The white-hot stage lights beamed down on Simon the Magician as he held a white rabbit above the over-turned rim of his top hat, a traditional trick that ended his act, as usual, to thunderous applause. The little furry beast’s nose twitched restlessly as it took in the myriad clashing scents of the crowd. Through the scruff of its neck by which he held it aloft, Simon could feel the rapid pounding vibration of its heartbeat.
He took his bows and stepped back, out of the ring, while two women in feathered costumes moved past him to clear away his props. Simon dropped the rabbit back into his top hat for safekeeping, and clutched the hat to his chest as he headed backstage.
“Nice job tonight,” said Alanna, the tiger-woman, as he passed her. Her skin-tight black-and-orange-striped leotard hugged her curvaceous body with a sleekness that resembled the big cat standing next to her.
“Thanks,” said Simon. He spared a moment to frown down at the beast standing somewhat idly next to her. “Hey, make sure you lock his cage securely tonight, would you? I caught him wandering around the backstage again last night. That’s not safe.”
“Aww,” said Alanna, reaching down and rubbing the scruff of the tiger’s neck fondly. “Little Shere Khan here wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s not doing any harm.”
“He will be if he eats my rabbit,” said Simon, “or my doves.”
“Then why don’t you lock them up?” Alanna suggested. Their conversation came to an abrupt halt then as the sound of Alanna’s cue—“The TIGER-woman!”—reached them, and she pranced forward through the curtain and into the ring, Shere Khan loping at her side.
Simon walked through the backstage area, a large tent-based cavern full of make-up tables, assorted couches and chairs, and towers of all sorts of bizarre items—boxes of hats, doll carriages, hula hoops, wooden boards, giant tubes, juggling torches—and made his way to his own storage area in the corner, to the back section where there rested a small wire cage, door open. He scooped the rabbit out of his hat by the scruff of its neck and plopped it into the cage, then shut the door with a soft click. He smiled at the little animal and reached a finger through the bars to pet its soft downy fur.
As he stood up and turned, one of the feathered ladies wheeled his table, with its covered cages of cooing doves, into the storage area. He winked at her, saying, “Thanks Amy,” and she smiled back. Most of the circus women really liked Simon; he was quite handsome, in a roguish sort of way, with messy brown hair and a strong jaw, and, above all, a stage presence that gave him an air of assurance about himself.
Waving goodbye to Amy, Simon made his way back to his dressing room.
It was past midnight when he returned to the backstage, moving silently amidst the prop towers, which loomed in the dark like ominous black crags all around him. Simon padded along the well-known path from his dressing room to his corner, able to navigate simply by the pale slivers of moonlight that snuck into the tent through joints in the canvas. The summer air was warm, but damp, and the bits of carpet below his feet gave a little as they crushed the grass beneath them into the soft earth.
Simon reached the corner and smiled as the specter of his rabbit rose from the darkness like a ghost, its pale fur reflecting what little dim moonlight reached it. Simon paused to appreciate the sight a few moments before moving to a dark wooden chest to one side of the area. Taking a key from a pouch on the inside of his sleeve, he unlocked the case and reverently lowered the front panel. From within its shadowy depths he removed his wand—a standard magician’s wand, black in the center with a white band at one end—and a small black leather bag. He shifted both items into one hand and closed the cabinet, leaving it unlocked for the time being, and replaced the small key in its sleeve pouch.
Finally he moved over to the rabbit’s cage and opened it softly, reaching in to pet the ghost-white form. The rabbit started nervously at his touch, but he got a hand on the scruff of its neck and lifted it out. Rabbit in one hand and the contents of the chest in the other, Simon made his way out amidst the dark towers once more, over to the lounge area by the makeup tables and a wide red couch.
He dragged a small stool over to the side of the couch and placed his materials on top of it, loosening the neck of the bag so that he could reach in when necessary. Then he knelt on the couch and placed the rabbit in front of him, holding it down with one hand.
With the other hand he lifted his wand and drew a complex, curving symbol in the air. He began to chant under his breath.
“Phasmatis, verto is bestia in instar aptus pro perspicax.”
The path traced by his wand began to glow with a subtle yellowish light. Simon put the wand down on the stool and reached into the leather bag, drawing forth a pinch of very fine, pale powder. Laying it in the flat of his palm, he leaned forward, puckered his lips, and gently blew the powder onto the back of the rabbit. The sigil in the air flared once and vanished.
