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Cash Cow

Mc, ff, fd, gr, lac

#FemaleHucowTransformation
#FemaleCowTransformation
#Hucow

Comments welcome: [email protected]

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.”

“What?”

“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?”

“Yes!”

“You are submissive, Jenny. Submissive women like showing off their tits. Showing off your tits gets you off doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but…”

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?”

Substitution Games

by Anton Psychopoulos, Ph.D.

#FemaleVariantTransformation

Andrea Foster checked over her PowerPoint one more time, and confirmed that her laptop's battery was fully charged. She was ready to make the presentation to Mr. Huo of the Sunwukong Corporation, the most important presentation of her career. She was ready to save JCN CyberScience.

She shut the laptop down, slipped it into its carrying bag, slung it jauntily over her shoulder, exited her office and walked directly into pandemonium.

Dick Ramnarain, the CEO of JCN, was smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand while his PA, Albert DeMatteis, tried to calm him down. Ben Grayson and Gim Kelly, Andrea's leading software designers, were yelling at one another while a petite Asian woman in a slinky black dress stood to one side, watching it all with detached amusement. The woman was a stranger, strikingly beautiful. Her anomalous presence was almost enough to distract Andrea from Dick's tantrum.

Andrea walked up to Dick and laid a hand on his arm, hoping to get him to stop smacking himself. He ignored her. She was used to seeing him lose his temper when things were going badly, but this was the worst she'd yet seen.

"Dick, Dick, come on, what's the problem?"

Albert shook his head.

"The problem is that Mister Huo specifically asked for a tall redhead for his escort this evening, and the agency sent Ms. Lee here," he said, gesturing towards the Asian woman, who rolled her eyes in disgust.

Andrea felt a chill descend on her.

"So we've got no date for Mr. Huo, and less than an hour to find one, is that it?"

Dick stopped smacking his forehead and stared at Andrea. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"This contract will move us from seven figures annually to eight. On the other hand, if we don't get it, we're liable to go under within a year."

Andrea nodded emphatically. No-one had to tell her how important the contract was for the company, or what it would mean to her personally. She'd accepted stock options in lieu of half her salary for nearly a year.

"We're leveraged up to our nuts," Albert butted in. He was always speaking in Americanisms, sometimes of his own invention. Andrea put up a hand to silence him.

"Yes, I know perfectly well that we're highly geared. So, Dick, you've got an idea how to salvage this?"

Dick leaned in closer, still holding her wrist.

'We need a tall redhead to sit next to Mr. Huo at dinner."

"Yes, I understand."

He swallowed hard.

"A tall redhead. Like you."

Andrea jerked back, freeing her wrist, nearly colliding with Patty Lanning, her PA, just now bustling into the melee.

"But I can't be his goddamn date! What, and give my presentation while holding his hand?"

Dick grinned at her, and then at Patty.

"Yeah, but see, I've got it all figured out. Huo's never met you, or even talked with you on the phone. He doesn't know what you look like or anything. So you can be just the girl from the escort service, see, and–"

He pointed at Patty.

"-and you can be Ms. Andrea Foster!"

He grabbed Patty's wrist this time, silencing the young blonde's inarticulate objections.

"You know what's in Andi's presentation, right? You can stand in for her, give the presentation to Mr. Huo, right?"

"Um, yeah . . . sure," Patty said dubiously.

"Great. And you–"

He pointed at the little Asian woman.

"You can give Andi some quick pointers on how to handle herself with Mr. Huo."

Andrea expected the woman to think the plan was idiotic, and not being a JCN employee, to tell him so to his face. Instead, she flashed a dazzling smile and said, "I'd be delighted, Sir. Let's start right away."

The woman gestured towards Andrea's office. She smiled at Patty, looking over her twin set and skirt.

"You should come, too. You can't be Ms. Foster in an outfit from Portman's."

Telling herself that she hadn't actually agreed to anything, Andrea followed the woman.

"I'm Joy Lee, by the way," the woman said when the door closed.

"Andrea Foster," she said uncertainly. "Patty Lanning. Now, how am I supposed to . . . ?"

"I think you can wear this," Joy said, brushing her hand down the front of her dress.

"What? You've got to be kidding. I'm not shaped anything like you - I thought that was the whole problem."

"It won't fit the same way, but let me show you - I think it can be done. Here, take off your suit."

Andrea obeyed dubiously, stripping down to bra, panties and pantyhose. Joy shrugged the dress off , standing casually in only a black thong while she waited for Andrea.

'The bra, too, hon - you'll never be able to wear it with this dress."

Andrea obeyed, blushing furiously.

Joy handed Andrea's suit to Patty.

"See how this fits. You'll look more like Ms. Foster, and you'll feel more like her, too, just try it."

Andrea allowed Joy to wrestle the dress over her head, feeling as though she were being stuffed into a sausage casing. Even leaving it unzipped in back, it was a tight fit.

Next, Joy surprised her by snipping off the dress's spaghetti straps with Andrea's own desk scissors. Joy slipped on her coat and vanished, leaving Andrea holding up the cups of the dress with her hands, and returned with a pair of men's dress shoes.

"Everyone's making sacrifices for the company tonight," Joy observed, pulling the laces from the shoes.

"Some more than others," Andrea grumbled. She looked over at Patty, and saw the young secretary preening herself in Andrea's expensive suit. It fit her very well, aside from the pants being too long.

Joy safety-pinned the shoelaces inside the dress, creating longer straps than it was made to have. When she was done with her hasty redesign, the triangular cups of the dress just barely covered Andrea's nipples. The hem of the dress, though, was still bunched up around her hips.

"You'll have to take off the undies, I'm afraid."

"My God, I can't, not in a dress this short!"

"It's not going to drape right otherwise. Maybe if you wore a thong, but not with hip huggers and pantyhose."

Gritting her teeth, Andrea pulled off her panties and hose, struggling to keep from exposing herself in front of her PA. Joy stood by, smiling patiently. Standing there comfortably in just a thong, the lovely Asian woman shamed Andrea out of her modesty. When she was done, Joy tugged the hem down and smoothed the dress a bit. Andrea shuddered at the touch of her hands.

Andrea looked in the mirror and was disturbed. The dress that had been form-fitting and perhaps just a trifle short on the petite Asian looked on Andrea like it was painted on, and barely covered her crotch. The fabric was so tight across her hips that it gave her a distinct camel toe. Patty, dressed in Andrea's suit, the pant legs pinned up, placed a pair of black high heels and a tiny purse on Andrea's desk.

