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There was something satisfying about closing a sale. Certainly, a commission was nice. But closing a sale brought satisfaction that could warm a soul. Especially if you’re a door to door sales representative.
It takes a lack of certain ethical fiber to intrude upon the sanctity of another person's home with your merchandise, be it material or spiritual. That, and possibly an ideological certitude that your wares are important enough to be forced upon another. Whatever the motive, closing a sale always left a good taste in your mouth.
Girl scouts have it easy. Their wares are well advertised. Plus, folks love girl scouts and everyone loves their cookies. Girl scouts never get a door slammed in their face.
On a good day, Anna was lucky not to have more than ten shut before a single word escaped her lips. It didn’t get her down, though. But it can wear on the most stalwart salesperson.
Not Anna. Even on days when she didn’t make a sale (known as rolling a donut) Anna wasn’t the slightest bit put off. That’s because Anna had the two qualities that make a great salesperson: #1 . A great product that she believed in. A product that she knew would make the world a better place just by sharing it. Even if it was just by one home at a time. #2 . She lacked the ethical fiber that keeps most people from knocking on stranger’s doors.
It didn’t hurt that Anna also had enough business experience to sell a snow-cone to an Eskimo… then make him a customer for life. Anna was exceptional at what she did, and she enjoyed doing it.
It felt good to be back in the lower echelons of business. It was glorious from the top, but it was curiously fun to replay the game and find a new way to get to the summit.
The former owner of Taurus Enterprise had learned a few things at the last conference she had attended. And she intended to put them to good use. Over the course of just two weeks she had amassed a good number of sales. No small accomplishment considering it was her first territory with a new product. She made about four sales a day, well beyond what she was able to accomplish in her “rookie” years.
Not being in want of money certainly was helping.
Indifference. That was the hardest part of the sale to master. The hardest thing for a person to overcome. It’s hard to be indifferent when your livelihood depends on pushing a product. A potential sale can smell how much you want it - and some might lead you on just long enough to make you think your going to close the deal. Then they slam the door, with a satisfactory retribution knowing that they’ve wasted as much of your time as you had of theirs.
Anna didn’t need a sale every day. It was nice, but she didn’t need it. Besides she’d already made a sale today. At least she had to believe she did, so the sale would believe she did. It was hard to find a neighborhood that wasn’t trying to “keep up with the Joneses”. Envy was be a beautiful ally.
Surprisingly, as rude as the act was, going door to door was often successful simply because a product going door to door held within it a fear of loss and sense of urgency. A salesperson was like an ice cream truck: it might not be back again any time soon, and it won’t be her for long. Sso you’d better go buy your ice cream now.
Hmm, there was a thought… maybe Anna could get the same conditioned response as an ice cream truck by playing a little jingle? She’d have to pass that one back to corporate. Then send it to R&D to find a catchy jingle to fit the product. Honestly, Anna wouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Bos already was looking into it.
She made a mental note; b flat maybe? Then continued her route. She was losing daylight, and there was one house left at the end of the cul-de-sac that she needed to return to.
It was a large two story brick house with false colonnades in front. A new neighborhood in a new suburb. The whole place screamed money. And yet they didn’t have the lawyers (or sense) to put up a “no soliciting” sign.
There was a new Land Rover in the driveway. This told Anna that her sale was home. It also told her that she would have no qualms, or difficulty, with taking this sale’s money.
Anna went up to the door and politely knocked “Somewhere over the rainbow”. “Shave and a haircut” never got sales, and Anna had a hunch that using “Mario Bros.” wouldn’t work on this sale.
She stood to the side of the door, not quite leaning against one of the fake columns. Keeping an eye on the doorway, but not quite staring at it. The door opened, “Hello, I’m Annabelle Taurus. I’m here on behalf of Dr. Bos Body Works and the newest line of Bovidae Products. We’re now offering Bos Replenishing Allure at discount, but I was told you might be interested in our premier product: Bos Intensity Gel.”
The door opened wider and a middle aged blond stepped out of the doorway. “Who told you I would be interested in anything?”
“Actually, I came by here earlier in the day and your daughter, Kristen, expressed that you might find these products as much to your liking as she did. So I’m here at her bequest.”
“Step-daughter…” the blond corrected, “What did she buy off of you?”
“She bought a lower end product. She didn’t have the same kind of money as your neighbors.”
“Let’s see, the Pecora’s and the Caprina’s, just in eyesight. They ordered several hundred dollars worth a piece.” Anna said pointing down the street. It always paid to memorize names. “Come to think of it, they mentioned that Jennifer Argali would be interested in our product. When would be a good time to show you what we have to offer?”
“Er… I’m not…well, I guess now is as good a time as any. Come on it.” Jennifer submitted. Never ask ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions until they couldn’t bear to say ‘no’. Give them an option between two choices of your choosing and you’ll always come out on top.
Anna followed Jennifer into the home. Luxuries of no real value were found throughout the house. Expensive items for sake of spending lots of money. No sentimental value, no craftsmanship, no love. But just enough flair to embarrass yourself by presenting them at Antiques Road Show.
Jennifer sat down on an overly plush chair and motioned for Anna to do the same. Anna did so crossing her legs politely. She was sharply dressed in a long professional skirt. Enough to be noticed and still be taken seriously. She set down the bag bearing the purple, black and white logo of Dr. Bos Body Works on the glass coffee table.
“How familiar are you with Dr. Bos products?” Asked Anna as she looked through her bag for a few items of demonstration. The pleasant fragrance of lavender began to fill the room.
“I’ve heard the name.”
“Originally Dr. Bos was a supplier of some of the magic elixirs that cosmetic companies desired. Our ingredients have grown increasingly popular amongst major cosmetics, so an individual brand was the next logical step for growth. And it works in keeping our products truly organic. Straight from harvest through production we want our products to be as natural as possible. What better way to remove all foreign contaminants than have all products made entirely in house? We also ensure all of our products don’t smell like pharmaceuticals. How can you feel beautiful smelling like plastic?”
Jennifer instinctively took a breath and became aware of the floral scent in the air. “Oh my! That is nice? What is that?”
“Lavender. Something of a personal touch by Dr. Bos herself.”
“Dr. Bos is a woman?”
Anna bit her tongue. Amazing how chauvinist views still affect the modern home. “Of course! Helping women look good takes a women’s touch. Sure we love to look beautiful to catch a man’s eye. But it’s other women who we seek to truly impress. Dr. Bos is well aware of that and strives to draw envy toward users of her product.”
“You have my attention. What have you got?”
“For you, Jennifer, Bos Intensity Gel seems like a good place to start. I can see why your dau… step-daughter and neighbors might have suggested it for you. It would suit you well.” Anne smiled as she brought out a small tin of gel. She felt herself getting excited at the prospect of this new client. The world would be much better with Jennifer using Dr. Bos product. At least the neighborhood, anyway.
This was Anna’s favorite part. She knew the sale was closed by the time she was invited into the home - but… that moment of anticipation before showing the product! What would the reaction be? What product would they choose in the end? The very idea thrilled Anna almost more than the act of using it. The anticipation, it was like foreplay to her. And foreplay always got her off.
Anna unscrewed the lid from the small container. “My that’s an awfully small sample.” said Jennifer, looking somewhat disappointed.
“It’s not a sample. Bos Intensity Gel is over $700 an ounce.” answer Anna. She knew a high price alone was enough to snare this sale. “Though some would argue the fact; quality always trumps quantity. Which isn’t to say quantity can’t be a good thing…”
As the lid came undone Jennifer couldn’t help but take a deep breath. “That smells lovely. Doesn’t it, Jennifer?”
“Oh my, yes it does. You could market it in aroma candles and make a fortune!”
Anna made a mental note at that idea. Always good to accept a customer’s suggestions. If one was offered, there were a thousand more sales who shared the idea. Of course long term exposure to such a product… They’d have to be small candles…
Jennifer visibly relaxed into the plush chair. Anna smiled. She could have her way with the woman if she’d wanted. She did want to. Just not yet.
“That’s a great idea, Jennifer. I’ll make sure our Research and Development team gets moving on that idea, if they’re not already. It would be great to smell this good all the time, wouldn’t it Jennifer?”
Jennifer took another deep breath and sighed almost closing her eyes, “Yeah.”
Too easy, Anna thought. Almost disappointing, really. Anna loved the struggle of a strong will. She wasn’t expecting a woman with such small breasts to be so… submissive. It made sense though. Jennifer was showing off what little she had in a tight v-neck. Submissive women like showing off their breasts. Anna smiled at the thought. It wouldn’t be long before Jennifer was on her knees.
A shame really. Anna enjoyed the longer breaking of Jennifer’s type: rich, arrogant, and naturally good looking. Anna looked upon Jennifer’s lithe form again and noticed that she was a natural blond. Perhaps that counteracted the small breasts in terms of submissiveness?
Perhaps a change in strategy, just for the fun of it. “Would you like to smell like lavender, Jennifer?”
Jennifer opened her eyes. “What? You mean like a perfume?”
It was a bold risk. But that’s what Anna thrived on. “No, not a perfume. I mean would you like to smell like this always?” Anna held the jar of closer to Jennifer.
Jennifer couldn’t help but inhale deeply. The scent filled her head, no, her whole body with… she couldn’t find the word for it. She took another breath pushing her nose closer to the jar of Bos Intensity Gel. She wanted it. She needed it. “Yes! I could smell that forever.”
Anna smiled. The miscommunication was irrelevant. If Jennifer wanted to smell herself forever, she could. The customer was always right.
Anna began screwing the lid back on. Jennifer’s eyes widened and was about to ask why Anna was shutting off the pleasant aroma when Anna answered, “I believe that there is another, more expensive, product more suited to your desires, Jennifer.”
The idea of something more expensive was enough to persuade Jennifer, whether it suited her needs or no. She didn’t ask a price. She didn’t even respond verbally, she just got up to get her purse. She whipped out a credit card and threw it on the table. Then Jennifer sat back down into the plush chair.
Ah, technology. In Anna’s early years few people had cards, let alone would attempt to use them for a door to door purchase. Then, after the nineties, everyone had cards - but wireless technology was in it’s infancy and it took tens of minutes worth of time filling out forms to charge one from home. And even then it would be at a later date. Now, an account could be charged remotely with a small handheld device.
Anna smiled. She could empty the entire account. There wasn’t a need to though. She wasn’t in need of money. Besides, honest business always paid off. Well, mostly honest business… “Let’s just leave that for later, shall we? Until you’re 100% satisfied in our product”
Anna left the Bos Intensity Gel and Jennifer’s credit card on the table as she drew a larger purple tinted container from her bag. “This is Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder. It will rejuvenate your skin, moisturize it, and give your body the scent of lavender.”
Anna unscrewed the jar letting its aroma fill the room, then pulled a pair of latex gloves from her bag and donned them. She scooped up a small bit with her fingers holding it before Jennifer.
Jennifer took a deep breath then was caught off guard with a cool sensation on her chest as Anna began rubbing it in just above her v-neck. “Not to mention it is made with the latest Bovidae Formula.” Anna said as she rubbed the cream into Jennifer’s chest.
Jennifer’s eyes popped open at the touch of the cold cream as it was spread onto her… She didn’t do anything to stop Anna. It felt too good. But the flavor of the aroma was different somehow. More… musky? Jennifer inhaled deeply again. Yeah, musky. It smelled like lavender and sex.
“Are you a submissive woman, Jennifer?” Asked Anna as she scooped up more of the cream. Anna moved in almost straddling the other woman as she rubbed more cream into Jennifer’s chest and above, exposing more of her shoulders…
Jennifer’s eyes opened and went up and to the right as she pondered the question. She wasn’t submissive. Especially not considering the way she treated her husband or step-daughter. “No, I’m not a submissive woman.”
Anna arched an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard. “Really? I’m sitting over you. I could do with you as I would will.” She said with an air of confidence.
Jennifer closed her eyes. “I paid you to.” she retorted as she settled further into the chair.
She had a point, really. In her world, Anna was little more than a service provider. What a curious mind. Perhaps she’d paid for service before… “What are you paying me to do?”
“I’m paying you to make me more beautiful.”
Again, she had a point. “Your money is well spent. Your skin is rejuvenating and re-hydrating. All your wrinkles, what few you had, are disappearing. Your breasts will soon start firming up. You’ll hardly recognize yourself in short time.”
“Good!” Jennifer smiled and opened her body to Anna.
Anna wasn’t sure how she felt about this. It was as if Jennifer expected her to rub the entire jar of Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder onto her body to her benefit. Sure, Anna had planned on doing just so. But, that was because it was her idea. Not this egomaniac’s. Best to swallow her pride and run with it. At least for a little bit.
“Is there anything else in particular I could help you with?” Anna inquired as she rubbed the last of the cream onto Jennifer. This time moving lower over what was exposed of Jennifer’s breasts.
Jennifer laughed. “I remember the day when I had to go abroad for that kind of service! What are you offering?”
Anna bit her lip and pulled back from on top of Jennifer. Despite the chemicals running through her body, despite her submissive response to Anna’s actions, Jennifer still thought she was in charge. And now she thought that Anna was a prostitute. She had misread Anna’s seduction… Anna cringed at the thought. Even more so when she acknowledged that seduction it was…
With a twinge Anna snapped out of it. She wasn’t the whore here. Anna had read all the signs - and by now Jennifer had taken a more than healthy dose of narcotics. Anna was the alpha here, even if Jennifer didn’t know it, yet. She would turn Jennifer into a cash cow. Even if it meant doing so at Jennifer’s request.
Maintaining her professionalism, Anna stepped back and laid out the rest of her wares onto the table. She named each product as she did so. Anna could take her time. The chemicals would do their job, even if Jennifer was proving more resistant than most to their cognitive effects.
“I have with me: Bos Replenishing Allure, Hypnotherapy Omega Red Sensory Elixir, Replenishing Anti-Wrinkle Serum, Shock Perfume Intensity Cellular Extract, Bos Oxygen Natural Dermafil, Bos Open Intensity Night Gel, Simple Elixir Xanthippe. You’ve already seen the Bos Intensity Gel. And here is the original Bovidae Formula.”
Anna neglected to pull out the remaining item in the bag. Given the circumstances, she didn’t want Jennifer to know about the feeldoe. Not yet, anyway. It wasn’t something Anna normally carried on her. It was special purchase for a special client, and Anna made sure that the customer always got what they paid for.
“Mmmm, let’s go back to the Intensity Gel. I didn’t get to feel it yet.” Said Jennifer.
“Excellent choice. It compliment’s the effects of Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder. And it will feel very good!” Anna reopened the container “If you want I could…”
“Yes! I think you should!” responded Jennifer, pulling off her v-neck and turning in the chair to better expose her back and shoulders to Anna.
Anna smiled. The subtlety of persuasion was unnecessary, aside from comforting Anna’s ego that she was indeed in control. Certainly the chemicals where helping subdue Jennifer’s inhibitions about removing her shirt. She admired Jennifer’s newly exposed flesh. It was already healthy and smooth. Toned in just the right places. “Actually, Jennifer, Bos Intensity Gel isn’t meant for your backside.”
A tipsy smile crept its way across Jennifer’s face. “Then I guess this will just get in the way!” She giggled as she removed her bra and tossed it away. She cupped her pert breasts and swayed her body invitingly in front of Anna. Then she relaxed again into the plush chair, now half nude.
Anna’s smile was genuine. In a past life she would have offered Jennifer a managerial post. Especially given her clairvoyance in recognizing her bra would get in the way, no less! Too bad for Jennifer. Since the chemicals were kicking in Anna would now only offer her a post in the manger.
Moving again closer to Jennifer, Anna dipped her gloved fingers into the gel. Anna held her fingers in front of Jennifer’s nose before rubbing it into the other, not yet submissive, woman.
Jennifer couldn’t control herself as she leaned in to smell the scent she had so adored. A strong odor of lavender, and something different now. Not just musk. There was liquid sex mixed into the floral scent. She breathed deep and rubbed a nipple.
What sweet sight greeted Anna’s eyes. As jaded as she was, she still got a thrill as the wet spot crept from Jennifer’s crotch. Anna couldn’t help but take a whiff of the new scent of lavender and sex that filled the air… Only lost for a moment, she snapped out of the daze and continued her task.
Jennifer cooed and pulled her own hand back as Anna massaged the cool gel into her breasts. She could feel her nipples swell. She arched her back so as to press her flesh deeper into Anna’s hands. But Anna’s hands weren’t there long. “Oh!” She moaned as Anna smeared more of the gel onto her abdomen. “OOH!” she cried louder as Anna rubbed concentric circles around erogenous spots she didn’t even know she had. It was like her nipples were being tweaked from her stomach.
If her belly felt that good, her actual nipples must be shooting lightning bolts. Jennifer cupped her breasts and squeezed unfamiliar flesh. Her nips weren’t found where they normally where. They seemed just a little bit farther out on her tits. Mmm, tits was a great word for what she had. Funny, Jennifer couldn’t remember ever having tits before - she’d only had breasts. Tits were better, bigger, fuller.
Sure enough, as soon as she found her nips, they felt like lightning. Jennifer squirmed at her own touch then gasped as Anna rubbed more cream into the two new sweet spots. Her whole body was tingling. So much so she didn’t realized Anna had stopped touching her.
Anna was out of Bos Intensity Gel. Mixed with the Cream of Wonder, Jennifer should be feeling swimmingly good without any assistance for a number of hours. Anna watched as Jennifer tweaked her now large tits, wriggling and moaning in ecstasy. She wondered how long it would take Jennifer to notice her developing second set. Anna certainly hadn’t been shy about exciting the new teats - and Jennifer certainly had responded well to the touch.
It was odd though. Jennifer hadn’t actually touched herself below her normal set of breasts. Anna had no doubt it would be a while before Jennifer noticed her new milkers. Especially given the diluted concentration of the Bovidae Formula in products for home use. But Jennifer hadn’t taken her hands from her own original nipples.
Sure, Dr. Bos products heighten the sensitivity of the body. But most women would begin rubbing their nether regions in tandem with their breasts to get off. Judging by the growing dampness between her legs, it was likely Jennifer needed nothing more than nipple stimulation to reach orgasm.
As if to prove the point Jennifer let one go. “Oh, oh, oooooooooh! Oh god! Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed, pinching her tits all the tighter.
What a lucky one this one is, thought Anna. Four new orgasmic buttons for her, and anyone else’s, pleasure.
After a few moments recovery, Jennifer reached a hand down check her own crotch. She rubbed her own wetness then brought her hand back to her face to smell. Heaven. Pure orgasmic bliss. Jennifer had always liked her own smell. But this new one really turned her on. She began rubbing her tits again, though they seemed an even further to reach.
“How long are you going to keep your pants on?” questioned Anna.
“Until I say you can take them off!” replied Jennifer smugly. She didn’t even open her eyes. She didn’t seem embarrassed that she’d gotten off in front of another woman - despite seemingly to have forgotten about Anna. Did she get off on exhibitionism, too?
Anna was amazed at Jennifer’s arrogance, but maintained her cool. “Okay then. When would you like me to take off your pants?”
“You’re anxious to get in there, aren’t you?” giggled Jennifer.
Physically, the chemicals were working fine. Mentally they seemed to be working as well, if more slowly. Giggling wasn’t something dominant woman were known for. Jennifer wasn’t a dominant woman. She was just bossy. Good thing Anna was sent here. She knew just what to do with bossies.
“Actually, Jenny, I’ve got something that needs to go there. Something that was bought just for a submissive woman like you.”
“I told you I’m not a submissive woman!” Jennifer retorted while twirling her nipples.
“Really, Jenny? Then why are you showing me your tits. Does that get you off?”
“You are submissive, Jenny. Submissive women like showing off their tits. Showing off your tits gets you off doesn’t it?”
Anna cut her off. “You don’t wear bras either, Jenny. Submissive women don’t wear bras. They like showing off their tits. You couldn’t wear a bra if you tried.”
Jennifer thought she wore bras. Ones that emphasized what she had - at least when she didn’t have that much to emphasize. She looked down. What more needed emphasizing? But wouldn’t she need something to support these things? She thought, holding them up with her hands.
“Admit it, Jenny, you’re a submissive woman. You’re even making milk like a submissive woman.” Anna reached out and grabbed one of Jennifer’s original teats. She pulled in just the right way and a quick stream of milk shot out.
“Oooh!” Jenny squealed. God that felt good!
“You liked that. Didn’t you, Jenny? Submissive woman like making milk, don’t they?”
“Oh, yes. Oh, oh yes!” Let out Jenny as Anna pulled a few more squirts.
“Take off your pants. That’s right, take them off. I knew it! I knew you were a submissive woman! You weren’t wearing any panties, were you? That’s right submissive women don’t wear panties, do they?” Anna rewarded Jenny with a few more expert tugs on Jenny’s now well developed tit.
“Oh god! More! More!” pleaded Jenny once Anna stopped.
“Get on your knees.” Jenny immediately dropped to the floor. “That feels good doesn’t it, Jenny? Submissive women like being on their knees, don’t they? You like being in that submissive state don’t you?”
Anna didn’t wait for the affirmation. She just pulled the same teat again until Jenny was on all fours above a milk stained carpet. Good thing it was already white. Anna gave a few more quick tugs for the good behaviour.
“Ooooooooh!” Jennifer screamed. She had meant to say ‘Oh god!’ that time but lost her words as her pussy felt that familiar clenching which signaled the start of her orgasm.
Anna took a step back to oversee her work. “Look at you. You are a cow, aren’t you Jenny?”
“Aaaaaaaaaam noooooooooot aaaaaaaaaaa coooooooooooooooow!” said Jenny, still cumming.
“Really, Jenny? Submissive women are cows. There you are - on the ground, on all fours. Like a cow. Your tits are hanging out, dripping milk. Like a cow. You even have four tits. Just like a cow. Because, Jenny, you are a cow.” Anna milked the two new teats for emphasis.
That sent Jenny over the top. She came hard, and then came again as Anna continued milking her.
Multiple orgasms without even touching her twat. What a lucky one Jenny was with her new teats. Anna could keep going her cumming all night without putting a finger inside of her. At least so long as she had the stamina to keep milking her new cow.
Anna did have to stop. She still had one task left before fulfilling her contract. Besides, her hands were getting tired.
Letting go of Jenny’s tits, Anna pulled the feeldoe out of her bag. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Especially given the lack of attention you’ve had so far down here.” Anna said as she slid the pony side into Jenny’s pussy.
Given the moaning, it was clear Jenny did enjoy her new pseudo cock.
Anna took a step back to view the newest herd member. “If it weren’t for your udders, some might think you were a bull instead of a bossy. But you’ve been bossy all your life haven’t you? Maybe that’s why your neighbors expressed interest in you getting our products? Maybe that’s why your step-daughter was so eager to buy this for you?” Anna surmised tapping the feeldoe.
Jenny moaned in pleasure again, but her moans weren’t entirely to moos, yet. Anna wasn’t going to miss this chance to really milk her new cash cow. She looked at the uncharged credit-card on the coffee table then looked into Jenny’s eyes. “Kristen will be back soon. Would you like to buy her something in return?”
Spirit of Vengeance (Odd Transformation female mostly)
Gonsalves Guler hated his job. The pay was low, the work was dull, and he was extremely unpopular among his co-workers. He came from a poor immigrant family, and worked his butt off to put himself through high school and then through college.
He had graduated with a degree in computer network administration; unfortunately he discovered that there were very few jobs available for him. He took the first one that he could afford, working in the administration office at a local technical college.
It wasn't really Gonsalves' fault that he couldn't get a better job; he had a lot of things going against him. Gonsalves had a thick accent, which made it difficult for him to make himself understood. This in itself may not have been such a big problem, but he also suffered from a number of minor physical defects. He was extremely farsighted, so he was forced to wear very thick glasses. They made his eyes look much bigger than they really were - which had led to his nickname, "Goggles". All of Gonsalves' coworkers called him "Goggles", not realizing that it drove him up the wall. It might not have been so bad if they had been using the name affectionately, but Gonsalves knew that they weren't. When they thought he wasn't listening, or when they e-mailed each other, the people in Gonsalves' office usually called him "Gonzo".
Gonsalves also suffered from an unusually large, hooked nose, which led to his "secret" nickname. Gonsalves' coworkers didn't realize that, as the network administrator, and the only person in the office who was truly computer literate, he could gain access to any files on any computer in the office, and he read their e-mails frequently. He was the butt of many jokes that were told behind his back. He had heard the data entry clerks groaning about how their computers weren't working, and they'd have to ask Gonzo to fix it. He'd seen the e-mail sent around by Pauline, the receptionist, which contained a photograph of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses balanced on a male penis, with the caption "Gonzo". He heard the jokes being told behind his back about how stupid he was, how unattractive he was, and numerous slanders about his sexual preferences and anatomy. He couldn't talk to his boss, Robert, about it, because Robert was one of the worst perpetrators.
Worse yet, Gonsalves couldn't afford to quit his job. His parents were old, and had fallen quite ill - they didn't have health insurance, and every penny he could spare went toward their mounting medical bills. It had taken him months to find this job, and the only reason that they had been able to look past his appearance and his accent was the fact that they were desperate for a network administrator - the toxic work environment at the office had driven every other admin to a better job.
Gonsalves was working late at night, trying to repair the network issues caused by his idiot coworkers that day. He was thankful to have an excuse to miss the staff Christmas party, which was being held in a banquet hall on the floor below. He had no desire to socialize with the sociopaths he had to deal with every day at work.
As he was defragmenting a hard disk, Gonsalves noticed a brown paper package in his mailbox. He hadn't seen the package earlier in the day, and wondered how long it had been there. He walked over and picked it up. The package was wrapped in plain brown paper, and didn't have an address on it.
It merely said "To Gonsalves, From the Spirit of Vengeance - Merry Christmas!"
Gonsalves decided that the package was probably a prank from one of his socially retarded coworkers, so he opened it very carefully, away from his desk. Inside the package was a CD, labeled "New Reality Photo Editor".
Goonsalves was puzzled - none of his coworkers could have created a virus to harass him. He thought it was extremely unlikely that they even knew anyone capable of creating a virus. He recalled one time when Betty in Data Entry called him to fix her computer; he fixed it by turning on the power bar. Gonsalves' curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped the disk into an older computer he had in his cubicle. He disconnected it from the network, to ensure that he wouldn't have to repair more than one computer if the disk turned out to be harmful.
In a few seconds, an interface window popped up on the screen.
It said "Welcome to New Reality Photo Editor. Prepare to harness the most powerful photo and video editing software on the planet."
It had two buttons on the interface - one read "Quit", and the other read "Find photos, videos, and input devices".
Gonsalves clicked the second button, and the computer whirred and hummed for several seconds. A new window popped up, and Gonsalves was amazed at what was contained. In the top part of the window was a list of every image or video file contained on every computer in the building. It was sortable by a number of criteria, including file type, user, department, and subject matter! Gonsalves gulped, and looked at the network cable sitting unplugged on the floor. There was no possible way that this computer could talk to the network - yet somehow, it was able to see what was on every single computer in the building.
The second part of the new window puzzled Gonsalves even more. It was a list of input sources, with thumbnails showing what was available from them. The input sources included every web-cam on the network, several digital cameras that weren't connected to anything at all, and every security camera in and around the building. A chill went down Gonsalves' spine when he saw himself sitting in his cubicle. He looked at the webcam on his main computer, which he theoretically used for video-conferencing with Robert, his boss. Too bad Robert didn't know how to work a web-cam. Gonsalves realized that his web-cam was turned off, yet somehow it was projecting an image onto a computer that wasn't even connected to it.
Gonsalves clicked on the thumbnail beside his web-cam. A large window popped up, with a high-quality, fast frame rate video image of himself on the screen. There were a large number of menu options across the top. Gonsalves played around with the program for a few minutes, astonished at what it was doing. Clearly this was all impossible, so he decided that he must be dreaming. He pinched himself, and realized that he was wide awake. He clicked on himself, and another window popped up, saying "Object selected".
The new window showed a rotating, 3-dimensional, video image of himself in a seated position. Astonishingly, the image showed angles that the camera was incapable of seeing. Gonsalves played with the image, and found that he was able to drag the image into various poses. He chuckled as he pulled the shoes off of his image and put them onto his hands. This software was amazing! He clicked a button that said "Execute Changes", thinking that he would be able to save an image of this onto his computer. A tingling sensation passed over him, and his hands felt funny.
Gonsalves looked down, and cried out in surprise as he saw his shoes on his hands! He leaped to his feet, and quickly pulled the shoes off and threw them on the floor. He looked down, and saw that he was standing in his socks. Somehow this program had the ability to alter reality! He looked at the screen, and saw an image of himself, standing in his socks, staring at a pair of shoes lying in front of himself. Stunned, Gonsalves flopped down in his chair again. The full potential of this software was astounding. Gonsalves was wondering how far the changes could go, when he happened to glance at the "Input Devices" window again.
His sociopath coworkers were celebrating their annual holiday gift exchange in the banquet hall. They were laughing, and telling jokes, and pretending to like the coworkers whom they all secretly hated.
And Gonsalves was watching it all through a set of security cameras. He decided that it was time to test out the limits of this software.
Gonsalves opened up a few windows showing various views of the banquet hall. Amazingly, multiple windows didn't seem to slow down his computer at all. He decided to start small.
Pauline, the beautiful, long-legged and busty blonde receptionist, was fixing her makeup in the ladies' room. Gonsalves had noticed a number of options for editing objects, and decided to try them out. He clicked on Pauline and brought up a spinning image of her on a new window. She was wearing high heels and a slinky red dress, which was quite flattering on her. Gonsalves decided that it wasn't appropriate for the holiday season, however, and that it had to be changed. He dragged the dress off of the image. Before he started editing the dress, he goggled at the sight of Pauline wearing nothing but her panties and her high heels. Her large, perky breasts hung jiggling on her chest as she leaned toward the mirror, fixing her makeup. He looked at the security camera image, and saw that she was still fully clothed.
Gonsalves shook his head, and focused on the task at hand. He was able to use the software to make amazing modifications to the dress, and in a couple of minutes he had turned it into a wraparound dress with a white fur collar and border. It had a wide, black leather belt with a golden buckle. He dragged it back onto Pauline's image, but not before he slid her panties off. The panties were red, as well, which inspired Gonsalves. He played with the program some more, and quickly turned the panties into a red Santa cap, with a fur pom-pom and a border that matched Pauline's new coat. He quickly added fur pom-poms onto the front of Pauline's high heels, and saw that she was starting to leave the ladies' room.
