Story: On the Scene with the New King (Patreon)

Premise: Wendel learns a valuable lesson about internet safety after getting kidnapped by a cult of fanboys for their nefarious rituals.

Contains: Male bunny to female fox TF TG, muscles, and thick curves.

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Pronounced incisors bit and chewed in a furious rage unable to make a dent in the binds constricting their owners' scrawny brown furred hands. Freakin 'hell. How can dollar store zip ties be so durable?

Wendel eventually gave up and fell back against the cot he’d be laid upon since his kidnapping a few hours ago. The cleaned fabric of his gray polo shirt puffed and deflated with each heaving breath. Exhausting still did nothing to quell his fury. Staring up at the roof of a shoddy burlap tent his mind never strayed from one important question.

Is it possible to sue a cult for false advertising?

Everything had started simple enough. The chocolate spotted bunny woke up, brewed fresh coffee, tried his damndest to ignore the dolphin clicking noises from the lunatic scientists living in the condo upstairs. Typical morning routine for an investigative journalist right up until he checked Discord.

Lapin ears perked with the fluttering of fabric. Apparently one of the devil’s had heard their name being cursed. The flap covering the tent entrance whipped back while a tall gray fox edged his way inside. Despite having almost two feet over Wendel, they barely carried an aura of intimidation. A black robe that would normally tent a person wrapped itself tightly across a circular physique most likely sustained on a therapy of Xbox and fast food.

“H-hi!” Also, his voice was too warm for intimidation. The gait he shuffled towards Wendel imitated an animal ready to flee at the first loud noise, tail wagging betraying a hint of excitement. “It’s so…nice to finally meet you. I’m a huge fan!”

“Uh huh.” Was about the politest thing Wendel felt like giving. While this might be the most comfortable capture he’d experienced, it hardly warranted respect. Actually, this was the first Wendel had ever experienced, but he didn’t plan to make a trend out of this.

They were all fans of his supernatural ezine, apparently. A small group had decided to touch base with the bunny, invite him into a chat, stroke his ego with tons of interesting feedback. According to them copies were making the rounds, especially in convention spaces that appealed to very niche interests. It was comforting to know he’d earned a degree in English studies for more than documenting obscure fetish events. The leader, Devin, eventually extended an invitation to dinner that Wendel couldn’t refuse. One does not simply say no to free Outback.

In hindsight, he will begrudgingly admit getting into a van with four strangers was a really stupid choice. Being abducted by nerds in the twenty to thirty age range only rubbed salt in the wound.

“Are you the guy that’s here to finally let me go?”

“Oh? No. No.” Mr. thick gut jumped like Wendel had threatened to wedgie him before regaining a minor degree of composure. “Well, I mean, I am here to help bring you to Devin now. We hope your motivated stay hasn’t been too uncomfortable. Now everything is ready for the great ritual.”

“Wonderful!” Wendel rolled off the foldable bed forgetting for a second about the bonds on his arms. Luckily there was plenty of expansive fox stomach to brace against. Judging by the raised ears and lopsided grin, they didn’t seem to mind supporting the tiny bunny either. “Really hope I don’t end up with giant tits this time.”

The fox’s tail stopped wagging. “What?”

“Huh?”

The awkward stare between them lasted a lot longer than Wendel had expected. Thirty seconds later the big lug coughed and, failing to find any thoughts worth speaking, guided him out the tent with one plump hand on his shoulder.

Another reason Wendel hated the northwest was how short the days can get. Already darkness encroached on everything, making the trees cast foreboding shadows held back only by the flickering light of crude torches. They were clearly in a forest, though whether they were still in Washington was anyone’s guess. At least the full moon helped shed much needed illumination over the very crappy campsite these wackos built.

A pack's inability to properly pitch tents cannot be overstated.

Is that the proper term for a group of foxes? A pack? There were six of them now in a variety of subspecies; reds, artics, even a fennec with the signature huge ears. None of them were as big as the guy guiding Wendel out into a clearing among the trees, but as they followed, he did note they could all stand to use more sit ups in their activities. Not a single female in the bunch either. For some reason that made the bunny concerned.