"Found these in your closet. They ought to do, I guess.'

She gave her boss an encouraging thumbs-up and left the office with Andrea's laptop over her shoulder.

Joy looked Andrea over.

"Yeah, I guess it'll do. Come on, let me do your makeup."

She used Andrea's own makeup kit, but Andrea could tell that a lot more was going onto her face than usual. The foundation and highlighting on her collarbones and breasts were quite a surprise, but understandable, considering how much flesh she was showing.

"Don't bite your lip, you'll get lipstick on your teeth. What's the matter?"

"Joy, do you - do I really look good enough to be believable as an escort?"

"The dress is a long way from perfect, but it's clingy and shows a lot, and that helps. The makeup is going pretty good. Tilt your head back a little more."

"I mean . . . I mean me. My face is all wrong, and my boobs are too small and they hang too low, and I'm too old, aren't I?"

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-six."

"I'm thirty-one."

"Really? Gee. But look, I look maybe ten years older than you, so -"

"No you don't. And once I get done with your cheekbones, your face will be just fine, and your boobs are in great shape for being all-natural."

Andrea smiled at that.

"You can tell?"

"Of course. Part of the job, like knowing how to do makeup, or fit a dress on the fly. You could maybe get some small implants, take you up to a C, take up a little slack and round 'em out some, but as I said, for natural, they're great."

Andrea blushed. Joy seemed to be thinking of her as "the new girl", rather than as an amateur filling in just the one time. The thought of this woman treating her like a colleague, a peer, was both comforting and disturbing.

Joy finished Andrea's makeup and let her look in the mirror. It was heavy and bold, nothing like what Andrea would willingly wear even for the evening, but not as bad as Andrea had feared.

"You're good. Ever thought of working as a cosmetologist?"

"Maybe one day. Cosmetology, couture, fashion photography, I've thought about it. Definitely never going back to law school. But right now I love being an escort. Which brings us to the next part of our program: getting you psyched up for your debut as an escort."

Andrea swallowed hard. Joy laughed at her fearful expression.

"It's not really all that different from a regular date, except there's more on the line than whether he's going to ask you out for Saturday. You need to make everything seem perfect, especially him. Everything he says is fascinating, every joke he tells is hilarious, whatever he wants to talk about is the most important thing on Earth."

In spite of herself, Andrea chuckled.

"You're right, it's not all that different from a regular date."

Joy gave her a serious look.

"Except remember what I said about there being more at stake. I heard your boss talking about this Mr. Huo being important to your company. Well, he's pretty damn important to my agency, too. Sunwukong reps spend a bundle with us. So this can't be a bad date for him, not even a mediocre one. Your company is paying for this to be the best night of Mr. Huo's year. And you know what it takes for a guy to consider it a really good date, don't you?"

Joy looked at her expectantly. Andrea bit her lip.

"But . . . I'm not going to have to, er, have sex with him, of course . . . ?"

Joy gave Andrea a pitying look and sighed.

"Look, they'll always tell you that of course escorts don't automatically have sex with their clients, and at some agencies they make a thing of saying it's against their policy, and sometimes the girls do it but they're getting paid extra on the side, but your boss paid my agency four hundred dollars for the evening. Do you really think a guy pays that much for the privilege of buying a girl dinner?"

Andrea looked at the wall for a long moment. Finally Joy reached out and took her hand.

"Have you ever had sex with a man when you didn't really want to?"

"Yes."

Joy gave her hand a squeeze.

"Congratulations. You're now qualified to work as an escort."

Feeling very much unqualified, Andrea looked toward her office door, then balked. She got her raincoat from the closet and wrapped herself very tightly in it.

Joy looked at the coat, frowning.

"Wear that down to the car if you want, but don't let Mr. Huo see you in it."

"Er, yes, I suppose not."

Andrea shook herself , brushed back her hair and put on a smile.

"Okay. Guess I'm ready, then."

Joy pulled her own coat on over her semi-nude body.

"Oh, one more thing, Andi. Be sure to give it a good wash before anything else. It really does make a difference."

Andrea wilted inside, but said nothing. She was grateful to see that only Dick was still in the JCN suite.

"Okay," Dick said, "the limo is downstairs. You'll pick up Mr. Huo at the Sheraton-in-the-Park and take him to the restaurant - it's some kind of ethnic place in Leichardt. Patty will be waiting for the two of you there."

"Ah-ah, Ms. Foster will be there," Joy said brightly.

Dick glared at her, but Andrea raised a hand.

"She has a point. The woman at the restaurant has to be Ms. Foster, and nobody else, for as long as this . . . scam of ours is running. And I've got to be Ms. Lee."

"Just tell him you're Joy," the escort corrected. "But you should call him Mr. Huo, or Sir, to start with, and find out what he wants to be called."

Andrea nodded. She'd have to be careful, while playing out this imposture, not to treat Mr. Huo or Patty as peers. They were business people; she was just hired help, more on a par with the limo driver or the waiters at the restaurant.

She was grateful that the driver was not one who was known to her. The fewer people she had to explain things to, the better. Fastening her seat belt, she gasped in shock - her skirt had ridden up to completely expose her vulva, with its thatch of blazing red hair, much brighter than her head hair. She tugged the skirt down frantically, hoping the driver hadn't noticed. Getting out at the hotel, she felt very vulnerable indeed. Walking through the lobby, she felt as though all eyes were on her. What did they think she was - a girlfriend, an escort, even a call girl? She wanted to run, but knew that would only attract more attention. Worse yet, it might make her breasts slip out of their inadequate cups, or cause the skirt to ride up.

Asking for Mr. Huo at the desk, she cringed inwardly, praying that someone had called ahead. The thought of the desk clerk ordering her off the premises, taking her for a whore, made her tremble with anticipatory humiliation. She relaxed momentarily when the clerk told her to go on up, then felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach tighten even further.

Once he saw her as "Joy from Selina's Perfect Evenings", she would be committed to that role. It occurred to her for the first time that she could never meet with him, ever, as Andrea Foster. How would they manage that, if JCN did get the contract?

Too late for that now, though. The elevator opened on Mr. Huo's floor, and an arrow pointed towards his suite.

Showtime, she thought to herself.

She was met at the door by a Chinese woman almost as beautiful as Joy, who led her to a couch and offered to bring her a drink.

