Airwick’s Sensational Display
By Rimme

"Ahh, just in time," J’raff smiled, positioning himself for a good view of what was about to occur. "Airwick can be a bit prissy at times," he thought, "but I have to admit he really does know how to transform somebody."

It was hard to say which was more responsible for the hypnotic trance Mr. Airwick’s visitor appeared to be under: the skunk's tail, or the subtle scent emanating from it, as his glassy-eyed visitor sprouted the beginnings of a white-on-black tail of his own.

Comus beginning^
Rimme conclusion|


Mr. Airwick smirked as his tail swayed sinuously into his victim's chest. His eyes, though, were focused on J'raff. The skunk knew when he had an audience, even though his performance was as much for his own pleasure as for others'.

The tip of the tail brushed the man's nose. First one nostril, then the other, bulged as the man inhaled. The odor was not skunk-like at all, but sweet and beguiling, teasing the edges of his consciousness forward and folding him further into Airwick's weave. The skunk's tailhairs clipped against the man's nosehairs with such force, the man nearly broke from his trance and stepped back. But then he suddenly took a sharp breath.

"ACHOO!" he sneezed. His nose popped out into a shiny black skunk nose. Airwick's tail flew backwards, and then slowly rebounded back to the man's nose, gently tracing the lines of white-on-black fur growing up his face.

"I say, Airwick is being more teasing than usual," J'raff murmured to himself, not daring to interrupt Airwick's work. The giraffe rested his head on a branch and swiveled his ears forward.

"Oh, my scent isn't that overwhelming, is it?" Mr. Airwick said, flicking his tail back and forth, back and forth, before the man's dazzled eyes.

"N-- n, no, s, sir," the man sputtered as the fur crept further up his nose, his eyes fixed on the billowing tail. When it reached the man's thin brown eyebrows, they puffed out into long white tufts that soon stuck out on his black-furred face.

The man's tail pressed further and further against his slacks. Black and white hairs poked from above the belt while the tail bulge swayed to the same beat as Mr. Airwick's bobbing tail. J'raff often wondered what went on inside the minds of Airwick's guests, whether they were conscious of their limbs moving in time, or whether they were lost in trance as their body moved on its own.

"I think you want a powerful scent of your own," Mr. Airwick said. The thinnest shade of purple puffed out from under his tail, a stronger dose of the near-invisible fragrance. The man's eyes bulged as he breathed the scent anew. His round nose almost yanked itself from his face to soak in the essence, pulling his white-furred lips forth into a muzzle. As the fur reached his crown, his brown hairs stood on end before their color drained away. One lock after another, from the front and center radiating back his temples to his ears, paled from tan to white until the man's hair was as white as Airwick's.

The odor unraveled clothes as easily as it unraveled minds, and the man's were no exception. The light dose frayed the edges of his white cuffs, white threads mixing with the blackening hair on his wrists. One snap, then another, gave way from the man's rear. His tail was now nearly as wide as the man himself, but the length kept growing, pushing itself to be as long and billowy as Airwick's. The man's belt, made of cheap faux-leather, softened and dangled from his belt loops like taffy.

The man's jaw dropped as he gulped another breath. His pearly-white teeth creaked and groaned as sharp tiny canines grew into his new muzzle.

The man nearly stumbled forward into Airwick's tail, but Mr. Airwick pushed him back upright with a tsk-tsk. "Not yet, good sir. Keep those paws up till we get your rags off." He emphasized this with another flick and a puff of his perfume. The man's shirt buttons shivered as if struck by a wind, and then splattered against the ground. Bare shoulders peppered with black and white fur poked free from the peeling layers of fabric.

A sudden gust of wind shook the tree and knocked a bough of leaves into J'raff's view. "Ack!" J'raff bit his tongue and stumbled back, knocking against one of the tree roots. A startled squeak came from below, but the giraffe quickly recovered his footing and side-stepped to a clearer view. "Just as it was getting to the good part," he mumbled.

Fortunately, the wind had also dispersed the scent, halting any immediate changes to the man. For a brief moment, the skunk-headed man recovered his senses and grabbed his belt to pull his pants up, only for it to snap where he grabbed it. The front of his pants slid down, held up only by his twitching tail, which shook even more frantically as the man realized it was his own.

"Now, don't get all excited," Mr. Airwick said as he swept his tail around him, brushing the tatters from his back and wafting another thin aromatic mist about him. "I think you make a very handsome skunk indeed."

The man's eyes glazed over again as the tail wrapped itself around him, his hands outstretched and shaking as his palms thickened into pads and claws poked from his fingers. His ears, still incongruously human, twitched and squirmed at his charming words. They curled and shrank as black fur covered them, pushing against white hair to nestle at the top of his pointed face.

His tail, meanwhile, was still straining against his ragged slacks. The legs had already fallen to pieces on his cracked shoes, leaving him only in his fraying boxers. They stretched and groaned, but the growing tail still couldn't tear apart the elastic band around his waist.

The man looked helplessly at Airwick, limbs too weak and entranced to pull his pants loose. To say nothing of his thumbs and fingers, now shortened into nubs. Mischievously, Mr. Airwick looked up at him from between his black-furred knees. Along the man's arms and legs, the black fur spread, while down his belly and his spine, the white fur grew.

Mr. Airwick swayed and swung the furry man to one side, spinning him around and casting the rags to every side. Like eggshells, his shoes split and peeled off, the socks quick to follow. The man stumbled on his bare feet, which were already pressing inward into tiny clawed paws. Only his puffed-up boxers held on, the edges of his tail poking out from above and below, trying to break free.

Behind him, Mr. Airwick patted the ground on all fours before pirouetting his tail and arching it back.

FWOOOF!

A thick blast of perfume smothered the man, blasting any clarity from his senses.

RRRIPPP!!

The thick skunk tail lifted free, knocking the waistband up into the sky above, and the new skunk down to all fours. With a puff, his fingers shrank into his hands.

The man could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, only smell the gorgeous perfume of skunk. It blanketed him and squeezed him, pressing his arms and legs and chest down and down into themselves until he was the same size as Mr. Airwick, a proper skunk in body and almost in mind. There was always a tiny remnant of their old personality left over, but it was always in the pleasant mind and frame of a skunk.

"Much improved," Mr. Airwick said, before suddenly wrinkling his snout. In his excitement, the new skunk seemed to have cast a bit of his own spray. "Whoo! If only I could get the scent right as well."

He patted his fellow skunk and shrugged. "Ah well. A skunk is a skunk, after all. And you certainly look much better in stripes. Now then, off to that side with you," he said, nudging the new skunk towards the fence that separated his garden from J'raff's exhibit.

"Really?" J'raff groaned. Gathered around the giraffe's legs, dozens of fellow skunks welcomed their new playmate. "I love your displays, but do you have to keep sending them to me when you're done?"

"Sorry, J'raff. You know I'm very particular about how my garden smells. And I know YOU don't mind, with your head so far up there."

"Sure, the air up here's as clear as ever," J'raff said, nearly knocking another skunk over with his hooves. "It's the GROUND that's getting thicker."

***