With a sudden squeal of fright, the rabbit began to change. Its limbs lengthened, bones popping and grinding as it grew taller, muscles stretching, joints snapping backward. Beneath his hand the beast’s back grew and grew, spread and widened, writhing under the power of the transformation until finally, about a minute later, it was finished. Simon could feel the new form vibrating with fear under his palm. It was humanoid now, the body of a boy of perhaps seventeen or so, but still covered in fine white fur that was blissfully soft to the touch, culminating in a fluffy rabbit’s tail at the small of his back. From amidst his hair still sprouted a pair of long, furry white ears, and as the new boy’s head turned to the side, Simon saw that he still wrinkled up his nose in fear.
Still pinning the rabbit against the couch with one hand, Simon reached down with the other and unzipped his fly, drawing out his penis into the humid night air. He crouched behind the rabbit, straddling the back of his thighs, and began to rub his member back and forth along the crack of the rabbit’s butt cheeks, the combination of the tight cleft and the soft fur quickly making him hard.
As he ground against the exposed flesh, Simon reached over to the stool and once again drew up his wand. He reached around under his own member as it continued to slide back and forth, and wiggled the wand around a bit until he felt it fetch up against the rabbit’s anus. He smiled and began to push it forward, drawing another squeal of pain from the rabbit as the white tip of the wand was submerged completely inside him.
Simon wiggled it back and forth a little for good measure, just to torment the rabbit, and was pleased to see the body beneath him writhe at the sensation. Satisfied, Simon murmured, “lubricus,” and drew out the wand. It came out far more easily than it had gone in, leaving the rabbit’s passage slick and ready in its wake.
Dropping the wand back onto the table, Simon moved both hands to the rabbit’s hips. He used his thumbs to spread apart the rabbit’s butt cheeks and placed the head of his penis at the small pink pucker that the motion exposed. As soon as he began to push the tip inside the rabbit, the newly transformed boy started to cry out, his whimpers coming in soft, animalistic squeals, a rabbit caught by a predator in the middle of the night.
The squeals increased in volume as the head of Simon’s penis finally popped through the rabbit’s anus, and Simon proceeded to bury himself in the soft body. The rabbit was tight, blissfully tight, though Simon had been doing this most nights for a long time now. The magician thought that perhaps reverting to his normal animal form every day made the rabbit’s passage shrink back to normal, so that each night when it expanded again, it was just as fresh and tight as ever. The rabbit’s muscles clenched down on him as he finally finished the slow penetration and pressed himself in to the hilt.
Simon drew back and began to fuck the rabbit, nailing him in long, slow strokes that took him from almost all the way out to deep, deep inside. The length of his shaft moved in and out, in and out, like a well-oiled machine, as the rabbit’s anus swallowed him again and again, yielding reluctantly when Simon’s cock was drawn out, then forcibly parting as it was pushed back in.
The rabbit’s squeals increased in tempo as Simon’s thrusts did, the force of the motion driving the rabbit’s hips down against the couch as Simon ground into him, loving the feeling of the soft fur covering the rabbit’s ass as it rubbed against the bottom of his stomach, and the tight heat of the rabbit’s passage as it surrounded his cock. Simon began to grunt in time to the thrusts as his hips flew back and forth; he was close now. His fingers tightened on the rabbit’s hips, stilling some of the rabbit’s motion as the beast-turned-boy writhed beneath Simon.
Finally, burying himself as deep as he could go inside the rabbit’s ass, Simon came, feeling his cum flowing into the animal’s passage, filling the creature with his seed. The magician pulled out quickly as the rabbit’s body began to shrink, the spell’s purpose accomplished. The animal’s squeals rose in pitch as its lungs shrank and it returned to its original tiny form.
Simon yawned a little and carried the rabbit over to a makeup table, snagging a few tissues and cleaning them both off. The he returned to the stool and grabbed up his supplies, making his way back to his storage corner to put away his wand and his rabbit in preparation for the next day’s performance.
Several nights later found Simon once again kneeling behind the restrained rabbit, holding the animal down while he transcribed the glowing sigil in the air. The tip of his wand swooped and ducked, leaving a glowing trail as it danced over their heads. Simon’s voice was a low murmur as he chanted the familiar words. The rabbit was already squirming, trying to escape. Simon smiled.
He reached over to the stool, as usual, and grasped a pinch of the pale, glistening powder. Lifting it out, he lay his palm out flat and brought it up in front of his face-
Only to be suddenly slammed into from the side. A heaving mass of muscle barreled into Simon, making him lose his grip on the rabbit and sending the other hand flying. A white blur at the corner of his vision showed the rabbit darting away into the tent, but his full attention was more focused on the being before him.