Alcohol sounded like an awfully good idea right then. Andrea decided she could allow herself two stiff drinks for the evening, and saw no reason not to start before she had to meet Mr. Huo. The couch turned out to be the more problematic offer, but she found that if she tugged her skirt down carefully as she sat and kept her knees together, she could sit without exposing herself.

Mr. Huo came into the room just as Andrea was finishing her drink. She popped a breath mint in her mouth and rose carefully to her feet, smoothing down the hem of her dress with as casual an air as she could manage. Smiling, she extended her hand.

Huo Menbiao was quite tall for a Chinese man, lean and leathery, with thick silver hair. Andrea was relieved that he was not fat. His smile was pleasant, his teeth were yellow but even, his breath blessedly not noticable. Andrea noticed the way she was assessing him, very differently from the way she would normally size up someone met in the course of business. But of course, she was working in a different business this time.

Andrea exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Huo while she fought inwardly for self-control. She reminded herself that she still didn't know for sure that Mr. Huo would expect her to sleep with him. Anything was possible; he might even be impotent, at his age. Why borrow trouble?

Crossing the lobby a second time was even more humiliating. A woman in a short, clingy dress asking after a guest at the desk was suggestive; the same woman leaving on the arm of an elderly businessman was blatant. Everyone who saw them together would presume they knew just what she was. Perhaps they were right.

At the restaurant, a small but nice-looking place called Otuken, Andrea felt another moment of panic. What if someone she knew recognized her? A friend might say the wrong thing before Andrea could ditch them, and expose the JCN executives' crazy scheme.

Andrea was relieved when the hostess led them to a private dining room, but then she saw that there were only cushions, no chairs, and the floor was spread with a huge white cloth - there wasn't even a low table, as there would be in the old Japanese style. How was she supposed to sit there and not flash her twat at Patty and whoever else was at dinner?

Worse yet, "whoever else" turned out to be Ben and Gim, plus Dan, the freelance programmer who was Patty's boyfriend. It had been bad enough that her designers were going to know what she had done, but she'd hoped that they at least wouldn't see her dressed like this, perched demurely at Mr. Huo's elbow.

It was a cozy little dinner party: Mr. Huo with "Miss Joy", Dan with "Ms. Foster", Ben and Gim with a couple of giggly young interns. Andrea's male subordinates were clearly enjoying the sight of their boss humbling herself for the company's sake, and Dan was clearly regarding this as payback for a run-in she'd had with him over promises he'd made to customers. Andrea had no choice but to sit there, attentive and decorative, while Patty was introduced to Mr. Huo as Andrea Foster and they proceeded through an exquisite dinner.

Mr. Huo was actually quite charming in his way. He explained that the restaurant was Uighur, and that he had acquired a taste for Uighur cooking while doing development deals in the Uighur Autonomous Region. It was good food: mutton and chicken kebabs, crunchy flatbread, noodles and dumplings. In spite of herself, Andrea found herself enjoying the meal.

After the waitress had cleared away the plates and the cloth, Patty pulled out Andrea's laptop and delivered Andrea's presentation: Sunwukong would adopt JCN's Joe-2 motherboard for its new automobile navigation system, and build a plant to manufacture them in the Uighur territory, taking advantage of their lax environmental and labor regulations, and JCN's existing relationship with the local authorities. Andrea had to admit that she did a good job.

The presentation received warm praise but no hint of a decision from Mr. Huo. Handshakes all around, and then the limo was waiting to take Mr. Huo and his companion back to the Sheraton-in-the-Park

The sun was bright and warm, the sky disgustingly beautiful, as Andrea shuffled from the doors of the Sheraton to her waiting cab. Why couldn't it have the decency to be as gray and miserable as she felt?

As humiliating as the evening at the restaurant had been, what followed had been worse. The old bastard had bragged about his medicinal cocktail: Viagra and Cialis, crushed to make them hit faster. Tiger gall, extracted from E. coli spliced with tiger genes. All poured into a little cup of canned pick-me-up that contained 300 milligrams of caffeine and 50 of methamphetamine. Why couldn't the son of a bitch have had a heart attack, tossing down a witch's brew like that?

He'd had her in every position she'd ever heard of, with some nasty little fetishes thrown in, literally for hours. He'd left her sore the next morning, which no other man ever had, even that well-hung marathon runner. He'd also left her feeling unspeakably used.

The fact that she'd climaxed three times didn't do wonders for her self-respect, either.

And now, back in that damn dress (which seemed to have gotten smaller during the night), she was taking the Walk of Shame like a hung-over college girl heading back to her dormitory. At least she'd thought to bring enough cash for a cab ride.

A shower at home, orange juice and naproxen, a clean suit (trousers never felt so good), and she was ready to go in to the office. She made it by 10:20, and thought she could be excused the lateness.

She felt better by the time she arrived at JCN. In her suit, and daytime makeup, she looked like the resourceful professional who had saved the company, and she'd convinced herself that that was how she'd be treated.

Unfortunately, the first person she met was Gim, who looked her up and down, smirking.

"You're looking quite well this morning, Andi. All recovered after taking one for the team?"

Andrea was too shocked to reprimand him properly. She simply brushed past him and headed for her office. Along the way, she passed a group of people talking. One of them was the intern who had sat beside Ben. The whole group fell silent as she passed, and made little effort to hide the fact that they were staring at her.

She found her laptop on her desk, her suit on a hanger on the coat rack. She checked the laptop's files and everything seemed to be in order. A new file on the desktop proved to be a memo from Patty, with some notes and suggestions about the contract. That presumption annoyed Andrea - Patty appeared to be enjoying the role of "Ms. Foster" entirely too much.

This suspicion was strengthened when she saw Patty herself, wearing a suit for the first time since she'd hired her. At least it was Patty's own suit this time; she'd invested in something from Liz Jordan.

They went to work without speaking directly about what had happened the night before, but the tension between them was palpable. Patty was definitely more confident in herself, quicker to offer her opinion. Andrea had to admit that the younger woman knew information technology better than Andrea had supposed.

The week passed slowly, and not easily. If Patty were more assertive, Ben and Gim were positively insubordinate. They seemed to have lost all respect for her, and she couldn't seem to find a handle to get them back under control.

On Friday, Alex came to her office, giving her a smile that looked just a bit forced.

"There's big news, Andi. Huo just called, Sunwukong's sold on your proposal, and he's flying out to sign the contracts on Monday."

He swallowed.

"He also wants us to get him the same girl as last time."