Gonsalves clicked the "Execute changes" button, and watched, to his delight, as Pauline's slinky red dress turned into the red Santa outfit he had created. She didn't notice anything until she returned to the banquet hall - several co-workers started applauding, and Pauline looked confused for a moment. When she looked down at her outfit, there was a brief look of genuine surprise on her face. She clearly had no idea how this outfit got on her. Since it was clearly so popular with the staff, however, Pauline quickly regained her composure and pretended that she had worn the outfit on purpose. When she sat down, a couple of her co-workers were treated to a brief glimpse of her neatly trimmed, black-haired pussy - the coat was quite short, and she didn't yet realize that she wasn't wearing panties anymore.
Gonsalves rubbed his hands together in excitement. Time to try some of the other editing options he had seen.
Gonsalves selected Betty, the data entry clerk. Most of the data entry clerks were middle-aged and fairly unattractive, but Betty was a 22-year old brunette and a fox. She and Pauline hated each other - Betty loathed the way that the 30-ish Pauline shamelessly used her sexuality to get what she wanted; Pauline despised the fact that Betty had a natural young, girlish look that drove most men crazy. Gonsalves didn't really care, because they were both cold, heartless bitches who spoke viciously about anyone and everyone whenever the opportunity expressed itself. He was especially angry at the emails which Betty sent around, lampooning the mild-mannered network administrator.
Gonsalves had discovered that the software could create video sequences, and was interested in whether he could make an actual short scene play out in reality. He worked and fiddled for several minutes, and decided that he was ready to test the sequence out. He clicked "Execute Sequence", and flipped to the security cameras again to enjoy the show.
Betty sat in her green party dress with a glass of wine in her hand. She was telling a rather dull story about a data-entry issue she had faced a few days before, and the people around her were starting to look bored. Betty didn't particularly care, as long as they were listening to her instead of talking. Suddenly, an odd tingling sensation ran down Betty's spine. She stopped talking, set the wine glass down, and stood up. Everyone looked at her curiously. Then Betty felt her hands rise to her shoulders, of their own accord. She tried to force them back down, but found that she couldn't control her own body. It was like she was a puppet on strings, watching helplessly from behind her own eyes. She would have screamed if she could.
As everyone watched, Betty slowly slid the straps of her dress down over her shoulders. She lowered her arms, and the silky fabric slid down her body and pooled on the floor at her feet. She stood in front of the office staff wearing only her black bra and panties. Inside her mind, Betty was panicking and shrieking, but to everyone else she was maintaining the cool, disdainful look she usually affected. The entire office staff was silent. Slowly, Betty's arms rose behind her back, and she unclasped her bra and tossed it casually across the room. Her milky white, a-cup breasts with their small pink nipples were in full view of everyone. Still wearing a cool expression on her face, she reached down and slid her black panties down her legs. She stood up again, and had her neatly trimmed bush on show for her coworkers.
This was too much for the men in the office, and several of them started whooping and whisting the moment she took her bra off. The office ladies gasped with indignation and disdain. Betty stood, as still and as calmly as a statue, for about thirty seconds. Then, suddenly, she felt another tingle go down her spine as she regained control of her body. Betty suddenly shrieked, and covered her chest and her pussy with her hands. She ducked down and tried to pull her dress back up, to protect her modesty, but it disintegrated into threads as soon as she touched it. She screamed again, covered her breasts and crotch once more, and ran shrieking from the banquet hall. She left a chaotic noise of mutters, cheers, growls, and whistles behind her as she fled.
Gonsalves wasn't done with her yet, though. Betty had often claimed that she had "nothing to be ashamed of", and he was amused to see that she was still somehow ashamed of what she had. He pulled up her image again, and decided to see just how far the photo editing could go.
Betty ran screaming into the Ladies' room down the hall, and desperately started searching around for something to cover herself with. She decided that she was going to have to wrap hers elf in toilet paper - as humiliating as that would be, it was better than showing off her breasts and pussy to the entire office again. She figured that she would just dash into the coat room after, grab her jacket, and drive home. She got a roll of toilet paper, and prepared to wrap herself up in it. Then she happened to glance in the mirror.
She gasped, and dropped the roll of paper to the floor. She stared at herself in the mirror, disbelieving. Her breasts had been small before, but looking in the mirror she could not see any sign of them at all. She was as flat-chested as a little girl! More so, in fact, because even her nipples seemed to have disappeared. She touched her chest, and felt the gentle swell of her pectoral muscle beneath her skin, but there was no breast tissue above it at all. Her chest looked like a department store mannequin - from the children's department! As she glanced at herself in the mirror, she received an even bigger shock.
Where she had had a neatly trimmed bush of black curly hair before, now her crotch was completely bald. She reached down, and felt something was wrong. She couldn't feel anything. Normally she could feel her clitoris and her vaginal lips underneath her fingers, but now she couldn't feel the soft folds at all. It was completely blank, and her fingers slid down what felt like an extension of her lower abdomen. She ran her fingers all the way back, until her fingertips touched her anus. She had no pussy at all! She looked at herself in the mirror and started to sob. She didn't know what was happening to her. The only feature on her torso between her chin and her asshole was her belly button. She heard a noise at the bathroom door, and ran into the closest stall.
Betty tried to be as still and as quiet as possible as the unknown person entered the bathroom. She perched on top of the toilet seat, praying that nobody knew she was in the toilet stall. She glanced down at her featureless chest and pussy and shuddered.
Robert, the office manager, opened the door of the ladies' room and looked around. He held Betty's black panties and bra in his hand - he tried to make a show of being gallant, and rescuing a damsel in distress, but actually he just wanted to see the cute data entry clerk naked again. Besides, he wasn't interested in Pauline's attempts to ridicule Betty even more, now that she had humiliated herself and fled the room. Robert didn't see anyone, and was about to continue his search elsewhere, when he noticed the partly-unrolled roll of toilet paper sitting underneath the bathroom sink. He decided that the ladies' room could use a more thorough inspection, and he slipped inside.
Betty hear Robert's voice calling. She shrank back on the toilet seat. What would she do if he figured out that she was there? Suddenly the door of her toilet stall shook, as Robert tried to open it! Betty thanked God that she had the presence of mind to lock the stall. Too bad that she wasn't clever enough to realize that her stall was the only one with a closed door.
"Betty, are you in there?" Robert called.
Betty braced her hands against the sides of the stall, and put her feet up against the stall door to hold it shut in case the latch slipped. She held her breath, and hoped that Robert would give up and go away. Robert, on the other hand, wasn't quite as stupid as Betty. He walked into the next stall, quietly stepped up onto the toilet seat, and slowly peered over the dividing wall. He was treated to the sight of Betty sitting almost spread-eagled on the toilet, pressing her feet on the door and her hands on the wall. He might have gotten away with a longer peek, except that he noticed the strange blank areas at her crotch and on her chest. Having seen her pussy and tits just a minute ago, he knew that something strange was happening. He gasped quietly, but loudly enough that Betty heard him, shrieked, and covered herself up again.
Meanwhile, up in the office, Gonsalves decided that it would not do to have people coming and going as they wished. There was far too much to do. He used the photo editing software to erase the doors out of the banquet hall and the ladies' room, so that his victims were trapped inside until he was done with them. Then he brought the ladies' room camera up again. He couldn't see what was going on very well - the one camera in the washroom didn't let him see inside the toilet stalls. He could see that Robert was standing with his head above one of the stalls, looking down into the stall with the closed door, but he couldn't tell what was going on inside. Then he had an idea. Gonsalves used the photo editing software to put a camera behind the bathroom mirror, which he then turned into a one-way mirror. Now he could see the toilet stalls head-on. Then he erased the door of the closed stall. Robert and Betty looked at where the door had been, shocked, but at least Gonsalves could see what was going on.
Betty was wearing her black panties again, and was trying to put on her bra. She was having a bit of trouble getting it to fit right, probably because she was even flatter in the chest than usual. Gonsalves decided to help her out, by deleting the bra with the photo editor. Then he deleted Betty's panties. Betty tried to cover herself up again, and Gonsalves decided that it wasn't fair for Betty to have to be humiliated all by herself. He clicked on Robert, and started to delete the office manager's clothing. In a few seconds, Robert was standing completely naked on the toilet, leering over the wall at the naked Betty. His small penis stood bravely at attention. It took a few seconds more for Robert to realize that he was naked too. His face turned bright red, and he hopped off of the toilet seat, covering his smallish member with both hands, looking around for his clothes.
Gonsalves decided that it wasn't fair for Betty to miss seeing Robert in the buff, so he started deleting the fixtures in the bathroom. Soon, the toilets, stalls, and sinks were completely gone, and Betty and Robert were left standing in a featureless green-tiled room with only a large mirror on one wall for decoration. They were both still covering themselves, but Gonsalves could see that they were talking to each other. To his delight, after a couple of minutes, Betty uncovered herself, letting Robert see her blank chest and groin. Robert uncovered himself too, to poke gently at the place where Betty's small breasts had been. Gonsalves started to erase Robert's thick, dark body hair, and Betty noticed this happening. She started to chuckle when she noticed Robert's small erection. It was perhaps 4" long, fully erect, which was smaller than Betty was used to. When Robert's pubic hair faded away, it looked more like a child's penis than a grown man's. Robert turned red again, and tried to cover himself up.
Then Gonsalves decided that it wasn't fair for Robert to have something to be ashamed of, if Betty had nothing. He copied Betty's blank crotch, and pasted it over Robert's with his photo editor. He used a number of tools to make the skin color match better, and erased Robert's small nipples at the same time - out of a sense of fairness. The he clicked "Execute Changes".
Robert gasped as he felt his small penis shrink away from his hands. He pulled them away to see what was happening, and screamed in horror as he looked down at his blank crotch. Betty's eyes opened wide, although to be honest she was slightly relieved now that she was not the only sexless person in the room. Robert and Betty sat down on the floor, and started talking again. Soon they were both in tears, hugging each other. Appparently they had realized that the door to the room had vanished, and they had no idea how to get out of their current predicament. Gonsalves thought it was sad that they had nothing to do, so he started to edit their images again. He decided that he would try to run another video sequence, and started editing.
Robert and Betty were holding each other, still crying, when they both felt a strange tingling sensation. They pulled away from each other, and looked down at their bodies, hoping that they would return to normal. At first they were clearly very excited, as small nipples started to reappear on their chests. Betty reached up to fondle her breasts, expecting them to grow back into her hands. She was disappointed. Instead of soft, feminine globes growing into her hands, she felt her pectoral muscles growing wider and harder. She moved her hands away from her chest, and saw that her chest looked wider than normal. She stood up, and looked at herself in the mirror. Funny, her shoulders looked broader than usual, and her chest and abdomen looked more muscular than she had seen them before. Her hips and legs were still slim and feminine, and her arms and face retained all of their girlish charm. Even her skin still was pale and feminine, but her chest and stomach looked somewhat masculine. They were still completely smooth and devoid of hair, but she had chest muscles like a male athlete. She looked over at Robert, dismayed that her breasts hadn't returned, and gasped at what she saw.
Robert was still sitting on the floor, with his mouth agape. In his hands he cupped two large, undeniably feminine breasts. They were already much larger than Betty's had been - a C-cup, at least. And what's more, they looked like they were still growing. Betty pulled Robert to his feet, and made him look in the mirror. They both gasped at what they saw. Normally Robert was several inches taller than Betty, but now they looked to be almost exactly the same height. Robert's new breasts continued to grow, until they were a large DD-cup size. His arms were still masculine and muscled, and his face and legs were as manly as they had ever been (apart from the total lack of body hair). His shoulders looked a little narrow, though, and the large, firm breasts sitting high on his chest were most certainly not masculine at all. They were topped with small, hard nipples. Betty reached over and gave one a squeeze. Robert gasped as an unexpected shock of pleasure ran through his body. He was horrified by the large, heavy, and sexually sensitive globes hanging off of his chest.
Then they both felt a strane tingling sensation in their groins. Both shuddered, expecting to end up with the wrong set of sexual organs. Robert looked down at his crotch, waiting to see what would happen. His heart started to lift as he saw a small bump appear on his groin. As he watched, a small but unmistakably male organ started to grow out of his crotch. Soon a tiny scrotum appeared, with two little testicles rolling around inside. Robert grinned - even if he had lost a few inches of height, and had grown a giant pair of tits, at least he had his manhood back! He looked over at Betty, and saw that a moist slit was reappearing between her legs. She didn't have any tits, and her chest looked distinctly muscular and masculine, but at least she was still a woman. Robert looked down at his own penis - it was painfully erect, although it was barely two inches long. Without any hair on it, it hardly looked like a man's penis at all. The only sign that it belonged to a mature man were the thick blue veins visible just under the surface.
They waited several minutes. Betty thought that her pussy looked a little looser and the slit looked a little longer than she remembered. She decided that it was probably just the fact that it was still completely bald. Robert was a little distraught, because his penis had apparently stopped growing at two inches. Both of them were feeling very aroused. Robert's nipples were poking out like diamonds, and his penis was leaking slightly at the tip. Vaginal fluid was dribbling slowly down the inside of Betty's leg. They glanced at each other, and then looked away. They glanced again, and soon their intense arousal was almost too much to bear. After one more quick glance, the two office workers jumped on each other, drooling with lust. They kissed and fondled each other for a few seconds, but the burning need for penetration pulsed within them like nothing they had felt before.
Robert rammed his tiny cock into Betty's pussy. Oddly, he didn't find the tight hole he was hoping for. Betty was disappointed at the fact that Robert's tiny member barely reached past her labia. She ground against him, and managed to rub her clit against his tiny cock. That felt good, but it wasn't enough. She needed her clit stimulated, and a nice deep penetration, before she would be satisfied. She pulled away from Robert, and pushed him back when he tried to penetrate her again. Her eyes opened wide with surprise when she looked at her crotch. Her clitoris was hard, and stuck out a good three inches from her pussy. It was half again as big as Robert's cock, and almost as big as his erect penis had been before his transformation. It seemed to be a little higher up her abdomen than it was supposed to be, too.
"Your cock isn't big enough" Betty panted, "You'll have to use your fingers."
Robert was disappointed, but realized that this young woman wasn't going to let him get off unless he did what she wanted. He poked his index finger up Betty's well-lubricated vagina, and started to thrust.
"Deeper!" Betty commanded, barely able to feel Robert's finger in her cunt. What was he using, his pinky? Robert added another finger, poking his index and middle finger inside the woman's eager pussy.
"Suck my clit!" exclaimed Betty. Robert put his mouth over the giant, engorged clit, and started to suck it. Betty shuddered with pleasure. The clitoris was like a thumb in Robert's mouth. "Deeper!" Betty moaned. Robert started thrusting four fingers in Betty's pussy, but it still didn't feel full to Betty. She kept shouting "Deeper! Deeper!" at Robert.
Soon, Robert had his entire fist in Betty's pussy, and was ramming it in up to his elbow. Finally Betty felt more or less full, although she wished he had a bigger arm. After a couple of minutes of Robert frantically pumping his arm in her pussy, and sucking her clit, she orgasmed in an intense explosion. Fluid squirted out of her pussy, soaking Robert's upper body. She moaned and went limp, and her swollen clit started to deflate. She felt fulfilled, and started to move away from Robert.
"My turn!" exclaimed Robert, and Betty sighed and turned to his tiny cock. She licked it, and slipped her mouth over it. She licked and sucked his tiny member like a baby's pacifier. Robert moaned and rubbed his nipples. After a couple of minutes, Robert started to moan and shudder. He had never felt multiple orgasms before, but now he was in the throes of them. Betty prepared to pull herself away when he ejaculated, but for some reason he never did. Robert moaned and shuddered for two or three minutes before Betty finally stopped pleasuring him. He continued to shudder and moan for almost a minute after she stopped.
Gonsalves decided that he would have to come back to the odd couple soon, but first he had plans for the guests in the banquet hall…
Gonsalves turned back to the banquet hall. Nobody had noticed that the door had vanished. Most of the staff were standing in a circle around the food table, laughing and joking. What a farce, thought Gonsalves. They all hate each other, and they all know that they all hate each other, but they pretend to like each other anyhow. He started planning on how he could humiliate them all.
Then Gonsalves thought back to Betty and Robert in the Ladies' room. Once they realized that they were both undergoing strange changes, they had stopped being ashamed and started being afraid. Gonsalves was feeling mean-spirited, but he did not want to frighten his co-workers… well, not much. He was much more interested in seeing them humiliated and embarrassed in front of each other. He decided that he would make most of the changes more subtle, so that his co-workers might not even notice them until they got home. Then he would get to see them trying to hide the changes at work the next day. Gonsalves almost cackled with glee at his idea. He then restored the door to the banquet hall - people would need to leave for his plan to work. He left the ladies' room alone, however - he wasn't finished with Robert and Betty yet.
Then he decided that there were a couple of people who deserved to be humiliated at the party, before they went home. The first was Jeffrey, the assistant office manager. Gonsalves decided to see just how far the photo editor could go in terms of changing someone's body. He knew that he could change their clothing and their appearance with virtually no limits. He wasn't sure how he had made Betty and Robert have sex, but he suspected it had to do with the fact that he go the images for their new genitals from photos and videos of people who were obviously highly aroused. Could he cause the physically impossible to happen?
Gonsalves selected Jeffrey and brought up a nude image of him in the editing window. It was fascinating how he could strip someone completely naked in the editing window, but they remained completely unchanged until he clicked "execute changes". Jeffrey was a short man - about 5"4" tall - and was very fit and muscular. He was also an arrogant prig who was always trying to throw his weight around, to intimidate the other employees. Gonsalves looked at the nude image and saw that, like Robert, Jeffrey had an unusually small penis. That explains a lot, he thought. Gonsalves started going through his photo archives, until he found what he was looking for. It was a short video clip of a cherub statue and fountain from somewhere in Italy. The cherub was dancing over a lily pad, and a stream of water was gushing from the little angel's penis. Gonsalves started editing the images, wondering what would happen.
Barbara from Accounting was regaling the group with another derogatory tale about Betty, when Jeffrey felt a strange tingling in his groin. Jeffrey looked around, and surreptitiously glanced down at his crotch. Nothing unusual, as far as he could tell. Then, suddenly, a small wet sot appeared in the middle of his crotch. Jeffrey's eyes widened, and he tried to casually cover the area. A cold, damp feeling started to spread down his inner thighs. He crossed his legs, trying to hide the fact that he seemed to be wetting himself. Jeffrey tried to clamp down his bladder muscles as hard as he could, but for some reason he couldn't get them to respond at all. For a brief moment, Jeffrey wondered why the feeling was a cold, damp feeling, instead of a warm, damp feeling - but the thought was chased from his mind when someone noticed his condition. Linda, a fat and middle-aged data entry clerk, looked at Jeffrey's pants and started to chuckle. "I think you've had enough punch, my boy" she condescended.
Jeffrey started to give a scathing response, but this just attracted the attention of everyone else in the room. He stood up and tried to turn away from the group, in shame, but the dark stain kept spreading down his pants. Soon he felt his socks getting wet, and the flow didn't seem to be slowing down. Jeffrey felt tears of humiliation running down his cheeks. The assembled group, being the vindictive bunch that they were, started laughing out loud at their power-hungry assistant office manager, as he stood wetting himself uncontrollably in the middle of the banquet hall.
Jeffrey finally decided that enough was enough, and bolted from the room. His socks squished and sloshed in his shoes, and he left a trail of damp footprints behind him. The entire office was in an uproar, with people laughing so hard that they could barely control themselves. Gonsalves noted who was laughing the hardest - he actually felt sorry for some of his co-workers; they ridiculed him, but he now realized that they were victims of some of the more vicious people in the office. Gonsalves was an easy target, and making fun of him was the only way some of them could defend themselves. But there were still several people at the party who weren't getting off the hook that easily. Gonsalves started to work on his more subtle changes, while the group slowly got control of themselves.
Jeffrey, meanwhile, ran out the door and across the hall to the men's room. He locked the door behind him, thinking that he might be able to empty his bladder and get himself cleaned up. He wasn't sure how he would live down this humiliation, but he already was starting to think of degrading tasks he could force on his subordinates tomorrow. Jeffrey noticed that his bladder was still gushing forth, so he rushed over to a urinal and undid his soggy pants. When he saw what was in between his legs, he almost fell backwards in shock. His pubic hair was completely gone; his penis had turned into bronze. It looked completely flaccid, although it was only slightly smaller than normal. When he touched it, however, it felt as hard as a rock. It was also cold to the touch. Cold, clear water was pouring from the tip in an apparently endless stream. He couldn't feel anything with his penis.
The strangest part was the way that the metal somehow slowly faded into the flesh of his groin. As he drew his finger along the top of his crotch, he could feel more and more as his finger ran towards the flesh-colored side. He tried again to stop the flow by clenching his bladder; it seemed as though his bladder muscles were completely useless (in fact, they were completely gone, but Jeffrey didn't know that). He shuddered, and then pressed his fingertip against the tip of his bronze penis. He found that, with enough pressure, the flow stopped completely. He sighed in relief, and managed to pull his shoes, socks, and pants off with his free hand. He started to dry them off under the electric had dryer. He was relieved that he seemed to be peeing water, instead of urine, assuming that it wouldn't stink later on.
Drying the sodden pants, underwear, and socks was a time-consuming process, even with both hand dryers going at once. Jeffrey didn't finish until everyone else at the party had gone home. As he was waiting for his garments to dry out, however, Jeffrey noticed a pressure building up in his bladder. After a few minutes, the pressure started to feel painful. Jeffrey started to worry about how he was going to make it home, if he couldn't stop his metal penis from leaking. After a few minutes more, the pressure was almost unbearable, and Jeffrey had to rush over to the urinals again and release his finger from the tip of his penis. The water gushed forth, and it took almost five minutes before the pressure in his bladder went away. As his bladder emptied, the flow of water diminished slightly, from a gushing stream to a moderate trickle. It didn't stop. Jeffrey discovered that he had to take about five minutes to empty his bladder every half hour or so. It was going to be a long night…
Meanwhile, back in the banquet hall, Pauline was getting tired of wearing her red Santa cap. She reached up, and pulled it off of her head. A gasp went up from several of the ladies, as they saw what happened. As Pauline lifted the cap from her head, her long blonde hair came off with it. It took a moment for Pauline to realize what the ladies were staring at. She looked down at her cap, and saw that a long, blonde wig was stuck inside it. A split second later, the cogs and wheels clicked in place in Pauline's mind, and her hand shot up to her head. She felt a smooth, shining, and totally hairless scalp underneath her hand. Her hair was gone! She rubbed her entire head in disbelief… she had always been very proud of her gorgeous, thick locks of rich blonde hair. Somehow, it was all missing from her head! She looked at the wig in her hand, and saw that it was every bit as soft and gorgeous as her hair had been. Pauline screamed.
The rest of the conversation died down, and was replaced by more laughter, as everyone else noticed Pauline's shiny, bald head glinting in the fluorescent light. How had she worked there so long, without anyone figuring out that she wore a wig? Barbara, the bitch from Accounting, was quicker on her feet than most of the office. She quickly snatched the cap and wig out of Pauline's hand, and threw it across the room. It snagged on a light fixture, and dangled from the ceiling, the lowest locks of hair at least 10' off the floor. Pauline shrieked, and ran over to it, trying to retrieve her precious locks. As she jumped up and down underneath the dangling wig, trying desperately to get a grip on it, the men in the room started to feel their pants tighten in the crotch. Pauline's red, fur-lined dress barely reached below her ass when she was standing normally. Now that she was jumping up and down in the air, it was lifting up clean past her hips, giving everyone in the room an unobstructed view of her neatly trimmed pussy and her round, firm ass. Pauline was embarrassed enough thinking that everyone could see her panties. It wasn't until she got home that night that she realized that she hadn't been wearing any!
After Pauline finally climbed onto a chair and yanked her wig off the light fixture, and left the party in tears, the other attendees decided that they had enjoyed enough of other people's pain and humiliation for one night, and started to filter out of the banquet hall. One or two women looked for the ladies' room, but couldn't seem to find it anywhere. Gonsalves hurriedly finished up the changes he was preparing to enjoy on the following day.
Gonsalves worked late into the night, modifying his co-workers. He was exhausted, and was about to go home for the weekend, when he remembered that he still had Robert and Betty trapped in the ladies' room. Gonsalves brought up the window again, and finished their changes before he logged out and went home for the night.
Betty and Robert were so tired from their frightening experiences, and their passionate lovemaking, that they had fallen asleep on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom. Betty woke up first. She looked around at the bathroom, hoping that her experiences that evening had all been just a bad dream. The sinks, stalls, and door had all reappeared. Betty started to sigh with relief when she looked down at her body. She gasped when she saw herself.
Not only was Betty still completely naked, her body was hardly recognizable. She was covered in dark, curly body hair, especially on her chest, stomach, and crotch. Her arms and legs had thinner hair, but it was still dark and stood out starkly against her lily-white skin. Betty stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face and head looked exactly the same as always, but her breasts were still gone. In their place was a broad, well-muscled, and very masculine-looking chest. Her thin neck sat on a pair of broad, muscular shoulders. Her arms and legs were thick and wiry, and her waist was narrow. Her body looked like a man's, except for the pussy hidden beneath her thick, dark mat of pubic hair, which extended up to her navel and well down her thighs.
Betty felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, then realized that Robert's suit and her dress had magically reappeared on the counter, along with their underwear. Betty slipped her panties on, and started to pull on her dress. She looked at herself in the mirror, and realized that she looked ridiculous. Her long, muscular, hairly legs stuck out from the bottom of the dress, which was stretched almost to the breaking point across her flat, muscular chest and stomach. The dress was much too small, and much too short - Betty realized that she must be over six feet tall now. Betty glanced over at the sleeping body of Robert. She assumed it was Robert, although it looked like a very voluptuous woman from this angle. Betty squirmed out of the dress, and pulled on Robert's suit over her panties. It looked like Robert's suit, but it fit her perfectly. She pulled on the shoes and socks she found, but left the necktie on the counter. She saw her car keys on the edge of the sink, and grabbed them. She slipped out the door, and cautiously ran to her car to head home.
The sound of the door creaking open startled Robert awake. He looked around, and found himself alone in the Ladies' room. Like Betty, Robert also noticed that the fixtures and stalls had reappeared, and hoped that he had just been dreaming. He sat up, and felt an unfamiliar shifting of weight on his chest. He looked down at himself, only to see two massive breasts jiggling on his naked, hairless chest. Robert stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw his head atop an extraordinarily curvaceous, sexy female body. It was completely hairless, and Robert felt his groin tingle at the sight. He suddenly realized that he couldn't see his crotch in the mirror - the counter was as high as his waist. He realized that he must be less than five feet tall now! Robert stepped back, and pulled his large, soft boobs to either side in order to look at his crotch. Hanging halfway down his thighs was the biggest, thickest cock he had seen in his life. It was starting to stiffen. Robert decided he needed to get dressed quickly, so he could go and see a doctor. He noticed a pair of men's underpants on the counter, and a dress that looked just like the one Betty had stripped off the night before. Robert quickly pulled them on. The underpants rode up the crack of his ass a bit, but they managed to contain the massive bulge of his penis and proportionately-large testicles. He then pulled the dress on. It was extremely tight, and showed off every curve of his body. His nipples poked through the chest, and his crotch bulged out at the waist. Robert couldn't see a bra, and decided to leave the black ladies' pumps on the floor where they were. He spotted his own car keys, grabbed them, and jiggled out to his car.
The next Monday saw a record number of employees calling in sick, including (not surprisingly) Robert, Betty, and Pauline. Gonsalves was disappointed by the poor turnout, but saw that there were still plenty of people to give him a show, and let him savour his revenge. He was sorry that he had made so many of the changes take effect before the weekend - it hadn't occurred to him that so many people would smply stay home. He was glad that he had made some of the changes time-delayed, and was prepared to enjoy them as they came into effect that day. But first, he decided to check how some of his already-changed victims were trying to hide their new developments.
Barbara, the bitch from accounting, had received several compliments on her new, darker hair. Some people even asked if she had lost weight. Oddly enough, Barbara hadn't seemed pleased at the comments. Instead, she muttered apologetically at each comment, and turned her eyes down. Barbara had awoken on Saturday morning feeling great. She had run her hands down her body in the morning, still bleary-eyed, and had felt a slimmer, firmer body than she had ever possessed underneath. She ran to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and gasped. Her body was, indeed, much slimmer than it had been - not skinny, but toned, with perky breasts pushing out the front of her nightgown. Her face looked slimmer, and a few years younger, as well. Instead of the body and face of a middle-aged, divorced housewife, she now had the body of an athletic, but healthily curved, thirty year old woman.
She wasn't pleased, however. This was probably due to the fact that her long brown hair had truned bright pink overnight, and her face sported several piercings. Barbara quickly removed the piercings, and determined that she would be able to cover the holes with makeup. She grabbed her dark brown hair dye, and started to cover up the shocking, gaudy pink color of her hair. When it was time to rinse out the dye, Barbara pulled off her nightgown and headed to the showed. As she passed the bathroom mirror again, she nearly fainted. Her body was covered in tattoos - a large dragon coiled up her right arm, while a thorny chain of roses wrapped around her left. Her legs were covered in butterflies down to the knees. There were tiny angel wings tattooed on her back. Her large, and newly-perky breasts had writing across them - in bold Gothic letters, the tattoos read "CAN I BE YOUR SLUT?". Her nipples were pierced, and joined together by a loose silver chain. Her flat, toned stomach sported the hilt of a sword, which pointed down into her tight, but completely hairless, pussy. Her lower back sported an arrow pointing to her anus, captioned with the words "Insert fat, hairy cock here".
Mortified, Barbara tried to scrub the tattoos off in the shower. It quickly became apparent that these tattoos were permanent. She also couldn't figure out how to remove the nipple rings - they seemed to be completely unbroken hoops of metal. She quickly learned that the chain made it impossible to wear a bra with any degree of comfort. To her even greater surprise, a few days later she noticed that her dark hair was growing bright pink roots.
Gonsalves laughed when he saw Barbara trying to cover herself up with pants and a high-necked shirt. He decided that he would have to help her show off her new body art the next time she was meeting with the executives.
He noticed that Janice, the fat Admissions clerk, had figured out a way to stuff her bra to make it appear as though she still possessed her massive, jiggling mammaries, instead of the saggy a-cups he had given her.
