Kitsune Tales

Kitsune Tales

By Matthew Leonard

Cover art by Cody A.J. Simpson. Check him out at: http://www.cajsimpson.com

You can find me at http://www.aetherdrive.com

If you like this story, consider picking up my RPG! You can find Sparks of Light at http://www.drivethrurpg.com

Work copyright 2015 Matthew Leonard. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1: Thievery

Earl Kein woke with a pounding hangover and a smile for the new day. Eyes closed, he took a languid moment to review the loss of his virginity the night before. She had been wild and he enthusiastic. That little bar – which one had it been, again? – stood no chance against the two of them. He couldn’t quite place what brought him to finally break down on the whole wait until marriage thing. Maybe it had been her eyes, boring holes into him, hungry and focused.

The bed smelled like her fruity shampoo, and her slick hair stuck on his lip. The bed caught and reflected her presence around him in the brush of smooth sheets against his naked flesh, the smell of their drunken sweat admittedly less pleasant than the night before, and the oven warmth of a bed well occupied.

Where were they, anyways? Other than a vague impression of a car as rich as her dress, he couldn’t recall the drive. Couldn’t hear San Francisco bay, no surprise; no morning honk and blare of traffic, though, which meant not his pathetic excuse for a pad.

What did it matter, really? He felt good. A taxi ride was a small price to pay.

Though perhaps the taxi would be even more cost effective if he doubled his money in the morning..

Earl smiled, his cheeks dimpling. Odd, that. He prided himself on a workman’s physique; not one of those construction guys huffing on every step with a gut like a pregnant woman. When he pressed his lips together, they felt soft, overfull, ripe with lipstick. His nails caught in the swirls of the sheets, capturing fingertips that felt narrow and small. When he shifted, the motion began at the tailbone and wiggled up his spine with an effortless liquidity and definite heft in the rear. That set off a faint counter motion against his chest, as if a small cat or two rested on his pecs.

Despite the fuzzy hangover, he tried to piece together the sensations. The way his knees stayed together with no resistance from hip or other more delicate areas. The way he rolled slightly to the side without the familiar resistive tug of his core muscles. The weight against the back of his head of a volume of hair.

The smell of the girl from last night – God, he had better remember her name before she expected a good morning – surrounding and teasing him.

What exactly went on last night?!

A fuzzy recollection involved a great deal of moaning. Sharp flashes of pain down his back, her nails carving loops and furrows into his skin. Little winces and shudders from her, the way she fought to keep her mouth from turning sour, even as she whispered sweet nothings in a strange language that sent fiery tingles through his skull.

On replay, he suddenly doubted his pride in his first time performance. He’d barely known how to handle her bosom, and she had focused more on those strange cuts and whispers than his ministrations.

Looks like somebody is ready for the day, he said.

Wait, did he say that? He hadn't felt his mouth move.

Why did he hear his own voice from the outside?

Earl opened his eyes, peering between auburn strands at the ceiling. Polished dark wood construction screamed money and the will to use it at the top of their lungs, the headboard on the bed had intricate wood carvings that probably cost more than his salary, and the curtains barring the mid-morning sun glowed a sultry red.

His own face intercepted his line of vision. Seen from a low angle, he recognized his own jaw largely by the jagged scar that ran from throat to cheek. Yet those blocky features and day old stubble belonged in the mirror, not leaning overhead.

Hey there, sweet thing, the other Earl drawled, you're looking mighty fine, Valentine.

Earl glanced down and took in the breasts, proud atop his chest. He wrenched free hands with a young woman's slim silhouette and crimson nail polish. He poked at his cheeks with a forefinger, tracing skin safe from any touch of a razor. Even the tan of his skin was wrong, a light brown more like mocha than his own sun-burnt mestizo brown. Smooth, flawless skin. Not the weathered nicks and patches of somebody with a real job.

Earl-in-body winked at him. Now you take good care of that body for me, Valentine. I'll be back for it in a few days, and it had better be just as nice as I left it.

The young man in the wrong body shot upright, clutching at the silken sheets, and groped for the appropriate response to a body hijacking. As well as two other things, plum and pressed against the silk.

His body, meanwhile, strode over to the vanity mirror and posed. You said you were an electrician? Must not be a bad work out plan. The body before the mirror stood solid and firm, built by his trade and a decent enough diet. Flakes of dried blood fell as his body moved, remnants of a swirling pattern from the nape of his neck to his tailbone. They rather resembled a snake, its tail coiled just above his butt and its open mouth threatening to swallow the back of his head.

