A Heavy Debt to Pay

A thief has to be careful who they steal from, otherwise they may end up paying more than they can afford. The following story involves male to female transformation magic, weight gain, slight minor hypnotic effects and personality changes

Written and illustrated by the magnificent Rabidbadger!

- - - 

The fox spat blood on the floor, but grinned just the same. An act that earned him another hard punch to the jaw

“Oh come on, no sense of humor about this at all?”

The next impact hit the fox across the back of his head, leaving him more dazed than he had been before and far less able to quip back at the people who had him tied to a chair in a dark room.

“On the contrary, I find this hilarious. You think you've got this under control in some fashion despite the circumstances.”

A breathy chuckle bubbled up from the fox while he gathered his thoughts as best he could with the sudden rush of dizziness still lingering in his head.

“A-and what is this exactly?”

Weight settled atop the fox's head and a blurry shape circled around him into view. Purples and golds, robes it seemed, and pale fur.

“You stole something from me. I will admit, I'm impressed you got into my estate in the first place, let alone that you escaped with my lock box. I had some very valuable material in there.”

This time the laugh was shakier, but that was more a function of the possible concussion than anything else. At least, that's what the thief told himself.

“Can't have been that valuable if it fit in a small, overly ornate box with a cheap lock on it. Don't you think you're over-reacting a little?”

Their vision still hadn't cleared by the time their captor moved, producing something gleaming in the light and then lunging for the fox's forehead. The thief froze up, then gasped. A lance of pain ran through him, but just briefly. A grinding sensation in the center of his brow gripped his senses and then there was just a dull throb in his skin. A tightness in it. A strange empty relaxation relaxation followed it, leaving the thief limp in his seat for what seemed like several long minutes. Minutes during which his captor finally became clear to him, an old and frail looking wolf in regal attire but clearly showing the ravages of age.

Also an old wolf that looked to be setting out a small buffet of potions. One holding the tell-tale sign of a magic user of some kind in his left hand, an ornately decorated silver wand. Once he had his arrangement ready the old wolf walked over and pressed the end of the wand to the thief's forehead. Another small gasp followed that, the fox didn't feel it touching his skin but he did feel it. There was a soft 'clack' as if it hit something stone, something the fox realized was embedded in his brow, and then a warmth that wrapped itself around the inside of his skin and took root there. An instant later all the bindings holding him to the chair were gone, fallen off as if they had been for show to begin with.

It took a terrifying two seconds for the fox to realize he could run, and then to stumble to his feet and try to. Normally he was a spry, nimble, coordinated professional but he felt like he was two hours into a bar crawl as he tried to run, then walk, toward freedom.

“Stop, sit back down and behave yourself.”

That heat inside the fox's skin pulsed, riding through his nerves and up into his increasingly ragged thoughts. Everything between the thief's ears went quiet as his body slowly, naturally, turned around and sat back down on the chair and then folded its hands over his lap. As soon as it had done that the fox found himself able to think again at least, able to feel the fear he ought to be feeling (or at least some of it, it seemed dulled for some reason), but not able to get up or make any kind of a fuss. Those things his body outright refused to do, even thinking about them was difficult.

“Good. Now, I can't make any use of the material you stole from me now. Once a blackmail friendly secret is out in the wild it's worthless, so considering that what you stole from me was my leverage over this city's powerful elite you'll just have to repay me in kind – but  you can't do that as you are. Hold this, and be careful with it.”

The fox reached out, accepting a large round-bottomed bottle into his hands. One the old wolf unplugged, leaving the thief with a whiff of something floral inside.

“That's going to get rid of that gritty, rugged 'thief about town' appearance of yours and leave you with something more marketable in its place. Something that will fit into place neatly at a brothel, or an auction block. I would tell you to say goodbye to your manhood but I have no desire to clean up after that. Quaff the potion.”

A quick, quiet squeak was all the fox managed before the bottle was at his lips. It tasted about like it smelled, floral and vaguely sweet. Not exactly unpleasant, at least before it began its work. There was a vibration inside him as it settled into his stomach and then seemed to evaporate, followed by a wet sucking sensation between his legs. Clenching his thighs, the fox had just enough time to feel all the familiar and treasured flesh between them retreat inside of himself. Themself.