Across from her sat Frank, the credit officer, who seemed surprisingly comfortable and relaxed considering he had lost his male appendages and gained a heavily menstrating vagina.
Sarah in Accounts Payable had worn a turban-like hat, which did an excellent job of covering up the large rabbit-ears which had replaced the delicate ears she was born with.
Gonsalves was disappointed at the ease with which his victims were hiding their changes. He understood, of course, that those who couldn't hide their changes so easily had chosen to stay home. He decided that it was time to start enjoying his delayed changes.
He flipped open a window which showed Rebecca, a slutty HR officer, giving a performance review to Sandy, a low-level manager. Rebecca had been instrumental in making sure that Gonsalves never got promoted to a better department; Sandy didn't interact with Gonsalves directly, but seemed to have a sour look about her at all times, making herself unapproachable. Both women were quite attractive; Rebecca was a slim Asian woman with impeccable taste in clothes, while Sandy was a more voluptuous redhead.
Rebecca had just finished telling Sandy that she needed to show a sense of humour around the office, when her voice suddenly faded away. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. She took a sip of water, and tried to speak again - still nothing. Sandy looked at her expectantly. Rebecca tried to speak again, when she felt somethign hard in her mouth. It felt like a small, smooth pebble. She delicately reached up to her mouth and pulled out the object. She looked at it, and saw Sandy's eyes go wide as they realized what it was. Rebecca was holding a tooth in her fingers! Rebecca reached into her mouth again, to find the hole where the tooth had come from. As she touched her teeth, they loosened and fell out. Rebecca spat out a mouthful of teeth, and started to scream. At least, she TRIED to scream - no sound came out of her mouth at all. She felt her teeth with her tongue, to see how many had fallen out. The slightest pressure from her tongue, however, was enough to loosen the rest of her remaining teeth. She spat them out into her hand, and felt her toothless, but bloodless, gums with a fingertip.
"You call that a sense of humor?" said Sandy, with a scowl. "That's just disgusting, is all."
Then Sandy felt a strange tightness in her chest. She glanced down, and noticed that her breasts seemed to be pushing out farther than they should. As she watched, she could see them expanding slightly under her jacket. She also felt the chair getting slightly tighter around her buttocks. Wat was going on? She looked back up at Rebecca, who wass staring at her wide-eyed.
"What?" demanded Sandy.
Rebecca slowly raised a finger and pointed at Sandy's nose.
Sandy reached up and felt her nose. It had less sensation than she was used to. She pulled out her compact mirror and looked at her face. Her nose had turned bright red, and was growing round and bulbous. Sandy screamed. She tried to stand up to leave the room, but her ass had grown very quickly in the previous seconds, and was now stuck in her chair. The unexpected weight of the chair caused Sandy to lose her balance, and she fell flat on her face. When she pulled herself up, she was shocked to see that her breasts had grown quite large, and stuck out of her chest like a pair of balloons. The buttons on her blouse were straining. She reached up and grabbed one of her breasts, and gave it a light squeeze. To her shock and horror, a honking sound, not unlike a bicycle horn, escaped from her large ass as she squeezed her tit. She fainted.
Clownitization by Nosey T. Clown (Clown, BE, MC)And another Clown TF story I had laying around!
Clownitization by Nosey T. Clown
I think I'm going crazy. Or I'm in a coma - maybe I'll wake up soon. This must be a dream - it certainly is the weirdest dream I ever had. How can I wake myself up?
I heard once if I concentrate really had on reality, maybe I'll wake up. How to concentrate? Maybe I can try to write some of this down! Maybe that will cause this dream - I hope it’s a dream - to end!
Okay - where's the paper! Boy - it's become hard to write! Maybe if I sit sidesaddle or something…….. How should I begin…..?
My name's Candace Reems. I know - most girls with a name like "Candace" get called "Candi", but not me. Oh, sure, I was Candi in high school, but in college it was more professional to be called "Candace." And when I went to work and Water Pricehouse, it seemed an accountant should be called "Candace" instead of "Candi." Or "Miss Reems" - that was way better!
I am 26 years old, and I had - HAVE - blond hair. I have blue eyes. I'm five foot-six inches tall. I'm single, and broke up with my last boyfriend a few years ago - he was such a dork! I tried to be serious - 'cause I am a blond and you know what reputation I could have - but he was so SILLY!
Okay - this is so weird!
So - concentrate - it's Tuesday. I just flew in to our corporate offices in San Francisco for meetings with our most important client. I didn't really want to go, 'cause it's a few days before Hallowe'en and I wanted to go to a party and maybe meet someone but I had to go and that's that. So I worked like a dog all day Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and went to my hotel and had room service and crashed every night and - slow down. S-l-o-w d-o-w-n. (Giggle)
Okay. I'm getting agitated - it's only a dream. A D-R-E-A-M. I hope…
So I get up Friday and go to the office - this should be the last day of this nonsense. Maybe I can still get home for Hallowe'en tonight. So I'm working on the depreciation schedules. But my boss, Mr. Ackerly comes in at noon and said that the finance guys at the client will finish them up, and I'm free to go. In fact, the office has scheduled a costume party and he thinks I should go - it'll be a 'good break,' or so he says.
So I'm thinking - why not. I can fly home Saturday (giggle) and relax at the party and over the weekend. So Mr. Ackerly tells me to take the rest of the day off and try to find a costume. He bids me goodnight and leaves me with a slip of paper with the address scribbled on it.
As it turns out, I shoulda gone to bed.
So - Friday afternoon, All Hallow's Eve, where to find a costume. First question: What to go as? Belly dancer? No - I'm too slender. Witch? Too common. I call a few costume places from the Yellow Pages, but they are out of cats, and leopards and pirates. What to go as? Maybe this is too difficult.
I know - I'll be a clown! I always wanted to be a clown, and no one will know its me under the makeup! I'll be a clown! I can let my hair (all 2" of it) down! This might actually be fun! Now - where to get a clown costume??
Here's a listing I didn't see before - "Clara's Clown Closet". "Only Clown Costumes - when only the BEST will do." I wonder why I didn't see that earlier. So I call them up and - SURPRISE - they have lots of costumes left! (giggle) They said come right over.
A $20 cab ride later, I'm standing in front of "Clara's" in one of the nicer parts of town. The mannequins in the window are all dressed as clowns, and look so colorful! This might actually work out! The little sign on the door says "By Appointment Only" and "ring for Entry" - they invited me over, so I guess this is as good as an appointment. I ring and the door buzzed.
I pushed the door open, and walked into the biggest clown emporium I have ever seen. Wigs, noses, costumes, makeup - everything. As I walked over to the counter, a woman came from behind the curtain and introduced herself as "Clara."
"Hi - I'm Candace." I responded.
"Oh - weren't you the person I just spoke to on the telephone? About a last minute costume?" she inquired.
"Yes - I got invited to a Hallowe'en party at the last minute and don't have a costume. I always wanted to be a clown, but I don't know the first thing about makeup or costumes or anything. Can you help me?"
"My dear - of course. Is your party tonight?" She asked, ever so helpful.
"Yes it is."
"Well, Candace, we could select your costume and complete your hair and makeup all right here, right now, and you could leave directly for the party if you wanted?" She told me - her voice was sweetly intoxicating.
"That sounds wonderful!" I said, "Where do we start?" I was becoming more eager to 'be a clown.' Only now do I realize that it was unusual for me to be so eager. (Giggle)
"Well, Candace, have you thought of what kind of clown you want to be? Clara asked. "No - I didn't know there were kinds of clowns.” I replied. "What are they?"
Clara told me that there were Auguste clowns, Whiteface clowns, Tramp clowns and Character clowns. I became more puzzled - I don't know why I wasn't thinking clearly. "Make me the clown you think would be best for me,” I stated. It was unusual for me to give up control so easily.
"I think you'd be a good Auguste clown,” Clara recommended, "and we can fix you right up. Now follow me,” she said as she swept behind the dividing curtain into the back room. I followed along.
Now the part that must be a dream - Clara just led me right along and look where I am now! (Giggle)
"You know, dear, clowns get their humor from exaggeration, you know that, don't you?" Her voice was like honey - I was drawn to it like a hungry bee.
"Oh yes - I know that" I said, but I didn't really know that - or did I?
"And the funniest clowns are the most exaggerated - you know that, right?" She said.
"Right" I said, somewhat drunkenly. What's happened to me?
"And wouldn't you like to be a most funny clown?” Clara asked. "Oh yes" I said - and look where it got me. (Giggle)
"So - we'll need to exaggerate you, won't we?"
"I guess so." I said, as Clara took my measurements and wrote them on a clipboard.
"Hmmmm," she said quizzically. "You need a little more substance to be exaggerated, wouldn't you agree?" "I guess so."
"Let me go to the rack and select a few things, now that I have your measurements" she said, appearing lost in thought. In a few minutes she returned, carrying what seemed like several large pillows. As she dropped them on the floor, they appeared to be cotton-lined Jello.
"I'm so sorry, dear, but we will need to exaggerate your, er, 'slender' figure. I want you to put this on - here, use this dressing room." She handed me what she was carrying and pointed to a curtained room a few feet away. "Now hurry up!" she commanded.
I scurried into the room and drew the curtain.
I began to inspect what she had given me - although not particularly heavy, it appeared to be a ridiculously proportioned women's body suit! If you looked up exaggerated in the dictionary, this suit might actually be there! And - I was replete with bra (attached to the cotton) and panties (also attached), in a clownish polka-dot pattern. I was momentarily stunned at the thought of the figure that would result if I wore this.
"Now, Candace, you must take off all your clothes before putting on your new undergarment - otherwise it won't, er, fit properly."
"Yes, ma'am.” I responded. I began to take off my clothes in the privacy of the dressing room.
Now disrobed, I found a zipper in the back of the bodysuit and unzipped it. It fell open at my feet and I stepped in and pulled it up over my shoulders. It was like putting on a cool, comfortable glove! It fit perfectly! It felt wonderful and caressing! I couldn't wait to zip it up! I hope I could find the strength to take it off at the end of the night (this wasn't a problem, as it turned out). I turned toward the mirror to admire myself.
Boy! Talk about an exaggerated figure! I couldn't believe the comical character that reflected back at me in the mirror. First, my neck, arms and legs were uncovered by the suit and unchanged. But that's all that stayed the same. My boobs were bigger than I have ever seen on a woman - even that dancer Chelsea Charms! Turning this way and that, I could see my boobs from behind me!
I couldn't believe it. In fact, the suit was so realistic that I had nipples, too! And what nipples! They were as round as saltshakers and protruded almost an inch! I marveled at the detail in this suit!
But as big as my boobs were, my butt was awesome. It protruded as much to the rear as my boobs did in front! I was enormously wide, and wondered to myself how I'd sit in a chair! I had the biggest hourglass figure in the world. I would be a great clown!
A tape measure hung on the wall, and I struggled to measure myself. After some effort, I found I had a 95" bust and 85" butt. I measured my waist at 20", but somehow I never noticed that my waist had shrunk from its normal 29" size. I was so fuzzy.
'Are you ready? Come out here.” Clara commanded. I reached over my boobs and drew back the curtain and walked out, brushing the doorframe on each side. "What do you think?” I asked Clara.
"Well, you are a little small, but I think it's a great start!" she beamed. "Now - let's pick a costume!" She headed off to the rack and I waddled behind her. (Giggle) I was having a harder and harder time walking and keeping my balance, but tried to keep up.
In a few short minutes she had me outfitted in a set of ruffled bloomers with more then twenty petticoats, and a set of red and white striped socks that rose up and actually covered my enormous butt! A blue polka dot baby-doll dress went over the top of it all, making my enormous boobs seem even larger. As Clara directed me to a chair (without arms!), I sat and contemplated how much my butt projected over the edges as she placed a pair of 26" long Mary-Janes on my feet, in yellow. She asked me to stand.
"What do you think?” Clara asked, as she turned a wall-sized mirror to face me. I looked at the vision in the mirror and was speechless.
Except for the face on the person in the mirror that was clearly mine, I had become a ridiculous, exaggerated, corpulent clown. I turned this way and that, admiring myself and thinking how good I looked (which was odd - I usually liked how I looked as a girl, not a clown?!) (Giggle) Even as I turned, by boobies brushed the mirror and I felt a tingle in my chest. Although I realize now this was unusual, I didn't seem to notice it at the time.
"Oh Clara, I am a beautiful clown!” I exclaimed, my voice almost squealing. Had I been paying attention, I would have noticed it had risen in pitch a bit. "It's better than I could have hoped!" I would be the perfect clown for the party!
"But, Clara, what about my face?” I pouted. After all, a clown has to have a ridiculous face and hair.
"I've got just the thing,” Clara pointed out. "Come over here and recline in this chair," she invited. I did as I was directed.
As I settled myself into this larger-than-normal chair, I watched myself in the mirror. Strangely, as I walked the thirty feet from the dressing room to the makeup chair, I had found it easier to walk with my clown shoes, although I had begun to waddle even more exaggeratedly. Still, as I settled in this oh-so-plush chair, I giggled at watching how my body stuck out from the sides of the chair, and how my little boobies took up almost all my chest. I wanted to scratch an itch on one elbow, but was having a hard time reaching it with my other hand. Too bad my boobies are so small, I thought.
Clara positioned what looked to be a 1950-s style hair dryer over my head, and activated it to a low thrumming. "This will fix your hair right up,” she advised, " while I work on your face." With that, she opened a chest full of various makeup items, and began selecting among the clown noses for me.
"Let's see - I think this is about right,” she said, and turned toward me with the biggest, reddest, roundest clown nose I think I had ever seen! I have seen a lot of clowns, but I had never seen a nose this big. "Wow! What a nose" I giggled. I settled back even further in the chair, in total comfort in this new body. It felt too GOOD! I reveled in feeling my huge butt and boobies, and wondered how to be a funny clown.
"Now, hold still and let me get some adhesive,” Clara intoned. "This will feel quite natural, just like your new clown body, and should make you a very funny clown indeed. Now close your eyes…" she said. I closed my eyes, and seeming drifted off to sleep for what seemed like only a few seconds. The last thing I remember it Clara's fingers placing this enormous nose on my own……..
Gradually I awoke, and was briefly disoriented by a red ball in my field of vision. As I reached to scratch it (and hit it far earlier than I planned) I remembered Clara's placing it on my face. She was right! It felt quite natural! In fact, as I felt for a seam, I couldn't tell where it joined my own face. I was beginning to wonder what I looked like, as Clara was still working on my face and blocking my view of the mirror.
"Now - I think that does it! You are indeed a funny clown! You should be the hit of the party!" Clara was positively beaming! "I think this is my best work! Ready for a look?" she asked.
I nodded my head, unaccustomed to the shaking and quivering of this new nose on my face, and the resultant jiggles in my boobies and butt. "Yes - I want to be a clown! Please show me!" I pleaded. (Was my voice still higher?) With that, Clara backed away from my field of vision and I saw myself in the mirror.
To say I was a clown is an understatement. To say I looked ridiculous doesn't cover it. To say I would be the funniest clown that night was close, but still can't capture it. I had been completely transformed.
My face was still my face, but it was as if I was born to be a clown. Once I got over the shock of seeing that enormous nose on my face (and the huge nostrils on either side of it), I started to examine the detail of my new 'look.'
I don't know how Clara did it, but my eyebrows (which I kept so carefully trimmed) had been arched into a high sweeping arch over my eyes. As I turned my head from one side to the other, I kept imagining my eyebrows had become red McDonalds Golden Arches on my face. But that wasn't all. White clown makeup highlighted my eyes, which had grown the longest lashes I had ever seen - they must have measured more than an inch! They were full and lush, and fluttered when I blinked my eyes. When I reached to touch them, I felt no trace of adhesive. Clara was certainly good!
Below my nose (which dominated my face (goody) my lips seemed to have become plumper, yet were outlined as a traditional clown's mouth. Still feminine and shaped like an exaggerated version of my own lips, there was a definite clown smile as part of my new face. (Giggle) My skin positively glowed, although with a radiant peach color.
But that wasn't all! As Clara pulled the dryer off my head, my new red curly locks spilled out of the dryer - a perfect clown 'do! Covered in wide and gentle curls, by head was a mass of red - wild and silly. I was amazed.
"Clara - how did you do this?” I asked, wondering why my voice was reaching for higher octaves.
"It's magic, my dear. I love bringing people their dearest wish to be a clown. It's my gift to you." Clara smiled gently and patted me on the shoulder - but as she brushed my boobies, a jolt went through me. That's odd, I thought.
"But - I have one more surprise for you" Clara said. "The piece de resistance - and something to make you a truly unique clown." She pulled back my hair from my ears for me to see.
I couldn't believe it - my ears had grown! Now twice the size that my ears had been, they stuck straight out from my head! I had huge clown ears!
"Oh Clara, you've made me so happy! I will be such a funny clown tonight!" I was giddy with delight! (Giggle) I squirmed around in the chair and felt the smooth fabric of the chair against my butt, and the taught fabric of my baby doll dress against my little boobies. I was in heaven. I never stopped to notice that this was a bit odd until later. I was in giggly delight as I gazed at the clown in the mirror, butt sticking out from the chair, boobs sticking out from my chest, and the biggest nose I could imagine.
Clara helped me out of the chair.
"Now, dear, why don't I send your clothes back to your hotel and you can have fun and go straight to your party tonight? She asked.
"Sure" I giggled. I didn't want to wait being a clown for a minute. "What do I owe you for all this trouble?"
She quoted a modest sum, and I struggled to get my purse up over my boobies where I could see it, and then to get my wallet out of my purse and hand over a credit card. It took several tries, because I couldn't see around my new nose and got the wrong card several times. As Clara handed me my receipt and card, I bent forward and my boobies and I fell on the counter as I reached forward to sign the bill.
"Now you are getting into the spirit,” Clara said. "Clowns as exaggerated as you have to be clumsy, too!" she directed.
No problem there, I thought. There's a lot of me here to be clumsy with! Clara helped me right myself and placed my purse on my clothes. "Would you like anything before you go?" she inquired.
"Yes - I would like en teensy glass of water' I said
Survivor by #MilkingTits (#BE, #WG , #IQ , #AE , #Cowgirl )
Survivor by MilkingTits (BE, WG, IQ, AE, Cowgirl)
Another oldie but goodie. I'm not the original author, but I might do a follow-on story if there is interest.
I feel old for even saying this, but this story involves two characters from the original survivor from back in 2000. Kelly Wigglesworth was a very petite young brunette who was athletic and had small perky tits. Joel Klug is from from Wisconsin. During one episode, one of Joel's teammates, Dirk (who is a Dairy Farmer) made the statement that "nothing is dumber than a woman, except maybe a cow." Joel laughed so hard that the quote was eventually attributed to him, and Kelly and the other women banded together to vote him off of the island.
This story is about Joels revenge on Kelly… Enjoy!
Joel had never gotten over being kicked off the island by three ungrateful stupid women and was out for revenge. After watching the Survivor series at home Joel realized Kelly had been back-stabbing him all the way.
"I'll show Kelly how stupid she really is! When I'm done with her she will be wishing she was as smart as a cow."
It was now six weeks after the CBS Survivor show ended and Joel had started to put his plan in action by visiting Dirk the dairy farmer. "Hi, Dirk. I was sorry to see you go. The rest of the survivors really did not know how good they had it with us around until it was too late."
"Thanks Joel, I felt bad getting kicked off after working so hard, but I have gotten over it and am back to milking the cows now."
"Dirk, I have always wanted to learn more about the dairy farming business and since the show has ended I have some time on my hands until I have to go back to my job at the health club. Do you think you can teach me the basics?"
"Sure I can always use an extra hand around the farm."
Over the next few weeks Dirk and Joel worked together on the daily tasks of running the dairy farm. During the third week Dirk showed Joel the answer to his dreams. "Today Joel we are going to increase the production of the cows milk. Get that syringe over there."
"It looks like cloudy water inside."
"That my friend is a special mixture I use to make these cows swell up with so much milk that their udders touch the ground. One time I forgot to milk one of the poor cows within 24 hours and the poor girl had produced so much milk that she was three feet off the floor laying on her own udders with her little legs kicking back and forth in the air. It is very important that we milk all the cows by morning to make sure that does not happen again." Dirk showed Joel how to give the cows their shot. That night Joel could hardly wait to see the cows in the morning. He could not even imagine what he was about to see. As Joel walked into the barn he instantly knew what he had in store for Kelly. The cows udders looked like the exercise balls the girls used at his health club. Their udders had inflated with so much milk that he could see a small steady stream of milk leaking out of the cow's teats. After helping Dirk milk the cows with the milking machine Joel said his goodbyes and left with a gallon of the milk production mixture hidden away in his bags.
Joel was set. "All I need to do now is get Kelly to come over to put my plan in action. I am sure she is feeling down for not winning the million dollars, so maybe if I invite her over for dinner and to apologize we can get together."
That evening Joel called Kelly. "Hi, Kelly, It's Joel. Sorry you did not win the money."
"Hi, Joel, yah, it was close but I just missed the cut. Oh well, at least it was fun."
"Kelly, I wanted apologize for telling you that women are as dumb as cows. I would really feel better if I could at least offer you dinner this weekend."
"Apology accepted - a lot of people said things they did not mean on that island with all the stress and lack of food. I'd love to join you for dinner."
"Great! I'll see you Saturday at 7:00 PM."
"OK, see you then, Joel."
Saturday night arrived and Kelly walked into Joel's house looking stunning. She did not have an ounce of fat on her from all the exercise and small meals while on the island. She was wearing a tight fitting white wrap around her top and Joel could tell she did not have a bra on because her B cup breasts bounced slightly as she walked in. He could also see her small hard nipples poking through the almost translucent white top. She had a pair of equally tight pink shorts on that showed off her tight firm butt.
Joel was a true gentleman all night and Kelly was feeling very comfortable around him. Just a few more glasses of wine and she will be so drunk she'll have to stay the night or will pass out, Joel thought to himself as he topped off her glass. Just as Joel predicted Kelly passed out on the couch as they lay there watching television. Her tits are so firm and perky; in a few hours that will just be a distant memory Joel thought to himself. Joel went into the kitchen and filled the syringe with the milk production formula. Kelly was so drunk she did not even feel it when he pricked her arm with the syringe and filled her veins with the drug.
Joel wanted to make sure there was enough room to view the spectacle that was about to happen so he picked up Kelly over his shoulder and took her down to the basement. Kelly breasts began to swell ever so slightly. She started to squirm as the sensation started to wake her up from her drunken stupor. Her breasts looked like two smashed pancakes straining against the tight fabric of her little top. Joel could see her nipples clearly as they pressed against the thin cloth. Joel took his hand and rubbed Kelly's chest back and forth and could feel the tightness of the fabric and of her breasts as they filled to capacity with fat. Kelly's breasts kept growing, slowly approaching a full D cup. Something had to give and Kelly's nipples showed the first signs of this as they began to stretch to the size of half dollars.
By now Kelly had realized something was wrong and quickly snapped out of her drunken state. Her breasts were inflating with fat rapidly, and now looked to be at least an E cup.
"Oh my god, what are you doing to me? My breasts are swelling like balloons."
"Actually Kelly, they are swelling like udders, like cow udders to be exact."
Kelly's breasts continued to swell ripping the sides of her thin white top. It was only a matter of minutes until the weight of her swelling milk sacks ripped through her top and her massive tits flopped out. "Ahh they are so heavy, what's… how… is this happening?"
"Well Kelly, I never really got over getting kicked off the island by you. So I met up with Dirk, you remember him, the dairy farmer. I figured I should do a little research on cows and I concluded that women are as stupid as cows. With my little experiment you will see, or should I say feel, what it is like to be dumber than a cow … a dairy cow to be exact."
It was getting difficult to stand due to the weight of her fattening, swelling breasts. Kelly tried to walk towards the basement stairs, her fat breasts swaying side to side and jiggling with every little step. "Kelly, relax! Being turned into a stupid cow is not that bad. Besides you will never fit up the stairs with those big expanding milk juggs of yours."
Kelly's breasts were expanding so fast that the weight was making it difficult to stand let alone walk. Her effort to escape fell short as the milk started to fill her breasts and slowly pulled her down to the floor on all fours. "Somebody help me! It is so hard to stand, my breasts are so heavy."
"Ah Kelly you look so cute, just like a cow on all fours with your big tits hanging undernear you. I know you can't see your nipples so let me get a mirror so I can show you how nice and plump they are."
"Oh my those are my nipples, they are so swollen and getting so long! What is happening to my nice perky breasts?"
"Soon your stretched out areolas will be as big as pancakes and your nipples will look just like cow teats. "
Kelly's tits just barely touched the cold hard cement floor of the basement making her nipples extra hard. A small puddle of milk started to form under her massive breasts. "See Kelly you are just like a cow, with your big fat tits all filled with fattening milk." Kelly could not believe it, she was stuck on all fours with her once small perky breasts now dangling under her like udders filling with milk. "OK Joel, I'm sorry, please give me my B cup breasts back."
"It's too late for that Kelly! You know what Kelly, a real cow spends it's life getting milked. So why stop now! It must be real uncomfortable having tits that are bigger than basketballs. Don't worry, I'll make sure they get bigger so you can spend your days laying on your own tits like big fluffy pillows. But for now let's get you used to being milked." Joel walked over to the closet and wheeled out a cow milking machine.
"Milk me? You can't milk me! What are you doing to me. My breasts, oh my God, they're so full of milk, don't touch them, stay away from me!"
"But Kelly that's what cows are for. They eat and get fatter and fatter and their udders fill up with fatting whole milk… but since you insist I won't milk you right now. Let's wait and see just how big you will get before we start having some real fun with those juggs of yours." Joel knew he would not have to wait long until Kelly would change her tune about getting milked. I give her an hour and bet she will be begging me to milk her, he thought to himself. About 45 minutes later Kelly could not hold out any longer. Her tits were now raising her body off of the floor. She still struggled to stand but it was no use all she could do was helplessly watch her breasts turn into giant water balloons.
"Oh the pressure… my… tits….are….so….full….of milk…I..can feel…it sloshing…around inside….of them. Please… milk me. I don't …think I …can get…any bigger." Joel watched as Kelly's body was in constant motion as her milk sloshed around inside her huge breasts. Kelly was having difficulty catching her breath and it was making it difficult to talk without getting winded.
Kelly's arms no longer could touch the floor. Her arms were spread out to her sides and she laid on top of her now beach ball sized breasts.
"Oh Kelly stop whining, it is not so bad! Think of all the things that you can do that a poor dairy cow can't." Kelly was afraid to think of what Joel had in mind for her next. "Dairy cows get milked day in and day out and never get to taste their own wonderful milk." Just then Joel lifted one of Kelly's swollen beach balls and shoved her own nipple into her month. Joel took both his hand and started massaging the sides of Kelly's massive breasts forcing steams of milk to gush into her mouth and down her throat. Joel pressed firmly on Kelly's giant breasts and he could hear the milk being forced out of the nipple. Kelly tried to resist but her nipple was so large now it just kept shooting gallons of her milk own down her throat.
"And Kelly, how many cows do you know of that can fatten themselves up with their own milk?" Just then Kelly could start to feel her shorts getting tighter. All the rich creamy fat from her milk was actually fattening her right before her eyes. I figured her milk would have an effect on her body, but the alcohol in her system must be enhancing the effect. This is even better than I could have even hoped for, Joel smiled as he watched Kelly's firm ass grow before his eyes. "Oh Kelly looks like your little pink shorts are getting even tighter." Kelly could feel her ass slowly growing and she could also feel her thighs and legs getting heavier.
"Boy Kelly, you are really packing on the pounds. It does not look like those shorts of yours are going to fit much longer! Here, let me help you out of your shorts and panties." Joel removed Kelly's shorts and panties just in time. Kelly's ass and belly were getting huge. Her tits were getting bigger too but it was hard to tell if they were still filling with milk or fat. "Oh my Kelly it looks like someone needs to go on a diet. You must have put on 400 pounds already. I bet you never knew breast milk was so fattening."
"Oh, you're just a big fat cow now Kelly, how does it feel?" Kelly could not talk because she still had her nipple stuck in her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry let me help you and get your teat out of your mouth. We don't want you getting so fat that you roll away."
"You…. bastard! I'm….going to…. Kill…. you!"
"Kelly is that the way to thank me for giving you such wonderful breasts and such a nice fat body? I don't think so, but that's ok. You look like a cow, but we still need to make you just as dumb as a cow. And luckily for you that's very simple to do. I know you can already tell how sensitive those big udders you have for tits are. All I have to do is milk you and it will feel so good that's all your little mind will think about. I am sure you have noticed that all dairy cows do when they are getting milked is moo. They are mooing from the pleasure of being milked and as big as you are you will be mooing for the rest of your life."
Joel brought over the milking machine and moved it around to the front of Kelly's swollen breasts. "Great news Kelly, it looks like your breasts have stopped growing. They will however keep getting bigger if you are not milked at least twice a day. The good news is you never have to worry about putting on one of those constricting bras ever again. For that matter you don't have to worry about standing up again." Kelly still could not believe what Joel had done to her. Her nice perky B cup breasts were long gone and she was balanced on top of a pair of water balloons with nipples the size of a roll of quarters. Her fat legs barely touched the floor as she was forced to lay on her breasts due to their size and weight.
"Let me grab one of your nipples here Kelly and let's see if I can reach the other one also. There we go. Now Kelly let me show you how easy it is to milk you. I just pull and squeeze one of your teats and then I do the other one." Joel had one of Kelly's teats in each hand and was using a cow milking motion to get her milk flowing. "There we go, boy you sure are loaded up with milk in there. I can feel it begging to be released. Your breasts sure do bounce around a great deal more now that they are the size of beach balls"
"Jooeeelll, Oh ….my… God.. moooo, milk….. mmooo…..meeeeee….fuckkkkk……meee pusssyyy…..my ……moooooo, moooo, moo!"
"That's a good girl Kelly, just enjoy the milking, let your mind go, your nothing but a fat dairy cow, relax."
"Oh…Myoo… God…moo, soooo….gooood, moo, only, mooo, moo."
"I think you're ready for the milking machine. We don't want all this milk to go to waste. Tonight I'll give you a few more gallons of your breast milk to fatten up that big cow ass of yours some more. You're doing so good Kelly."
