"Ms. Palmira, trust me, they won't suspect a thing." Beamed the emerald-robed, silver-furred foxen bodymage as she lifted her fingers from Sandy's face, and the current of mana flowing throughout the room faded from her senses.

The water mage reached up and felt at herself, curious to find her muzzle gone, feeling over the strange contours of her face. She looked to the side, at the body-length mirror, and a human woman with a dazzlingly round face and slight nose stared back at her. "If this is your idea of a compliment, I'm flattered." She reached up to flick a lock of hair back behind her ears, having to try several times before she got the hang of it. "I might attract too /much/ attention..."

"Hardly. You will be just another pretty face in the human quarter. Two hours should be more than enough time to let you prance in there as the beautiful wavestress from Gallena, speak to your man, and get out, without anyone knowing that you are one of the oh-so-dirty beastfolk they hate in their little gated community." The bodymage made a face.

"Are you sure?" Sandy turned to face her, sparing a glance back at the mirror - her eyes were rich blue instead of bright yellow! - grasping for her staff, pondering removing the spearhead with its powerstone set into the head, but she decided against it. She could get away with it. "I might be delayed."

"Nonsense." The bodymage clapped her on the shoulder. "You'll be fine."

--

A prickle of fear went up Sandy's back when she heard the bells chime across the rooftops of Graile. A prickle of fear, and then, immediately, a prickle of something else. A powerful itching sensation suddenly subsumed her, and she fought every urge she had to scratch as she felt fur trace its way up her spine. Biting her tongue to avoid murmuring obscenities, the magess leant upon her staff and hobbled away from the small knot of people she had been traversing as fast as she could, hoping to the spirits themselves that nobody would notice her.

"Oh no. No no no no no... why now..." She cursed to herself as she felt her tail begin to regrow within her robe, slipping down between her legs as the fur spread up her back. Her ears pointed, and she grunted in pain as she felt her muzzle begin to reform itself, as if her old self was pressing outwards from where it had been locked up deep within.

Hobbling as fast as she could, she made it into the dark safetyway of an alley, and leant against the cool bricks of the building, slowly sliding down into a sitting position, kicking off the sandals off her feet, grunting and groaning and fanning herself, muttering an incarnation to keep herself cool.

"Morgana..." She groaned to nobody in particular. "The next time I listen to what you say, I will just kick myself and spare us both the trouble..."

How was she going to get out of the human quarter now?

--

Now, this is a first from me - transformation artwork! I actually do have an interest in the TF subculture, although it's certainly not as all consuming as some of my friends have it. Either way, I wanted to get a sketch from K-Libra, a friend of mine, and I hit upon this idea. I may expand the story more later!

Artwork by  K-Libra !