...Herself? That wet sucking feeling kept going even after it was pulling in and had left a hollow opening behind.

“That's working quickly I see, good. Brace yourself.”

The fox obeyed without thinking, tightening up just before a wave of something equally strange to the prior change struck. It was a wider spread this time though, she felt it all over her body. In her bones, mostly. It left them creaking, groaning, twisting, feeling like an old house sounds in the cold. Constantly creaking and moving and shrinking. The vixen couldn't cry out, though they wanted nothing else. All they could do was endure, acutely aware of their hips spreading wider across the chair, the room seeming a bit larger as their frame shrank, and their chest thickening up where they had their arms tightly curled around it.

When the moment ended the vixen had longer hair than she recalled hanging in front of her face. It was brushed away by the wolf's hand, his fingers cold to the touch, his eyes colder still. The vixen was seized by the chin, her head lifted and turned side to side, before she was left gasping when those cold fingers seized her by the chest and gave that a squeeze too. A fresh, alien rush of sensation she didn't have the first idea how to deal with.

“W-what did you do to me? This, you can't-”

The wolf put a finger over her lips and the vixen found herself silenced by it.

“I've turned you into a pretty little thing, but you aren't yet enough to do this. You have to be exotic enough to get attention from the right kind of people. This one ought to fix it. Drink.”

The vixen wasn't even able to manage the squeak in protest this time. She swallowed, then pulled away as the heady haze of alcohol filled her senses. It almost set her to coughing, but she started to lift the bottle again anyway, until she was stopped.

“Pace yourself, this is potent. Besides, I'd rather savor you seeing the effects.”

Heat built up inside of the vixen's chest. Heat, and then pressure. She looked down, eyes widening as she did. The modest chest she'd grown mere moments ago was inflating. Grabbing hold of it on instinct, she gasped hard and started panting as a jolt ran through her nerves. One that lingered, buzzing, between her legs with that new cleft she was sporting.

It only took a few heavy breathing seconds before her breast was filling her entire hand, and only then slowly began to ease off the growth. The overwhelming moments left the vixen's head feeling heavy and foggy, thinking felt like breathing through a wet towel.

“Getting the idea now? You need something to catch people's eyes, and a pretty face isn't quite enough. There are side effects, but that clever head of yours has gotten you in trouble already.”

The old wolf put that finger of his right in the center of the vixen's brow, right on that hard spot embedded in it. The pressure was gentle, but every last sinew in the vixen went limp all at once. All but the ones holding the bottle, because those ones had orders higher than listening to the body they were attached to.

“You won't miss some of your intelligence withering away as payment for these, I think.”

When the finger removed itself the vixen only barely had time to gather up the ability to think again before she had her lips on the bottle, taking another large pull from the booze-tasting potion. Immediately the same heat from before found itself rekindled, the one that was leaving the vixen's chest feeling heavier with every passing moment and their mind more clouded. She struggled to keep her unbound tits under control, keep them from just hanging free, but with only one arm to use for it thief had problems as the quivering orbs quickly eclipsed the size of her head and kept on going.

“S-ss.s.topp, please. It's hard to think, I don't... I can't deserve this-”

A smirk and a scoff were the bulk of the reply the thief received.

“Still just smart enough to remember the broad strokes of whats going on, but losing the edges of it. That won't do at all. Thief, you – what was your name again? No matter, finish the bottle.”

The vixen didn't get a chance to shriek, not to whimper either, her traitorous body was already holding the bottle to her lips and pouring the wine-like concoction down them. The weight on her chest started to balloon outward immediately, a pair of anchors growing there that threatened to pull her out of the chair, and her thoughts decayed to a buzzing white noise. There had been a question asked, hadn't there? Her name. It was...

It was on the tip of her tongue.

“What... was it?”

Thought escaped her, the vixen's mind felt like smoke, and her name coming to her was about as likely as grabbing that smoke in her hands. The voice of the wolf though, that seemed to make everything come back together. Cold fingers on her shoulder, sharp eyes looking into hers.

“It'll be whatever it needs to be. Later. For now? We need to get you ready for work. You're going to learn how to show some very particular people a good time, and get them to feel comfortable enough to talk around you.”