Joel hooked up the tubes from the milking machine to Kelly's swollen teats and turned it on. Kelly could feel the tubes start to suck on her huge teats and the milk started to gush out. The sensation felt so good Kelly stated to bounce up and down smashing her breasts under her fat round body against the cold floor causing milk to gush out faster.
"That looks like fun Kelly, do you like being milked like a cow?"
Kelly replied "moo, moooo, moo!"
The Storefront (#Clowns? #BE , #Butt , #Personality ) by darkdonny
I have been posting a series of transformation fiction on deviantArt called "Clowntopia" which is a simple concept that beyond our world there are several alternate realities. One of these is called Clowntopia, and the doorway to this reality is located in the back of an old Joke shop. The people that find themselves there don't stay the same for very long. Someone who read this on DeviantArt suggested I post it here, so I figured I'd test the waters with the first story I ever wrote in the series. Please be adviced. It is very strange. Clown transformation is a weird thing, I know, and not everybody likes it (espeically those with a fear of clowns) but If you like it, and wish me to post the rest of the stories, I would love to. I love this place, and I hope I'll be able to contribute with this series and even more.
Clowntopia: The Storefront
Jennifer stared at the sign that hung above the door to the shop she had never seen before. Being in a popular beach town, new shops sprung up all the time, but this one looked, for lack of a better word, old. Old, as if it had been there for years, and yet, she, who had lived there all her life, had never ever seen it. The old wooden sign above the door swung in the open air read in gold letters "Chuckle's Joke Shop. "
"Joke Shop" she said to herself with curiosity in her voice. "This should be interesting."
She opened the door which instead of ringing a bell, honked a loud horn. She peered into the store, not knowing what to expect. She then walked in and saw shelves going down the length of the very long shop.
"Hello?" she said, trying to judge who was inside the store, if anyone. She looked around, not really seeing anyone as she let the door close, which let out another loud honk.
"Oh Hello there!" said a friendly male voice. Suddenly a man popped up from behind the checkout counter. He wore a friendly painted on smile, his skin was pale as snow, his cheeks were dotted with red, and his hair was a bright blue.
"Welcome to Chuckle's Joke Shop! I am Chuckles. How may I help you?" he smiled.
"Uh, I was just…looking. I saw the shop and, well, got curious." Jennifer said.
He smiled, his painted lips stretching thin. "Well, curiosity is the best thing for a girl your age. My Shop offers wonders for all ages" he said as he fiddled with three brown plastic cups on his counter. "For example" he said as he lifted up the middle cup, revealing a small red plastic ball, about the size of ping pong ball. He then put the cup back down over the ball. "See if you can follow the red ball."
He then began to slide the cups back and forth, weaving them beside each other, getting faster and faster as he did. Jennifer thought she had a good grasp on where the ball was as she watched him move them around. Suddenly he stops and looks up at you smiling. "Where did it go?"
She looks down and taps the cup on the right, confident that she had followed its path to the right location. Chuckles grinned and lifted up the cup revealing no ball. "Good guess. Try again." He suggested. She then pointed to the cup on the left, which when lifted also revealed no ball.
"Wow, I thought I had that one" she laughed.
"Watch this" he said, lifting up the center cup, revealing that the ball wasn't there either…it had vanished!
"What do you have to say to that!" Chuckles laughed.
She merely looked at him, and then opened her mouth to speak, and was shocked to find that she had something in her mouth…she put her fingers in between her full lips and pulled out the ball.
"What the…How did you do that?" she asked, astonished.
"Magic, my dear. I specialize in Magic." He chuckled as he took the ball from her, cupped it in his hand, and with a quick jerk, the ball vanished again, this time into thin air.
"I don't believe you." She said still confused by this clown's trick.
"Most don't. Only a rare few really understand that what I do is real magic, and not some silly parlor trick." He sighed. "But if you aren't convinced, I am sure I can find something to really catch your interest. Do you like Clowns…like myself?" he said.
She looked at him strange for a second. "Well, I've never really thought of it, but if you are asking if clowns bother me, then no."
"Good. I think I have something that'll really entertain you. Let me go out back and see if I can find it…"
He left and Jennifer watched as he walked out, looking his strange colorful outfit over with a look of confusion.
"How did he do that?" she mumbled to herself. "You can't just make things appear out of thin air…it isn't possible. How did the ball…what the hell is this place."
She browsed the shelves, which ranged from the usual joke gifts one can find almost anywhere, like hand buzzers, flowers that squirt water, whoopee cushions, as well as clown costume pieces like round red noses, colorful outfits, and big shoes. She grabbed one of the clown horns and honked it, it emitting a very loud sound for such a small horn. She laughed and placed it back on the shelf. As she browsed she lost track of time, and didn't realize that an hour or so had passed from when Chuckles had left to find something. When she realized this she couldn't believe she had wasted an hour.
"I can't stay here all night" she said with a sigh as she looked around. "I should let him know that I'll come back another time"
She quickly made her way to the back of the store and passed through the yellow curtain that hung between the store and the back room. She noticed that it was oddly quiet. Oddly, the back room was completely empty, devoid of anything…no boxes of extra merchandise, no sign of an office or a safe…just an empty room with a single wooden door, which was slightly ajar. She walked over to the door
"Chuckles? Are you back there? I need to get going. I'll…" she said as she slowly opened the door, but what happened next took her breath away. The door creaked open, and instead of the outside of the store or another room, all she saw was a bright wall of swirling colors, like a spinning rainbow trapped in the doorway. She couldn't believe it. It was so beautiful and so…tempting. She had to touch it. She reached her hand up to it and was shocked when her hand went right through the colors, as if they were a waterfall. She pulled her hand back quickly. She stared at the colors for a second, then put both hands into the rainbow wall, and like before, it was like passing through water…until she felt something pulling on her hands.
"What the hell?" she screamed as she tried to pull herself out, but it wasn't working. She tried her best and only found herself being pulled deeper into the wall of colors, and before she knew it, she had been totally pulled through it, and to her astonishment, she was now sliding down a large tube that shared the swirling colors of the doorway. She realized that no matter how impractical it was…she had fallen through a portal to somewhere completely different.
She screamed as the tunnel went on for what seemed like hours. She looked down at her jeans to see if the friction was tearing them , and she was relieved to see they were fine. Soon she saw a flat wall of colors coming up at the end of the tunnel, like the one back in the store, and she braced herself for the impact, which…never came. With little fanfare, she popped out on the other side of the colorful portal, and she looked around at what appeared to be the room she was in only moments ago, except there stood Chuckles.
"I was wondering when curiosity would get the better of you." He chuckled as he helped her up.
"What in the blue hell was that?" she shouted.
"Calm down, Jennifer" he said, causing her eyebrows to raise at the mention of her name, something she had never given him. "That was a portal."
"Two things. Number One!" she said, still heated "How do you know my name…and Number Two…a portal to Where?" she added as she put her hands on her slim hips.
Chuckles smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "Like I said, Magic, my dear. Your name just came to me…and this…" he said motioning to the surrounding area "…is the back room of my store, The Clowntopia Branch."
"Clown-what-ia?" Jennifer said, mouth open wide.
"Clowntopia…the world where clowns come from. Another dimension…a much more colorful one, I might add" he said proudly as he lead her into the front of his store, which was a far cry from the store she had set foot in. Instead of the dram old stained wood, this was bright blue walls, with curved wood like one might see in a Dr. Suess book. The shelves this time were filled with far stranger items, including things that were labeled as potions and elixers, and several items that claimed to be real magic.
"So I found what I was looking for. Proof that the magic I speak of really doe exist…if that little journey was not proof enough." He smiled.
She frowned and looked at him. "Fine. What is it"
The man smiled " You sure you want to know?"
She goes to speak, when she realizes that he had once again made something appear in her mouth. She pulled it out to reveal a round pink rubber…clown nose.
"There we go. If you really want to know if magic exists, please, put the nose on." He suggested.
As if to prove him wrong, she does exactly that, wearing a smug smile on her face. The nose went on with no trouble, and she grinned.
"So…is that it? Is that the magic." She said.
"Hold your horses, it takes a second" Chuckles said as he watched for something. When he saw it, his painted smile twisted into a wide grin that almost frightened Jennifer.
She stared at him, but was soon distracted by a slight tingle in her nose area. She looked down and wondered what it was.
"Well, this has been fun, but…it's time to wrap this up. " she said, not really noting the slight nasally quality that had been added to her voice. She then went to remove the nose by pulling it off, but was met with a shock when it not only refused to budge, but it actually hurt. She then gasped when she felt the sensation of her fingers on the rubber ball of the clown nose. Somehow, it had become part of her face!
"What's a matter, there, Jen-Jen? " he laughed as he watched with pride as Jennifer started to become very pale…and then a step beyond, into pure white, like Chuckles himself. She held up her hands and gasped as she watched her normal healthy pink skin become chalk white.
"Stop This Now!" She said desperately, her voice sounding even more nasally.
"Sorry, can't" Chuckles said. "The nose sets things into motion, and I can't fix them until it's done."
Jennifer groaned as she felt strange tingling sensations moving throughout her body. She then watched in horror as her shirt started to push out due to the growth of her breasts. They started to fill out and plump up, going from their average B cup, to a DD in seconds, and then even more. She felt her t-shirt rip as the two boobs started bubbling outwards. She let out a tiny scream when she realized her ass was following suit, filling out quickly from pert little bottom, to bubble butt, to a plain plump ass. Her Jeans tore like they were paper, and she felt her hips expand to accommodate her new rear end. Her thighs started to get thicker too.
"What…are you doing to…me" she said with gasps of air escaping her.
"Proving my magic is as real as it gets" he said with a laugh. "it feels pretty real, doesn't it, Jen-Jen"
All she could do was nod, as she felt her face starting to reshape. Her lips, already pretty full, started getting thicker and curled into a painted on red smile. She reached up and felt them, and let out a tiny cry of fright. She then felt the tingle itch above her eyes, and reached up to feel her eyebrows vanish, only to be replaced with drawn on curly ones.
"I'm becoming a Clown!" she screamed as she looked in a nearby mirror to see her long raven hair start to curl and and become bright fire-truck red…
"and a very sexy one, at that!" Chuckles said, sounding very proud and amused with himself.
She watched the mirror as her feet started to stretch out, breaking free of the flip flops she was wearing and then growing to become very large. She then felt her toes tingle as they get a little thicker and wider, adding to their comical look.
"No! You have to change me back!" she said, begging as she watched her hands start to balloon up, getting thicker, and then the middle and ring fingers on each hand began to merge into one finger, leaving her with cartoon-like hands.
"Ah! My…this…Impossible" she gasped
"Still doubting?" he said as he walked over to her "I thought you might" he said as he grabbed her pink nose and gave it a squeeze, letting out a cartoonish honk, and then…suddenly things started to feel very fuzzy for her.
"Wha…did you do?" she mumbled as the room started spinning around her. "I wan…go…home."
"Home?" he asked.
"Home." She repeated.
"But…I thought this was your home, Jen-Jen."
"Home" she repeated, sounding very dazed, her voice going up in pitch, sounding almost childish.
"Yes, my dear, home. " he said, and the room stopped spinning. She looked around, and down at her partially naked body, and…giggled.
"Of course I'm home, Mr. Chuckles!" she laughed.
Chuckles grinned ear to ear as he let out a trademark chuckle. "Well, Jen-Jen, what can I do for you today?"
"I came for some new clothes…Got anything silly in?" Jennifer, now Jen-Jen the Clown, asked of her favorite shop keeper.
"Well, of course I do. Who do you think I am" he laughed as he led her over to a rack of clothing. After a few moments of digging, she found an adorable dress that fit her curvy body perfectly, as well as a pair of high heeled clown shoes that were, in her opinion, "abso-toot-a-loutly adorable!"
She wiggled her herself over to the counter and pulled out her pocket-book from the real world, which Chuckles grabbed quickly.
"Oh, Jen-Jen, still carrying that ugly thing. Here" he said as he handed her a pink one that had all of her identification for Clowntopia and clown money and everything inside. "It's on the house, just like your new outfit."
"Oh, Chuckles, you spoil me so!" she giggled, with a flick of her red curls. "Anything new come in that's worth checking out."
Chuckles smiled and pointed to a display in front of the cash register. A cardboard stand filled with packs of gum that all read "BuckTooth" on the label, and the picture was of a clown girl with overgrown front teeth, which made Jen-Jen giggle. "Oh, I'll take a pack of that too."
Chuckles handed her a pack, and watched her take a piece and begin to chew, and in seconds, the resulte was clear, as Jen-Jen smiled wide for him. He giggled at his new creation, standing there with curves from heaven, long red ringlettes, and an adorable pair of Buck Teeth.
"Oh, before you go, Jen-Jen, I wanted to ask you a question" he said.
"Of Cour-th-se you can" she lisped.
"Do you belive in Real Magic?"
"Why, Ye-th, I do. I mean, who doesn'th" she giggled.
"Come back anytime, Jen-Jen" he laughed as she opened the door.
"S-th-ee you S-th-oon" she laughed as she walked out, her hips wobbling back and forth as she stepped onto the streets of Clowntopia, not even noticing that it wasn't the world she grew up in or knew, but rather her new home.
Chuckles started out the window of his storefront, and giggled as she joined the crowds of clowns large and small walking down the street. She was truly at home now.
"Another Satisfied Customer" he chuckled .
Sow Sensitive - by Aouzy
#WeightGain #Transformation #PigGirls #PigGirl #FemalePigTransformation #FemaleTransformationStory
After a nice long week of work, Alice was preparing herself for an evening alone. Her curtains covered the windows, making sure no outsiders could see through. With her living room dark, she turned on a dim light. The geeky brunette girl then pushed a recliner to the middle of the room. Finally, she turned the heat way up, as she loved to sweat.
With everything now set for her night, she looked to her clock only to realize she had a half hour to spare. She slouched down in her recliner, thinking of what to do to kill time. Then Alice remembered that she had a bunch of books in her basement. Alice hopped off the recliner, eager to find something to read down there. She pulled a cord, lighting the stairs down to her basement.
She came across a box that was given to her by her ex boyfriend. Rummaging through the box, she picked out a fantasy novel, some erotica, a few mystery novels and an old magazine. None of them seemed to interest her. Disappointed, she started to put them back, but something caught her eye. She pulled out what looked to be like a pig statuette.
It was a fat pig sitting cross legged, smirking. Alice studied it some more. Though she didn't know much about it, she rubbed its snout as a joke and made a wish. Her wish was to have an amazing night with herself. After she made her wish, the statuette crumbled in her very hands. Closing her hand, Alice's body felt cold even though she knew the heat was on.
She was especially cold near her butt, as if something was stuck to it. Shrugging it off, she stepped back upstairs and slouched on her recliner again. She did feel something push on her butt again, but she ignored it, thinking it was just her shirt. Alice took it off, seeing as she was now feeling the heat. Alice turned on the T.V to begin the night, with just 5 minutes to spare. She took off her bra and chuckled, looking at her breasts. Squishing them while at the same time rubbing her nipples.
As she was having fun “pushing her buttons”, the chilling feeling came back. This time it was on the sides of her head. It soon warmed up and tickled her a bit. Alice couldn't help but spread her legs and push harder. Though she was soon startled, as the T.V blared. Groaning, she reached for the remote to turn it down. It was already low enough so she wondered why it became so loud.
Now the volume was too low for her to hear. Knowing the right number to keep the volume at, she tried to press the button. Her thumb would not move. Alice then lost grip of the remote and it fell to the ground, the back case of it exploding open and the batteries flying out. Her hand then forced itself into a fist, so did the other. They then turned black, as if they were rotting. Her index knuckles and ring knuckles poked up.
“What the hell is happening to me? Are these hooves?” A disgruntled Alice muttered to herself.
She got up out of her seat and glanced at her living room mirror. Seeing her reflection, Alice gasped and covered her mouth with her hooves. Turning to her side, she saw a thin curly tail, dangling from above her buttcrack. She didn't even notice the thin pointy ears at the top of her head.
“Oh my god, I feel like a pig!” She whined.
Her stomach grumbled a little, then it twisted. Alice bent over and clutched her stomach. Her hooves were moving outward with her belly. It expanded and bulged. A few rolls formed from it, her breasts also inflating at the same time. Then, her biceps got thicker and her wrist was swelling too.
She was feeling her neck. It almost choked her by how thick it was becoming. Her bulging cheeks also came under her curious touch. Squishing each one like they were one of her breasts. She breathed hard, overwhelmed by all the weight she was putting on, she plopped back down onto her recliner. Her pants got tighter, as her butt swelled outward.
With her body swelling and bulging, her jeans and panties ripped from her growing thighs. The warm air in the room combined with the musky smell of her vagina and turned her on. Alice was compelled to rub her nipples with one hoof, and her vagina with the other. She got up off her recliner and crouched, her curly tail quivering as it touched the cold floor. Grunting and snorting a bit, her nostrils began to widen and the tip of her skinny nose lifted upwards.
Alice then pushed her right hoof into her vagina, sloshing it around and rubbing her clitoris. Her jaws extended forward, her tongue hanging out from the side. She pushed her hoof in and out faster, bringing her closer to climax. Not being able to crouch no more, she dropped to her knees, dripping saliva out of her mouth onto the floor. Alice was having the greatest schlick of her life..She fondled her breasts just as her nose rounded and extended outward, her glasses hung off her snout, thus finishing her porcine appearance. This only made her go harder, orgasming at the tension.
As she did, she squealed so loud it could be heard throughout the house. She then squealed some more, rolling around in her messy ejaculation. Her human mind had left and a pig's mind took over her. The sow lay on her side, her tongue still hanging out.. Heavy breaths and snorts were the only sounds Alice was making. Staggering to her trotters, she hopped back onto her recliner, curling into a ball to sleep.
Farmhouse Rules by #crazypicklehead2002
#WeightGain #Transformation #PigGirls #PigGirl #FemalePigTransformation #FemaleTransformationStory
“No, Johnathan. The Merritt account is mine,” Cali barked into her cell phone as she sped down the winding Texas backroad.
“Becau- because- Johnathan, you aren’t listening. That account rightfully belongs to me.”
The rain beat down on Cali’s Mercedes as she fishtailed around another curve in the faint moonlight.
“Because I did all the work, and I deserve the commission, that’s why!”
She was losing her temper as the storm refused to yield. The coupe zipped through the night air at a much faster pace than it should be travelling in such a downpour.
“Whatever, we’ll talk about it when I get back to the States.”
Cali angrily hung up on Johnathan as the phone slipped out of her hands and tumbled into the floorboard.
As she fumbled for the phone at her feet, Cali took her eyes off the road for a mere second, but let out a shriek when she refocused her gaze and realized all she could see ahead of her were trees. As she jerked the wheel hard to the left, the Mercedes’ anti-skid technology did all it could, but it was too little, too late, and the car careened down the steep slope into the dense, dark forest below. Cali screamed bloody murder before the impact with the pine tree silenced her.
Then everything went black.
Cali opened her eyes to find her vision bombarded with cracked, peeling baby-blue paint, and she realized she was no longer in her car. She was covered in a thick patchwork quilt that looked like something her grandmother would have made, and the soft but lumpy mattress beneath her indicated that she was lying on someone’s bed.
Confused, Cali sat up and winced in pain as she bent her hip, and pulling back the covers, she discovered that her left leg had been hastily bandaged and was supported by a wooden splint. Her head ached, and Cali was surprised to find that her head was also wrapped in gauze, and felt damp. Her fingers were stained red after touching the bandage, and she knew she must be bleeding.
She looked around the room. It looked to be an old, but fairly well-maintained home. More of a cabin, Cali thought. The room was probably a guest room. It was the definition of minimalist, and only contained the bed Cali was currently occupying, an antique dresser with a mirror, a sturdy looking chair that looked to be home-made, and a desk that contained what appeared to be several surgical instruments and a needle and thread.
Someone had patched Cali up, but her brain still hadn’t processed what had actually taken place. That’s when she remembered the crash. Or parts of it, at least. She groaned as she realized that she had surely missed her flight, as the sunlight streaming through the lacey curtains indicated that it was now the following morning.
Cali had been on her way to the airport for a year-long vacation in order to “find herself.” After six years with her advertising firm, she had finally saved up enough days and cash to take a gap year, and due to increasing tension amongst the firm’s staff, that’s exactly what Cali planned to do. This was going to be her own personal ‘Eat, Pray, Love’, as Cali had put it. Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, as they say, and now here was Cali, lying in someone else’s bed instead of backpacking across Europe as planned. Cali was growing increasingly uneasy and was about to call out, when suddenly, a woman appeared in the doorway.
The woman looked to be in her late forties and had a pretty face which was framed by her dark raven hair which she wore in a loose ponytail tied behind her head. She was rotund, to say the least, and Cali wagered she must weigh at least 400 pounds. Her belly was concealed by the long bathrobe she was wearing, but Cali could see the form of it even through the thick fabric. It jutted out from her midsection like a massive water balloon and jiggled as she shuffled sideways through the door. As impressive as her belly was, the woman’s breasts completely dwarfed it. They were the largest boobs Cali had ever seen in her life. There was no cup size in existence that could contain the massive watermelons the woman carried on her chest. Their sheer weight pulled them down to either side of the woman’s belly, although they still appeared full and plump, even beneath the terrycloth garment. She sported a triple chin that engulfed her neck entirely, and her shoulders rose and fell each time she took a breath. Apparently making her way into the room had made her out of breath.
“She lives!” The woman said softly as she lowered herself into the chair next to the desk. The chair groaned and creaked in agony, but surprisingly held firm.
“I hope you’ll forgive me if I sit,” the woman continued. “It’s hard to carry these puppies around for more than a couple of minutes.” She gestured to her gargantuan rack with her pudgy fingers, still breathing heavily.
“My name is Beatrice, and I live here with my husband Bill. You can call me Bea if you’d like. You were in a mighty dangerous crash. Put you out like a light for over two weeks.”
TWO WEEKS? Cali’s uneasiness immediately returned.
“Clem, our farmhand, found you while he was out hunting that night. He heard the crash in the distance and went to investigate. You were busted up pretty bad, so he brought you back and I patched you up as best I could. I don’t have much experience with treating injuries, but it looks like you’re free of infection and healing up nice.” The woman smiled.
“Sure, tell that to my bleeding skull,” Cali thought to herself.
Cali tried to speak, but found her throat to be parched and dry. Bea motioned to a glass on the nightstand next to the bed which Cali hadn’t noticed before. Cali quickly grabbed it and took a long sip, before nearly spitting the creamy liquid onto the floor.
“It’s milk?!” Cali cried.
“Yep, our water well is small, so we drink a lot of milk around here. In fact, it’s one of the ways we nursed you back to health.” Bea explained.
The milk didn’t taste like any milk Cali had tried before. She had never been much of a milk drinker, and didn’t much care for the taste. But this was different. It was good. Really good. Cali immediately took another giant swig, then another and another until she emptied the large glass.
“Thatta girl. It’ll make you strong.” Bea smiled again.
“Thanks for saving my life,” Cali started, “but do you have my cell phone? I need to call someone to pick me up.”
“Well, the thing is, your cell phone was crushed like a soda can in the crash. There is nothing left of it but bits of broken plastic.” Bea said as her smile faded.
“Well, can I use your phone?” Cali asked.
“Sorry, don’t have one. Never had much use for phones way out here.” Bea said.
“So, I have no way to contact anyone? I’m assuming you don’t have internet?” Cali knew the answer as Bea shook her head.
“No TV, either.” The massive woman added.
“Well, can you at least drive me to the nearest gas station so I can use a payphone?” Cali pleaded.
“Let me guess, no car?” Cali was beginning to panic.
“Not since it broke down.” Bea replied. “Again, just didn’t have much need for it, so we stopped having Clem repair it.”
“Just point me in the right direction and I’ll walk back to the road.” Cali said, growing more and more nervous.
“Not in your current condition.” Bea said with a stern look on her face. “It ain’t an easy hike back to the road, and you’d be liable to fall and hurt yourself further. Plus, there’s a grizzly that’s been prowling the woods outside the farm. You don’t want to be limping around while he’s on your trail.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Cali said, trying to hold back tears.
“Just be our guest for a while until you recover. Bill and I don’t get many visitors out here, so it’ll be nice to have someone new to talk to, other than Clem, of course.”
Cali’s face suddenly went pale as she realized that everyone she knew thought she was in Europe right now, and therefore wouldn’t be worried about her sudden disappearance. She felt sick to her stomach knowing no one was going to be looking for her, but she really didn’t have a choice. After all, Bea seemed nice enough, and judging by her size, at least someone here could obviously cook. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
“There are a few rules we follow around here.” Bea said, suddenly breaking Cali’s thoughts.
1. “Do not enter the barn. EVER. There are dangerous tools in there and we don’t want you getting hurt.”
2. “Stay out of Clem’s house. We granted him the guest house when he started working for us, and we think he’s earned his privacy.”
3. “Always finish your milk. It’ll make you strong and prevent any more broken bones.”
“That’s about it.” Bea said. “We are really very nice people as long as you follow the three rules.”
Cali was perplexed, but could only nod her head to indicate that she understood.
“Great! Let’s go meet Bill and Clem.” Bea then heaved herself out of the apparently indestructible wooden chair and waddled through the door before returning with a wooden crutch which also looked homemade.
Bea handed the crutch to Cali, which Cali took and began the task of getting out of bed. After some effort, Cali was able to swing her legs out from beneath the heavy quilt and place her feet on the floor. She pushed herself up on the crutch and was able to follow her porcine host into the living room. Having been bedridden for two weeks, Cali was weak and unsteady on her feet, but Bea never made any effort to assist her in any way.
Cali was led into the kitchen where Bill and Clem were having breakfast. Bill was a stocky man in his early fifties who didn’t look at all like what Cali imagined a farmer to look like. His head was nearly devoid of hair, aside from a horseshoe shaped patch of gray that ran around the back of his head from ear to ear. He had a gray goatee and slightly darker stubble on his cheeks that ran down his neck and up to his sideburns. He was wearing reading glasses, and was staring at a book that Cali knew had to be older than she was. With one hand, he methodically ate his eggs as he read, never looking up from the pages of the book as he brought the fork from the plate to his mouth.
Clem, on the other hand, was stunning in Cali’s eyes. He looked to be in his early twenties, with angular features and dark brown hair which was groomed neatly. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow that made him look somehow rugged and sensitive at the same time. He wore a dark polo shirt and ragged-looking workpants that covered the tops of his dirty work boots. Cali was going to have a hard time not breaking rule number two, since she instantly wanted a peek inside his living quarters. Cali thought she saw a twinkle in Clem’s green eyes as he introduced himself to her, but it could have been her imagination.
“Please, grab a plate and join us.” Bill said after everyone had been introduced. “God knows there’s plenty. Clem makes quite a spread.”
Cali was surprised to learn that this perfect specimen could also cook. It made her want him even more.
Bea was already on her second plate before Cali sat down to enjoy her first one. Of course, the meal was served with the delicious creamy milk that Cali had been treated to earlier. She knew she’d be breaking a rule if she refused it, but honestly, it was so delicious that she had no desire to, anyway.
After a week as a prisoner in her new host’s home, Cali was beginning to wonder why she had been so apprehensive about staying in the first place. There was no drama here. No co-workers endlessly stabbing each other in the back to move up in the ranks. No bosses to impress, no deadlines to meet. Just pure, simple relaxation. Having moved directly into her current position at the marketing firm right out of college, Cali realized that she had never in her life really had a chance to sit back and enjoy herself without having to worry about any responsibilities. It was wonderful.
As such, Cali had really become engrossed in Clem’s incredible cooking skills. Cali had always lived in the city, so she never had much opportunity to eat meals prepared with fresh, home-grown ingredients. She was unashamed of her gluttony when it came to mealtime, as she was never indulging any more than her gracious hosts, especially Bea, who Cali was pretty sure could out-eat a linebacker; maybe even the whole defensive line.
The small farm was totally self-sufficient and off the grid, from the single windmill that provided just enough power to run the lights during the day, to the garden that provided fresh vegetables, to the chickens that produced the eggs and the pigs that provided succulent pork, to the cow that provided the delicious milk that Bea was always so adamant that Cali continue to guzzle with every meal. Cali had never actually seen the cow, but if she ever did, she would thank it for a job well done. Cali was in heaven.
It was that morning that Cali really started noticing changes in her body. Before the crash, she had been a tall, leggy blonde girl in her late twenties with toned abs and an impressively perky rack. Now, however, Cali had lost sight of her abs as she examined herself in the mirror, and a thin layer of soft adipose had taken their place. As she ran her hands over her slightly thickened midsection, her arm brushed against her left breast and sent a shiver of ecstasy through Cali’s body. Her tits were so sensitive that even the slightest stimulation could put her on the verge of climax. They had also nearly doubled in size, and where she had started with small ‘B’ cups before the accident, she now had to be closer to ‘D’ territory, although she had no way to know for sure.
Since Cali’s gray business suit she had been wearing during the crash had been partially shredded when Clem pulled her out of the car, Bea had provided Cali with some of her old clothes from her skinnier days. Cali actually had a couple of suitcases full of clothes in the trunk of her car, but she was in no position to ask her ‘captors’ to retrieve them, so she accepted Bea’s wardrobe offerings. Cali was amazed to find that the clothes fit her fairly well, and she wondered how long it had taken Bea to grow from Cali’s size to her current gargantuan proportions.
That night at dinner, Clem had prepared a braised pork loin in a creamy red wine reduction (yes, the wine was made at the farmhouse by Bill using their own small batch of grapes), which he served with fluffy mashed potatoes doused in butter, alongside a decadent spinach casserole that contained more cheese than spinach. Cali practically inhaled her first plate and asked for seconds, which Clem was happy to oblige. As her fork scraped the bottom of the plate indicating that her second helping was drawing to a close, Clem emerged from the kitchen holding two round, covered metal trays. As he set them down in the middle of the table, both Cali and Bea’s moths began to water as they imagined what succulent desserts lay beneath the lids.
Clem leaned over the table, stabilizing himself against Cali's shoulder, as he removed the chrome lids and revealed his twin masterpieces. One pumpkin pie and one apple pie that was stuffed with more apples than seemed possible for a single dish. The crust on top must have been a foot tall from base to tip. The pumpkin pie was no slouch, either, as it was roughly twice the thickness of any pumpkin pie Cali had ever seen, and was covered in a huge mound of homemade whipped cream.
Cali knew that Clem didn’t need any support as he hunched over to cut slices for everyone, and yet, he continued leaning into her with his hand on her shoulder as he performed his knife work on the sweet disks of decadent goodness.