Andrea looked at him, aghast, and started to angrily refuse. Then she sat back heavily and sighed.

"All right. But this can't go on forever."

Andrea called the agency and arranged with Joy to meet on Saturday for dinner, more advice and instruction, and moral support. That, at least, was something good coming out of the situation: Andrea quite liked Joy, and enjoyed the excuse to see her again.

Joy and Andrea wound up talking late into the night, until they were very tired and very drunk. Joy slept over, and on Sunday they went shopping and bought Andrea a dress suitable for seeing Mr. Huo.

Andrea hoped that at least she could keep her second night as an escort quieter than her first, but when she left the office at 4:30 on Monday, she ran into Gim, who gave her a despicable grin.

"Leaving early to get ready for your big date?" he said loudly, alerting others nearby. To her fleeing back he called, "Looks like you've finally found your true calling!"

Once again it was dinner with Mr. Huo, and then back to his hotel for long hours of hard use. This time, she was so worn out that she slept through Mr. Huo's getting up and going out, and didn't wake up until the cleaning cart arrived. Huo had checked out and the hotel needed the room, so she was forced to dress hastily under the eyes of the chambermaid and then flee. By the time she got home, it was after one, so she didn't bother to go in to work at all. On Wednesday morning, she found everything in order, much to her relief - and somewhat to her disappointment. Patty was wearing a new suit, she noticed, a much better one.

On Friday, Dick flagged Andrea down in the hall.

"Andi? We've come up against a new problem with Ms. Foster," he said, leading the way to his office.

They had fallen into the habit of calling Patty "Ms. Foster" in connection with Sunwukong executives, as a way of distinguishing her from Andrea, and from Patty the secretary.

"Sunwukong wants Ms. Foster to go to Uighur-land to oversee the setting up of the first plant."

"But … she's just a secretary!"

"Not any more, she isn't – she's proved herself capable of doing the job."

Her job.

"What! She's made what, one presentation, in my clothes for goodness sake, and had lunch with Huo a couple of times! I'm the one who's done all the real IT work!"

"She's also handled some very tricky requests from the client over the phone."

"Over the phone…?"

"Oh, you might not even know about that business on Tuesday. I'm afraid Andi – I mean, Patty – handled it all by herself."

Andrea gaped at him, horrified.

"You're putting my calls through to her?"

He shook his head, then fixed her with a firm glance.

"The company needs to speak with one voice. Andrea Foster needs to speak with one voice."

"And she's Andrea Foster to Mr. Huo," she said helplessly.

"Exactly. So, we need to get her a passport in that name, and other papers. Legally, she can use any name so long as it's done without intent to commit fraud, but it gets a little sticky since there are two Andrea Fosters here. We don't want Sunwukong to know that if we can avoid it, or else this whole setup with you and the escort service is liable to come out, and embarrass all of us."

"Yes, we'd all be pretty embarrassed, wouldn't we," Andrea observed dryly.

The next day, a Sunwukong rep visited the office. Andrea stayed home, allowing Patty to be Ms. Foster for him. In the afternoon, she got a call from Joy: the rep had asked the agency for "Miss Joy, the girl Mr. Huo had recommended." Andrea agreed to see him, almost grateful for the chance to make herself useful in some fashion.

It proved to be an educational experience: young Mr. Xiang introduced her to bondage, in addition to sharing Huo's fondness for anal sex.

He also took surprising pleasure in pinching the soft flesh of her belly. The next morning, she used her gym membership for the first time in a week, and spent over an hour on the ab machine.

She also visited the offices of Selina's Perfect Evenings, at the owner's insistence. There was to be no more of this awkward business of Andrea's impersonating Joy Lee; instead, she would be hired by the service as an occasional employee, under the name "Andi Joy", and be paid for her work the same as any of the other girls.

Mr. Huo seemed to be staying in Sydney indefinitely, carrying out Sunwukong business of one kind or another. It was all too likely that he or one of his people would be calling for "Miss Joy" again.

Filling out the paperwork, Andrea concealed all outward signs of a vague unease and an odd excitement, but she burst out laughing when she saw that her official job title was to be "substitute".

Two days later, Andrea was at her desk, ignoring the program she was supposed to be debugging, looking over her finances on her PDA. The problem hadn't gone away on its own. She was still short nearly five hundred dollars for the month. Her check from JCN had been late, and short, as usual, and the next one promised to be even more so in both those dimensions. She was no longer struggling; she was officially strapped.

Her cell phone rang. She recognized Joy's number.

"Joy?"

"Andi, listen, I'm in a difficult situation. My father's wife is sick and Dad's going to pieces. He really needs someone to look after him overnight, but I have a client tonight - can you cover for me?"

Andrea had a hard time at first understanding Joy's words, simple as they were.

"You want me to - this client, he's not one of Mr. Huo's people?"

"Huh-uh. I haven't seen him before, but he's a regular with Selina's, so I know he's okay."

"No, I mean . . . ."

What did she mean? Joy was asking her to play the role of a girl from the escort service, just as Andrea had done a number of times before. But this time, not as a desperate measure to save the company (and Andrea's own assets), but simply as a favor for a friend. As though this really were Andrea's normal line of work.

It wasn't, of course, but still, Joy was a friend, she'd helped Andrea prepare herself for that first time, given her reassurances afterward, and had later given her more systematic and in-depth instruction in how to pass herself off as a professional escort.

Joy was a good friend, and she was clearly in a serious jam. Maybe . . . .

"It'll pay the usual rate, and this guy is a good tipper."

That meant four hundred dollars, maybe more, and it would come in faster than money from JCN. In her current situation, she needed that money.

"Tell me about this client. Does he have a file at Selina's?

As the elevator rose, Andrea checked herself in its mirror-surfaced door. She hadn't paid much attention to makeup since high school, but lately she'd been taking a lot more care with it. For "Miss Joy", it was a tool of the trade and would reward diligence. And if she was going to take time over her makeup for that false identity, it seemed inappropriate to take less care with her own, worn under her own name.

She looked just fine, she concluded as the elevator doors opened. Laptop over her shoulder, she marched confidently down the corridor to the JCN offices and walked straight into pandemonium.

People were shouting in the foyer. Loud arguments were taking place in back offices. Ephraim Helder, the CFO, had pulled a drawer from some filing cabinet and was spreading papers from it across the reception desk. Dick was screaming into his cell phone, while he pounded his forehead with his free hand and kicked the wall repeatedly with one foot.

