This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must at all times be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Kipruto held her breath, the Afro-Latino woman pausing at the entrance to the Mayan temple. It had been a long time coming, the buzz of the jungle to her back, while the day came to a close.

“Finally…”

It was not one that Kipruto had seen, not in any shape or form, on any of her maps — though it had been in the ancient drawings that the Mayan people had shown her. She wanted to document their history, not to allow it to be lost, even as they passed it down, generation by generation, from one person to the other. It was a gorgeous way to remember the world that they had made for themselves, though she wondered that they had a lot more to say.

There was a lot that the rest of the world, at the bare minimum, could learn from the Mayan people, rushing by what the Mayans sank into, technology and advancements in…well, nothing really taking up far too much of the Western world’s time.

The jungle was rich with life too and thickly humid, moisture hanging in the air as she chose to enter the temple, set into the side of a cliff, though the majority of it was in ruin. Why was that? Why, after so many had made the journey there, for worship and community, had they simply not returned?

That was what Kipruto was there to figure out. She slipped down the steps, delving into the ruins, though had to take each step carefully where they had worn smooth and also chipped away from the push of weather grinding into them. The climate out there was not the kindest but it was the jungle itself and the dense vegetation that wormed its way into the tiniest of cracks, reclaiming anything made by humans for its own. She could not fault it for that.

However, one thing that Kipruto could never have expected was the shrine. Of course, she had anticipated finding a shrine at the heart of the temple, but the strangest thing about it was the fact that it was completely untouched. In the centre of a room, the stone tiles of the floor broken in many places, plants sprouting up through every crack that they could sink a root into, it sat perfectly in a shaft of sunlight, as if it had been waiting for her the whole time. That, of course, was silly: a shrine did not wait. Yet it was not as if a shrine was able to do all that much else too.

Dusk had fallen outside and yet the shrine remained illuminated, even if the light took on a richer, glowing quality, as if it had been a part of the sunset itself. It had to be a trick of the light, Kipruto wondered, advancing carefully, though she was steady on her feet and more than capable of the task that she had set herself to. But she was there to uncover a little more, just a little more, seeing what the ruins and the shrine itself both had to offer the world in knowledge…

“This… This is unlike anything that I expected.”

Kipruto breathed, lifting her hand, brushing the cheek of the jaguar perched atop the shrine, lofty and regal, as if they knew that those that had come there, long ago, had been worshippers. Ixchel was well-known, of course, as a Mayan goddess, yet there were many active and in-use temples dedicated to her too. So why had one, above all of the others, falling into disrepair and ruin? It could not have possibly been for lack of love from the Mayan people.

Peering closer, she ran her fingers down the smooth, warm stone, admiring how smooth it was, though she didn’t want to damage it by touching it too. She had heard too much about how researchers and travellers had caused harm to the Mayans — and that had been from back when she had been fascinated by them in college, doing every report that she could on them. She hadn’t been very trendy with the teachers when she had pointed out that expeditions into countries with cultures and lifestyles that, perhaps, the West struggled to find out were not at all times the best thing for the Indigenous peoples there. They only wanted one viewpoint, after all, and they’d ignore anything more that didn’t suit them.

Yet Kipruto made a mistake. It was not intentional, no, and she most likely would have done it anyway, even if she had known what the consequences of her actions turn out to be. For, as she stroked down the jaguar statue’s chest, perched on top of the shrine for worshippers, something sharp caught her finger.

“Ah!”

Kipruto swallowed a curse, not wanting to use such language in such an environment. Even when she was hurt, it still felt wrong to speak like that, blood trickling down her hand. Looking more closely, her hand pulled in close to her chest, she nipped at the inside of her cheek.

It was a dagger… Obsidian, with that black sheen to it.

And yet Kipruto could never have realised what she had done, not as the jaguar’s eyes above her glowed yellow, awakening the feline deity who had been trapped there for countless years.

Now… Ixchel had a new body to inhabit.

“Ahhhhhh!”

Her scream cut through the air, even though she had tried to be quiet when wanting to curse before. Yet Kipruto could not do anything about it, not in the slightest, not as she howled, collapsing to the ground, holding onto her head, blood soaking into her thick hair, though it was not curly: that was her Latino heritage at work. That wasn’t gonna be a concern of hers at all, not for very much longer at least.

She twisted, her cries cutting through the air, but she couldn’t stop writhing in pain, not as her head ached and pounded, as if it was about to split in two. It had to be something to do with the jungle, a migraine possibly, something about air pressures — or even a body ache brought on by the wound on her hand. She didn’t see her blood streaming, more than she had bled, through little dips and troughs in the shrine, funnelling it all to the centre while the jaguar’s eyes glowed more and more brightly, giving shine to contrast the dusk beyond the ruined temple.