Bea was of course served first, followed by Cali. Each of them received a slice of each pie, with each piece being approximately a quarter of an entire pie in itself. Cali wasn’t sure she could finish what equated to half of an entire regular pie, much less pies of this caliber, but she was going to give it her best shot.
She started with the pumpkin pie, since it was her favorite dessert of all time. As soon as the flaky crust hit her lips, Cali knew this wasn’t going to be the standard frozen pie she was used to. It was creamier than any pumpkin pie she had ever tasted, and was seasoned perfectly with all the spices Cali used to get in her lattes during Thanksgiving back home. The whipped cream was certainly not what she was used to, either. It didn’t taste like it came out of a spray can, and had a much different consistency than Cali was used to. It coated her mouth in a thin layer of grease each time she took a bite.
After little more than a minute had passed, the pumpkin pie had been reduced to crumbs on the plate, which Cali quickly pressed her thumb onto and made disappear into her ravenous gullet before moving on to the mountain of apple pie.
Cali thought she was doing ok, until Clem snuck up behind her and plopped a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream on her plate. With two thirds of the apple pie still left on the plate, Cali was already losing steam. The ice cream added a new wild card to the mix, and Cali thought perhaps she wouldn’t be able to finish, when she looked over and saw that not only had her hostess already finished both of her slices, but she was now beginning to doze off in her chair, her head drooping forward slowly as she began to snore quietly.
The sight gave Cali a renewed sense of vigor, and she pressed on. She alternated between bites of pie and ice cream, with the cold confection acting as lubricant between mouthfuls of the tart, warm pastry. Just as she was beginning to regret pushing herself to this point, Cali raised the last bite of cinnamon-laced crust to her lips and shoved it in. She was barely able to swallow, but she finally managed to get the last of her dessert down and leaned back in her chair triumphantly. Cali’s belly was visibly swollen, and was on the verge of peeking out from beneath the now tight blouse she had received from Bea. As she was ready to join her rotund neighbor in blissful slumber, she was shaken awake by a now fully concious Bea.
“Drink up.” Was all she said as she pointed towards the gigantic glass of milk that now sat before Cali.
“Oh, Jesus. I can’t. I’m afraid I’ll burst.” Cali said, looking a little pale.
“Remember the rules,” Bea reiterated. “You must drink your milk in order to grow up big and strong.”
Not wanting to break one of the rules, Cali meekly reached for the large cup of viscous white liquid. The milk was as thick as heavy cream, and there had to be at least a liter of it in the glass. Too full to argue, Cali took a long swig and felt the cool, dense fluid run down her throat and eventually settle in her already engorged stomach. It literally hurt as she took another gulp, but the milk was so delicious, and she was determined to not disappoint her gracious hosts, so she soldiered on. Plus, she didn’t know what her punishment would be if she broke a rule, so she was reluctant to do so.
After ten minutes, Cali sat down her empty glass and once again collapsed back into her chair, where she immediately napped for the next half hour.
After coming out of her food coma, Cali looked around to see that the table had been cleared, and everyone had retired to their rooms for the night. As she heaved herself out of her chair, Cali noticed that her tummy ache had subsided, and she was amazingly hungry once again. She opened the fridge and saw a tray with leftovers on it, and next to the tray sat another glass of milk with Cali’s name on it. Under her name it said simply ‘midnight snack’. Shrugging her shoulders, Cali grabbed the glass and chugged half of the contents before picking up the tray of leftovers and setting it on the counter. She grabbed the bread and slapped a healthy dollop of mayonnaise on two slices before plopping down a cold hunk of braised pork loin between them, along with a thick slice of homemade cheese. She polished off the sandwich in record time and guzzled the rest of the milk before heading to bed with a smile on her face.
A month later, Cali couldn’t believe what was happening. She must have gained sixty pounds in thirty days. Was that even humanly possible? She gazed at herself in the mirror and couldn’t believe what she saw. Her belly had exploded and now hung over the waistband of her tight jeans. It was soft and malleable, and Cali found herself kneading it gently after large meals, which were becoming more and more frequent as time marched on.
But what really surprised Cali the most were her boobs. They had increased threefold in the past month and were now like inflated zeppelins on her chest that obscured Cali from seeing anything below them, including her toes. They had begun to sag slightly from their sheer weight, but remained as full and plump as ever. They had also become so sensitive that Cali had a hard time moving around the farmhouse without sending herself into an unexpected orgasm at increasingly awkward moments. To combat this, Cali regularly pleasured herself in the morning to try and relieve some of the built-up horniness. She didn’t know if it was actually working or not, but it was fun enough that she didn’t really care one way or the other.
Bea, meanwhile, was eating less and less at meals, and was shrinking before Cali’s eyes. Whatever weight Cali had gained since she’d been here, Bea must have lost and then some. She looked to be in the mid 300’s now, and was getting smaller by the day.
None of this stopped Cali from her constant indulgence, as she had deluded herself into thinking that once she was able to return home, she would rejoin the gym and regain her trim figure in no time. Of course, Cali wasn’t stupid, and she knew this was only an excuse since she knew she couldn’t stop at this point even if she wanted to. The food was just too delicious, and it was making her far too horny to even think about changing her current lifestyle. Her leg had healed enough to restore her mobility weeks ago, but she no longer had thoughts of trying to escape. She was going to stay here and grow until Bea and Bill kicked her out.
Everything changed one night after everyone had gone to bed. Cali was feeling frisky as usual, only this time, the urge was overwhelming to her and no amount of personal stimulation was going to cut it. As quietly as possible, she eased open the window to her room and slid herself out into the cool night air. The feeling of her titanic chest dragging against the windowsill as she made her escape caught Cali off guard, and she almost let out a moan of pleasure before she bit her lip to stifle it. Wearing only the thin chemise that Bea had provided, Cali trudged barefoot down the dirt path to Clem’s guest house, her swollen body silhouetted in the bright moonlight.
While she and Clem had never actually been intimate, it had become clear that they had a mutual attraction to each other, and tonight, Cali was finally horny enough to act on it.
As she crept up to the house, she noticed a window cracked, and she reasoned that this had to be Clem’s bedroom. He was probably letting the night air blow through his room to make up for the lack of A/C. She tapped quietly on the glass and waited for Clem to emerge, but he never did. She tapped again, harder this time. Still no response. She tried peering into the bedroom, but could see only darkness.
“Maybe he’s not home?” Cali asked herself silently.
After pondering her options for a moment, Cali’s hormones got the best of her and she decided to sneak inside. She quietly slid open the window, and winced as it made an awful grinding noise. Slowly but surely, Cali eventually worked the window open enough that she could slip her ample bust through, and proceeded to scramble inside.
The room was dark, but as her eyes adjusted, the glow of the moon revealed that Cali had, in fact, been correct in her assumption that this was Clem’s bedroom. The walls were covered in movie posters and concert memorabilia, and Cali assumed at first that Clem had collected the mementos before beginning his tenure at the farmhouse. Then she noticed some newer items that hadn’t been released until quite recently, and it confused Cali further. Nevertheless, she was determined to find her prey and have her way with him. She’d come too far to give up now, so she proceeded through the door and into the hallway.
To the right led to the living room and kitchen, and to the left led to two other doors, probably a bathroom and a guest bedroom. Cali turned to the right and headed into the living room area. Clearly a bachelor pad, there wasn’t much in the way of decoration. A ragged matching couch and loveseat, a coffee table made out of milk crates, and a leather easy chair that looked well-worn. Cali was also shocked to see a flat screen TV on the opposite wall with a DVD player and satellite box attached to it. Had Cali been lied to about this place being ‘off the grid’?
Even more confused and increasingly uncomfortable, Cali continued her search. The kitchen turned up nothing of value, since apparently Clem did most of his cooking in the main farmhouse, although Cali did find a bag of homemade pork jerky that she greedily helped herself to as she made her way back to the hallway.
The first door after the master bedroom was a bathroom, which once again didn’t really aide in Cali’s search, but the next room shocked her. This was apparently Clem’s leisure room, which included a laptop and what appeared to be a high speed modem of some kind. On the desk sat a cordless phone, which Cali quickly reached for. She was filled with rage and fear as she hit the power button and heard a dial tone droning through the speaker. Just as Cali was about to call for help, someone behind her snatched the phone from her hands. She turned to see Bea standing there in the darkness, holding the outdated phone in her pudgy hands.
“How the hell did you sneak up on-“ Cali’s voice trailed off as Bea placed a rag over her mouth and everything went black.
Cali awoke with a start. She was sitting in an unfamiliar room, and had apparently been strapped to the chair she was sitting in. Her arms and legs were secured with leather bands, and her forehead was also restrained. There was a mask strapped to Cali’s mouth with a tube running out of it. The tube snaked around behind Cali and she couldn’t see what it was attached to.
Suddenly, Bea appeared at the edge of Cali’s line of vision.
“See this?” She said as she held up two gallon-sized buckets, of which Cali couldn’t see the contents. “This is what you get if you break one of the rules.”
As Bea moved the buckets, a white, viscous liquid sloshed out and a few drops landed on the floor at Cali’s feet. Still terrified and unsure of what was about to happen, Cali could only sit in silence as her mouth was filled with the tube which clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
Bea moved out of Cali’s line of sight, and Cali could hear the sound of liquid being poured. Then she saw the white substance from the bucket oozing down the tube towards her mouth. As the creamy fluid entered her throat, Cali immediately began to choke, and Bea continued:
“You have two choices. Try and resist, and you’ll simply continue to choke and eventually drown, or accept your punishment and drink up like the little piggy rule-breaker that you are.” Bea said with an evil smirk on her still chubby face.
Cali’s eyes widened as she realized the dire situation she was currently in. There was no way she could drink two full gallons of milk, no matter how sweet and delicious it may be, but she would have to try.
Cali began sucking at the tube, causing the calorie-laden drink to fill her stomach at an even faster rate. Cali reasoned that if she drank fast enough, perhaps her body wouldn’t have time to realize that it was full and it would allow her to finish more of the milk before hitting the breaking point.
In theory, Cali’s plan worked, as ten minutes later she was sucking on an empty hose. She had drained every last drop of her punishment and was now more stuffed than she had ever been. If she could move her head enough to look down, Cali would have seen that her belly jutted out in front of her and formed a tight, round ball that sat in her lap and extended out past even her massive chest.
As Cali’s eyes scanned the small section of the room she could actually see, she noticed that Bea was nowhere to be found. With nothing left to do, Cali drifted off into a deep but uneasy sleep.
Cali awoke the next morning with a massive belly ache. She was in her regular bed in her room at the farmhouse, and nothing appeared to be different.
“Was it all a dream?” Cali wondered as her stomach began to rumble.
She realized that her bellyache must be hunger-related, so she cautiously exited her room and sauntered into the kitchen where Bea, Bill, and Clem sat eating breakfast.
“Good morning!” Bea said cheerily as Cali entered the room.
Cali sat down skeptically next to Bea as Clem placed the usual breakfast platter in front of her. The meal consisted of five eggs, a full pound of bacon, six slices of pork breakfast sausage, a pile of buttery hash browns, a massive biscuit the size of a landmine, and a stack of five pancakes that were bigger than Cali’s head. Not a word was spoken about the previous night as Cali began digging into her feast. Everything was perfectly prepared as usual, and Cali gorged herself until the plates were empty.
Naturally, there was a tall glass of cold milk to accompany her meal, and Cali quickly drained its contents within a few seconds. Clem could apparently sense that Cali was still hungry, and out of nowhere he produced an identical meal to the first one and set it down in front to a wide-eyed Cali. She had never eaten this much in her life, but for some reason that morning was different. It was as if her stomach had expanded overnight and was demanding more food to fill the added space. Cali was happy to oblige as she tore into her second feast of the day. She requested two additional refills on her milk to counter the saltiness of the meal, and by the end, Cali was truly content.
She sauntered off back to her room and quickly fell asleep until she was awoken for lunch.
After that day, Cali was an absolutely unstoppable eating machine. Something had broken in her that morning and she found herself absolutely ravenous nearly 24/7.
Another two months passed and Cali was legitimately afraid that something was wrong with her. She estimated that she had gained another hundred pounds in the past two months, and if she did her math correctly, would put her somewhere in the neighborhood of 280. She was truly becoming a butterball, and was helpless to stop it. Clem continued making delicious smorgasbords for her at every meal, which she would always graciously accept.
The sexual tension between them was always palpable, but after her terrifying dream of sneaking into his house a couple of months ago, she was afraid to make another move.
And so things continued as they had been. Bea continued to lose weight, and Cali was mortified when one day she realized that she had eclipsed her, and now Cali weighed more than her formerly rotund hostess. Luckily, there were always enough clothes in varying sizes for each of them to share as their bodies continued to change.
Cali’s breasts continued to grow at a faster rate than the rest of her body, and now the twins were beginning to sag to either side of Cali’s bulging belly. They were as tender as ever, and as a result, Cali was in a near constant state of arousal.
One night just before bed, Cali noticed that there was a small wet spot on the front of her nightie, and after further investigation, she realized that it had come from her left breast. As she pulled the silk garment over her head, Cali noticed that there was a droplet of milk rolling down the swollen mound of tit flesh, which dripped onto the floor. Cali was lactating!
Not knowing what to do, Cali grabbed a towel as the milk began dripping more quickly. Panicking and realizing the towel wasn’t enough to contain the increasingly steady flow, Cali did the next logical thing – she popped her nipple into her mouth and began sucking. The intense feeling of having her lips on her breasts was enough to make Cali instantly orgasm more intensely than she ever had in her life. Her body tingled with pleasure and she moaned as she continued gulping down mouthful after mouthful of her own delicious fluid. Strangely, the milk tasted oddly familiar to Cali, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on the flavor.
As she felt her arousal finally beginning to wane, she moved on to the other breast, immediately giving her the exact same sensation. She sucked down as much of the creamy treat as she possibly could before passing out and sleeping through the night.
Things continued like this until one morning when Cali woke up to an empty house.
The night before, Bea and Bill had been celebrating something, although they were never specific as to what exactly. They had uncharacteristically gotten quite drunk on their homemade wine, and Bea, being such a lightweight now, had even passed out a couple of times during dinner.
Bea had slimmed down so much that she looked to be slightly thinner than Cali had been when she first arrived at the farmhouse. Somehow, she had been able to tone all of the previously obese parts of her body and didn’t have the flaps of hanging skin that most fat people get when they lose large amounts of weight. Her belly was flat and toned, and her arms and thighs were tight and firm. Her face, while thinner and more angular, was still strikingly beautiful for a woman of her age, and the years of obesity caused it to have very few wrinkles, and instead left in its place a smooth, youthful glow.
Bea was wearing what Cali realized were Cali’s own clothes from her suitcase. Cali should probably have been upset about this, but realized she would probably never fit back into them, anyway, and let it go. Too many strange things had happened during her time here to continue questioning every little occurrence that puzzled her.
Whereas most mornings Cali was coaxed out of bed by the savory smells of breakfast cooking and dinnerware clanking together, today was different. As she slowly opened her eyes, she heard only silence and smelled nothing but the sweet fragrance of the vase of flowers on the desk that hadn’t been there when she went to sleep the night before. Wedged underneath the vase was a sealed envelope with Cali’s name written in cursive on the front.
Again puzzled, Cali heaved her massive body out of bed and waddled over to the desk to retrieve the note. Cali knew she was much bigger now than Bea had been when she’d first met her. Her excessive eating, as well as the mass consumption of milk had caused her to balloon to her current weight which she estimated to be nearly 500 pounds. She could barely shimmy through the doors of the farmhouse anymore, and had to do so sideways to keep from getting stuck. Of course, her breasts continued their meteoric rise to fame, and were now easily in competition for the biggest natural boobs in the world. Cali now had to milk herself every night, both to keep her raging hormones at bay, as well as to keep from constantly leaking through her clothes. The easiest way to do this discreetly was of course to continue suckling her own teats, lapping up every last ounce of the creamy goodness that her body was able to produce.
As Cali was getting ready to rip open the envelope, a figure appeared in her doorway. It was Clem, and he had a stern, but inviting smile on his face. Without a word, he walked over to Cali and locked lips with her. Unsure what to do, she submitted and let his tongue dance with hers inside their mouths for what seemed like ages.
After that, Clem reached down and began unbuckling his belt, then unzipped his work pants and let them fall to the floor. Cali struggled to pull her nightie over her head, so Clem assisted, and they both fell into bed and finally did the one thing Cali had been striving for for so many months.
A bit later, Cali was starving as usual, so she went to the kitchen while Clem snoozed in her bed. After grabbing the half of a roast that was leftover from the night before, as well as a fork, Cali plopped down on the reinforced dining room chair to eat her snack and read the note that had been left for her.
She tore it open and began reading:
If you’re reading this, it means we’re already gone. I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye, but I’ll try to explain as best I can. This story was told to me through a note similar to this one, as I imagine it has been done for the past 200 years or so.
This farmhouse has been around for decades. Sometime in the 1800’s, the current owners were eating dinner when an old woman knocked on their door and began begging them for some food. They were poor, and didn’t have much more than their milk cow and a few small crops, so they refused. The old woman placed a curse on the wife, causing her body to swell and become constantly engorged with milk, while their prized cow shriveled into nothing and died. The curse also caused their few measly crops to wither away, leaving the family with no other form of sustenance other than the woman’s ever-bountiful milk supply. But still, they held out, fearful that consuming the milk would curse the rest of the family, as well. It wasn’t until the youngest child became ill from malnourishment that the mother relented and brought him back to health using her precious life fluid. The child recovered and was stronger than he’d ever been, with no discernable negative effects, so the rest of the family finally gave in and accepted the nourishment. As the woman continued to grow, the husband began to search the nearby towns and villages for the old woman who had cursed his family so he could bring her to justice. Finally, after months of searching, he found her and was able to find out the one way to lift the curse. They had to find someone to transfer the curse to. It had to be another woman, and they had to get her to drink enough of the mother’s milk in order to fatten her up to the mother’s current size. The man then let the old woman go and could hear her cackling as she disappeared into the woods. Eventually, a young woman appeared at their door looking for room and board for a night, and the family naturally accepted their unwilling victim. They kept her chained up in one of the rooms, fattening her up on an endless supply of milk as the wife slowly shrank back to her original size. Sure enough, once the poor girl had surpassed the wife’s highest weight, the process appeared to grind to a halt, and the family had broken the curse. However, now the curse laid with the girl and would have to be passed on once more.
So the process continued in this manner until it got to me. Twenty-two years ago, I was hiking in this area and became hopelessly lost. I came across this old farmhouse and wearily beat on the door. I was greeted by the largest woman I had ever seen, and she cheerfully welcomed me inside. I was hesitant at first, but quickly warmed up to her and her husband as they fed me a hot meal and served me the most delicious glass of milk I had ever tasted. They introduced me to their son, William, and we quickly hit it off. Blinded by a haze of gluttony and young lust, I stayed at the farmhouse, and any time I decided I was ready to leave, the thoughts were replaced by more food, more sex with William, and of course, more delicious milk. I gained my first hundred pounds in a flash, and before I knew it, I had surpassed the woman’s weight as she shrank before my eyes. I knew I should stop myself and just get out of there while I still could, but something always managed to hold me back. Then one morning, I awoke to find a note on the dresser saying basically everything I’ve just told you.
William stayed behind and we had a child together, who we named Christopher, although William always called him by his middle name, Clem. Bill and I have been living at the farmhouse for the past 22 years, waiting for the day when some unsuspecting young girl would come along and relieve me of the curse once and for all. Unfortunately, that young girl was you, Cali. I am truly sorry it had to be this way. You were a sweet girl and you never deserved this. I feel I should explain the rules in more detail, but I’ll try to keep it brief.
I’ve already explained the importance of the milk.
The barn contains a customized milking apparatus that Bill constructed for me to keep my lactose levels down and to gather the milk for you to drink. That’s why I couldn’t have you snooping around the barn, lest my little plan be spoiled. Feel free to use it when you need a good milking. It actually feels quite good and was typically one of the highlights of my day.
As you observed that night months ago, we couldn’t keep our son entirely in colonial times, so we gave him a car and let him travel into town at his leisure with a weekly allowance to entertain himself with. We also allowed him to buy some electronics which he runs from a generator behind the guest house. After all, a young man has to stay connected to the real world. We aren’t cavemen…
Other than that, you’re on your own. Oh, and one more thing. Clem has been pining for you ever since you arrived, and while we wanted to bring him with us when we left, he insisted on staying behind to be with you, which I’m sure he has by now. If you’re pregnant, then congratulations! If not, I suspect you soon will be. Have fun, you two!
Cali was stunned. All of a sudden, she realized why her own milk had tasted so familiar to her – she’d been drinking Bea’s milk for months! Cali’s stomach churned at the thought.
She looked up to see Clem standing in the doorway of the bedroom, looking simultaneously disheveled and satisfied.
“So, I guess you know the big secret now, huh?” He said with a grin.
“Yeah.” Cali said, still speechless. “I guess I do.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Clem inquired.
Cali thought for a moment, realizing that all she could really do was wait for the next unfortunate soul to show up and then transfer the curse once more. It could take months, years, or decades, as it had in Bea and Bill’s case, but she really had no other choice. She didn’t know all the details of the curse. Perhaps if she left the farmhouse, she’d be stuck with the curse forever and would have to get a job at the Borden factory, producing milk for a living. No, the safest bet was to hunker down and wait things out. Back to Clem’s question, Cali’s mind had returned to her new favorite activity before she answered.
“Right now, I’m thinking breakfast.” Cali said as a smile appeared on Clem’s face and he grabbed his spatula.
The Magician's Assistant
By Digital Circe
(woman to pig transformation)
Story warnings: nudity, adultery
#WeightGain #Transformation #PigGirls #PigGirl #FemalePigTransformation #FemaleTransformationStory
Katharina Eberhardt looked over the program for Marcel's newest magic show, a grand display in San Diego that the beautiful assistant would be participating in. This time, she would be more than just his assistant; she was to be part of the spectacle. The performance was going to be televised, and the scale was to be the biggest magic show in a decade. Marcel had been very busy planning and preparing each illusion, including the ones that featured Katharina. The show was to be the greatest of the illusionist's life, and the evening would be crowned with a showstopper – he would transform his beautiful assistant into a pig, let her (in actuality a trained pig) run around and wow the audience with her new form, then change her back in a final display. It would be perfect.
Any illusionist could make a puff of smoke and a substitution, but this trick was to be far more grandiose. The sophistication far outstripped other transubstatiatory illusions, like 'the lady to a tiger' or 'woman from the smoke'. Her transformation was to be a slow one, one that people could see happening. It was a complex and ingenious illusion. Her slinky dress hid several self-inflating pouches on the inside, which would make her look like she was growing fatter and more barrel shaped. With the aid of occasional well-timed smoke bursts, she would slip several sequential hoof-like extensions over her hands and feet, which could also each inflate slightly. A small, curly tail was hidden in her dress, which would push out at the appropriate time. Small pouches hidden in her nostrils and behind her ears would give the illusion of her face beginning to change. A prosthetic snout would work like the hooves for the latter stages, and she would wear special UV light-sensitive contact lenses, which would appear to make her eyes black and beady midway through her transformation. She would wear fake teeth, sculpted to look like small tusks when she opened her mouth. All this would be accentuated by her grunting and squealing, as though her human voice was being lost. Near the end, a smoke flash would disguise her changing places with the real pig, which would be wearing a variation of her dress (less sexy looking on a pig) and a blonde wig (which would fall apart, like she was losing her hair), and which was trained to perform simple tricks, and respond readily to the name 'Katharina'. Meanwhile, she would slip down the trapdoor where the pig had been while Marcel 'proved' to the crowd that the pig was really his assistant, showing that she recognized her own name and instructing her to do a few things. Below the stage, she would remove all the piggish accoutrements, deflate her dress, and wait for the instantaneous, smoke-concealed change back, when she would again switch places with her porcine stand-in. Her restoration would appear to be from Marcel's kiss (he was well known for kissing his assistants and volunteers), and the lights would go up to find the magician beside his now-human-again assistant, and then both would take a bow. All in all, it would be a fine feat of illusion.
Katharina was amused by the proposition. The model-turned-magician's assistant didn't care too much for pigs, but thought that it would make an excellent spectacle, and there was something slightly intriguing about the fiction of someone as beautiful and refined as her reduced to a fat, squealing animal, and acting like a graceless hog. She rather expected that was why Marcel had chosen a pig to be the form she would supposedly assume, in addition to their similarity in size and color (after all, a pig transformation didn't have to account for fur). She wondered if he found the concept to be a turn-on; a beautiful woman as a simple beast. She decided against that, however; Marcel was simply an excellent showman, and knew what extremes provoked the best reactions from an audience. Indeed, after the final spectacle had been announced, some excitement had risen up over the idea. It was interesting to hear of so many people invested in her forthcoming transformation, and of so many people suspending disbelief to fantasize about a person actually becoming and living as a something else entirely.
Most of it was silly to her, but she was a little bothered by the extremes some people seemed to go to in their anticipation. She had been shown a disturbing photo-manipulation of herself with a snout, floppy ears, and more that had been widely disseminated on the internet. It disturbed her that some people might want her to truly be turned into a fat pig, that they would prefer her remain as an animal than as a woman. Still, it was just an illusion, and just harmless fun for almost everyone. She could ignore the bizarre desires of a few perverts for her partner's crowning exhibition. Besides, it was hard in any event to imagine such a gorgeous specimen of femininity grunting on all fours, forever an animal.
She smiled to herself, thinking of Marcel Astor, and the feel of his arms around her. She had been his lover for almost two years, and she still felt butterflies in her stomach occasionally. He was married, of course; so their love was by necessity secret. Besides, Marcel had a certain family-friendly reputation as an entertainer that needed to be maintained. But how much more than his wife she understood him, appreciated him! Katharina and Marcel were meant to be, she was certain. She loved him more than anything.
It wasn't that Katharina hated Jean Astor; she rarely gave the woman much thought. Certainly, she wasn't impressed with her intelligence; yes, she and Marcel were discrete, but what woman could be so thoroughly deluded? Jean was a mere given to her, an occasional roadblock, much like an inconvenient regular meeting that had to be scheduled around. Katharina seldom thought of her by name.
The beauty examined her dress, a black, slinky affair that showed off her exquisite form perfectly. It was made out of an incredibly stretchy material, although it would look like satin to the audience. She smoothed a wrinkle out of the dress, then turned up to see Marcel admiring her. He'd seen it on her before, of course – they had only practiced this trick dozens of times. In a way, it was kind of fun, feeling the dress inflate around her body while she waddled around the floor, squealing like a pig, adding more and more of her bestial disguise before she switched places with the fat, good natured sow that was supposed to be her. It was a bit disconcerting being around a pig that shared her name, but Katharina the pig was a sweet animal, and more fun to work with than Katharina the woman had expected. Her experiences with the pig over the last few weeks had rather improved her opinion of the species, although it still bothered her that some people might prefer her to be this animal rather than herself. Marcel had laughed off her concerns, saying she had it backwards – people wanted Katharina to be 'in' the pig, as a hidden treasure – rather like a prince hidden in a toad. He insisted that no one would prefer the pig to her. They wanted to be the one in on the secret, knowing where the beautiful treasure was hidden. She had her doubts, but she had just smiled and agreed, going on with the practices quietly. Marcel had enough on his mind without her small concerns about other people's opinions, and she was unwilling to burden him with them any further.
"You look fantastic," Marcel said warmly, looking at the curve of her body.
"Thanks," Katharina replied, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. "But I won't look like this for long!" It had become something of a game for them, pretending that she would truly become undesirable, and whether he would still love her. Marcel activated her dress, and Katharina swelled out slowly to her fat pig proportions, the 'seams' pulling apart and revealing supposed pigflesh, her tail falling out, and her contacts darkening to black. He swept the big, barrel-shaped girl into his arms, and kissed her passionately.
"You know I'll always love you, my sweet," he drawled suavely, "However you look, and whatever you are!" He kissed her again, and she giggled and grunted lightly, pretending to make loving her harder on him. Her broad, demure smile betrayed the game though, and they kissed again as he shrunk her dress back down to hug her appealing figure – the treasure hidden within the disguise. And she did feel like a princess.
Privately, Katharina began to fantasize about what it would be like to truly change, and to live as an animal. After some time to contemplate the idea, she didn't think it would be all bad. The idea of hidden knowledge, of being the one in on the secret, appealed to her powerfully – a princess biding her time, waiting for the right moment to reveal herself. Possessing knowledge like that, that she was more than what others could see, almost seemed empowering – a book not to be judged by her cover. But she kept these thoughts to herself – how weird would people think it was for a gorgeous, successful woman to want to be a fat, grunting sow? Still, she finally understood what people found so enchanting about her being 'inside' an obese hog. She was certain that she would enjoy pretending to become one.
At last, the night came. For most of the illusions, Katharina either played no part or only helped display it, selecting audience members to examine machinery or introducing the occasional video clips required while others set up the next illusion. A few tricks required her to personally perform the slight-of-hand with Marcel instead being the showman, like the 'zig-zag girl' stunt. But for most, her skills as a model served her better. The illusionist was in his prime, and the crowd gasped and clapped as he made huge objects appear and disappear, levitated a rose, entered the audience and made their personal trifles disappear or multiply. He made himself appear to teleport, and her to levitate. Each illusion garnered more applause than the last.
The show was incredible, and Katharina barely noticed the hours flow by. Her transformation was coming up, and she was in her black dress. At the booming sound of her partner's showman's voice, she sashayed out onstage, smiling radiantly and waving lightly to the assembled applause. "For your viewing pleasure," Marcel boomed, "I will, for my last magnificent feat, change my own lovely assistant into a fat, squealing pig!" The crowd cheered, and Katharina wandered to the center of the stage, where her prosthetics were hidden in shallow compartments unseen to the audience. She waved one last time, then demurely folded her hands, looking expectantly at her partner. He was in fine form tonight, and she knew she was looking her best. This would be his crowning achievement.
Marcel stepped back, pointing his wand at Katharina, twirling the tip and reciting a string of made-up words, and lightly touching her on the nose. She smiled broadly, waiting for the first sensations of her dress and nose expanding, cuing her to begin her performance.