For once, Alex seemed almost as wild as Dick, but she had to ask somebody what was going on. She grabbed his arm as he rooted through papers alongside Ephraim and forced him to notice her. He stared for a long moment before speaking.

"You've got a fat nerve showing up here, after you and your doppelganger looted the fucking company."

"What? Alex, what're you talking about, what's going on?"

"What's going on? First, Ms. Foster the fucking Second sells the patents to the Joe-2 to the Chinamen, hides the whole thing from us, puts the money in company accounts and then you come along and clean them out!"

"My God. She sold the Joe-2?"

"How nice for the yellow bastards. They get the motherboards, they get the factory in fucking Uighur-vania, and they don't have to pay us a fucking thing beyond the pittance they paid for the patents, and we don't even get that! You've got it!"

Andrea stared, aghast.

"No wonder the bastards have a seat on their board for Ms. Andrea Fucking Foster!" Alex shrieked, shaking a finger in her face.

"But that wasn't me, it was Patty!''

"Oh, it was, was it? And you gave her the codes for the company accounts?"

"No! I had them encrypted!"

Light dawned.

"Dan, it must have been Dan! He's an old hacker, he must have decrypted the codes."

"And can you prove that?"

Andrea stared at him helplessly.

He looked away from her and said, "Get out. There's no Andrea Foster who's welcome here anymore."

Andrea fled from the shrieking chaos at JCN. It was so frantic there that nobody seemed to have even noticed her presence. As the door was closing behind her, she heard Dick scream "There she is!", which inspired her to run to the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.

Out on the street, she tried to think what to do next. After taking a blow like that one, JCN was sure to go down, and even if the staff kept quiet about the whole charade of substitution, there would be indictments handed down against Ms. Andrea Foster.

She needed to talk with someone, preferably without having to explain the whole sordid business of the two Andrea Fosters. But aside from the officers of JCN, that left only . . . .

Joy's fingertips slid lightly along Andrea's shoulders, then suddenly sank deep into a tight, knotted spot in the middle of each. The fingertips felt like an acupuncturist's needles, painful but liberating. Joy held them there for a long moment, then moved her hands, her right on Andrea's left shoulder, her left going to the lower point of Andrea's left deltoid muscle. The two points seemed to be connected somehow, and Andrea felt the burden begin to lift from her. She took a sip from her glass of Yellow Tail and closed her eyes, savoring how the light of the dozen or so candles shone through her eyelids.

"Mmmmmm. What do you call that?"

"Jen Shen Dao. Also known as acupressure."

"Ancient Chinese folk medicine, right?"

"Yes, but actually I learned it at the YWCA."

Andrea took another sip of wine, then a swallow.

"So, whether there was one Andrea Foster or two, Andrea's reputation is ruined and there may be criminal charges. And what do I do now?"

Joy shifted her hands, working one pair of pressure points, then another, lingering patiently until the points had relaxed as much as they were going to.

"I think your best bet is to just let that name go, hon. I can help you get papers, good solid papers with records to back them up. You can start over as someone else, and if anyone has to take the fall for that mess, it can be Patty."

"But my degrees, my credentials, they're all Andrea Foster's. My job references, too. How would I make a living?"

Joy moved around to sit across the coffee table from Andrea. She moved two of the candles and invited Andrea to put her feet up. When she'd slipped off her sandals and put her feet on the tabletop, Joy lifted one foot, cupping the heel in her palm, and began kneading the sole with her other hand.

"Take a look at your last bank statement, hon. I think you'll find that almost half your income last month came from Selina's, and you were working a lot less than full-time."

Andrea looked up, eyes wide.

"You mean . . . go on seeing Mr. Huo and the others? Just . . . be an, an escort for real, full-time?"

"Why not? You already know the job, and you know you're good at it."

She gave Andrea's foot a squeeze.

"And you've got a friend in the business."

Andi checked her messages and her e-mail, then shut down her laptop. She had two hours to have supper, shower, change and get downtown to her assignment for the evening.

She worked for Selina's full-time now. And she was Andi Joy full-time, also. Her birth certificate, passport and other documents, carefully prepared by Joy's mysterious "friends", ensured that her new identity was solid and secure.

Andi and Joy shared an apartment, and Andi suspected it was just a matter of time until they were sharing a bed. She was still reluctant to cross that line, but Joy was such an awfully good friend, and she was there every night, and Andi had already done so many things she would never have believed she could ever do.

Andi Joy was very popular. Mister Huo was a regular, every Friday night, and sometimes on other nights. Various other Sunwukong executives also called for her often.

So did Ben and Gim. Her former subordinates loved having her at their beck and call, and thought four hundred dollars a night a reasonable price to pay for the privilege.

Joy had helped her refine her appearance for the job. Her hair was now a brighter red, exactly matching her pubic hair (there was something disturbing but appropriate in the symbolism of that). Her glasses had been replaced by contact lenses that turned her eyes a brighter green. She'd kept up at the gym, working out five days a week at Joy's urging, and when her membership expired, she switched to a less expensive gym. She'd gotten the implants Joy had suggested on the night they met. Later she'd gone back for bigger ones, and was now a D-cup.

Things had changed for other people, too. Mr. Huo now lived full time in Sydney, head of the new Australian division of Sunwukong. JCN had indeed gone under, and its staff had scattered to the winds, but Ben and Gim were still working together, hired by Mr. Huo. Dick was now a manager at Aspect Computing, and Dan, suddenly dumped by Patty, was working in security for Ferntree Systems.

As for Patty, nobody was quite sure. "Ms. Andrea Foster" had simply disappeared. Nobody seemed to know what had become of her, but there were some interesting possibilities. She might have decided that the name Foster carried too many risks, and persuaded Sunwukong to buy her yet another new identity. She might have seen the opportunity for some new scam, and created a new persona for the occasion. She might have fallen afoul of the criminal gangs who ran so much of the Uighur Autonomous Region. It was easy to offend a Uighur, after all. They believed they were the world's original race, older than all the others, and their ethnic pride was something inconceivable.

There were even nomads still roaming in Uighur territory, who were said to prize blonde women. On bad nights when sleep was slow to come, Andrea would sometimes console herself in imagining an interesting fate for Patty.

Tonight was what the agency called a "hostess" assignment. That was a polite way of saying she would be entertaining more than one client. A single-client escort was paid four hundred dollars, while a hostess was paid eight hundred, for as many as six clients in a party. Some of the girls refused to take hostess jobs, or limited them to three clients at a time, but Andi actually preferred them. It meant twice the pay for the night, and most likely tips from each of the clients, but there was another reason for Andi to like them.