‘Oh,’ Simon realized dimly, ‘I must have spilled the powder.’
The form on the couch before him, writhing and changing, was far different than Simon was accustomed to. Shere Khan, Alanna’s tiger, growled in pain as its joints stretched and popped, and its limbs grew longer, its torso wider.
‘It must have been after the rabbit,’ thought Simon, but that was all he could manage before his thoughts were arrested by a pair of golden eyes staring at him. Simon gasped, staring into the face of a large, handsome, feral man that padded towards him silently on hands and knees.
He was what one might expect of a tiger-turned-human: large, heavily muscular, but somehow sleek and graceful. Orange fur rent by black stripes still covered his body, but it was a humanoid body now, one that, before Simon knew it, had flipped him over and pressed him face-down against the couch.
Simon heard himself gasp as warm breath snuffled against his neck; the tiger was sniffing him. He felt the tickle of whiskers against his skin and, suddenly, the friction of a cock rubbing against his cloth-covered buttocks.
Simon began to squirm beneath the tiger in a desperate attempt to escape, but the large animal held him down with paws that were more like hands now, and a full, strong weight. Simon turned his head to the side in an attempt to get some idea of what the tiger intended, only to see the beast’s head traveling downward along his back until it came to the waistband of his pants.
The animal sank large, sharp white fangs into the cloth and tugged, hard, again, again, until with a pop as the front button snapped off, the pants were dragged down over Simon’s hips to his thighs, along with his underwear.
The head returned to the back of his neck, biting lightly now, nipping with sharp fangs just gently enough not to pierce Simon’s skin. The tiger moved, shifting his weight, forcing Simon by sheer pressure to shift his legs forward, bending his knees, lifting his ass into the air.
Once again Simon felt the friction of the tiger’s cock against his butt, but this time it was bare skin-to-skin contact, the large phallus rubbing along his cleft as he had always done to the rabbit’s. Simon whimpered in fear and struggled once more to escape, but the tiger’s weight was a heavy inevitability on top of him, and he could do nothing.
The tiger’s hips drew back a little further than before, and Simon closed his eyes, knowing that he would not even get the small comfort of lubrication that he had offered the rabbit. The pressure at his anus was strong, even with the tiger simply poised in expectation. Simon wished that his pants were not still around his thighs, that he might at least open his legs and offer a better angle, make the penetration a little more comfortable for himself, but there was no such option.
And then the tiger began to push, and Simon cried out as the large head of the beast’s member forced its way past his anus, stretching it wider and wider—it shouldn’t have been this wide, Simon’s cock was not this wide, surely even an animal couldn’t be so large—and then popping inside him and continuing, the whole length ramming deep inside in a single swift thrust that left Simon feeling full to the point of pain, and brought to his mind the sudden image of firewood split by an axe.
The tiger moved, pulling out and spearing him once more, as if testing the motion. He paused a moment, then did it again, causing Simon’s whole body to shudder as it was released and harshly reclaimed. Then, abruptly, the tiger’s thrusts began in earnest, pounding away into Simon’s ass as though they would never stop. Simon’s cries became rhythmic as a pained squeal was wrenched from him each time the tiger buried the full length of his cock in Simon’s passage.
Simon’s knees and shins began to burn from the friction of rubbing back and forth along the couch. The tiger’s hands still held down his arms, pinning them to his sides, keeping him immobile. Simon closed his eyes and clenched his anal muscles, trying to increase the friction in the hopes of getting the tiger off sooner. But the beast continued, thrusting into him over and over until Simon’s ass was red and sore and he could think of nothing else but wanting it to stop.
And then finally, with a hot sensation of seed flowing into him, it was. The tiger came inside Simon, stiffening and growling his pleasure as he sat himself deep in Simon’s body. Simon felt the beast begin to change back through the writhing motion of the body on top of him. He breathed an internal sigh of relief.
He felt the tiger’s penis withdraw from him—incredibly painful, now that it had transformed back—and then, to his surprise, felt the weight of the tiger’s body settle on him as it lay down to sleep right on top of his back.
Unable to move, and unwilling to provoke the tiger’s wrath in any case, Simon closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep, praying that he would wake up in time to sneak out of the tent before any of the other performers arrived and found him like this. He wondered briefly where his rabbit had gotten to. Probably it had run away altogether. A shame. He’d have to use the doves until he could get a new one.