“Unff… Gnnngghhh…”

She grunted, heaving, on all fours, her head hanging. What… What was happening to her? Was that gonna be where she died? Where her life came to a close? All because of a little cut on her hand?

But no… It was neither better nor worse as the spirit of the goddess Ixchel rose, flowing into her, her body aching so deeply, even though Kipruto didn’t know what was happening. She could not, not as her skin prickled and itched, though Kipruto did not have the free bandwidth in her mind to rub at it, to try to soothe that annoyance from her skin. The strain of pressure aching through her swarmed her senses, muscles tight and feeling inflated, almost, as if they were getting bigger. It had been many years since she had lifted weights in the gym, finding that other avenues of physical fitness gave her better results, though Kipruto had a moderate, lightly athletic physique, according to her friends.

That was nothing. Nothing, not as her shoulders thickened. For a moment, Kipruto wondered that she was just leaning over and rounding her shoulders as she hunched down, but it was not that. Her jacket and grey T-shirt pulled tighter and tighter, most of her skin protected by her clothing, yet she twisted and rolled her hips back, straining with her back just to discover a comfortable position.

“Nnngghhh… Nnnff…”

She wanted to call words to her lips, though all that came out were throaty grunts and even deeper groans. Her nails… There was something wrong with her nails, her head and especially her jaw feeling oddly thick, bulky and chunky. It was as if there was more weight to her body and her nails even felt heavy too, which was only something usually found when she wore nail polish on rare occasions.

Yet that was not it. Not at all, Kipruto along for the ride as her shirt ripped and her jacket split across the shoulders — still too tight around her body, which she had, by then, realised was growing and thickening, but enough for her muscles to grow.

And grow.

And grow.

Her biceps swelled as Kipruto sobbed and yowled, feeling like something else was trying to rip itself from her. yet her mind had been wiped of all rational wondered, entirely caught up in trying to bear through the moment, for there was nothing else, absolutely nothing, that she could do. She had to hold on, horrified by what was happening, trying to scream and instead finding herself gaping soundlessly as no sound at all came out. No human sound anyway. Just a breathless chuff that sounded more animalistic than anything that she had heard in a good while.

Something was happening to her, muscles forming to take the new weight of her body, her spine cracking and elongating, something horrifying pushing from the base of it. She was long — longer! That didn’t make any sense and yet it was never meant to be something that Kipruto’s mind could at all make sense of, not as the prickling, itching patches of skin burst into fur, darkening the skin first. She was just too caught up in the bulkiness of her rapidly thickening limbs to notice that.

The fur, however, was dark, a rich, deep grey that was nearly a pure black, but dappled with rosettes — like a jaguar, a black jaguar. She rasped and heaved, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes even as they bulged a bit, shifting slowly to the front of her face, her hair a wild mess around her face, hanging and rippling, thickening up as if it was destined to become nothing more than a mess of knots and tangles.

The patches of fur connected in some parts while her long, cut-off trousers tightened, the bulge of her thighs showing through them as she tried, fruitlessly, to stagger up onto her knees, to flee the temple, to do anything, anything at all. Yet there was nowhere for Kipruto to go, not as the changes ranged through her, her torso wider still as her chest strained against the front of her already ripped and ruined shirt.

Out and out and out… It was a slow bulge, all the changes in her body coming in at the same time, though her breasts seemed to be swelling. She felt the shift in them as they grew, the underwire of her bra snapping first with a sharp lance of pain that was swiftly overruled by all the other changes taking place in her body. She huffed and heaved, her shirt tearing down the front to expose her breasts, the swell of them too much to contain. She had to be over six foot tall by that point, though there was no measuring it, not as her bones cracked and her shins bit with a fierce, snapping sort of ache, lengthening her for the purposes of another.

Her skin “tore” — there was no other word for it, not as more and more of her fur was revealed, as if it was all being stickily peeled back to show the beast within. Her jaw crackled as it stretched, bulging forward, the strain of her teeth growing, shaping themselves into points that she could feel against her tongue. Yet even her tongue seemed to be growing flatter and moving more within her mouth, able to curl it back and forth, saliva pooling in the bottom of her mouth, between the two lower lines of teeth.

“Nnnngghhhhh!”