At least their combined efforts could fashion together a decent altar from fallen logs and stone.

“Oh…” Wendel’s ears folded to the back of his head as he was led before the platform where a black fox stood with a moldy old book in his excited paw-hands. “Hey, Devin. Are we still going to Outback after this? Because for fucks sake, am I getting hungry.”

Unlike his followers, Devin’s natural coat and golden eyes actually did create an almost imposing figure among the others' firelight. The hang of the black robe meshed well to create an almost ghostly outline. Shame he must have slammed his snout into a door as a kid or something, because the nasal wheezing complimenting his words killed the illusion badly.

“Yes. We will certainly dine a feast worthy of royalty should all go according to our great king's grand design.”

Wendel couldn’t help sighing in defeat, letting the big artic guy practically carry him into the center of a surprisingly intricate circle. Larger sticks were arranged amid bundles of leaves and pinecones. When a stray cloud passed by to fully expose the moon it lit up with the shine or bright orange ribbons and some kind of glitter chalk. He was so distracted he barely noticed his zip tie get cut with stationary scissors before the escort saw himself out of the ring.

“Thank you for answering our call tonight,” Devin continued. The sharp wheezing that passed through the foxes' front teeth left Wendel’s ears folded back for a different reason. “When we first discovered your amazingly detailed experiences it almost seemed too good to be true. But now it’s almost as if destiny has brought us here on the night of a perfect full moon.”

Wendel’s cheeks burned and he allowed a bit of his anger that had been building over the course of today out. “First of all, I never once claimed any of those stories were about me. That could be any random bunny woman’s ass sitting on a Walgreens building. And besides, I thought you just liked it for jacking off to those poor girls being inflated into pool toys.”

“We can have many reasons to enjoy online content!” Devin snapped, eyes going wide a second later upon realizing his words. “Besides, there’s only so many bunnies in Seattle that can have the same spotted fur patterns, right? Your amazing adaptability to alterations and complete metamorphosis is the miracle we’ve sought for many years.”

“Yeah. I shoulda figured we were going this way.” Wendel glanced around at the other robed foxes that had surrounded the circle with torches bared. They were too busy bowing their heads trying to hum some kind of forest-like tune in harmony. He gave them points for effort anyway, not that it seemed to bother their wanna-be messiah. “Look, if you want someone to sacrifice, I can recommend some neighbors that’d be totally into this kinky fetish shit.”

“Silence, foolish sacrifice! Ted has already wasted enough of his parent’s credit card on gas getting you here. Besides, the moon is just reaching its proper alignment so the opportunity to summon our great king will not easily come again.”

“The moon?” Wendel looked up and immediately hated himself for falling for that trap.

The big white orb sat directly over the bunny’s circle piercing its light through the tree opening in a powerful beam. A haze washed over Wendel’s mind, slowing down his thoughts and making his pupils dilate until the iris became thin green rings.

Unfortunately, Devin continued speaking a few seconds later, shattering the calm daze the bunny was locked in. Suddenly his wheezing sputter shifted into a howling echo that somehow carried through the clearing. Winds stirred around Wendel, causing his shirt and jeans to flutter. It made him shiver with disgust with the impression thousands of hands were trying to feel him up.

“Oh hell,” Wendel grumbled upon seeing the circle around his shoes had actually begun to glow with building yellow energy. The black foxes' words lost all meaning to him as they chanted some language that might as well be Klingon, and it probably was. In a way the bunny was disheartened that he now had the years of experience to recognize a power conduit on sight. The mounds of pinecone things were anchoring the moon's energy, which the corpulent vulpine were guiding along the stick outlines directly into his body. “OH HELL!”

The thought that there was actually no force keeping Wendel inside these D&D larpers' magic circle didn’t occur to him until whatever spell they were casting culminated at his feet. Energy seeped through his loafers like they were nothing, entering his paws with a burning tension that erupted up into the rest of his body. Another curse caught in his throat as a stunned gasp that sent spit flying off the bunny’s tongue.

