It had been a few months since your friend Urthdigger first showed you the book that contained your world's story. Since you tried to take it, and he rewrote your personality to stop you. Since then, the two of you have been closer than ever. The rewrite making you his devoted servant probably helped.

Since then, you've mostly been serving as the mole's personal plaything. You’re not much use for anything else after what that rewrite did to your mind. Today is no different. He comes home from work, tosses you on the bed, and begins to nibble at your neck. He strips out of his clothes, kisses you, and leans back to consider your form.

He grabs the book off of the bedside table, crosses out a few lines and writes in some new ones. There’s a sense of someone opening you up and looking over every last inch of you. With each stroke of his pen you can feel yourself and your world altering around you. Your body shifts wildly between various species, genders, sizes, and moods as your fate is being decided. And then it’s over, and you immediately forget about being altered. You're a well-hung male ferret now. You've always been one. An insatiable need to get off that wasn't there before he picked up the book courses through your body. No, you've always been a horny little slut eager to blow your load.

Urthdigger lays down next to you, wrapping one arm around you, as the other explores your sheath. He traces a finger along your sizeable balls, up to its entrance, and then slowly strokes it up your tapered shaft. You let out a loud gasp as he touches your sensitive cock. You'd always had quite the hair trigger, and Urth delighted in teasing you with it, barely brushing it with a single finger, stroking his velvety fur against it gently, and otherwise giving you the lightest of touches.

"Please, let me get off…" you whimper. The need is almost painful. He'd played with you just yesterday, yet it feels like you hadn't gotten off in months. It's part of what he liked about you.

Slowly, he begins to squeeze and fondle your cock, drawing adorable squeaks and moans from you. Again and again he brings you up to the edge and backs off. Each time he lets you rest less and less until finally, mercifully, he keeps going past the point of no return. You gasp and moan as the orgasm rips through your body. A powerful throb of your cock, and you shoot a thick load over your head, splattering it on the wall above the bed. Again and again you spurt, plastering yourself in copious amounts of ferret spunk. The mole doesn’t stop stroking and kneading your cock until you’re well and drained.

He gives your exhausted cock a pat, and sits up to grab the book again. “Good boy… but let’s try something a little different now…”

Again he writes new lines into the book, and you find yourself opened up, examined, and altered at the most basic level. During the middle of this, you recognize that he’s done this countless times before. Adjusting you as casually as one would slide to a different picture in a porn gallery. And then it’s over, and the realization fades as you settle into your new form. You’re a buxom vixen. You always have been. You vividly remember what it felt like to be a horny male. You reach a paw down to where an impressive cock would be, if that memory was real. Just the same slit you play with when the master’s away. With a shrug, you flip yourself over and bend over the edge of the bed, lifting your tail for him. After all that time spent edging you, you know full well he needs some attention himself.

Urthdigger comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he mounts you. He nibbles your neck, murmurs softly, tenderly… and proceeds to fuck you raw. Groping your tits, letting his claws press against your chest, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You’ll wear these marks like a badge of honor later. Again you cum, squeezing his thick cock as you howl in ecstasy. You’re settling into your afterglow when he finishes, biting deep enough to draw blood as he fills you with his warm seed.

He pulls out, cream leaking from your pussy, and looks over his handiwork. After a moment to live the fantasy, he gives you a tap on the undamaged shoulder. “Hey, I’ll grab you a bandage for that. Need anything else?” he asks.

You let out a low moan. Truth be told you hardly felt the pain from the bite, but were glad for the care all the same. “Mmm, just anohter round when you’re up for it,” you murmur.

He leaves for the bathroom to raid the medicine cabinet, and you shake your head as he leaves. There was one thing that was wrong, but you had trouble finding a way to explain it. Something didn’t feel quite right about yourself. Nothing painful, nothing wrong with your head, just… something felt wrogn.

Urthdigger comes back with a bandage, a glass of water, and some painkillers. He sets the latter two on the table, and set about tenderly applying the bandage to the bite mark, easing it into place around the wound. As he’s pressing the edges of the bandage to ensure it sticks, he makes a puzzled sound. “That… you don’t feel right. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

A sudden dizziness spell comes to your haed as you try to push yourslef up of the bed. “I’m nto srue. Mabye, I c’nat explian.” It’s getting worse.

Urthdigger looks rather concerned as he snatches up the book and looks over your section. So many crossed out details, absolutely miniscule text crammed into the margins. Borderline illegible by now. “...I can fix this. Hold on for a minute.”

He dahses out of the room. You’re not sure, but you feel it has something to do with those odd memories you’ve been having. Of being a horny ferret. A ravenous dragon. Of being three inches tall, of towering over the apartment complex. You collaspe on the bed, tyring to hlod onto what’s real.

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Pwe mjd io fjhg em. Jx obekpsc jwq mfaspcxc mne…

The vixen woke up and shook her head. Everything seemed far clearer now. Urthdigger breathed a sigh of relief and set the book aside. He’d gone a bit too far in playing with this one. Was too hasty in striking out sections to replace rather than edit properly. As her section became harder and harder to read, her own existence was beginning to break down. So with care, he whiteouted the section and penned clear, legible information over it. He wasn’t sure it would work.

A vixen smiled at him, thanked him for doing… whatever he did to fix it. She was an awful lot like the vixen he was playing with. The old friend that had been so altered over the recent months. But he’d been too late. Applied his fix too hastily. That friend had fallen apart, smudged, and been erased. What remained was simply an imitation.