Since becoming an escort she'd discovered many things about herself that she'd never suspected, not the least of them being just how much she loved the male organ. There was nothing she liked so much as having a large, firm one inside her, or better yet two. On all fours, with one entering from behind and another in her mouth, the sliding flesh occupied her entire awareness and she could completely ignore the whining, selfish, demanding creatures at the other end.

Clownitization by Nosey T. Clown (Clown, BE, MC)And another Clown TF story I had laying around!

#FemaleClownTransformation

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!

(Giggle)

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!

(Giggle)

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

The Storefront (#Clowns? #BE , #Butt , #Personality ) by darkdonny
#Clownification #FemaleClownTransformation

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 .

Don't Make Me Laugh (#BE, #WG , #DG , #IQ , #Clown )
FemaleClownTransformation

posted some of my odd clown stories on the previous site, so I figured I'd try and post some here. This is the most risque story I've written, featuring sex and other naughty stuff. I hope you enjoy, even if it is a little…strange.



Don't Make Me Laugh

Written by Hugo Prosperio

Idea by matago

(Warning. This story contains heavy sexual content, a rarity amongst my stories. It also includes strange transformation fetish material, so if that ain't your cup of tea, please, feel free to move on. For those interested in Bimbo and Clown TFs, and other strange things, read on)

The sun was shining as Veronica James walked into her local police station. You see, Veronica loved her job as a police woman. She loved the power it gave her, and she was never afraid to show it. Most people that knew here would have described her as being cold. She walked in her long dirty blonde hair tied into a bun that was hidden under her uniform hat, and she grinned as she walked in. She loved that every man in the station would give anything to be with her, and she wouldn't give any of them an inch. She loved how much power it gave her over them.

"Hey, Ronnie" one of her fellow officers said to her as he passed. She grabbed him by his arm.

"I told you not to call me that. My name is Veronica." She said.

"Yeesh, what a grip. I'm sorry" he said as she let go, and he quickly moved away from her. She grinned as he walked away, knowing how much she had just bruised his ego. "Probably wanted to ask me out on a cheap date" she mumbled to herself.

"Officer James?" said the voice of one of her bosses. "You really aren't a people person, are you?"

She turned around to look at him. "No. I'm not. You've never complained about it before, Captain." She noted.

"True. It makes you a very effective cop, I'll admit…just take it easy on the guys around here. They don't bite, so you shouldn't either. Anyway, I am going to need you to do a few laps in your car today, keep an eye out for hooligans." He said.

She nodded and went to the locker room to grab her gear. A young male officer smirked. "Hey there, Veronica. How's it going?"

"Beat it, Kid" she snarled at him as she hooked her gun onto her slender waist.

"I'll take that as a no, then?" he said.

"Yes. Forever and a day…yes. It will always be a no, you little scumbag." She said as she left and headed out of the building.

"Someday, you'll come around. I'm the best you ever gonna get, girlfriend" he smirked. She turned around and slapped him in the face.

"That's the best YOU ever gonna get, asshole." She said as she stomped out and left the station.

"Some people never change" The Captain sighed as he sipped his coffee.



Veronica fumed as she drove down the street in her squad car. She couldn't believe how many assholes she worked with, and how stupid they all were. She sighed as she scanned the area for any trouble, when suddenly she spotted something. A VW Bug pulled over on the side of the road had smoke pouring out from the windows.

"Here we go. Some teenagers smoking something they shouldn't." She smiled. "This'll improve my mood"

She turned on her flashing lights, and just for kicks turned on the sirens as she pulled up behind the parked car.

"I'll let them squirm for a bit" she said with a slight derisive laugh. These were the moments when she thoroughly enjoyed her job. After a few moments, she turned off the sirens and got out of the car. She could hear noises coming from the parked car, noises that sounded like giggling. As she approached the vehicle, she overheard voices. A sugary sweet female voice laughed then said "Go on, keep smoking, it'l change your life"

She pulled out her baton and walked up and tapped it slightly against the door of the driver's side. The girl sitting in the driver's seat turned her head and smiled.

"Hello there, officer!" the girl said. Veronica looked her over, seeing a very fat girl in her twenties, long curly brown hair, rosy cheeks, and wearing what looked like a yellow sundress that was far too tight for her, showing off ample amounts of pudgy fat cleavage. She then glanced at the face, and beneath the gaudy makeup and double chin, she recognized the girl.

"Molly?" she said, letting out a surprised gasp. She had caught this girl many times trying to buy or smoke pot, but she was always thin on Veronica's memory. Something drastic had changed about her.

"Looks like all that weed gave you the munchies, huh?" she smirked.

"I guess so, officer…James" Molly said looking at the name tag. Molly didn't seem to remember her, but she smiled none the less. "How are you on this B. e. a. utiful day?"

"I'm fine. Now then, what might you and your friend" she said pointing at the young man in the passenger seat who had such pale skin he looked like a vampire. "…what might you be sampling today?" she added as she pointed at the joint in Molly's fingertips.

Molly giggled. "Well, Silly, this is Wacky Weed. It's really good. You want some?"

This caught Veronica off guard. She was used to seeing kids try to lie about what they were doing, but to outright say it, and then offer her some? She was stunned.

She quickly regained her composure and let out a trademark snort "Don't make me laugh. Young lady, that substance is quite obviously illegal, and I need you to hand it over this instant." She said.

"Like, what if I don't want to" she said as she took in a huge drag off the joint and blew the smoke towards Veronica, specifically that what was closest to her own eye level, Veronica's crotch.

"Hey! Don't make me rip you out of that car!" Veronica snarled, not noticing the slight tingle that had formed in her panties. Molly giggled and opened the car and stepped out, her green flip-flops smacking against the pavement as she did.

"Now then, give it to me, or things are going to get very bad for you, little missy" Veronica hissed.

Molly sighed. "Okay…If you insist. I'll give it to you." she then added as she took one last puff, and blew it in Veronica's face. The billow of smoke was so thick that Veronica lost track of everything. She coughed heavily and ended up inhaling a great deal of the smoke, which somehow tasted like cotton candy. She shook her head as the smoke dispersed, and she was shocked to find that Molly, her pale friend, and their VW Bug had disappeared, vanished into thin air.