Great. It was going to be one of those uncomfortable transformations. Now Wendel had a bright side for being skimped on dinner at least. When he collapsed onto hands and knees all that came out were dry heaves as opposed to projectile vomit. Thank God, or whatever mambo jumbo force being invoked right now, for the little favors.

He also weathered the tension to mentally curse the same source since he couldn't do it verbally. Muscles throbbed in violent tremors as they unwillingly absorbed the geyser of magic beneath him. Plenty of past experiences taught the bunny the futility of fighting such an overwhelming power, but instinct still wanted to try. He managed to hold out for seventy-eight seconds of spasms and groans, breaking his previous record, before all natural resistance crumbled.

Sound became drowned out by a harsh symphony of bones snapping and sinew popping. Sections of the bunny broke apart, shifted, and reformed in a seemingly random pattern. One shoulder extended outward as it inflated three times in size. A shoe dug a deep trench into the ground while its attached shin stretched out of its pant leg several inches longer. This broke one of the circles' stick lines, though it didn’t seem to affect the magical ritual any.

One exceptionally loud crack in his spine signaled an explosive tail growth. Wendel could feel the short fluffy nub unfurl into a long flag. The density of its thick crimson fur pulled at his still normal rear with an alien weight with each subtle flick. However, the pulsing discomfort of his mutations left his gaze stuck firmly on the ground. Something he didn’t appreciate when he could watch the brown fur on his hands rapidly darken. Spots of brown melted into a single night black coloration before the hands themselves popped and grew on digit at a time like popcorn. Yet despite becoming larger his extremities also became thinner too, tipped with sharp claws that looked professionally manicured.

“God… damn… it!” Wendel forced the words out with great strain, each one shifting drastically into a higher octave. He hardly felt any pride at being able to call what was coming next.

Black fur continued to travel up the changing bunny’s arms, stopping just past the elbows to resume consuming his form in the stylish red coloration as his enormous new tail. His opposing shoulder welled up to even out the broadened span of his muscular limbs, followed by a wave of muscles expanding out his back until it tore open the back of his shirt in a flashing reveal of the red fur.

The cultists were overjoyed to watch as more and more of the bunny’s parts grew, overtaking his form with thick larger muscles. That was until each one slowly began to notice different oddities surfacing as Wendel’s transformation went on. Whether it be the increasingly sensual groans of femininity, or the way his ass filled out the back of his taut jeans like jiggling pudding instead of tight beef.

In fact, many broke from the ritual in cries of alarm when the seams finally died and the denim tore away. The groin revealed did not bear a phallus that testified the might of muscle Wendel was rapidly gaining. All they could see under the plump curve of child bearing hips was a thick slit of proud femininity. Beads of musty juice already glinted off its lips in the circle’s magic light.

“Arrgh! G-grah!?” Wendel’s booty thrusted into the air thanks to a rush of bloating in both his thighs. What remained of his pant legs tore off for the cultists to admire a pair of shapely women's legs filled with equal parts fat and muscle. The red continued to pour down their curves, turning black at the knees to cover his shins in natural socks. He was especially not pleased to feel his expensive loafers pinch before massive black paw-feet ruptured out their front.

Devin was starting to fret as loudly as his small following, but whatever mistake they were apparently making was far too late. Several pops crawled over Wendel’s thinning waistline, causing a back arch that thrust his chest forward and head back to face the skyward. Pecs that had become defined in tense upper strength suddenly became hidden by the billowing of new, spongy flesh. Buttons shot off the polo shirt in a gradual reveal of deep rich red cleavage until the shirt's front completely tore away to let the pair of blossoming breasts fall free. Their hard sloshing mass barely registered to his enormously strong body, even if the now red furred reporter was too distracted moon gazing.

“Aah! Aargh! AWWOOOOOOOO!!!”

