So this was why the village had gone quiet--overrun by ogres, she thought. Yet something was odd--where had they put all the people?--where had they put her companions, who'd promised to meet her at the Inn?
Without help, she wouldn't last long in a direct confrontation. Fortunately, she was a capable rogue, and she knew how to play the game. She went for backstabs, only striking when the dumb things had their attention easily diverted. She'd strike with a crippling blow, paralyzing her foe with a poisoned blade, and she'd back off if she alerted anyone.
It worked out well, until her first villager. Reaching to offer the man a hand, claws had sprung from his nails, and he'd swiftly given her a bite on the arm, grunting and laughing wickedly at her shock, as she pulled away, looked at the torn flesh puff up swollen, infected... and slowly scab over and heal entirely.
No. "NO!" she screamed, horrified, realizing that this was a zoanthrope--a werefox--and that she'd just been inoculated with its cursed venom. She took off groaning, dropping her blade and gripping her head with both hands, as the transformation set in swiftly.
"Must... resist..." she groaned weakly, as her body began to make churning, fleshy, squishing noises and reform. She ducked into an alley, and began to peel off her armor.
Something hot--her blood; infected, werefox blood--was spreading through her veins, trying to convert her into a dumb beast. She scrambled for her backpack, through her inventory, and tried to find belladonna and antivenom, a potent cocktail for curing the curse. She stifled her tongue, which grew with a schlorp, long and broad, eager to pant... it was all happening so suddenly--why had she not imagined this scenario ahead of time?
Finally, her hands caught hold of the medicine case she'd stowed away for poisoning, and began to rifle through, as she prayed to every god she'd known and never believed in--that it'd be there.
Seizing the distinctive root, she plopped it straight into her mouth, took an excessive sip of the anti-toxin, and got ready for inevitable vomiting, as she prayed the curse would dissolve, slobbering like a dog as stinking fox fur crept up her arms and legs.
Instead, a thick wooden club landed on her stupid head, putting her to sleep.
* * *
When she awoke, she was in a cell in the town jail, amidst the smell of poop and half-cooked meat roasting over a fire. She opened her eyes to the dark, and found them most receptive to the change--shining yellow orbs whose pupils widened from eerie slits into circles. Crying alienly at her outstretched hand, she witnessed the thick black pads take hold, claws sprouting hard and shattering her fingernails.
"I see your herbs got substituted too." came a familiar voice from the other side of the cell. It was her party cleric, his robes torn--he'd clearly been surprised when the raid had come, and neglected his armor and preparations. With a soft plooot, a tail came springing from his back, and he compulsively scratched at it, running doggish nails through its bushy fur.
"You got... you got infect...ed... too..." she murmured, her voice slurring about, hard to form words with her big slobbery tongue in the way. Her stomach growled, and she let out a trumpeting fart, as her own tail began to wiggle against her pants, trying to grow and be free--hanging firmly over her buttocks.
"We all did, child... we all... ahhh..." he groaned, wincing at his growing ears, that dominated his forehead with a bizarre appearance, unbefitting a human face. He broke off, panting, his eyes changed like hers.
"Planned?!" she mouthed, panicked, as her senses of sight and hearing adjusted, and all about her, glowing eyes and poignant whines became pronounced from amidst the cells.
"In...deed..." was the last word that left the cleric's blackened lips, as he fell on all fours, and began changing swiftly, his nose pressing out into a phallic snout.
She clumsily got to standing erect, tail snaking from her pants as thick fur began to spring up all about her. The odor of fox dominated her body, and she found in shock that her top had been removed, and she was naked from the waist up. She reached for the lock, trying to take the pick she kept hidden in her boot, and spring them free--
--but to her abject horror, she found that as she reached for the hole, her body began to defy her, shrinking in stature till she barely measured up to it--a pitiful three and a half feet in height--as if her very form was refusing to let her go, until the whole of it had changed!
Stupid thoughts began to set in, as she started resigning herself to her fate... feeling her mind turn primative, hungry and impulsive. She slipped out of her pants, admiring her nakedness with astonishment. She'd grown a thick coat from head to toe, and her hair was shedding in clumps. Eight teats adorned her chest, where her two sizable breasts had once been. She scrambled to get on all fours, to fit in with the rest of her kind... felt the hard bones of her face pushing out into a muzzle... screamed one wild protest as her nose moistened and mutated into a black pad...
Someone or something came to her door... a large, comforting presence. The werefox that had been a rogue pawed at the bars, eager to be let out by her new master. With a soft creak, she darted through the opening, along with her new companion...
The monstrous hands of the ogre mage seized both parties, and brought them by the nape of their necks to a pen outside, where numerous other ogres sat and sloppily ate from the haunches of the cows they'd seized and roasted over a blazing fire. Their entertainment for the night? Watching another pair of vulpanthropes fighting over their table scraps, battling like savages in brown, tattered rags, a mocking semblance of humanity in their figures all that lay left of the townsfolk they'd once been... the creatures cheered at the bestial exploits, hollered and yelled and threw their fists up--some cheering, some in violence as they made their bets on who would win...
Setting the two fledglings down in the pen, the ogre muttered--"Git to it, hooman..." and slammed the ramshackle gate. Confused, she searched for the scraps, looked for something to seize, to eat... but not a ribbon of tasty meat was thrown in for her to fight for. She scratched her newfound ears with her back leg, circled, and tried to process what was missing in her brain...
Impatiently, her partner had begun prodding at her side, and licking at her nethers, beneath her tail...
...and then she realized exactly why there were so many ogres gathered around, just to watch the two of them.