"What in the fuck?" She blurted out, still coughing from the smoke. She shook her head, and was determined to find those little punks and bring them into the station.

"You are going to be so sorry, Miss Molly" she said, gritting her teeth as she climbed back into her squad car and took off, sirens blazing, towards the center of town.



Dusk approached the small town, and Veronica decided to call off her search for the hooligans in the yellow Bug. "They'll show up again…and when they do, they'll wish they'd never been born." She said to herself. She then scratched her nose, which had begun to itch over the last few hours. She pulled into the station and quietly moved to the locker room to put away her gun.

"Evening, Ronnie" said the officer who had tried to ask her out earlier in the day. She growled at him, but made no other attempt at getting her point across. She was tired, and wanted to get home.

She didn't have a real car of her own, because she lived just a block away from the station, so she walked home. She quickly moved down the street, passing a well dressed man in colorful clothing. She knew this to be the local pimp, though nobody had ever been able to take him down for any crimes.

"Well, hello there, Officer James." He smiled.

"Buzz off, Pervert" she said.

"Tsk Tsk, so much anger. I was just saying hello. Have yourself a good evening" he laughed.

"Listen, you smug prick, I am not one of your girls. One day, I'll see to it personally that your ass is firmly behind bars. Until then? Fuck Off." As she said the last two words, her voice jumped up a few octaves, catching her off guard. She covered her mouth and started walking away.

The pimp smiled. "You don't know what you are missing my dear. Oh well, have a good night."

She sighed loudly and trudged to her apartment building heading in, ready to crash for the night. Once inside her apartment, she turned on the light and slumped down onto her couch.

"God, what a weird day" she said, her voice still sounding a touch high to her own ears, but she just shook it off, blaming it on nerves. She then smelled herself, and sighed.

"God Damn, I still smell like that shit I got spewed on me by that punk-ass girl" she mumbled. It was true, her whole aroma smelled of Cotton Candy, a sugary sweet smell that lingered in the air. She got up and went over to her bathroom and stripped out of her uniform , and out of her underwear, which felt a tad tight to her for some reason. She shook that off as well, and turned on her shower, hoping to rid herself of the smell of sweets.

She got in, and felt the rushing hot water caress her naked form, and she began to relax. She then began to feel, well, very horny, to be blunt about it. She felt her lady parts tingle upon being touched with the water, and she let out a soft moan. It felt so good, so much more sensitive, it seemed, and she couldn't figure out why, but she wasn't going to ignore it. She soon found her hand moving to her crotch as it slowly caressed the lips of her vagina. She closed her eyes and softly let the sensations fill her world. She moaned loudly now as her fingers slipped in and out of her warm sex, and now the cotton candy smell that she was experiencing began to fill the room, and she didn't care. She was in ecstasy, and her she let her body slip to the floor of the shower and let the water soak over her while she masturbated for over an hour.

Her eyes flew open after two hours of soaking in the shower. She looked around and let out a sigh.

"I hate it when I do that" she said as she got up and turned off the water, and took a towel in her hand to dry herself off. She stepped out and wiped the fogged up mirror clean and stared at her reflection. She noticed her nose looked red, as if she had a cold or something, but she paid no attention to it.

She dried her hair, not noting how much frizzier it seemed as she headed into her bedroom and plopped down onto her bed, sighing. It had been a long day, and she was glad to see it over, but that shower was the perfect way to end it, she thought with a wide grin as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.



Her alarm blared through her bedroom as it went off. She groggily opened her eyes and glared at it. She turned it off and stepped out of bed, and proceeded to fall flat on her face as she tried to stand up.

"What the hell?" she asked herself as she finally got up. She couldn't figure out why she had fallen down, but had she been more alert, she might have noticed her breasts were now much larger, as was her ass, but she wasn't paying attention to these things, she knew she had to get ready for work and fast.

She hopped in the shower and felt the water rush over her, and she felt the urge to slide her hand into her wet sex, but was able to resist and get out and get back to her room to get dressed for what she felt was going to be a long day.

She grabbed a clean uniform and began to put it on, only to discover that both the pants, and the shirt were now very tight.

"Son of a bitch, it must have shrunk in the wash. Just my luck."

She sighed, and struggled to get it on, and was able to do so with a few tugs here and there.

"It'll have to do, this is the only clean one, I got" she said as she walked over to her mirror and to her shock and surprise, her hair was an utter mess. Fizzy and curling up into an unintended afro of sorts. She let out a small shriek and set to work trying to flatten it, to comb it, to do anything with it so it wouldn't look like such a bird's nest of a mess, but nothing seemed to be doing the trick. She glared at the mirror, noting her nose looked even redder than it did before she had gone to bed. Today seemed to be turning out to be the worst possibly day it could be.

"Why now? Why couldn't this happen when I go on vacation next month?" she said as she found her uniform hat and shoved it on tightly, doing her best to cover up the hair. She then slipped on her shoes for work, and discovered they too were tight.

"Oh, what the Christ?!" she stammered. "Am I turning into an elephant? God Damn it" she snarled as she threw her hands up and grabbed her things for work and headed out the door.



Walking to work was usually a breeze for Veronica, but today was, for some reason, quite the task. Every guy she saw on the street was turning her on in one way or another, and this was quite distressing to her. She was very glad not to see the pimp who had spoken to her last night, because she feared he too would have been in some way attractive to her on this strange morning, and she would not want to admit that. She passed one of her fellow tenants of her apartment building and he smiled weakly at her and continued on his way. She knew him to be a very shy man, and that too was very "hot" to her at the moment.

"Christ, Ronnie, get a grip" she said to herself, using the name she hated people calling her. She stopped. "What is getting into me?!" she gasped as she continued towards the station. "Today had better move quickly, or so help me…" she muttered.

Once inside the station, she started towards her desk area, which she rarely used, as she loved to be out on the street, but today, she felt it was probably a good idea to stay in, what with how strange her day had been. As she walked by one of the more attractive men in the station, she let out a girlish giggle, which displayed her higher voice. She covered her mouth and kicked herself mentally. Was she going mad? She could barely contain her libido, and it was driving her nuts. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she mumbled as she finally reached her desk and sat down.

The Chief walked by and noted her at her desk and laughed. "Well, hello, Officer James. Usually by now you are screaming at all the men and on your way out to your beat?"

She stared at him, and lust filled her body with an almost uncontrollable burst. She shook it off and looked up at him.

