foul foxes poured themselves in, hot and steaming over us.
The brew began to stew and stir, and of its own volition churn. Hot blasts of semen, scat and urine, filled my mouth, flooded choking lungs. The witch a vixen, she tongued my balls, she stroked my shrinking, scatty form, as I drew close to infantilism, as my brain began to shrink--as frontal lobe began to grow, I adjusted to my fetid body, smelling like an unwashed loo.
The heat grew intense, it boiled away, leaving my skin pinkish as the fever grew, and soaked fur overtook. She filled my jaws with her strong moist tongue, and vigorously, she shook. The moisture it seemed, steamed away, as together we both rolled at the bottom of a dry and stinking pot--both foxes, my will had been sold.
Thick whiskers sprung up from my lip! Hard claws ticked against the metal pot as I lifted my forepaws over its rim--pink pads, black claws, black stockinged paws! I could not even wonder or ponder, as the rest of my sausage body came slinking over the rim--bushy tail held high, back legs scrabbling--as an animal drew near to rutting next to me, offering her rump--her outspread funnel--a cursed sight, her vulpine channel.
And in my mind? I tried to swim away from the vile beasts--that had entered now into my brain, chasing me inside my thoughts, pulling me apart, drinking of my form--telling me what to do! Telling me what to take pleasure in--and yes!
To sniff her snatch! To lick it vigorous, wet, sloppy, and delightful!
To rub her flank! To tremble! To feel her with my whiskers!
To scent the rut! To piss myself from a Y in the end of my sheath! To be enveloped in lust--and yes--
To drop and deliver a pile of scat--thick, ropey, brown, and coiled--this is MY place! My den!
And now--to her! Leap! Thrust, scratch and sniff, bob up and down upon her back! I felt my rod tremble and emerge! Sleek, and wild, like me! Hot dribbles of pre, lust enticing... She fed and fed upon me! I felt with each thrust, each powerful breath, something slipping--something taken, something given freely!
My essence! My humanity! My life-force! To her, to suit my situation better as a fox! I belched them all contently out, as each thrust drew what was mine, tighter, harder, further into her, the intensity of the heat, as her walls against my shaft overpowered, were too much for my mind!
I shattered, broke, my human will devoured and digested, as foul, foul fox's semen burst from my body surging, pumped hard within my penis, shooting, spurting ropily into her canal, into her rutting, vixen's womb, fueled by estrus!
To have her kits--to soak the place in our foul stench--to make the world crawl in fur and rut, and crave the divine: seek, pounce, and glut--for all time!
And as we clumsily humped together, conjoined by my thickening knot...
That old hag had her dinner; through vulpine lips, she belched... and set my soul to rot.