As Earl watched in a stupor, a ripple of light flowed up his body’s spine, glowing from within like a special effect.

Glowing like movie magic.

He felt the world shift and give under his feet. His new hands resting on pert breasts, he struggled to place such witchery into the world.

"Valentine?!" he sputtered out at last in the high, furious tones of a woman scorned.

His body sketched a practiced curtsy. Indeed, my dear. I hope I look sufficiently convincing for the task at hand.

The task?

I'm afraid I must steal your body for a little bit, she explained with his lips. Don't worry. I always take good care of my rentals. She turned his head side to side, fussing with half an inch of plain brown hair in dissatisfaction.

I never signed a rental agreement! he protested. I was damn well drunk! The kind of swaggering drunk that convinced a construction worker to pursue an auburn goddess slumming it in a downtown bar wearing a dress worth more than his car.

The dress lay crumpled on the floor among his body's feet among the rest of their things.

I asked you several times, said Valentine with a foxy little grin.

No court in the world would believe that, Earl muttered, biting his lower lip in vexation. His teeth slid slightly on the slick remains of her lipstick, filling his mouth with the taste.

My kind have little use for courts. The kind of joke lawyers tell leave no one laughing, Valentine replied.

She began pulling on his clothes while he stared at her from the bed. His hindbrain screamed at him to move, to fight, or to scream. Anything to right this reversal. But what was he going to do? Punch his own body until it let him back in?! As long as he sat very still, he could pretend this was a dream.

And your kind is? he forced out.

Kitsune. Or foxes, or tricksters. Whichever name you prefer, all the same to us, she replied loftily. Technically, I believe you're one, since you're me. I hope you appreciate the opportunity.

This has to be a hallucination.

All the better if that’s true. But since you’re here, feel free to play with my boobs as much as you want.

That's not-- he coughed, flushing bright. The idea had not occurred to him yet, but now he had trouble forcing down the awareness of her body hidden only by a thin sheet. What kind of opportunities waited for exploring hands just beneath? He recovered with a deep breath. You didn’t give me as much as a courtesy warning.

She flashed a grin with his mouth, canines on display. It’s only for a few days, darling. Don't sweat it. You don't even need to be a very convincing woman; the figure does most the work.

I’m not interested in being a convincing woman!

Valentine looped the belt into place, now wearing yesterday's construction clothes. Up to you. Don’t worry. I’ll return everything to you safe and sound as soon as I’m finished. Think of this as an opportunity!

All her movement stirred the air, and Earl blanched. The heady rush of sex smells from last night, gone rancid and stale, made him gag on his tongue. The perfume on Valentine’s crumpled dress, three flavors of shampoo and soap, and most of the contents of the refrigerator only exacerbated the rush. He inhaled deeply, brain stem buzzing with information like a dutiful bloodhound. Yesterday's pasta floated into his mind alongside the metallic tang and oil of the wrench still buried in one of his pockets.

Good lord, he thought, I can smell halfway to Nevada!

He shook his head clear, hair whapping back and forth. This is extortion! Blackmail! What if one of us gets killed?

Same as usual, I imagine, she snorted. You're really being very worrisome.

With good reason. Give me my damn body back!

Valentine checked his body's watch.

The erstwhile man sank back into the bed, buffeted by sudden nightmares. "How can I vouch for the integrity of my mind? How can I be sure this, this spell is reversible? What happens if it wears off in the middle of the day?"

She rolled his eyes. "Okay, look, I appreciate how interested you are in the ontological issues of Trickery, but we’re in a time crunch here. Short version: don’t trust anyone with less than three tails, try not to get on the Family’s bad side, and for the love of God don’t go around making promises to anyone."

Earl glared at her.

Except me, of course, she winked. The motion was too feminine for his face.

He changed his mind. Maybe he could punch his way back in.

She grinned wider, reading his stormy face. "Relax. Enjoy the life of luxury. Explore the world of female delights. You won’t have to worry about anything like periods, and my closet is pretty big if I do say so myself. You've got all the perks! Really, it’s a very fair deal."

A deal? Is that what she thought this was? A deal involved asking first.

Valentine rambled on, one hand floating back and forth. ...and if everything absolutely fails, just fling yourself on Mother’s mercy. You'll see her at the party anyways, and the worse she'll do is ground us for a year. Risks must be taken.

Quietly, below what Earl should have been able to hear, she muttered, Damn the costs.

Uuuuh.... he started. What kind of psycho was this girl?

She swung away and grabbed the bedroom