A moment passed, and Katharina noticed no smoke was yet dimming the air. That was a crucial factor of this trick – she needed brief periods of invisibility to make the substitutions. She opted not to worry – this was her partner's forte, and he would see that everything went well. Then, the beautiful woman began to feel a slight fluttering in her belly, like an itch on her insides. She ignored it – she didn't have to remain on stage for long, and would not ruin the ultimate spectacle by feeling a little sick. As Marcel chanted, though, she began to feel a little lightheaded, and took a deep breath. As she did, she snorted.
Katharina was a bit embarrassed to have made such a sound, but at least it fit the character of her metamorphosis. She looked down at her folded hands, and started slightly. Her usually perfectly manicured hands were looking rather dingy, and her nails had thickened! She swallowed hard, hoping that it was the lighting, or her contacts firing prematurely. She raised them to her face in wonder, then felt a twitching in her stomach as she began to expand. It took a moment for that to register on her mind – she was expanding, not her dress! She opened her mouth to call out to Marcel, but only a simple squeal came out, in which even she could barely make out his name. Her small tusks poked out of her mouth as she did so, and numbly she ran her tongue over her lower teeth. They were not prosthetics, but her own teeth. What was going on?
Marcel seemed unaware of her distress, as he continued his chant, occasionally addressing the audience. Unfortunately, her squeals did not arouse his attention; it was what she was supposed to be doing. Another squeal rose from her throat as she felt her nose turn up, quite independent of any inflatable bladders – if those were even still in her nose.
The radiant model snuffled in panic, as she felt a strange sensation along her developing potbelly, rubbing against the soft material of her dress. They were her new nipples, she realized in terror – small points of porcine femininity. She felt her ears twitch, as they began to point and push through her flaxen hair. She raised her hands to her face, now crusty with larger, harder nails, and squealed loudly. Marcel looked at her, slight questioning in his eyes at her behavior – she was supposed to act like she was enjoying the change, like it was pleasurable to her. Her ad-libbing to make it seem like a slightly scary thing seemed to be playing well with the crowd, though, and Marcel didn't dare look like anything was a surprise to him. Instead, he smiled triumphantly at his changing assistant, wondering what led Katharina to reconsider her reaction.
Katharina was not really in pain – there was some slight discomfort and queasiness associated with her change, but much of that came from her fear. Really, it felt fairly good – like her features were gently settling into new places rather than cracking and reforming. As it went on, the pleasurable feelings increased, but Katharina was focused on her now inarticulate fear. She watched her hooves solidify, and practically fell out of her high-heeled shoes. She stumbled on her ungainly new feet, then fell to her knees, looking up at her partner with incomprehension. The Teutonic beauty was growing ever fatter, and the seams on her dress began to give way at last. Katharina squealed in surprise – her dress wasn't giving way like it was supposed to! She raised her arms and looked down at her now-visible side, watching it grow into the flank of a fat pig. The middle back of the dress pulled apart as well to accommodate her bulky form, and there was a sudden murmur of appreciation as her curly pink tail twitched to life, pushing out of her exposed flesh. The split in her dress showed off rather more of her bottom than the pretty model felt appropriate, but that was the least of her concerns right now.
The beautiful pig-girl snuffled in shocked awe, feeling the gentle twitches in her body. The pleasurability of the change seemed to increase as it went on, muting her scared snuffling and dulling her reaction time. Katharina's mouth and nose joined into one long snout, and the sudden pleasing shock caused her to toss her head back and squeal in a sudden fit of satisfaction. Her eyes snapped open in alarm at the action, and she wondered what had come over her. She suddenly tipped over on her hands and knees, her glorious blonde tresses flying in her face, at the shock.
Marcel smiled down at his piggish assistant, noticing her sudden change in demeanor. Looking over her changing body, it suddenly struck him – there was no smoke in the air – he could see her with perfect clarity, and so could everyone else! He stepped frantically on the concealed button to release some mist, to give Katharina the screen she needed to make her change, and then realized in horror, as he looked at her oversized but perfectly formed hooves and flopping ears, that she was past the point where she would need to put on her prosthetics. She was actually developing hooves, right before his eyes! He swallowed dryly, taking in his beloved assistant's fattening form. Katharina's dress was torn in ways it wasn't designed to emulate, and he could clearly see her heaving sides and twitching tail. They weren't the material of the costume – they were actual flesh. The same was true for her hooves, ears, and snout. Katharina was really turning into a pig! Marcel didn't know how this was possible, but knew he couldn't disrupt the flow of the program – what was the problem? His trick was actually working? Besides, Katharina didn't seem to be in pain, her bestial snorts almost sounded contented. His mind just couldn't get fully around the situation to develop a plan of action.
Kneeling before him, Katharina was very much still scared, all the more since her body seemed to be welcoming the change. The gorgeous girl felt her stunning, full breasts tighten, and begin to pull back into her round torso. She expected to feel utter panic at their loss, and was startled to feel pleasure, as though she had no need of breasts and was only changing for the better. As a model, her job was very much dependant on the inviting orbs, and she found more fear in her apathy than in their loss. She squealed again in physical pleasure, almost orgasmic now in intensity, as her other teats filled out, and her breasts shrunk towards the same size. In a sudden burst of bliss, her legs snapped into their new joints, realigning her shorter legs with the great mass of her belly. Her neck filled out and twitched, aligning her head properly with her body for a quadruped, and her beautiful face filled out to match it.
Katharina was more pig than woman now, and cringed in blissful fear of her fate. Her constant happy squeals seemed to entertain the crowd, although they stabbed at her own heart. Her bottom had pulled almost completely out of her dress now, although it resembled a human rear no longer. The graceful curves of her firm, rounded butt had become one large piece of sloping flesh, crowned with an energetic curled tail. Her arms and legs shriveled fully into their squat new forms, and a pleasant snapping in her shoulders told her that she no longer had arms at all. Her forehead sloped backwards, bringing her clouding eyes to the sides of her snout, which now dominated her thick face. She squealed again, trying to convey her fear along with her audible pleasure. Her soft breasts finally pulled fully back into fat pig dugs, and filled her with a blissful charge that was almost sexual in intensity. A calm feeling fell over Katharina, filling her with the sensation of rightness, that she was supposed to be a pig. Her mind rebelled at this insult, and the once-beautiful model squealed loudly, trying to make her predicament known.
Marcel continued to stare down at his lover dumbfounded, as the point where she would switch places with the pig came and went. Of course, with how things were going, there was no need for such a switch; Katharina was making a fine figure of a sow. He could see the fear in her, through the mask of contentment, and knew that the change was a surprise to her, and not a pleasant one. The illusionist swallowed numbly, wondering what was happening, and what could be done. He was no sorcerer – this was none of his doing, despite pretensions, and he didn't know how long it would last or whether she might change back immediately.
Katharina's rotund body was trembling in bliss, as waves of pleasure shot through the frightened pig-girl. Her belly continued to fill out, finally pushing the rags of her dress past their limit, and they tore off completely, revealing her fat pink frame to the whole assemblage. Her soft skin began to roughen, giving the sow a thick pig's hide, dotted with sparse bristles of white hair. Her shining eyes finally grew beady, completing the metamorphosis of her face. Her soft blonde hair loosened from her head, and as she thrashed it in the orgasmic sensations, it fell to the floor, finally leaving her wedge shaped skull entirely bald. Her obese belly finally stopped growing outward, and she felt her insides twist and churn as her privates finished their metamorphosis, leaving the gorgeous model as a fully functional sow, ready to live a pig's life. Katharina's body was wracked by a final, intense shudder, the most powerful feeling of her life, as it finished reshaping into her new form.
Katharina squealed in absolute terror as she felt her lover's power flow out of her ample body, leaving her as nothing but a common domestic sow. The fat pig squealed loudly, then began to feel the weight of her inner hog, consuming her senses. She squealed wildly, trying to draw attention to her new problem, as her human intelligence was consumed in instinct, readying her for her new life. The events of the beautiful woman's life flashed before her mind's eye, as each was lessened by a competing porcine notion. As the process advanced, her squealing subsided – piggish contentment was filling her mind. In the end, the small feeling of identity, of Katharina Eberhardt, was smothered in layers of satisfied pig. It was like the life of the woman had happened to someone else, and the fat hog had merely observed it. She was, and always had been, a pig. The fat beast grunted in contentment.
"Katharina?" Marcel gasped, as the audience applauded the beautiful blonde woman's metamorphosis into a bloated, fat sow, unaware that it had not been intended. The sow looked up at her name, grunting unconcernedly. She was a pig – what would weigh on her mind? She looked around at the standing ovation, and had some small inkling that it was for her. She squealed loudly in salute to her audience, then defecated on the stage, turning to smell her own pungent droppings. The audience burst into laughter at the sight, enjoying what they assumed to be the fiction of the gorgeous model behaving like a common pig. Still, many felt it a happy fiction, and like with all magic shows, pretended like it was true.
Flabbergasted, Marcel called her name, winning the sow's attention, and had her trot around, roll over, and finally, with much help, stand awkwardly on her small back hooves to receive his kiss. She willingly did as he instructed, her human intelligence and memories translating to a particularly clever and well-trained pig. Katharina was happy for the attention, if only in a simple way, and did her best to make him proud of her. Unfortunately, the kiss had no effect on the young sow, and she fell back to all fours after his panicked caress. "Die ich rief, die Geister!" Marcel muttered to himself in shock.
Numbly, Marcel ended the best performance of his career with a showman's flourish, the astounded audience thundering their appreciation, and roaring for an encore. With a blanched complexion, Marcel led the fat sow to the edge of the stage, waving to the crowd as she snorted happily. He led Katharina to the stairs, frequently summoning her attention by name, and guided the rotund hog down and into the crowd. Many began to clap him on the back and shake his hand, and many also patted the fat sow, feeling the porcine flesh of the once-beautiful woman. The grunting model loved the affection, and pressed back excitedly against the friendly hands, turning eagerly to face anyone who called out her name. The audience was astounded at how realistic the change had been, and how much this fat sow seemed to act like she was truly Katharina. To a man, the audience allowed themselves to be taken with the presumption that the pig really was the transformed woman. The fact that Marcel Astor had chosen to leave his assistant as a sow, and then to let her socialize with them as one, impressed the crowd greatly, as a dramatic improvement over immediately changing her back. It improved the magic act so much more to leave the transformation stand, as if it could last.
As the fat sow giddily wandered amongst the crowd, she happily squealed to a couple of small children who were calling her name, and rubbed her snout against them. One, a little boy, clambered up onto her fat back, excitedly waving to his parents. The girl wanted a ride too, and he helped pull her up onto the enormous sow's back. Katharina squealed merrily, happy to serve as a mount for the children. The sow was enormously fat, and could easily support the extra weight – and she did enjoy the attention. Eventually, they got off of her, going back to their smiling parents and letting more people see and touch her. The sow loved children – she felt a sudden, welcome longing to bear a big litter of piglets – and was glad to play with any that wanted to touch her. Most parents did let their children touch her – she was obviously a tame hog, after all. Everyone was excited to feel the model as a plump sow – she remembered vaguely that this sort of attitude had once bothered her, but she dismissed the feelings without much consideration. She was enjoying herself.
Marcel and the sow continued to press up against innumerable people, all happy to see her as a pig. Soon, though, they pressed up against a few other people who seemed smug, rather than openly excited. The bloated hog didn't make anything of it, she just rubbed gleefully up against each, who all took the time to say "Hello, Katharina," in a satisfied tone of voice, drawing her personal attention. The fat sow was just glad to be among so many people who knew her name, and grunted and squealed eagerly, to their deep amusement. They each fondled the hog's rotund body, taking in the sensations of the grunting model. They seemed to accept her as a pig without any sense of awe at it, only amusement. Then she was past them, turning to hear others call her name. The sow never noticed that they didn't speak to her partner.
Eventually, the procession ended, and Marcel took the rotund sow back up onto the empty stage. He swallowed numbly, wanting to try once more at turning her human. With a nervous flourish, he kissed her snout again, wishing and praying for her to be restored. Suddenly, the content pig twitched, shuddering, and began to change.
Quickly her golden hair flowed out, her body thinned, her limbs stretched out, and her face reformed, leaving the rotund Landrace sow again as a beautiful model, crouched on all fours. Katharina blinked, feeling a strange sense of loss, of disappointment. Suddenly, the beauty realized that she was entirely naked. Quickly putting her hands over her breasts and her privates, she turned to face the audience, smiling nervously. Her firm, round behind had been visible to all, displayed entirely on the giant screens to the sides of the stage. Katharina was embarrassed, but even that feeling was submerged in the shock of having actually turned into a fat sow. How was that even possible? And Katharina had enjoyed it. She remembered her simpler pig's mind, and the wonder she had at the clapping audience. She quickly thought of the most complicated things she knew, wondering at her changing mind. She couldn't think as clearly as before – had something of her pig-self followed her back? She didn't know, and didn't know if she'd be opposed to it if it had.
Marcel stepped behind the naked beauty, disguising her bottom from the rear cameras. Waving to the crowd with one hand, he wrapped the other arm around her full bosom, freeing one of hers. She patted down her greatly disheveled hair, then waved too, smiling radiantly. She clearly didn't know what had happened either, but she was such a trooper, going along with things and casually taking what had to be the most embarrassing moments of her life. Suddenly, Katharina spied her small pile of pig dung, which she had deposited on the stage. "Goodness, was that me?" she asked coyly, hiding her shame. The audience burst into good-natured laughter. The sow-turned-model looked down at her pile of steaming pig dung, and wondered at her total sense of freedom, that she had idly produced it. In a way, it interested her primally, to be that free. On an even baser level, she wanted to get down on her hands and knees and smell it. It took a surprising effort to resist the urge and make light of it. "I am quite the dirty little piggy, aren't I?" she asked demurely. She knew that her perfect bottom was stained with her own pig dung, that it had been visible to everyone. Why couldn't she stop thinking about it? Why couldn't she stop drawing attention to it? Was she really that proud about defecating in public? It dawned on the pretty sow that she was.
"Marcel, I do believe someone needs to muck out my sty!" she announced proudly. The audience cheered her good-natured humor. The former pig grinned warmly, but really had no desire for her filth to be taken away from her. Her stool laid there as an ongoing reminder to her and everyone else that she had been a pig, and she didn't want that link broken. She loved her droppings, and again had to resist the temptation to stick her elegant nose in it; a struggle that she was losing. She could see no logical reason why she should deny herself.
"My assistant, the sow!" Marcel said loudly, and the applause increased. Katharina's face broke into a wide smile, and she squealed proudly for her fans. Oh, how she wished that she could drop to all fours and waddle around the stage! She certainly didn't want to say anything other than simple grunts or squeals. She found she loved hearing Marcel call her a sow – she hoped he would keep it up.
But the euphoria of the stage was short-lived. The televised performance was over, but Marcel was under contract to perform a shortened version of the show in San Diego every evening for five months. They both wondered nervously: what had happened? Would it happen again? There were no answers for the magician and his secret lover. Marcel was a wreck, and even Katharina was nervous, the rapture and immediacy of the transformation growing dimmer the more hours passed. She was disgusted with herself for how much she'd liked being a bloated sow and how much she was still curious about exploring it. She even locked herself into the bathroom and was sick before the first show.
At last it came again, and they nervously returned to the stage to a sold-out house. They started with the usual illusions, appearances and disappearances, prediction tricks, making her dresses transform, walking through solid objects, decapitations. At last, the time came for the pig transformation. Of course, Marcel had tried to remove it, but it was the most popular illusion of the new show, and his sponsors wouldn't hear of it. They were emphatic: Katharina Eberhardt was to become a sow in every performance for the entire five months. Nervously, she smoothed the black fabric of her replacement dress (like all magician's props, they had several spares) as Marcel introduced the trick, and then she demurely approached to be enchanted. Again, all her props were in place, but again, they were all unneeded.
She felt it again, the tugging feeling of her body beginning to change. She squealed, her eyes wide, as she felt her nose and mouth pull outward into a snout, her fingers and toes beginning to stiffen into hooves. She knew what to expect now, and the feelings, still as pleasurable as before, returned like old friends. She got down on all fours, feeling like it was the right thing to do. Soon she was fattening, her body becoming that of a sow, her arms and legs shrinking and resettling into her massing bulk. Her clothing tore, her curly tail reemerging and wiggling about in anticipation. Again, her big breasts deflated, joining her other teats, and her hair fell out, revealing the piggish shape of her head. Her body settled into its last few changes, again leaving only a fat hog. Her sense of self diminished, replaced with the content sow. She grunted happily, feeling at peace.
Again Marcel had her perform, and took her through the crowd as part of his usual handshaking. Again people, and especially children, marveled at the hog, touching and petting her. She was very happy. She didn't notice that some of the people were the same as before, including the small group of smug men – although this time they addressed her as 'pig' instead of 'Katharina'. She wasn't as good at telling people apart any more.
The man and the hog retuned to the stage, and again his caress triggered her reversion, and quickly Katharina the woman found herself naked and on all fours, grunting. She felt a sense of loss at losing her pig self, slightly more acute than before. Her fevered mind raced as she covered herself quickly. Had she descended deeper into the pig's mindset this time? They waved as the curtain came down, both pale as ghosts.
They retired to her dressing room, almost more scared than the first time. What was causing this? It couldn't be coincidence! There was someone behind it. Could Jean Astor somehow be to blame? Obviously they couldn't confront her. What if they were wrong? They had to keep the affair secret. But who else would hate them enough to do something like this, and how had they obtained such power? Real magic wasn't supposed to exist. They talked over what they should do fruitlessly, neither coming to any useful conclusions. Katharina went to bed alone, lying awake for hours first. Distressingly, she couldn't shake the sense of rightness of being a sow.
They continued to perform, unable to avoid their obligation. The next night was the same, and again they approached it with dread, only to watch helplessly as Katharina again became a fat sow. Night after night, Katharina fattened and changed, becoming a bloated, grunting hog. Each time, it felt like the rightest thing in the world. Her snout, her hooves, her tail – these felt better to her than hair or fingers or breasts. In her nervous, skittish life, it became the only moment of real peace that she experienced. Each time, the pig part of her seemed more real, more true, than the human part. She began to grow used to the disappointment of becoming human again at the end, and privately looked forward to her time as a fat and happy sow.
The first month passed and then the second. After each performance, the lovers would try to think of some explanation, and Marcel spent every waking hour researching magic, trying to find something not founded in illusion. They tried to reason out a culprit, to no avail. Jean certainly didn't seem to act differently towards them. Astor had enemies, rival magicians he had professionally offended, but they were mere illusionists as well. There seemed to be no explanation for true sorcery.
Katharina and Marcel's sex life suffered, but didn't end entirely. He was self-conscious with her now, as though nervous that she'd transform during lovemaking. But he had said that he would always love her, regardless of what she looked like. Oh, such sentiment was easier when they were mere words! Now, his lover was a fat sow a little bit every day. It bothered him in a hard-to-describe way, that he was making love with something that, mere hours before, had been a disgusting, grunting sow.
As time passed, some of her piggish behavior followed Katharina back. She found herself grunting sometimes, and once started walking on all fours before she realized it was wrong. Clothing began to feel – not uncomfortable, exactly, but wrong in some ill-defined way. She was fortunate that most of her slips were in private, or alone with Marcel. She redoubled her efforts of carrying herself gracefully in public, although it was possible such slips would only be seen as advertisement. She had seen a video clip of her performance from the original show on the internet, transforming beautifully into a hog. In two months, it had garnered a half million views. She found herself watching it repeatedly, too. It was fun to see her gorgeous body metamorphose into a fat hog – normally, she just got to feel it.
As the third month came and went, the show's success only grew. The house was sold out every night. Professional illusionists were at a loss on how to explain how the trick was done – most wouldn't even venture a guess. Of course, Katharina knew that the only illusion was that it was an illusion. The strain was beginning to take its toll on the magician and his lover. Katharina had only one respite – her time as a hog. Unfortunately, that was a mere fifteen minute window at the end of each show. She suggested to Marcel that they mix up some elements of the program to keep things fresh, and he reluctantly agreed. One of the changes she suggested was tuning into a pig earlier in the program, and using her in the place of most of the other animals in other illusions. Marcel got a strange look on his face when she suggested it. But finally he acquiesced, and Katharina found herself happily a fat sow for nearly an hour every evening; the majority of her other 'human' tricks compressed into the first third of the program.
She grew to luxuriate in the change. The gradual shifting, her body fattening as the proper body parts took the place of the foreign elements (wait – she meant the foreign parts replacing the regular ones), was a release for the beautiful woman. The good feelings coursing through her as her snout grew longer, her tail curled out, the generous swell of her breasts diminished, her fingers stiffened to hooves; these became, in a strange sort of way, her favorite parts of each day. Being a fat hog was better even than the accolades of a crowd; better than sex with Marcel.
Night after night, she experienced it. Her squat, barrel-shaped body felt so right as it swelled, her legs and forelegs (wait – she meant arms) shortening and setting into their new sockets filling her with purpose. She could smell the other sow – the unused pig secreted under the stage that had never been needed – and wanted to socialize with her. She did, occasionally, as a human; but didn't tell Marcel about it. How would he react to her gradual decision that she would rather be a sow than a woman?
Marcel had noticed the same group of smug men in the audience several times, and confided in Katharina that he thought they might have something to do with the transformation. At first, she didn't care – she no longer viewed it as a curse, so why worry about the how of it? But then she considered the remaining month and a half of the show. What would happen to her after it was over? Would she be trapped as a woman forever, always denied her nightly periods as a hog? She grew nervous, and eager to find the cause of her piggification – if only to beg for its permanence. Turning back into a human was becoming a distressing experience for the hog.
But as the fourth month passed and the fifth began, Marcel too began to find a growing comfort with the arrangement. There was something appealing about the idea of one thing masquerading as another; the beautiful hidden thing only he knew the secret to – in this case, that there was no illusion. Others looked at pig-Katharina and only saw a model pretending to be a pig; he knew that there was more to the story. She was his buried treasure, his beautiful woman hidden in a fat sow – or was that his plump hog hidden in a gorgeous woman? Both bodies had begun to seem like treasures, albeit in different ways. He quietly began to enjoy the times when his lover was a fat pig; relish the companionship of the animal. He liked that she was both woman and pig, but became less concerned about the idea of Katharina always remaining a pig. The loss of a secret lover would allow for the gain of a public pet. He could find other lovers, if need be – he was a handsome, popular, and rich man.
Marcel did his best to investigate the strange men, but could find nothing special about them, either. There seemed to be no good leads as to who the author of Katharina's metamorphosis was. With his newfound acceptance of her piggishness, Katharina allowed herself to fall into more overtly porcine behavior when they were alone together, trotting about naked on all fours and grunting. She was still beautiful, but he found himself strangely not growing aroused by her buxom form. He was just proud of her, of how much like a pig she had become.
As the last month passed, both lovers contented themselves with living in the moment; the sow enjoying her time as a pig. Perhaps they could incorporate the trick into other routines, and prolong the mysterious force that made her a sow. But they wouldn't give up the time worrying about the future. Still, the last evening came too quickly, and as determined as they were to enjoy themselves, it was still like opening the last Christmas present. There was some regret that crept in.
As always, Marcel started the trick, and as always, no trick occurred. Katharina got down onto all fours in anticipation, feeling her nose twitch as the nostrils lifted, turning up to face forward. She squealed happily, feeling her tiny tusks grow, and her jaw slide forwards to join the modest but growing snout. She twitched her long ears, feeling them rise on her head, and tossed her hair back. She was getting fatter, the comforting heaviness of her squat body reassuring her, and her arms and legs thickened and shortened into her bulging torso. Her black dress ripped as she exceeded its limits, her gorgeous body quickly reshaping to that of a fat pig.
She oinked again at Marcel, feeling her eyes dim, her neck twisting up to allow her enlarging head to align properly for her quadruped form. Her blonde hair kept falling in her eyes, but she knew that soon it would be gone. Her hands and feet solidified into hooves, feeling solid on the ground beneath her ballooning weight. She squealed proudly as Katharina faded, as the pig emerged.
Her heavy breasts deflated, shrinking back into sagging dugs, even as the rows of other coarse teats grew in. The pig loved this part, the feeling of having enough nipples to nurse a litter. Beautiful breasts were much less desirable to her than being able to nurture pigs. The sow's hair faded away, her body proportions settling, and as always, Katharina had been replaced by a very fat sow.
She squealed in anticipation as the mental sensations flowed in, diminishing her human half in favor of a hog's mentality. She'd long since stopped fighting it, and within seconds, it had faded to background noise. She was truly a pig again, in body and spirit, just as she was meant to be. She grunted happily, turning to Marcel, and being led around to prove that the pig and the woman were the same.
Again, he took her through the crowd, letting people touch her. And again they returned to the stage and finished out the show. But this time, his caress did nothing. Marcel blinked in surprise. She wasn't changing back! He expected to feel fear, but didn't. At that moment, he felt only relief. She was a pig. There were no more questions or maybes. Just one indisputable sow. This time, the curtain dropped on a man and a pig. The hog, for her part, couldn't have been happier.
He took some time to acclimate himself to the new situation, the new reality. His former lover was permanently a sow. Katharina seemed eager to meet the other pig, and Marcel acceded, taking her to where the other hog was penned. The two sows ran over to each other, eagerly smelling the porcine odors of the other. Marcel noticed that Katharina was a little larger than the sow he had chosen for her double, but a fairly good match – he had chosen well. He was a little disturbed to watch his once-gorgeous assistant bury her snout in the other pig's rear. He had to remember, she was truly a pig – it was not just her appearance that had changed. "Come here, Katharina," he said, and both hogs trotted over to him. He had forgotten that the other one had the same name as his lover.
Marcel remembered his game with Katharina, when he had professed his love to her, regardless of form. He had never imagined that she would truly become a pig. But he found he did still love her, even if it wasn't the same way. Even as a fat sow, Katharina was his rock.
The next day, Katharina was still a pig. The reporters came to the Astor home, interviewing the great illusionist and watching the fat sow his assistant now was perform simple tricks. "Why the change in the program?" asked one reporter. "When will you 'change' Katharina back?"
Marcel smiled, steeling himself not to reveal the secret to the world. "It made for a much better show, I think," he said in false calmness. "As for when I'll change her back, I don't know – I must say, I rather like Katharina as a sow. Moreover, she deeply likes her new body – I really have no plans to change her back right now. I guess it'll be when the spirit moves me."
"She prefers being a pig?"
"Why not? Look at her. She has everything made. She doesn't have any concerns or worries, she just eats and plays. Far from it, she considers her human life the waste, and her pig life the fitting form. Why, she's been turned into a pig over a hundred and fifty times, and she finally just wanted to stay a pig for awhile," he blustered.
Still, Marcel felt a duty to try and change her back. Gathering his magic accoutrements and his sparse research, he tried everything he knew. But finally, he was forced to come to the realization that the gorgeous girl would always be a fat sow. There was no point in maintaining the fiction that he would ever change her back.
The only trick would be explaining it to others. After all, deep down, almost no one really believed in magic. They all thought the Teutonic beauty was vacationing, perhaps outside the country, to promote the illusion. After six months, people didn't know what to think. A handful did even believe that the hog was truly Katharina. After a year and then two, that impression had begun to catch on. A criminal investigation revealed no hint of wrongdoing, and there was no suspect other than Marcel, who insisted that she was the sow, and not kidnapped or worse. The recording of the sow's transformation was examined by the FBI and numerous other illusionists, who were all unable to detect any foul play. It seemed remotely possible, as bizarre as it sounded, that Katharina had actually physically metamorphosed into a fat pig. Why the busty blonde beauty would choose to become and remain a bloated sow was quite another question, though, and could not be answered satisfactorily.
Ironically, the only illusion was that the blubbery sow had retained her full human mind. No one suspected that she was entirely a pig, and Marcel kept that illusion alive – her willingness was his primary justification for keeping her a sow. And, to be sure, the pig did retain her human memories – just buried deep enough that they were a mere curiosity, like information she knew about an old friend she hadn't seen for a long time.
Marcel's already significant reputation exploded, and demand for his magic skyrocketed. He used the fat sow in his shows, making the pig fly and other simple tricks, and occasionally used mirrors and the like to make it look like he had briefly changed her back into a human before she returned to her rightful pig form. The good-natured sow took to this well, although she hardly understood it.
If he was honest with himself, Marcel had to admit that there was something appealing about having Katharina as a pig. Of course, there was a lot that he missed about her beautiful human form, but it was not as much of a loss as he expected. The notion of a gorgeous, high-maintenance woman living as a fat grunting sow was mildly intriguing on its own, but the idea of that sow preferring it was strangely electrifying. Moreover, every day he was around the hog, he became more used to her, more accepting of her role as a four hundred pound pig. It just seemed right that she was a sow, and the things he missed seemed less and less important – and less and less real.
Indeed, Katharina Eberhardt would remain a fat sow for the rest of her life, to her eternal pleasure. Were she intelligent enough to see the alternative, she would be glad of it. She did make an excellent pig.
Sorsha the Hunter
(woman to pig transformation, man to sparrow transformation, various transformations)
Bavmorda was not entirely destroyed, and her agents still work in the world. They manage to reactivate her old spells on Tir Asleen, and capture the child Elora Danan from the dead city. Sorsha is a pig, and the visiting Willow takes her to track the captors. They meet Madmartigan on the way, and the three try to rescue the captive little girl.
Note: This story ignores the events of the "Shadow Moon" books. Because I hate them. Willow is Willow, and Madmartigan and Sorsha are integral characters, not extras to be killed in the first chapter.
It had been almost two years since the battle of Nockmaar. The princess Elora Danan was on the cusp of her third birthday, under the loving care and tutelage of Tir Asleen and its royal family. The years had not been easy, undoing the damage to the region done by the witch queen Bavmorda. But the castle at Nockmaar was destroyed, the ground salted, and the surviving soldiers either chased away or incorporated into the Shining Legion of Galladoorn. A time of peace and growing prosperity lay within the grasp of honorable men.
But Nockmaar had been a vast empire, and her minions lived far and wide. And in the frozen wastes of the north dwelt General Harkenwell, once the high commander of Bavmorda's armies. He was a cold and brutal man, but loyal; and his second-in-command had tricked him into claiming responsibility for a military blunder with his much-loved queen. For that he had been banished to this wretched outpost up north, and his subordinate Kael had taken the generalship. For sixteen long years he had lived in the cold, nursing hatred for his former lieutenant and looking for a way to return to the witch queen's good graces. When Nockmaar fell, his heart was torn in two – horror that his queen had died, and joy that Kael had. Those loyal to him had brought him the sword and helmet of the fiendish Kael, his prized possessions. Now they were Harkenwell's.