The feral cry of the monster he was becoming overflowed Wendel’s lungs before his befuddled mind could notice it. Even as it left his muzzle pushed forward, becoming long and narrow while the teeth inside sharpened into vicious dagger tips. By the time the last bit of wind escaped from his busty chest his ears had also finished sinking into their skull bed. The little black furred pyramids that remained flicked about in his rich mane of brown hair trying to catch all the panicked conversations.

“Devin! What did you DO?”

“This isn't what you said would happen.”

“Why is he a babe!?”

“This was not worth the fifty bucks I spent getting a robe fitting.”

“Are we still having an orgy?”

“Anyone want the last mountain dew?”

The stunningly large anthro vixen that replaced Wendel inside their summoning circle slowly pushed back onto their feet. Her form of pure amazon beauty and power continued to give a faint ethereal glow under the full moon's presence, looming over the other male foxes gathered around at nearly ten feet tall. Puffy muzzle lips pursed in anger, complimented by a snort from flared nostrils. Silence slowly settled around the group while she took her time pulling off the bits of shirt and shoes that still stubbornly cling onto her athletic physique.

“I… uh…” It was almost a surprise Devine found his nerve to approach this transformed goddess first. He approached on quivering foot paws, unable to hide his anxiety with his night fur coloration. “W-welcome to the mortal realm once again, King Wander!? We… uh… your faithful followers have managed to summon your soul into a compatible sacrifice and now humbly beg for your… royal blessings? By right of the contract we invoked, our bodies are yours to pleasure as you… see fit?”

The vixen blinked once in confusion, and again in slow stunned realization. With each second of gears turning inside her head the graceful vulpine face slowly twisted into a snarl of ugly primal rage. One of her hands reached out to yank the spell book out a recoiling Devin’s clammy mitts.

“So, in summary…” Wendel started with a rich soprano. The added boost of throat muscles certainly gave an almost regal volume she could appreciate. “You kidnapped me to force a spiritual possession so you guys could get gang banged by a werefox in the woods!?”

It was Devin’s turn to look confused, slowly coming to the realization just who was talking inside this body of a newly transformed vixen looming over him. Unfortunately, they were waiting for that sudden realization to flash in his golden eyes before one of her massive feet launched up in a kick that could knock over any of the forest trees around them. All the fox could see were silver stars as he slumped to the dirt ground clasping both hands at the shattered mess that remained of his manhood. Occasional squeals escaped his gaping maw sound like the imitations of a dying pig.

What followed was somehow cathartic, yet somehow unsporting to Wendel. While they were unusually polite and considerate fanboys, she had this thing about disliking forced possessions. Either way, she was just beating up a bunch of nerds at the end of the day. No amount of noogies, wedgies, or wet willies brought the amazon werefox joy when her form was built to subdue gods and shatter pelvises.

“Oh, there’s a fun thought,” Wendel grumbled to herself as she finished fishing out cashing from the last of everyone’s stolen wallets. At least some of these guys had the notion to carry hard currency to afford a ride home. Leaving the mess of leather pouches on the forest floor, with their owners bruised and battered nearby, she made her way towards what was hopefully the nearest roads. It was really hard to operate a cell phone with fingers twice the size they’d been an hour ago.

Not ten minutes after Wendel’s departure then a flash of green light sparked over the tree lines. A dense cloud whisked into the clearing until it came to rest directly over the freshly used summoning circle.

“Hey! Hey! Sorry I’m late, you fantastic followers I’ve mine! It’s been so long since anyone’s summoned King Wander to a party I got the ping in the middle of a League of Legends match. So, where’s my juicy new host? I’ve got a hankering to fondle some lucky mortal’s thick ba…alls?”

The entity probably would have looked confused if it was in possession of a face. Its smoky form shifted in place, observing the scene of carnage for the first time. Sloppy made tents littered the campsite broken apart. Unconscious vulpine in black robes were strewn along the floor in undignified positions. What could be seen of them were bruised and slightly bloody, but at least all were alive. Their attention lingered for a prolonged twenty seconds on the black fox left hanging from a tree branch by their white underwear.

“Seriously? I was only delayed by like twenty minutes and you guys already did the fun stuff? It’s like no one knows how to be in a sex cult anymore.”