Snatched

This month our wonderful writer Rabidbadger has given us four shorts to put on Patreon!

This one contains: bodysnatching, plushification and Naomi's Zophia

---

“H-hey! Wait, you can't do this! I- I sent payment! I'm-”

Zophia's body seized up and everything went black on her. She'd been reliving the moment for what felt like hours. Goons in black suits looming over her, one of them shocking her with something, and then she fell down. Fell, and felt a profound vertigo as everything went dark and her senses shut off.

All that repetition was quickly turning into a quiet little hell, so when something broke the cycle Zophia almost wanted to gasp in delight. Except there were things wrong about it. She could see, but she hadn't opened her eyes that she could remember. She could hear too, though everything sounded faintly muffled. Moving was a bit less functional, Zophia didn't feel restraints on herself but when she willed her body to do anything it was sluggish and weak and felt very weird indeed.

It was after turning her head and seeing herself that she started freaking out again. Her body, the black and white stripes of her thick frame and its pink skinned upper body and antlers was sitting across from her hooked up to some kind of unpleasant looking contraption with an awful lot of wires coming off of her head. Seeing that, seeing herself there, Zophia looked down and had her second shock.

The body she was in wasn't hers. It kind of resembled hers, if you replaced all the pink flesh with fur, and made the whole thing rounder and blunted her hands into big useless pawbs that she could look at and move a bit but not close properly really. Rolling over took some effort, and also caused her to fall off the table she was laid out on and land in a heap on the floor. The impact told her a few more things. It hadn't hurt, and she landed in a shape that would only be possible with a lot of broken bones – if one had bones – which she didn't.

Zophia's brain really hated everything about that thought, but the position she was in sorted itself out mostly when someone picked her up from behind. Two large hands under her arms, hefting her up with ease, turning her around and letting her look into the eyes of a suit-wearing middle-aged sable. Slightly graying fur, slightly paunchy frame, but clearly very well off.

“There you are! Glad to see this process worked. Don't worry, this squares your debts. Nothing left to trickle down to your family. Plus? You might just last a really long time like this, and you can't end up in deeper debt to The Family when you aren't a person anymore.”

There was nothing in Zophia that could move or make sound to react to that. Not even when she felt the sable lay her down again and felt a rush of alien, unasked for pleasure flow through her where he'd been touching her.

“You'll get used to it, then you'll love it. Your job is comfort now and bringing it will let you experience it yourself. Though, I must say, they did not listen to my instructions about creating your new body. Brace yourself darling, we need to do a little adjustment.”

Zophia could not brace herself, nor could she shut out the reaction her fluffy plush body had when the sable patted her head. The rush of comfort and contentment was almost enough to distract her from the sight of him tugging out a stuffing machine and easing its hose through an opening Zophia hadn't even realized she still had between her legs.

A second later a hard, thumping pump started her body thickening all around her. Her blunt, useless limbs got a little easier to control for just a brief moment before they stiffened up too much for her to articulate them properly. Her body rounded out, thickening sharply into a more exaggerated pear shape that the sable gave a quick squeeze and a smack to the ass of. Zophia just about blacked out when that wash of sensation hit her... brain? Whatever she was thinking with now.

“There we go. That'll do for now.”

Plucked up from the table, Zophia found herself squeezed tight and lost herself in the moment. Wholly missing the next few words to come out of the sable's mouth.

“Now, off to my bedroom for the real fun.”