For a year and a month, he had worked to stitch together a fighting force of dispirited Nockmaar men to raze Tir Asleen, restore their honor, and avenge his queen. But then General Harken encountered a sorcerer – Carbolomir, a druid of the Brithemain order that had served the queen. He had been absent that fateful night of the Ritual, and he too agonized over the loss of the witch queen. He had pilgrimaged to the site of devastated Nockmaar, and observed the ruin. But he had felt something there, too.
Bavmorda had been destroyed in the closing moments of her Ritual of Obliteration, but the ritual had not been completed. The rebels had claimed that she had become the victim of her own spell, but that wasn't quite the truth. The magic was still active, and it still waited for its true victim like a hungry monster. And as the druid scryed the signs, he became convinced that finishing the ritual – sacrificing Elora Danan's soul to the far fields beyond even Grulborig, the Realm Beneath – would restore Bavmorda in all her power. He only lacked the military might to take her.
So the two men had found common cause in their quest to destroy their enemies and resurrect their queen. They had planned and spied for many months. It nauseated them both that the queen's own daughter had turned traitor, now a paramour for a roguish swordsman and a mere nursemaid for the prophecy child. Harkenwell's forces were strong, but not enough to storm the castle at Asleen. They needed a way to neutralize the Asleen army.
For a month, Carbolomir had consulted the ley lines, until he had discovered a flaw that he could exploit. The witch Fin Raizel had suppressed Bavmorda's old sorcery, but it was still active, below the surface. While Carbolomir was a formidable warlock in his own right, he was not on Bavmorda's level. But if he could shatter Raizel's counter-curses, all of Bavmorda's spells would become active again. A much easier proposition.
So they had staged cattle raids and nuisance attacks to keep the Tir Asleen army tired and frustrated, but largely off-guard. Carbolomir was their secret weapon. When they attacked in earnest, no one would survive. Bavmorda would live again.
It was a pleasant day in summer when Willow Ufgood rode back into Tir Asleen. He had enjoyed communication with his old friends, but had spent the years wedded to hearth and home, watching his own children grow and practicing magic. He had grown a little in magical power and wisdom, but had remained humble and practical. He was still a farmer, and had just finished putting his planting in before journeying north into the world of Daikini Men.
Entering the surrounding village, he was impressed by how much more vibrant it had become since he had last seen it. A few racist catcalls of 'peck' followed him, but he had become inured to the insults in his time with Men. The flowers of spring had faded into the green of summer, and he could hear the cicadas humming as he reached the castle. No longer deserted, peasants and tradesmen and sellers bustled about, attending to their affairs. He rode into the gate with no difficulty, bearing no obvious weapons. He was looking forward to seeing Elora again, and Madmartigan.
When he was recognized, the Nelwyn was ushered in to the courtyard, and a message was sent that Willow Ufgood had arrived. Within minutes, princess Sorsha had hurried down to meet him. She broke into a wide smile when she saw the Halfling from the south. "Willow! How good to have you here. I wish you'd sent word so we could properly prepare for you!" she said.
Willow trotted over to the princess, as she smoothed out the rumples in her beautiful dress from her quick flight down the stairs. "It was a sudden decision," he said amiably. "It's good to see you again."
"They're getting Elora ready to bring down. She's grown so much since you've last seen her!"
He nodded. "They grow quick. My own little bobbins did some growing in the months I was away on our last quest," he said.
Sorsha smiled. "'Last' quest? You make it sound like we have more to do. Father has his knights out confronting what pockets of Nockmaar remain, killing trolls, and other maintenance; but there isn't anything left to imperil Elora or the kingdom."
Willow frowned. "I was… warned in a dream, that I might be needed here. I know how that sounds – and I don't have much experience with prognostication – but I have a deep feeling that something is amiss."
"Well, I hope you're wrong. Fin Raizel hasn't sensed anything out of the ordinary, though."
"I'd like to talk to her. And Madmartigan, the big lug. Where is he at?"
"Madmartigan is out investigating a cattle raid. He wasn't really needed for such a trivial assignment, but he does get wanderlust easily."
"I'd wondered why you hadn't married him," the Nelwyn said, tapping her bare finger.
"It's complicated. He is the love of my life, and I know I'm his, but he still likes playing around with the young ladies. And I don't want to be one of many, even if I know I'm the one who truly has his heart."
Willow nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry, princess. It must be hard."
"I don't want to deny him his freedom, but neither do I want to share him." Their conversation was interrupted by a bustle of activity, as several nannies escorted the toddler Elora Danan down the stairs. She wobbled, but was looking with clear love at Willow. The Nelwyn was reminded again of how she had chosen him, conversed with the fairies, despite being an infant. It was like she was a vast and magnificent force, confined to the weaknesses in development of a child. Her body was no more than any other toddler, but her magical aura was born fully developed.
Of course, the visiting Nelwyn had to embrace her (now over half his height), coo over her. She babbled and stumbled over her limited words, her young body's speech that of any two-year-old's; but he could see into her eyes. She was like a daughter to him, and he had missed her.
But their happy reunion was quickly interrupted. "Your highness," a soldier said, hurrying over. A raiding party has entered the village. We don't expect that it will take long to run them off, but you and the child should get in the keep."
"Pohas? Who would be stupid enough to attack here in broad daylight?" she asked.
"No, your highness. Nockmaars," he responded. The nursemaids fussed over Elora, bustling her away, but Sorsha went instead to the wall to look out over the village. Willow went too. Indeed it seemed to be only a moderate party, perhaps thirty armed men on horses. They were torching a hut, but legionnaires were hurrying towards them. Willow started when he saw the commander, a burly man in grungy leather, wearing a hideous death's head mask.
"Is… is that Kael, returned from the dead?" he asked.
"No. It's General Harken. We think he leads the Nockmaar remnants now. He hated Kael, and took that mask to show his mastery over him. Dilute his identity. I didn't think he was stupid enough to attack us with so few, though. Perhaps our reports of him were over-cautious." Indeed, he seemed minutes away from being overwhelmed by twice as many fresh troops.
But then, a shudder ran through them, like an earthquake in their bodies. The effect was immediate. The whole city seemed to shake from the raw magical forces welling up from their long slumber. "Ohhh…" Sorsha moaned, feeling strange. Willow could only stare in wide-eyed horror as magic began to manifest all around them. Most of the townspeople were slowing down, stopping, even as frost seemed to form on their bodies. People screamed as they froze solid. A few men, soldiers mostly, seemed to react like Sorsha, not freezing but not untouched, either.
"What the?" Willow started to ask, but it began to be all too clear what was happening. Sorsha squealed, her nose starting to turn up, her eyes growing large and dark. Two other soldiers on the parapet, and most of the people in the village bellow, were beginning to develop sheathes of ice all around their bodies. Others squealed, dropping to their knees as untamed magic forces flowed through them. Every spell that Bavmorda had ever cast seemed to be coming back to life. The people of Tir Asleen were freezing into blocks of ice, and the surviving remnants of the Shining Legion, including Sorsha, were turning into pigs.
Sorsha doubled over, grabbing at her belly as tusks pushed up from her lower lip. She grunted, her nose getting bigger, and Willow could see her ears begin to point and push through her thick red hair. "Help me!" she tried to squeal, but it sounded alien – porcine. She looked around terrified, hugging herself, feeling her belly swell and tiny teats begin to blossom under her dress.
Willow looked back out over the village, and saw that General Harken and his men were making a beeline for the castle, making no pretense of burning or looting anymore. They had been a mere distraction from whatever had triggered this disaster, and they had played their part well.
Then his small heart clenched in fear. "I have her! I have the Danan!" a tall, lank man called, another party rushing out of the keep, a screaming Elora in tow. Willow could immediately sense something about him. He had masked himself well, but the stink of evil sorcery was upon him. This cold-eyed Daikini was responsible.
Willow looked around for a way to get to them quickly, but the stairwell was thirty meters away, leading in the wrong direction. But the pig-soldiers in the man's way were in no condition to impede him. He looked around for something he could hex, something his modest power might be able to do to defeat this unexpected foe.
All around, strong men were turning into fat pigs or icy pillars. Willow looked back at his beautiful companion as she suffered under her transformation. The princess swelled fatter, her beautiful dress beginning to tear away. Her new nipples bulged out on plump dugs in two rows behind her flopping breasts. She struggled to pull herself to her hooves, feeling her humanity relentlessly ebb away. She squealed sadly, in despair.
Willow watched Sorsha's tail twitch out over her ballooning buttocks, as the once gorgeous rear shifted into a vast pig's rump. She twitched her hoof, shaking loose a ruined court shoe. Rags of white lace and ruffles surrounded the swelling pig woman as she tore free of them. Her snout grew out, joined with her mouth, as her head swelled to fit her now quadrupedal body. Her belly swelled more, rounding into a barrel shape, and her shoulders and hips caved into it, growing short and squat. Her fingers and toes solidified fully into hooves, and her beautiful hair and full breasts began to recede, pulling back into the pig's plump frame. Her outline no longer even resembled a woman, and she snorted and squealed in fear and frustration.
At last, it was finished. All that remained of princess Sorsha was a particularly fat sow. Willow looked around. Alone, the Nelwyn remained untouched. He had never been ensorcelled by Bavmorda before, so nothing happened to him. He looked around at the frozen people, and the occasional scared pig trotting around. Beside him, Sorsha squealed in despair. Then, he heard a roar.
Turning around, he saw a two-headed dragon rising out of the moat, enraged. Willow was momentarily puzzled – the dragon was the result of a failed charm he had cast, not Bavmorda. Unless, he thought with a sinking feeling, the witch queen had had the foresight to enchant frozen Tir Asleen against other's spells so that they would summon a guardian, instead. Regardless, he was in no condition to fight the dragon. He shooed Sorsha forward, towards the stairs, as a gout of flame spewed from one of its heads. He heard screams from below, including Elora's.
Suddenly, he thought of a way to impede the Nockmaarians' progress. Muttering a simple spell, he cast a small glamour on the horses of Harkenwell's soldiers. Sure enough, the dragon saw it, and turned on the incoming group, breathing fire at them. Willow heard men and horses scream in agony, and felt a wash of guilt for their horrible end. He was not a violent man, and didn't wish to be the cause of deaths, even indirectly. He spared a glance over the parapet – the captors had recoiled from their allies, and the few survivors of Harkenwell's raiders were rushing for cover. The dragon breathed fire again, then bent down, trampling dying horses and swallowing a man whole. Good – all of the horses were dead, and all of the Tir Asleen mounts were frozen solid. Wherever the party wanted to go, it would have to be on foot. And that meant that Willow had a chance to keep up with them.
He thought about what he might need before he left, especially allies. If Raizel was in the castle, she was an opossum. And there was no way they could get to her without fighting the dragon. He pushed his porcine companion towards a sally port, even as the survivors of the dragon's attack fell back and dragged Elora through the main gate and into the town. Then Willow stopped paying attention to them, running with the pig as fast as he could for dear life. They didn't stop until they reached the outskirts of the village, taking refuge behind a fireproof stone wall.
They panted, exhausted. In the distance, they heard the Eborsisk dragon roar. When they had calmed, the plump sow started squealing to get Willow's attention. He turned to regard the hog, and with a muttered countercharm, Willow restored the sow's voice, or at least a deeper, more piggish version of it.
The pig clearly wasn't pleased. "Just my voice? Can't you turn me back?" the sow squealed, annoyed.
"Probably, but I need someone who can track them by smell, and that's you. I'm sorry, but you're of far more use as a pig."
"What?" she oinked, getting mad.
Willow sighed. "I killed their horses, so we'll be able to keep up with them on foot. But they've got a powerful sorcerer with them that I can't hope to match. We need to track them and study them, and find an opportunity where we can get Elora back."
"But I'm a princess!" she squealed indignantly.
"Not right now – right now, you're a pig. And that is how you're going to stay," Willow said emphatically.
The tight little curl of her pig's tail twitched involuntarily in annoyance. Sorsha was in a foul mood the rest of the day, but Willow was used to handling pigs with bad moods. As a farmer, he used pigs to plow, and frequently they were uncooperative.
They took an hour going through a few houses on the periphery of the town, gathering supplies and food for the journey. Willow tried not to look at the frozen woman standing by her cooking pot as her stole her family's dinner. Sure, it would just rot; but he felt bad nonetheless. Blankets, a knife, rope, rations, water, flint, a backpack, herbs that he could use in charms. Willow moved quickly but purposefully. Then he took the pig outside, to the place where he'd seen General Harken first attack. "See if you can pick up the smell, princess," Willow said, and the sow fixed him with a dark look, but turned her snout to the ground and started sniffing.
It was amazing to the pig how much she could smell, how nuanced it was. She could smell the earth, the animals that had been through, the waste of the horses, the dampness on the undersides of firewood and hay. She could smell a small part of these things as a woman, but how much deeper, grander, more textured and layered were the smells now! It was like she had only been able to detect the outlines of things before, and now she could sense everything. Here she could tell a frozen child had been sick, there a couple had just made love. And there was direction to the pattern, too – she could almost smell a trail. She quickly picked up on the smells of Nockmaar, their distinctive steel and leather and sweat. About thirty of them, and how they'd moved in, torched this building, then went towards the castle. She didn't follow it – the dragon was back there. Instead, she sniffed around, until she found where they had left the town, joined by the Nockmaar-masked-with-Asleen smells of the magical captors, and the sweet smell, almost like lilacs, that she knew to be Elora. About fifteen smells in total had managed to leave the city.
Tracking was easy with her new nose. She led Willow out of the city, sniffing deeply and eagerly. It was like a whole new world had been opened to her. As they got out of the town, onto the path through nature, she was almost blown away with the variety and power of the scents available to her. She could tell distinctions in animals – not just fox from squirrel, but different squirrels. The trees and plants smelled too, cloyingly moist smells near the ground and undersides, bright and distinctive smells on the sun-sides. As a woman, she had loved being out-of-doors, and was familiar with different types of plants. It had never just been a carpet of green background for her. But now – now she was humbled at how little she knew. Even the sunlight seemed to have an odor, a pleasant scent that textured all it touched. She could sense faraway smells in the breeze, and the differences in ages of fresh and old scents. The Nockmaarians were easy to detect, leather and steel and salt and sweat bundled in a way as clear to her as any face.
She trotted forward eagerly, breathing heavily. In part, it was to smell things. In part, she was getting winded. She was fat, much fatter than she was accustomed to as a beautiful woman. The sow was something shy of three hundred pounds. Not gigantic for a pig of her breed, but more than she was used to moving. She almost didn't notice it, though, so exciting was this new world to her. But Willow noticed, and stopped her.
"Here, girl, let me make this easier on us," he said, cobbling together a refreshment spell for the two of them. Casting it, they both felt weariness in their limbs fall away, as though they had only spent the day relaxing. They made better time then, moving almost as fast as a Daikini might.
It was summer, so a fire was unnecessary. Willow wrapped up in his blanket with a pillow made of soft grasses. The sow twisted and turned and tried to get comfortable, but couldn't do it like she was accustomed to. Finally, she just sprawled out like a pig, her broad back up against him for a little warmth. But it benefited him more than her – the sow's thick hide made the night quite pleasant. Sorsha had always enjoyed sleeping outdoors after her stifling youth in the gloomy Nockmaar castle. As a pig, it was no different. She slept well, and Willow had to wake the comfortable sow the next morning.
The second day of tracking was much like the first. The Nockmaars weren't making very good time, and Sorsha could smell something of their frustration in their sweat and droppings. Elora seemed to understand her situation in her preternatural way, and was dragging her feet and delaying her captors with her childish needs as much as possible. It made it easy for the short-legged Nelwyn and the plump pig to keep pace with the well-trained soldiers. Still, they were careful not to get too close. They followed at least two hours behind them for four days.
By then, Willow felt that they would be sure that they weren't being pursued; that their plan had gone off perfectly but for the horses. He wanted to sneak up further, listen in to the villains and try to learn their plans, and more importantly, their weaknesses and routines. Clearly, they were moving towards the old site of Nockmaar; undoubtedly to duplicate Bavmorda's final spell. But on foot, it would take a long time. They usually avoided settlements – the people here would give Nockmaarians no aid, and they wanted to keep their mission secret. Elora would be miserable but unharmed – they needed her alive for the Ritual.
After the first day, the fat princess took to foraging for herself, leaving the human food to Willow. She dug up delicious roots, acorns, and mushrooms, gorging herself like a real sow. It tasted better to her, anyway. The pig was surprised at herself. There was an immense feeling of freedom in the wide world, and of self sufficiency. Without an overbearing, cruel mother or meaningless courtly duties, the sow was tasting liberty, and enjoying it.
On the seventh day, the pig had picked up another familiar smell – Madmartigan. He had been investigating cattle raids, and Sorsha quickly reported that she smelled his tracks crossing theirs – finding him would be no more than a day's detour. Willow wasn't ecstatic about breaking off pursuit, but a trained warrior would come in handy, when they made their move. A modestly magical Nelwyn and a fat pig made for a poor attacking force. So, after a short argument, they moved to follow their friend.
Madmartigan was in the nearby village of Cerridwen. When the Nelwyn and the pig arrived, they found him exiting a cottage where he was clearly staying. The sow couldn't help but notice a buxom, fresh-faced girl smiling after him. He turned, and started heading towards the cow pastures. He was still human – apparently, anything outside of Asleen had not been transformed. Willow hurried to catch up with him, the Daikini's long strides each worth two of his. Sorsha wasn't in such a hurry. She was embarrassed for Madmartigan to see her like this, as a fat sow. What would he think? What would he say? She wasn't eager for the coming humiliation.
"Madmartigan!" Willow called. "Madmartigan! Turn around, you big lug! It's me, Willow!"
"Willow?" Madmartigan asked, genuinely surprised, as he turned around to see the short man running towards him. "Willow, what are you doing here?" He loped forward, closing the distance quickly, and scooped the Nelwyn up in a bear hug. "Good to see you, little guy! What brings you so far north?"
"Trouble, I'm afraid. I seem to bring it with me."
"I've been there," chuckled Madmartigan. "Last time, you probably caused me as much trouble as I caused you, and that's saying something."
"It's good to see you again, Madmartigan."
"You too, Willow. So, what's this trouble that you've brought today? I'm looking into something for the Asleen people, but you can tag along while I finish up."
Willow shook his head. "These cattle raids by Nockmaar remnants – they're just a distraction. What they were really doing was keeping their true strength hidden – they got a sorcerer into the castle who could redo all of Bavmorda's enchantments. They took Elora, and are heading back to Nockmaar's ruin under someone named General Harkenwell."
"That's the guy who preceded Kael, right? Wait…" Madmartigan's eyes grew wide as what Willow had said caught up with him, and he noticed the fat sow. "What the hell?" Sorsha shifted from hoof to hoof, humiliation welling up in her. She suddenly hated being naked in front of her lover, even though it had seemed natural yesterday, in front of Willow. And in her current state, the hog had no way of covering her modesty.
"It's me, Madmartigan," she squealed sadly.
"Sorsha? What the hell? Who in God's name is that powerful? Are you two all that's left of Tir Asleen?"
The sow nodded despondently. To his credit, he put Willow down, came over to her, knelt, and hugged her. She felt selfish for caring about such a thing, but the pig felt relief wash over her, that he still loved her. "We managed to kill their horses, so they're on foot. Sorsha's been tracking them with her powerful nose. They can't get close to towns to steal horses, since there are only about fifteen of them left. But that's still too much for a neophyte wizard and a pig to handle."
"Not too much for the greatest swordsman who ever lived," said Madmartigan, the cadence of his voice swelling back to familiar, comforting bravado. "Come on, you can fill me in about the rest on the way." And with that, Madmartigan started striding impulsively out of Cerridwen, as though he owed no explanation to anyone there. Willow smiled, trotting after him. After a moment, the pig did, too.
Madmartigan talked strategy for a little while, feeling out what they were up against. But eventually, he drifted back towards the awkward situation with Sorsha. "So how are you doing, Sunshine?" he asked her. "Not much fun to be stuck as a pig."
"I'm getting by," the sow grunted. "Willow needs my tracking skills, and I do smell things well in this form."
"Yeah, but if all you need is a snout, why can't you be mostly a person?"
"I don't know for certain how to do a partial transformation," admitted Willow. "If I could make her a woman with a pig's nose, I would. But as it is, it's simply better that she be a pig."
Sorsha sighed. "At least I don't need the food or blankets or anything. I can root around and fend for myself."
"But you're a hog. I know I didn't like it, on that night in front of Nockmaar."
"Well, better to be a pig out here than one back in Tir Asleen with that dragon."
Madmartigan smiled. So you need me to kill a dragon for you after we get the kid back? Thank you so much for the easy assignments."
"I've never met anyone as arrogant as you," sniffed the hog.
"Hey, who's the one who killed it the last time? It's not bravado when it's true."
"Careful, I can smell your braggart pheromones."
"Not unpleasant, I trust," the warrior replied jovially. But the pig remained silent. "Really, what do I smell like?" he asked.
The sow looked at the ground. "Like that farmgirl you were bedding with," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry, but I can smell her all over you. And both of your arousal."
"Sorsha, I'm sorry. It's just…"
"No," the pig interrupted. "I don't need an explanation. I've never wanted to tie you down, or drain you of that essential roguish you-ness that gives you so much charm. And hell, if for some reason I get stuck as a pig forever, we can hardly be together like that anymore. But I don't want to be one conquest of many."
"You're not just a conquest."
"I know. I know you love me, and not the others. But it just hurts, sometimes."
"I'm sorry. I wish that I hadn't caused you pain."
Sorsha grunted. "Let's just talk about something else, okay?" she asked. He looked apologetically at her, like she was still a person and not a pig.
It wasn't long before the plump pig caught the scent again, and the rescue party redoubled their efforts. Madmartigan even carried Willow on his shoulders for part of the way, when the Nelwyn grew exhausted.
When they bedded down for the evening, Sorsha wandered off a ways, needing her space. Seeing Madmartigan had brought a lot of conflicting feelings to the fore in her piggish breast. She loved him so much it hurt her, but she knew that trying to hold him for herself would only drive him away or wither him. She needed him to choose her of his own free will, and that seemed unlikely. He had a longstanding reputation as a womanizer, and it had become ingrained in him. She knew he saw his other women as idle entertainment, and lovemaking with her was not the same to him as that. She was special to him, privileged. But that sort of life wasn't good enough for her, and she didn't want to compromise or diminish either of them. She couldn't think of a happy solution. Magic had drawn them together – were they thus destined to drift apart?
She sniffed around, taking comfort in nature, in the thick damp smells of the woods. She did love her new senses. And then she smelled something else – something that made her feel heady, almost aroused. She rooted around until she found it under a knot of oak trees – a truffle. She wolfed it down, almost without thinking. It was amazing that such a thing could overwhelm her senses so, but eating the truffle was almost more of a pleasure than lovemaking was. The pig panted, overwhelmed with how right everything felt - her senses, her behavior, her body. It was like being a pig was appropriate for her; the right way for her to commune with nature. The sow struggled with the bizarre thought. Still, she returned back to camp in a considerably better mood than when she had left, and slept soundly.
#WeightGain #Transformation #PigGirls #PigGirl #FemalePigTransformation #FemaleTransformationStory
TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART 2
#WeightGain #Transformation #PigGirls #PigGirl #FemalePigTransformation #FemaleTransformationStory
By Digital Circe
(woman to pig transformation)
Story warning: nudity, humiliation, religious themes
Circe had been vacationing in the United States for a few weeks, enjoying her annual sojourn away from her island kingdom in Aeaea. She had been growing steadily more impressed with the human world over the past century or so, as their technological accomplishments had begun to rival the finest achievements of her magical peers. In her opinion, most of those like her – deities – missed out by not keeping current with what the mortals could do, could achieve. It was exhilarating, after a fashion – like watching a child grow up.
She had been shopping for groceries, and decided to enjoy a longer-than-necessary walk home. Music seemed to pound out of every other apartment window, car stereo, and personal iPod. When people had still believed in her as a goddess, such a diversity of music was unknown. There were plenty of amateurs, but skilled musicians and bards were less common, and rarely faced competition for people's ears. Now, their recorded works dueled for attention.
She wasn't in one of the better parts of town, but she liked to take in all of the culture, even the seamy sides of it. Grubby pawn shops and sleazy bars and their rough clients could scarcely hurt her, after all. Even the laws of physics knelt down to her.
As Circe passed a rundown church, she noticed a few congregants loading a truck with supplies for the local food pantry. Quietly, she passed two of her bags of groceries to one of them and moved on. She didn't attend services there very often, but still felt moved to help with their outreach. It was a pleasing change, to world culture – systematic assistance to the poor. In her heyday, such collective impulses were almost nonexistent, beyond one's own family. Of course, the world was richer now. People could afford to be generous when they didn't struggle to cook enough of their own bread and carry enough of their own water each day. Exhilarating progress, indeed.
So she was in a fairly good mood as she turned the corner, watching a few young teenagers playing in the spray of an opened fire hydrant. She passed worn down shop fronts, looking in their windows as their various goods and services. Most were bars, tenements, tattoo parlors, and strip clubs. Suddenly, she stopped short in front of a strip club. Posters covered the front, depicting the dancers with only little black boxes protecting their modesty. One in particular, though, had caught her attention. One of an attractive blonde girl, big in the bust and wearing a vapid smile that she took to be sensuous, curled around a metal pole. The girl's name was on it, and her schedule at the club. There, in big letters, was a slap in the face to the tourist goddess. Circe. The little tart was calling herself Circe.
Obviously, she hardly expected worship or veneration from mortals these days. Hell, most of her pantheon didn't even regard themselves as gods anymore, merely powerful beings. But something about the misuse of her name rankled at her. She tried the door, intent on giving the manager a talking-to he wouldn't soon forget, but it was early enough in the day that it wasn't open yet. Her eyes narrowed, and the general good mood of the morning evaporated. She thought for a brief moment of blowing open the door and leveling the place. But no, she reigned herself in. She didn't often resort to her powers when away from her kingdom. With a furious tirade playing in her mind's eye, she turned and stalked home to her apartment.
She had fretted over the insult all afternoon. She knew that she shouldn't take it so hard, but it was preferable to be forgotten than debased. She rarely saw her name in the modern world – an obscure variant of chess, the occasional story by someone like Nathaniel Hawthorne – nothing very significant. But then, she had never been a popular subject for the artists back in ancient Greece, either. The Cyclops adorned many more pots and tapestries than she did. And she liked the comparative anonymity. People knew who she was, but not usually enough to intrude or annoy. Probably, someone like Aphrodite had long since become used to her name being attached to unbecoming things, because she had always put herself out there. Of course she would expect satire and insult, as the price of fame and respect. But Circe didn't ask for either.
Finally, she determined to go to the club and see the whore that dared identify herself so inappropriately. She remained in a black mood all through the evening, until darkness fell and the stripper's set was scheduled to begin. Well, as dark as a modern city ever got, anyway. In Circe's day, the world was lit only by fire at night. Now, the cities could be seen from space. Circe walked the ten blocks in sullen silence, the night warm and humid.
Mandy hurried into the club, running a little late as usual. "Circe, you're on in fifteen!" the DJ hissed, annoyed, as she rushed through his booth, pushing a wrinkled printout of the songs she wanted played for her sets tonight.
"Sorry, I'll be ready! Going to dress right now!" she said, and scrambled back to the dressing rooms. A few other dancers were back there, chatting and relaxing – but not too many. Most that weren't dancing were working the floor.
"Late again, Mandy?" asked Elizabeth, amused. "Need any help getting ready?"
"No, I'm fine," Mandy replied, shucking off her clothes and pulling on her black thong and garter belt. She arranged her makeup in the mirror – enough to have an effect on the dark and blacklit floor, and fluffed up her hair. Then she pulled on a slutty schoolgirl outfit for her first costume of the evening, and laced up her boots. Elizabeth passed her a bottle of the perfume, and she liberally spritzed herself with it.
Elizabeth smiled. "You get ready faster than anyone I know," she said, a laugh in her voice. "Of course, it helps when you naturally look good even stepping out of a thunderstorm."
"Ah, I've just got the routine down pat," said Mandy. She was a little embarrassed that the other strippers were jealous of her looks. It wasn't like her body didn't have flaws – everyone's did – but she had always had a sort of effortless beauty about her. Besides, the low light hid most imperfections, and the alcohol did the rest. The patrons wouldn't notice anything less than perfect with any of the strippers. But since their income was directly tied to their looks, most of them fretted. Elizabeth felt her hips were too narrow and boyish, her rear not plump enough. She quietly envied Mandy's attractive backside.
"Well, I need to hit the floor and start selling lap dances," said Elizabeth. "Walk me up?"
"I'll be up in a second," Mandy replied, doing a few last minute touch-ups to her makeup.
Another stripper, Dakota, was on stage when Mandy emerged. Dakota was gyrating, her huge boobs swaying hypnotically. They were fakes – she was naturally flat – but they had been done well so you couldn't tell the difference. Dakota could tell the difference in her take-home pay, though, and highly recommended implants to the lesser-endowed dancers. She and Circe were among the most popular at the club, and coincidentally also had among the most substantial bustlines.
Elizabeth – known up here as Tempest – was with a customer in the corner, gyrating in his lap, so Mandy didn't bother her. She hurried over near the sound booth, waiting her turn. "You're cutting it close, Circe," the DJ whispered.
"Sorry," she said, and looked back at Dakota on the stage. Her song was winding down, and she quickly gathered up her money and discarded clothes to give to a page so she could start making the rounds of the tables.
"Ladies and gentlemen, that again was Dakota!" the DJ said into the microphone. "Show her your appreciation, and if you liked what you saw, let her know you'd like a little personal attention!" Dakota smiled and waved, and a patron was quick to offer her a drink. She sat down to chat, sure to quickly be bought for lap dances. "You're on, kid," the DJ said, giving Mandy a firm swat on the butt to get her moving to the stage. She squeaked, hurrying up the stairs.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for our own bewitching Circe! And don't worry about being a little piggish with her, this little blonde goddess likes a man with a little animal in him!" The crowd applauded as Mandy strode onto stage, hands in the air, her soundtrack beginning behind her.
