Three Coins TG TF Caption *EXTRA UNCENSORED CONTENT* + full story (Requested by ArchThrene)

You came up to the temple on a hunch. The path through the cedars was overgrown. The shrine at the top was half-abandoned. The wood had gone grey. The rope at the bell was rotted through. The fox statues at the basin were worn smooth where palms used to rest. The basin was a fountain. You laughed and tossed in three coins. Something at the bottom of the basin moved. The water went still. You did not have time to step back before a touch came up your back, cold under your shirt. The bell at the rope swung once on its own. Your spine made a sound it should not have made. Your reflection in the basin was not the man who had come up the path. The fox ears that came from the reflection were not yours. The tails that uncoiled were not yours. Latex trickled up your thighs and your shins and your arms, outlining every muscle. It clung. You watched the tips of your teeth go pointy and then all the way. Your mouth was full of fangs and the latex was at your throat. The latex finished closing around your hips. Your chest pushed it tight. Your hair was past your shoulders already and going lavender at the tips. The first tail brushed the back of your knee. The second brushed your hip. Your ears pricked up. Your hands went to the sides of your neck and then between your thighs against the seam of the suit. You did not stop. You came against your own glove. The shrine bell rope swayed once and then went still. Your bare feet made no sound on the stone. You stepped to the basin and looked in. The water had gone glass. A single coin lay face-up at the bottom — the third one. You did not pick it up. You turned, and the nine tails turned with you. The cedars at the path were already darker than they had been a minute ago.

***

The cedars at the path shook once and a man came up the last steps before they went still. He had a daypack on one shoulder and a topo map sticking out of a side pocket. He stopped at the top of the steps when he saw you. He was the wrong way home and he knew it. You did not have to call him over. He came over. You walked the two steps between you and put a gloved hand on his collar. He did not back away. You walked him backward to the bell rope and his shoulders met the post. You unbuckled his belt. He turned his face to your breast. You felt the pull of the latex against your nipple as his mouth closed around it. You placed your glove on the back of his head and let him work. You unsnapped the seam at the hip of the suit with one gloved thumb. You took his hand and put it where the suit had opened. You pulled him up and stepped into him against the rope. The bell rang. You did it again. The bell rang. Again. Again. His eyes were wide and his breathing was fast. He was close. He made a small sound. You held his hip in the curve of your glove. Then the thought arrived in your head fully formed, and it wasn't yours, and then it was. The old preferences blurred. The old name faded. A fox-name surfaced. Kuzunoha. The old self watched from somewhere small, and then from nowhere. You let him come. He sank against the rope and the bell rang once more, smaller. You stepped back and the seam of the suit closed itself behind you. He did not move. You did not check if he could. The basin was glass again. The third coin lay face-up at the bottom. The first stars were out behind the cedars. The bell rope swayed once and went still.