The groan was more of a howl, falling to her back and writhing, her neck widening, as if she had taken on a far more muscular physique than anything she had ever seen herself in before. It was a strange, tight feeling, bulking out across her upper back, for all the muscles were connected and the flexible fascia had to stretch and create new connections. Her trousers finally gave up the ghost to her bulging, heaving quadriceps, the power lacing her body something that she might have enjoyed — if everything had not come upon her with such furious, snarling pain. That was not something that anyone would have wanted, not even as her clothes ripped further, some strands of fabric clinging to each other, as if they were trying to make a pattern around her thick arms and thighs and calves.

Dimly, she was aware of curling her hands, gripping the stone floor — or trying to, at least. She was not wholly present in the moment, not as her small body struggled to compete with the changes, aching, lifting her hips, her nails forming claws as they scraped across the stones. Her shoes tightened around growing feet, claws poking out slowly through the front of them, though it would be a few moments before they ripped entirely.

A tail.

That was where her attention when next, panting heavily and harshly, her whole body searing with withheld heat that, seemingly, had nowhere to go other than to set off every last one of her pain sensors. Would it ever end? But, no, not when she had a tail, painting itself with fur as it grew, twisting back and forth. And she could feel those nerve endings too, the muscle there that controlled it, amazed, even then, at how her senses worked. She should not have even been able to perceive it, not when it was never meant to be a part of a human body, yet it was there all the same, growing to two feet long, three feet long — and longer still.

Her muscles swelled even more, more than she could have wondered imaginable for a woman of her size — yet that was true, for she was not becoming another woman. She was transforming into something much greater, though not even the deity herself, but an amalgamation of the two, something and someone who had never been seen before.

It comes…

The words were not spoken in English, though Kipruto recognised Portuguese, in which she was fluent.

It didn’t help her. Nothing could help her, not even as her mind buzzed with attention and emotion, a strange sense of exhilaration rippling through her mind. And yet that euphoria had never been meant to belong to Kipruto, not as she battled with everything, gritting her teeth and finding that the sharp points bumped up against each other.

She growled, the sound ripping from her lips as if it was meant to be there, shoving her torso up, eyes wide and wild. Her snout pressed out, bulging from a face that could not remain human, no matter how much Kipruto willed it to be so, her cheeks feeling full, flesh bubbling and rippling, rushing to cover her face. The muzzle of a jaguar, after all, as her eyes met those of the statue staring down, watchfully, over her, was not intended to be soft and delicate.

It was furious, calm, all power in the bite of the jaw. Her whiskers quivered, her face entirely covered in black fur, eyes blurring as her vision changed. The shadows seemed sharper and no longer did they hide details from her eyes, seeing further even out the window behind the shrine, into the dusky world outside, than she could ever have done as a human being.

Her trousers had long split down her thighs and across her buttocks, yet the shreds snapped free where they were vaguely clinging on as her glutes rounded out. Her back lengthened further even with the width of her torso to bear it, everything coming in proportion. That was something, later, that Kipruto would be thankful for. She would have to be thankful for the small things, as her life changed forever, after all. Her toes curled in tight — yet they had to burst through her shoes eventually, splitting and tearing down the sides as the soles peeled away and left her anthro jaguar feet with a clumsy adornment only.

The fur thickened up and fluffed a little — just enough for the underlayer that protected her skin. Her ears had shrunk but it was their rounded position, poking out through the hair higher up on her head that had her puffing, closing her eyes, letting everything settle through her.

Without more size to be piled on her body, she didn’t have so much pain, though even the seeping away of that left her suspicious that there was gonna be more. Her breasts hung out as she, somehow, managed to roll over onto her front, her shirt falling away from her right side, a shred still clinging around her left shoulder and under her armpit.

With muscles upon muscles, she was an eight-and-a-half-foot tall jaguar woman — neither Kipruto nor Ixchel. Someone new. Someone with two voices coming together, two personalities and histories trying to battle it out with each other.

Yet that would come later as she moaned and tried to roll her shoulders, feeling her tail swing and lash back and forth behind her. It was too much…and yet there was no going back. Not after she had bled onto the shrine. Her dark hair hung around her face, though there was plenty of volume to it too, the final touches and details prickling to life in her transformation, like the whiskers that quivered from her face, offering her a strange “pulling” sensation as they grew.

She needed to work everything out, even as Ixchel rose inside, bidding them up, jerkily, onto one knee and a foot, scraping that foot back and forth to remove the shoe that was still on it. She wasn’t gonna need clothes anymore, one way or the other.

Not as the anthro jaguar stood tall and roaring, leaning forward, her claws outstretched as if she was about to snatch up her prey right there and then. Her body rippled with muscle, her abdominals lightly defined despite the thickness of her torso, everything oozing raw power — yet was that something that they, the goddess and Kipruto bound to the same transformed body, could contain?

Only time would tell and there was a world of growth and exploration ahead for both, as one, for eternity…