The worst part of being online the weekend of a con, in Xena’s opinion, was the feeling of being left out.
Sure, she was busy, and sure, there was no room on the schedule for a weekend trip, but… ugh! It’d be so fun to go, to hang out, to fursuit in a friend’s suit…
The drakkai sighed, tossing her phone aside and flopping back on the bed. Maybe she should’ve… made time, or saved up PTO, or… something.
Ugh. Flying sucked though, and she’d have to book a room and bus passes and…
She fumed for a little while, finally picking the phone back up and squinting at it. A fuzzy bunny face grinned back at her, held under an arm of a fursuiter surprised by a photo in the headless lounge.
Still wish I could go, but… hate the hassle. Oh, well.
Out of all the things the drakkai expected, her phone dinging out of the blue with a message… wasn’t it.
“Granted.”
Huh?
She sat up, squinting at it. No system message would say… just granted, and it certainly hadn’t had a sender. What the-
Xena was suddenly struck with the oddest sensation, as if a shock had run the entire length of her body from the very tips of her toes to the very tops of her ears… but, for whatever reason, it seemed to be strongest in her hands.
Bewildered, her vision drifted down, watching as her fingers began to change before her very eyes; darkening, slowly, as the numbness grew stronger.
Her fingers, stiffening as they turned a soft, fuzzy black, suddenly felt… hollow. Empty?
Confused, Xena lifted them to eye level, her face the very image of confusion – which swiftly changed to surprise as, one by one, the new fursuit paws that had a moment ago been her hands plopped softly onto the sheets.
“WHAT THE HELL,” Xena exclaimed surprised. The changes began to spread up her arms, softening them into simple empty tubes of black and neon green fabric, sweeping across the bewildered drakkai like spilled ink.
Her footpaws followed suit, plopping free onto the bed as they became comfy, oversized fursuit paws fit for slipping over shoes – albeit, now that she was able to take a closer look, a little poorly made.
She was turning into a fursuit?
How?!
Worryingly, the harder she tried to find a cause, the more she found she was looking forward to the next con. She had a suit, right? A wearer?
Wait-
Shaking her head, Xena was surprised to find her midsection a bit more… floppy, than she remembered. Black and green lines now covered the bits she could angle down enough to see, as she struggled to hold herself up with increasingly loose arms and a torso at least halfway made of felt and faux fur. There was a sudden sensation of intense cold as a zipper’s catch worked its way down her back, thankfully zipped; though, for some reason, she… kept thinking about it.
Would it be so bad to be unzipped, and worn? Paraded around in, have photos taken of?
The changes crept higher, Xena finally collapsing backwards onto her bed as he midsection completed its transformation into the bodysuit of a protogen fursuit, uncombed and frankly a bit amateurish, but… still a fursuit.
Being empty had an odd effect on her addled mind, but as the changes continued it just couldn’t seem to focus, anymore. Thoughts of being worn filled its her? mind, until it was all it could think about.
I need a wearer I need to be worn I’m a suit-
Its tail was finally back to its usual fluffy self, draped over the bed where it’d come apart from the bodysuit, neatly arranged for easy assembly – and, to its excitement, the changes began to creep higher, her snout beginning to stretch and reshape, flattening out and hardening as her mouth, nose, and eyes all blended together into a uniform expanse of black plastic, clearly drawn-on features in glow in the dark green marker appearing in their place.
Its ears, too, reshaped – becoming soft, fluffy triangles as the horns dwindled away into nothing, hair vanishing beneath the twin onslaught of a new visor and the magic itself. The last few bits of detailing began to inscribe themselves, a garish green star on each cheek and a few swirls of green amidst the stark matte black fur on its back – and, finally, the changes slowed to a crawl.
After a few more moments, it was done – and, with a soft sigh of fabric against fabric, the fursuit’s head popped clean, rolling to stare at the ceiling, far away. The bodysuit unzipped, gently folding as the world around it began to darken, closing in, nice and cozy…
The fursuit wasn’t sure how much time had passed, really. The ceiling of the box it occupied was dark, though occasionally sound came from beyond it. Trucks, warehouse workers, more trucks…
There was the sound of rustling cardboard, and tape – and, after a long, long time, a box cutter. A face stared in at it as the box was opened, bright and bucktoothed, headset draped over one of their ears.
“…-lright chat, let’s see what it looks like! Con’s this weekend, I can’t wait!”