Hermpires: A Fistful of Bridget
After being assaulted by a strange creature, Bridget finds himself going through some changes.
Bridget figured he should find help. Perhaps the police, or medical attention. Perhaps they'd give him a nice cup of tea. He was certainly sore, though that was fading quickly. Too, quickly, in fact. He had been hurt before, fighting, and the bruises never faded this quickly, replaced by a quite worrying warmth.
He pushed up off the ground. The heat was spreading across his backside, focusing on his tailbone. He reached behind him, to find a faint fuzz and dampness where his shorts had been, before that...thing.
Yes, help. Definitely help.
He took a few unsteady steps toward the end of the alley, his feet strange in his shoes.
Of course, he'd end up having to explain why he dressed like he did again. Strangers always looked at him funny when he did, and-
There was a hot swelling in his chest, and he gasped and fell against the wall again. When he reached to his chest, he found two soft mounds. He reached in through the armholes of his dress, and found that not only were his new breasts sensitive, but they were partially covered in fur.
Another surge.
His hips had widened, and there was something..new..down there, behind what had been there before. This was very strange, and he blushed as he investigated the soft, furry covering over his new-
No. he was a boy. He was still a boy. The doctors could fix this.
More heat in his arms, his legs, all a-tingle. His stuffed bear fell to the floor, but he didn't notice. Soft golden fur was spreading up his legs, on the arms, bursting through his cuffs and the thin fingerless gloves on them. He stared at his hands as they grew soft golden fur, and pads of all things. He flexed his hand, and claws popped out.
Interesting.
Of course, the more important issue was peeking out of the bottom of his skirt, growing hotter by the second. Was it bigger? It seemed bigger. Were those spiked on it before? He reached for it, then paused.
Playtime.
He pulled his yo-yo, pulled a length of slack, and looped it around his aching length, and squeezed, just a little, then bit his lip. Careful, careful. Wouldn't want to cut it off. He giggled, his already high-pitched voice growing higher.
Warmth swept up his stomach, leaving a pattern of what he knew was fur under his dress, though he didn't care much about that right now. What he did care about was working the looped string back and forth until his impatience took over and he just grasped himself with one of his new paws. His toes-claws-flexed as the pads met the tender flesh, and he stretched in pleasure as the claws sliced through his shoes easily.
His new, feline ears flicked from the top of his head, tenting his headdress in two spots. The tail, next, its blond length whisking in the trash as he worked himself furiously.
He could smell them, now, smell Others, feel the Need like an itch. He could smell himself, his dwindling humanity. It fed back into the heat, made him hotter, made him smell more, fed back into the heat in a feedback loop. And he flexed his back and gritted his teeth as the warmth swept down his spine, and out-
Bridget collapsed in the filth of the alley, basking in the warm glow like a cat in sunshine. Which she was now, more or less.
Perhaps she didn't need help at all.
Hermpires: A Fistful of Bridget 2012 Nequ I don't even PLAY Guilty Gear.