She began to sway back and forth, her hips always moving, as Shakira's "She Wolf" pounded behind her. Eventually, her hands found the pole, and she began to curl and uncurl herself around it seductively, looking directly at the men and smiling lasciviously. Her heart was beating quickly. She loved dancing, and performing in front of a crowd – she'd never had the discipline to be a professional dancer, but stripping let her indulge it without dedicating her whole life to the art. Cheers and wolf-whistles spurred her on, and she danced close to the edge, bending low to let the men see her assets as she rubbed her hands seductively across her body.
Slowly, sonorously, she peeled off her top and miniskirt, letting the guests see her underwear-clad body. Men who laid money on the stage in front of her were favored with a personal close-up, as she danced around, careful not to stay in one place too much. Her breathing quickened, both from the exertion and the emotion, as she swayed left and right, her long legs swinging elegantly and her breasts threatening to pop out of her bra.
Mandy turned and pirouetted, hugging the pole as she let herself sink to the ground, then popped back up, launching herself into the routine again. Smoothly, she unhooked her bra, slowly pulling it away to reveal her big, bouncy boobs in all their glory. She heard cheers, and shook her shoulders, making her breasts dance, and then pressed them around the pole, moving them up and down it. The guests easily caught on to her subtext, and she continued her tour of the edge of the stage, bending over to jiggle her tits in the face of anyone laying money on the platform. Although she still had several more minutes dancing, she was as bare as she was going to get for the routine - it was an alcohol-serving establishment, so the dancers were required to wear thongs at all times. Not that the skimpy things concealed much. From the back, Mandy's was barely a string, disappearing entirely in the cleft of her butt.
She smiled at the cheers and whistles, shaking her merchandise for all she was worth, feeling the beat and almost letting it move her glorious body for her. She felt a certain happiness out here. Not for any of the specific patrons – although she had regulars, they were just customers to her – but for the feeling of being desired, being desirable. They wanted her. Mandy couldn't help but feel that her stripper handle was appropriate. If there was anyone who could turn a man into a beast, it was she. She bounced around with the chorus, feeling electrified.
Circe wasn't feeling nearly so happy. Alone at a table a few feet away from the stage, she nursed a beer she had no intention of drinking. A cover charge and a one drink minimum – this institution had quite a racket going. People were willing to pay quite a lot just for the privilege of paying more money to a girl to take her clothes off. And then what? It's not like the patrons could buy the love or interest of any of these jiggling girls. It seemed like it was a place of infinite frustration, and she couldn't comprehend how these things were so ridiculously popular.
Circe was surprised that the DJ had strung together that little bit of mythological introduction. Maybe he was a classics major and tried to liven up this job with some small intellect so he didn't die of tedium. Maybe the girl had written it, after having cracked an encyclopedia for the only time in her life. Still, they made it clear – she was explicitly the one being mocked by this little routine. They had contrived to present this jiggling, bosomy blonde tart as the goddess to the room full of drunkards and perverts and lonely losers. As Circe sat and watched the stripper dance, she fumed. She deserved nothing less than to be a fat, smelly, sty-dwelling sow. She should see the power of a real goddess.
"Drink not taste good to you?" a waitress asked amiably, and Circe turned to look at her. The girl appeared to be about seven months pregnant, and was probably normally a stripper, downgraded while her body wasn't in dancing shape. Circe forced a smile. A girl wouldn't work here while she was expectant unless she really needed the job.
"I'm not big on alcohol," she said.
"I'm sorry – weren't you offered a Coke or something? We've got bottled water, too. I'd be glad to exchange it for you," the girl tittered, seemingly genuinely concerned.
"Its fine, thank you for offering," Circe replied. "Hey, can you tell me about that dancer?" she asked, nodding her head towards Mandy, who was continuing her routine. "Where'd she choose a name like 'Circe'?"
"She's been here for a couple of years. She's pretty popular, especially with her boobs."
"You're not without charms, yourself, though."
"Me? I've just got mommy boobs. They'll go back down after the kid. Besides, nobody wants a pregnant stripper."
"But they do want her."
"Yeah, well, she's beautiful and talented. What guy wouldn't want to be with her?"
There seemed to be something reserved about the waitress, something not completely honest – even resentful. She decided to apply her powers. "What's she really like?" Circe asked again, gently magically nudging the waitress towards the truth.
The girl sighed. "I think Mandy's stuck up. She's always running late. She doesn't share her profits with the bouncers or waitresses like most of the dancers do – I don't know if she does it consciously, but she doesn't seem to see us as real people. She makes fun of me sometimes because I'm too fat to dance right now – I know she thinks it's a harmless joke, but I just go home and cry."
"What's your name, honey?" Circe asked, sensing a kindred spirit.
"Kristen," the gravid waitress replied.
"What did you call yourself, when you were dancing?"
"Glory," Kristen answered. "I liked that it sounded exotic, but like it could still be a real name."
"It's pretty. It suits you better than 'Circe' does her."
"Yeah, well, she knows she's 'bewitching'. So she took a magic name."
"Well, goddesses aren't to be trifled with. She might yet get her comeuppance."
"Yeah, right. The prettiest girls always win in the end. But I appreciate you saying it." Kristen looked back to the bar, where the bartender was signaling to her pointedly. "Well, looks like I need to go. People aren't gonna get themselves drunk," she sighed.
"Thanks for talking with me," said Circe, pressing a tip into the waitress's hand. She turned back to the stage, where Mandy was completing her routine. She gathered up her cast-off clothes and money, pushing them into the hands of a page in her eagerness to start making the rounds.
Mandy was breathing heavily, but far from exhausted. Dancing always seemed to give her energy. She smiled brightly, bouncing over to a table and greeting a few guys there, and accepted an offer of a drink. They stared openly at her heaving breasts, and she was careful to move around a lot so her big boobs would continue their hypnotic dance. Unfortunately, the guys seemed a bit shy, and it didn't look like she'd be propositioned for a lap dance, so she made her visit short, moving to another table. She smiled at Tempest, who was guiding a man to a secluded couch, and found herself looking at a table with a single woman seated there. She stopped.
Normally, female patrons were only marginally profitable. It was worse, if they were there with a boy, but still, a dancer didn't make as much money for her time investment with a woman. Still, there was something odd about this one. She was beautiful, in a strange, indefinable sort of way, and Mandy found she couldn't look away.
The woman looked her over from head to toe, taking her time. Sizing her up.
"Hi! Did you like my show?" Mandy asked, feeling strangely transfixed by the woman's stare.
"I found it very interesting," Circe said, in a tone that didn't make at all clear to Mandy whether she was being sarcastic or not. "So, you call yourself Circe."
"Yep. And I'm still turning men into pigs, after all these years," she bragged. There was a flash of something inscrutable on the patron's face, so quick that it barely registered with Mandy.
"Is that so? Are you saying that you're the 'real' Circe?"
"Yeah – I'm the goddess of bringing out the animal in people." Mandy felt something slightly off about the woman, and suddenly had the desire to leave. She felt like she was being quizzed. "Well, I better move on," she said.
"Wait. I'd – I'd like to impose upon you for a – lap dance," Circe said carefully, struggling not to choke on the words.
"Really?" the stripper asked, smiling brightly. "Sure, right this way." She took Circe's hand and led her over to a secluded couch, gently sitting her down.
"Let's explore those animal urges you were talking about," Circe said tonelessly.
The girl smiled vibrantly, her disquiet much reduced. She pulled her g-string out, and Circe pushed her money into it.
Mandy chatted idly for a few minutes, utterly unconcerned with her own nakedness, and Circe realized that she was waiting for a song to begin. These driving rock ballads were how she tracked time in this dark place. "You ready?" Mandy asked huskily, gently laying Circe's hands at her sides and pulling her hips to the edge of the couch. The goddess could only nod.
Mandy started to writhe sensuously in Circe's lap. She raised herself up, massaging her heavy boobs against her face, letting the plump weights slap against her cheeks. The stripper's cheap perfume filled the goddess's nostrils. She rose, her tummy filling Circe's view, and then moved her breasts in again, swaying left and right. "I love your hair," she said, playing with it as she worked her firm tits against Circe's face.
Eventually, she bent over, and bit Circe's right nipple through the fabric of her blouse. It was unpleasant, but she didn't discourage her – she let Mandy continue biting and nuzzling for a few seconds. Then she knelt down in front of the goddess. Circe looked down at the blonde vision, plying her trade submissively. She bowed her head deeply, then pressed it up against her patron's lap. Circe was surprised by the feeling, having not expected her to use her head in that way. Did she do this with men, too? More came, as she tilted her head up, bringing her sweet face against Circe's crotch, rubbing herself back and forth, giving her patron plenty of time to take in the sensation of her submission. Eventually, the busty blonde beauty raised herself, and planted herself in Circe's lap. She gyrated her full ass around against her crotch, and then sat down hard on her. She bounced her big firm butt up and down, using her assets to great effect. The girl was sensual, talented. Despite her disgust, the goddess could see some genuine skill in the mortal.
Mandy settled down, sitting hard on her lap for a moment, then slid off, her butt sliding into Circe's open left hand. She smiled innocently, wiggling her magnificent boobs, then bent forward into another nipple nuzzling, laying across her laterally. Again she rose, and recommenced grinding her wonderful endowments against her face, taking a hold of her head and pressing the firm feminine weight against her. The dance continued, a routine of choreographed but seemingly spontaneous movement.
Mandy rubbed her breasts against Circe's, and again she pressed her head, and her face, against her lap, kissing her there, bowing and rising as if in an act of submissive devotion. That alone troubled Circe - the sensation of the beautiful girl worshiping her. It would feel good except that this tart was implying that a goddess should be submissively worshiping the bodies of lonely drunk perverts. Mandy was implying with her name that Circe's place was on her knees, being submissive to losers. Even kissing their private parts.
"You're very talented. Don't you worry about what men think of you? Of selling yourself short?" Circe asked quietly.
"They're putting me through college, and getting me a down payment on a house. No, I don't care. Besides, why would I be bothered by men who are so enamored of me? I have all the power here. It's fun."
The stripper continued, unperturbed by the interruption. Eventually, Mandy turned around again, and pushed her full butt against her. She pressed her whole weight down, bouncing up and down on her lap. She rose slightly, letting her butt rub against Circe's belly, adding a slight circular motion to the bizarre caress. At her apex, she stroked her butt against Circe's bosom, eventually settling back down to rub and sway in her lap. Finally she turned, giving Circe another view and smell of her cheaply perfumed breasts, and kissed her gently on the cheek as the second song ended.
"Thank you. That was a lot of fun!" Mandy said huskily.
"Wait, don't go. I'll buy another lap dance."
"Really? Wow, you must really like me. Sure!" tittered the stripper. Circe dug out more money, pressing it into the dancer's garter. Happily, Mandy returned to her performance, shaking her shoulders and causing her big boobs to bounce fetchingly. Circe took a moment to take in the girl's body – the bouncing breasts, the taut belly, the gently rounded thighs. She was indeed quite pretty, and skilled at strip dancing. But it wasn't enough to make the goddess excited.
It wasn't that Circe was unused to romance, but she was accustomed to lovers of the caliber of Odysseus. However talented this girl might be at shaking her bottom, she wasn't in the same league. She looked at the stripper's beautiful face, now slightly flushed from exertion. Mandy smiled, as she gyrated, mistaking Circe's interest for ardor.
"You can touch me… we really only don't want the boys touching us," she whispered. Tentatively, Circe raised her hand, caressing the pale, perfect rear end of the dancer. Her flesh was so bare, vulnerable – whatever her talents, the goddess was sure she was selling herself short. She squeezed the bottom slightly, imagining her with a tail.
"So, what's your name, Miss?" asked the stripper.
"I've been going by the name 'Circe' recently."
"'Kirke'? That's kind of like my stage name."
"No," Circe said, feeling her anger swell. "It's the same name. I'm just experimenting with pronouncing the Kappas hard."
"I've certainly never heard it said that way," the stripper said mildly.
"Ignorant girl. Every few hundred years, you'd desire a change, too."
"Hey! I'm not stupid!"
"You take your clothes off for money. How smart can you be?"
"Like I said, I'm getting rich! Way more than I would as some office drone! And who are you to judge me? You're the one who can't stop sticking money in my garter belt!"
"I am Circe, the goddess you mock. You claim to have the power to turn men into pigs? Well, I have the power to turn you into one, you filthy little beast!"
"Are you high on something?" Mandy asked, a hint of derision in her voice. But there was a hint of something else as well – the words had come out shriller than the stripper had intended – a touch of a squealing overtone. She swallowed, forcing herself to attribute it to hoarseness.
Circe pushed harder, willing the changes to begin in earnest. It was time to see this beautiful girl as the sow she really was. She squeezed the fleshy cheek of her butt, and Mandy writhed, unable to break away. A warmth started spreading through her bottom, but the stripper was helpless to do anything more than jiggle.
Slowly, a nub of flesh pushed out over her thong, and the panicked dancer shook her butt to try to get it off. But it was a part of her – and in torturous detail, she could feel it twist out, turning into an energetic, wiggling corkscrew of flesh. Mandy swallowed numbly in terror, feeling her new pig tail twitch and slap lightly against her lower back and the tops of her cheeks. It was real. She really had a pig's tail. This strange woman wasn't lying or stoned or crazy – she really had the power to turn a person into a pig!
Overwhelmed, she tried to scream, but only a high pitched squeal passed her lips. Wide-eyed, she felt her nostrils flare and turn upwards, as her pert nose started its metamorphosis into a snout. She squealed again, long and loud and terrified.
At Mandy's shrieking squeal, several of the bouncers started towards them, other patrons and dancers looking their way. It wouldn't do at all for them to get involved. Gently reaching out with her magic, Circe started to block their awareness of what she and Mandy were doing, but then thought better of it. The little exhibitionist deserved an audience. She reached out again, subtly making everyone in the room eager to watch Mandy's downfall, excited about seeing her turn into a fat pig. Bouncers, waitresses, strippers, and patrons, all looked over, murmuring excitedly to each other and pointing at her springy tail. None would help the little tart now.
Mandy was looking around wildly, unable to comprehend why no one was helping her. Couldn't they see that something was wrong? She felt her nose swell, getting quite a bit larger. She could smell the air with her new pig nose, and the smells of cheap perfume and alcohol and male arousal suddenly resolved in her sinuses. She felt disoriented, and squealed again.
"A snout, a tail, and a voice," said Circe, proud of her handiwork. "Enough so that everyone can tell exactly what you're going to become. But the easy part's done with. I'm going to go slow, just for you, sweetie. Everyone is going to get to enjoy the show. Cherish each moment, for in each you will be more human than you ever will be again."
"Please, no!" Mandy squealed, in tears. Her words were barely distinguishable amid her porcine oinking.
"Yes," said Circe, smiling and squeezing Mandy's hand. The girl staggered back a few paces, snuffling through her larger nose, still breathing heavily from her exertions. Only now, she was snorting like a sow.
Mandy looked over at the bouncers and squealed, trying to get them to deal with Circe, but for some reason they just stood there and smiled. She tried gesturing, and one of the men laughed at her antics. "Look at that fat pig!" one said jovially. "You think she wants to be fed?" Mandy flushed. How dare he call her fat! But she was beginning to get plumper. Not much, and it wouldn't have been noticeable had she been wearing clothes; but her bare body was clearly becoming softer, less defined. And she knew it.
"You may want to get down on all fours, little stripper," said Circe. "It'll make some parts of the transformation a little easier on you." Mandy tried cursing at the goddess, but only a tearful squeal came out. "Suit yourself," she said, and tugged on Mandy's tail.
The poor transforming stripper squealed loudly at that, jerking away from Circe and struggling to keep her balance. Her feet were changing in her boots, becoming larger and more like on tiptoe. Of course, it helped that she was in high heels for that, but not much. She wobbled around clumsily, all her dancer's grace gone.
"Yeah! Make that fat pig squeal!" Dakota yelled. Mandy grunted in misery as her friends and coworkers turned on her, cheering her transformation into livestock. She tried to hide her face in her hands, but noticed that her fingers were growing together, becoming thick and calloused. Her nails were turning a dusky, dirty color, and thickening over the surface of her fingers. The reality that she soon wouldn't have hands at all pierced her like a knife.
"I think she just realized what she's turning into!" one patron laughed.
"Well, she's always late to everything else," added the DJ.
"Squeal for us again, piggy!" called another stripper.
"Hey, pig! How about a lap dance while you still have a butt anyone would want to touch?" another man yelled.
Mandy tried to stagger away from Circe, leaning against the couch for support. She was uncomfortably aware that her broadening backside and silly tail were pointed directly at her old customers, but there was little she could do about that now. She felt a tickling sensation flower across her belly, and looked down past her slightly sagging boobs. She was growing more nipples. Circe tickled one cruelly. "These'll come in handy with your nice childrearing hips," she said, and Mandy jerked away from her again, managing to fall with the brisk motion. With a start, she realized that she was on all fours. She flicked her ears, trying to get her bearings, and realized that they were now long enough to move on their own.
But before she could acclimate herself, Circe slapped the fattening pig on the ass, and with a squeal, the poor sow skittered away, towards her former coworkers. But a bouncer smacked the sow's bloated butt, too, laughing, and she reversed course, struggling away from him, and grunting in panic as more people laughed at her. "Squeal, piggy!" yelled Tempest, spanking the pig again, and again the terrified Mandy took off in another direction. The plumping piggirl was surrounded in a ring of tormentors, and each direction she ran, another slap on her flank or fat ass made her turn and run out of instinct. Her mind was too dim to figure it out, as a patron swatted her on the thigh, causing her to turn and waddle towards the pregnant Kristen, who also favored her with a sharp spank on the butt. The pig struggled away in fresh terror, the sound of laughter filling her ears.
She collapsed near the center of the human circle, still unsteady on her shifting, shortening limbs. The heckling and catcalls increased, and Mandy wailed, overwhelmed. She panted in exhaustion, noticing that she wasn't sweating anymore. Her belly continued to grow, bulking her torso out into a kind of barrel shape while her shoulders and hips sunk into her new flesh. Her head swelled, tipping upwards, and her mouth grew out with her huge nose to form a common sow's snout, wet with snot and tears. She could feel her teeth change, reshaping to fill her snout, and her eyes dimmed, casting the world around her in less vivid colors. Her scent and hearing had increased to cover the loss, but it was still a profoundly disorienting sensation for Mandy.
She tried to pull herself back up to her half-hooves, finding herself unable to rise from all fours. Her bottom was a little higher than her head, but it lowered as her legs continued to shift, regularizing in length. She squealed at the people in the circle, almost in warning, and turned slowly, looking at all the people jeering her. Her thong was growing very tight, and she pulled her hind legs entirely out of the awkward boots. Teats bulged behind her flopping breasts. She backed up a little, flipping her tousled hair out of her eyes, and looked around nervously.
"Looks like there'll be bacon tonight!" one of the patrons laughed, and Mandy cringed at that. She didn't want to be a pig, but it was preferable to being dead and eaten! Would they – could they do something so horrible to her? Her face pulled out into a full wedge shape, tears drying as her tear ducts evaporated from her new eyes. Her bulk rounded out, big beautiful boobs deflating fully into two more teats sagging from her underbelly. Her fingers and toes finished solidifying into masses of bone, and her blonde hair faded away, leaving her scalp bare. Mandy squealed as her g-string snapped off, leaving the fattening stripper quite naked. She felt her insides squirm, as everything settled into its new place, and then it was done.
The fat pig squealed helplessly, listening to the cheers of all the spectators, some of whom she had considered friends. She had been turned into a filthy, rooting sow. The pig was so embarrassed that she wanted to crawl into a hole in the wall. She hung her head, grunting sorrowfully, unable to meet the gazes of the mocking, laughing strippers and staff and customers. She couldn't bear to even look at them. People nudged her, delighting in her humiliation and wanting to feel her pigflesh for themselves.
Circe looked down at the fat, snuffling pig, and felt her anger evaporate. She felt a little bad for the sow, a little embarrassed that she had cared so much. Mandy had deserved her transformation, but the humiliation was over the top. Circe cleared her throat, magically augmenting her voice to be agreeable. "I'm afraid without her thong, this dancer has violated your dress code. I'll just take her away," she offered, and everyone seemed to think that was fine. The fat sow squealed pathetically, not knowing where she was going to be taken.
Circe picked up Mandy's earnings and shoved the wad of bills into Kristen's hands. "Make sure it's shared with all the waitresses and bouncers," she said. Kristen's eyes got big, and she nodded, quickly moving to pass the money out. Meanwhile, Circe fashioned a makeshift leash, and slipped it around the neck of the fat, squealing sow.
"You'll be well taken care of, Mandy. You'll always be a sow, but you'll have a pleasant enough life," she said gently. The pig grunted nervously.
Then she turned, and headed for the exit. The pig in tow, Circe noticed a poster for another stripper, this one using the handle of 'Lorelai'. Perhaps she would have to alert her Norse counterpart to the infringement – she expected the siren's revenge would entail a much worse fate than her fat new companion had undergone.
The night was warm, and Mandy found that it wasn't difficult to keep up with Circe's pace in her new quadrupedal body. She trotted along quietly, her mind reeling.
Circe had time to think and reflect as she walked, still upset about the insult to her name, but also embarrassed by her own reaction, nudging the crowd to taunt and humiliate the stripper. She hadn't created those emotions from nothing – Mandy had clearly never been liked or respected by the people she surrounded herself with – but it should have been enough to punish the girl and stop her blasphemy. She shouldn't have had to throw in petty cruelty, as well.
As she walked, they passed the rundown church. Circe felt uncomfortable in its shadow, dark bars protecting its modest stained glass windows from vandalism. On a whim, she magically caused the door to unlock, and led the sow into the smallish sanctuary, sitting down in the back pew. She hadn't been inside in a few weeks, but nothing had changed. The cross and altar and religious iconography sat at the front, shrouded in the dimness of night in a city. The pig grunted nervously, perplexed. She tried not to draw too much attention to herself.
Circe looked towards the front sadly. Blasphemy was one of His big ten. Should she treat it any differently? She looked down at the snuffling pig. A lot had changed since this faith captured the world. She should know – she'd watched it happen firsthand. And it had gone through as many phases as her own veneration. There was a time when His ministers and advocates would have rewarded blasphemy with torture and death. She remembered the robed cleric-judges of bygone ages, trying to divine how to better the world with blood and fear. Of course, those men were long since dust.
Was that progress, too? Tolerance? His people had been judicious about blasphemy for a few centuries, but these days, even with three billion adherents, they were all satisfied that when others blasphemed Him, it was merely a roadblock to personal righteousness, and not an executable offense. Were blasphemy laws there for the benefit of people rather than gods? She felt very small, with her pig victim.
The sow trundled around, nervous. She couldn't understand why they'd stopped in a church, or what was about to happen to her. She desperately hoped that she wouldn't be butchered. She looked up at the vengeful goddess she had inadvertently offended, and was surprised to see her near tears. She squealed at the beautiful woman, curious.
Circe looked down at the fat sow. "Have you learned your lesson, pig?" she asked. Mandy cocked her head, unsure of how to answer. Her voice didn't sound cruel anymore – more worn-out. She shifted around a little, her three hundred pound bulk sitting strangely on her unfamiliar hooves.
"You blasphemed me, little pig," the goddess continued. "Spat on my name. You tried to paint me as a whore, submitting to any man with a few dollars to spare. Needless to say, I was quite insulted. But it was a crime of ignorance, wasn't it? Before today, you didn't know I existed. Your porcine body pays back that dept completely."
Circe was quiet for a moment. "Of course, your crimes against your coworkers remain unforgiven. Your petty cruelty towards Kristen and her weight. Your rudeness and lack of respect, as evidenced by your frequent tardiness. You may not reflect on it much, but you treat everyone around you as subhuman. As an animal." The pig squealed sadly, shaken by such an unflattering characterization of her.
Circe sighed. "If I were to turn you back into a girl, would you be a better person? Would you try to be kind to your coworkers?" The pig winced. All the sow could think about was the hooting, heckling people in the club. Could she face them again, now that she was a pig? Even the ones she had thought liked her had been happy to see her transformed and humiliated; had thought that she deserved to be a pig. She shook her head, scared.
"They won't hurt you," said Circe softly. The sow grunted, nervous. Living the rest of her life in close proximity to people amused by her being a pig seemed worse than living the life of one far away from their laughing, cruel eyes. She did want to be human again, but not around the people who knew that she had been a fat, grunting hog.
"But," Circe continued, "if you wanted to be my sow, you will have a good life there. It will be a pleasant and fulfilling life, being a pig. I promise you comfort and happiness. Pigs are very agreeable animals, and you'd never want for company. Did you know, mother sows even sing to their piglets? If you chose to stay as a pig with me, you'd never regret it. And if you chose to take a lover… well, a sow's orgasms far eclipse a woman's, and motherhood would suit you well."
Circe fell silent. The fat sow cocked her head, considering her options. She was surprised that she might have some. Live as a contented pig, or as a humiliated girl.
"I would prefer that you remain a pig forever," Circe finally continued. "I think you make a better pig than a woman, and would love to have you in my sty. You are extremely beautiful, by the standards of pigs. But I'll change you back if you wish. Sleep on it, my little pig. We'll decide tomorrow." And Circe led the sow back to her apartment, retiring for the night.
She struggled with the uncomfortable, unexpected emotions. The pig was a troubling symbol to her, that she couldn't quite articulate. Not entirely of guilt, but a sense of being somehow lessened. She wasn't quite certain how to rid herself of the feeling.
In the other room, the fat sow struggled to sleep. Be a pig, or an outcast? The choices were not ideal. But her pig body was growing more comfortable, more familiar, the longer she was in it. If other pigs were kind, there was an appeal to being cared for, to living a life of leisure and quiet. And she was mortified of being ostracized, of people knowing this horrible thing about her. But deep down, she didn't want to hide. She hadn't chosen by the time she finally drifted off to sleep.
The next day, Circe gave the sow a wide berth, giving them both more time to think. But eventually, they both had to face the question. "Well, pig?" she finally asked. "Do you want to go to the sty, or the club? Do you want to be human again?"
After some hesitation, the sow bobbed her head, not entirely content with the answer. Circe just nodded. "I'll take you back tonight, and you can make amends with your peers," she said. Then she touched the pig's neck, and restored Mandy's voice to the fat sow.
At dusk, she led the fat pig back into the strip club. There was immediate excitement at their arrival. People who had been there the night before started their catcalls, and guests who hadn't been there strained to get a good look at the stripper pig, hoping to see a similar spectacle. Circe cleared her throat, and silenced them all.
"This pig has some things she wants to say," explained Circe.
The sow waddled forward, bowing her head in front of the pregnant waitress. "I'm sorry, Kristen," the sow grunted. "I never should have teased you or looked down on you. Can you forgive me for my rudeness?"
The waitress looked at the talking pig for a moment, stunned. It was Mandy's voice, if a bit deeper and infested with grunts and squeals. She reached out, and awkwardly patted the sow on the side. "Uh, sure, Mandy," she said awkwardly. "I, uh... yes. I forgive you." The fat pig nuzzled against her hand for a moment, and then Circe led her towards the DJ, and the bartender, and the other strippers. Each time, the pig acknowledged her specific sins against her coworkers, and asked for forgiveness. Most of them gave it, stunned by the spectacle. A few didn't. Patrons of the club, especially ones that hadn't seen the previous night, still hooted and heckled her, but the pig tried to ignore them.
"I'm satisfied," Circe finally said, dully.
"But I haven't apologized to you, yet," the hog squealed.
Circe shrugged. "No need, now. Last chance, my sow. Last chance to opt out, and stay as the beautiful pig you are."
"Please, change me back," the sow grunted, still not entirely sure that she wouldn't be better off as a pig.
"No! Leave her a pig!" someone in the crowd shouted.
"Get that fat sow some mud to play in!" called another. "Make her squeal!"
Circe ignored them all, and kissed the pig gently on the snout. After a moment, the plump animal started to slim down, her legs lengthening. She snuffled a little, but the heckling died down, as people watched the transformation in reverse. Her head slimmed and turned down, blonde tresses flowing out as it reset from a wedge to an egg shape. Her blubber melted off, hips, shoulders, and butt rounding out, and her front teats swelled back into large, firm breasts. She flexed her fingers as hooves softened and separated, and her wiggly tail retreated back into her spine. Circe helped her stand as her snout receded, and her shrinking ears disappeared under her tousled hair. Within minutes, the fat sow had turned back into Mandy.
The stripper bowed her head, unexpectedly embarrassed by her complete nudity. She crossed her legs, uncomfortably. Circe turned to the club manager, who was staring in awe at the former pig. "I'm sorry I took away one of your dancers last night," she said. "I've returned her, safe and sound, to resume her duties. I trust you won't hold her to account for my occupying her for the day."
"No problem," he managed, his mouth dry.
Circe turned back to Mandy, and reached out, smoothing her hair down. "I've turned you human but for a pig's heart, dear. Let it be a reminder to you, and be grateful for the mercy. You need to comport yourself like a lady from now on, and not like a pig, or you might find yourself in my sty after all."
"Yes, Circe. Thank you," the humiliated stripper squeaked, her face flushed red. "I promise I'll be a good person."
Circe nodded. "And one thing more. You'll never call yourself 'Circe' again."
The girl nodded, on the verge of tears. The DJ spoke up. "We'll call her 'Piggy' from now on," he said. Circe looked up sharply, but she could detect neither malice nor deceit in his voice. He was using the name as a reminder, not a taunt. Mandy sniffled a little, but didn't object. "Your new stage name is Piggy, then," agreed Circe, taking hold of Mandy by her shoulders. "Behave yourself, child," she said, and quickly turned and exited. She was still disquieted, dissatisfied with the resolution, and wanted to put as much distance as she could between her and the stripper as possible.
She walked purposefully until she got back to her home, and slid down onto the floor next to her bed, sighing. Her shoulders shook a little with sobs that didn't quite come. Perhaps she would cut her vacation short this year. Certainly, this trip had given her a lot of unpleasant things to think about, about gods and mortals.
Back at the club, Elizabeth silently handed Mandy a thong and garter, and Kristen brought her boots up. The stripper put on her uniform quickly, trying to lose herself in her work. She still felt mortified, but there was nothing to do but keep going, and put one foot in front of the other. She quietly thanked them, determined to start behaving more like a friend.
It was an unusually successful night for her, perhaps due to her sudden notoriety. But at the end of it, she remembered to share some of her earnings with the waitresses and bouncers before going home.