"I'm not feeling too hot today." She began, wincing at her higher pitched voice, which made her sound like a porn parody of a police woman. "So I figured I'd get some paperwork done."

"You don't sound good either." He said patting her on the shoulder, and the sex panther inside her wanted to pounce right then and there, but she was able to close her eyes and stop it for the moment.

"You sure you don't want to go home?" He asked. "We are fairly well staffed here at the station, and I am sure our fair city can get along one day without you."

She wanted to say yes, but something in her, perhaps her pride, made her stand firm. "No. Besides, you are always nagging me about this paperwork, might as well get it all wrapped up" she said with another girlish giggle. The Chief raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more as he walked away.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" she gasped afterwards, and she knew for a fact her panties were now wet from her quivering sex, which was just aching to be touched. She started typing away at the computer at her desk, her mind not really on the task at hand. A few moments later, she went to review what she had typed and saw the following.

"In conclusion, I say that this case was SEX. I NEED SEX. SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX SEX!"

She quickly erased it and held her head in her hands. She was going insane, she just knew it.

Something had happened to her, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew she needed to figure it out and put a stop to it. She then felt her nose tingle a bit, and she sneezed. She didn't pay attention to this, because, in her mind, she had bigger problems to worry about, but had she looked, she would have noticed the sneeze caused her nose to turn even more red and inflamed that it already was.

She stood up and walked to the locker room, desperate to find the one thing that was causing all these strange emotions to build in her. She noticed her shoes felt even more tight then they had when she left work and just chalked it up to the worst day ever.

"I must be sick, delusional, or something. I think I'll take tomorrow off" she sighed as she stared into the mirror in the locker room. She then noticed her hair was even frizzier under her uniform cap, and she ripped it off to try and re-arrange it, and to her horror, her hair was almost up in a fro style.

"What?! That's not possible!" she said, trying to pat it down, comb it with her fingers, but nothing would undo the frizzed mess of hair. She then noticed stripes of color going up each side, like the white in the Bride of Frankenstein's hair, but these were weren't white. They were hot pink, like cotton candy!

"I am dreaming. This is one big hallucination. That explains everything" she said as she shoved her hat back down on the mess of hair and sighed. As she turned to exit, she saw the face of the cop who had hit on her in the locker room the day before. She heard his voice in her head "I'm the best you ever gonna get, girlfriend" it said, and looking at him, right now, in her current state of mind, she could hardly argue with that statement.

"Well, hello, Officer James" he smirked. "Feeling a touch less cranky today, I hope?"

She tried to contain herself as she felt the monster inside of her roar, but it was too late. She grabbed him by the lapels of his uniform and shoved him up against the lockers, her hormones raging.

"I…take that as a no." he stammered as she looked him over and then braced himself for what he thought he knew was going to be her fist smashing into his face, but he got something much different. She took her lips, which were swollen and red, and placed them against his and began to kiss him passionately. He gasped at first, but then started kissing her back for a moment, before pushing her away.

"Wait a second. Is this some big joke, or something? What the fuck is up, Veronica!" he stammered.

"I am so fucking horny." She moaned. "I don't know why, I can't explain it…I've been like this since I woke up, but goddamn it, Harry, I want you in the worst way!" she said using his name for the first time he could ever remember. Usually she called him "kid" or "scumbag"

"Uh…are you sure about this?" he asked as he removed her hands from his lapels.

"Yeah." She said softly, biting her bottom lip, only aiding her sex-kitten porn star looks.

Harry smiled and pulled out a ring of keys. "Let's go to my office" he said. Harry had been put in charge of a new project at the department recently, and as such had been given a small office to work from. She smiled and followed him out of the locker room and down the hall.

As they walked, calmly, trying not to give anything away, one of Veronica's buttons burst off the chest area of her uniform. She gasped and placed her arms around her chest to hide her now exposed cleavage. Were her breasts getting larger? It seemed so, but that wasn't possible was it? Questions swirled in her mind as Harry unlocked his office door. They went in, and Harry, with a wide smile on his face, locked the door, thanking his lucky stars they hadn't installed the camera yet. As soon as the door was closed, Veronica's clothes were off. She slid out of them and giggled as she lied on his desk.

"Oh, Mr. Police Man, what ever are you going to do to me?" she giggled.

"Oh, Ma'am, I intend to interrogate you till you pass out" he laughed as he stripped down and got on top of her. Soon he was thrusting into her wet sex, which was dripping with anticipation. He pushed with reckless abandon, and soon, Veronica had her hands on his back, pushing him towards her, helping him go in and out.

After several moments, the man climaxed and Veronica did her best not to scream, instead moaning as loud as she could, and as she did, her slightly red nose inflated instantly into a large red clown nose. It hissed as it grew, and with a loud pop, it was officially part of her face. She was in such ecstasy that she didn't notice it. Harry didn't either as he got up and turned around to get dressed again.

She bit her lower lip, and let out a giggle as Harry got up and slid his pants back on. "Your butt looks good naked!" she laughed.

"Haha, Now that was fun…see I told you I was the…" he said turning around. He stopped when he saw her nose.

"What the hell is that?!" he said pointing at her nose. She looked down and gasped.

"I…I don't know where that came from" she said trying to take it off. He stared at her.

"Wait, is this some sick shit you get off on, dressing like a clown while guys fuck you? What a fucking nut." He huffed as he pulled his pants up quickly. "Looks like I should have just said no. What the fuck, Ronnie? What the fuck?" he said.

She stood up and started trying to get dressed. "I swear I don't know what that is." She said as she tried to button her shit on, only to have the top button fly off and smack Harry in the face"

"Oh, I am so sorry" she said, getting closer to him. He backed away.

"Stay away! If you tell anyone about this, I'll…I'll…" he stammered as he watched her hair get bigger and change color right before his eyes. "I must be dreaming" he said as he turned and walked out of the office.

"You think you're dreaming. What about me!" she said looking down at her new nose. She quickly turned and looked in a mirror, and saw her new look, and gasped. What the hell was happening to her, she wondered in her mind. She realized now she couldn't get her uniform hat on over her fro of hair if she wanted to, and the pink stripes in it had been joined by purple stripes as well.

"Oh, god, look at me!" she screamed. "I am a freak!"

Of course, that didn't stop her from craving more sex. In fact, she was hornier than ever, and she knew she was in very, very big trouble.

Anonymous 12/15/16 (Thu) 18:03:19 No.2784

?

She arrived at her apartment with no further intertuptions, which was a great relief to her. She flung herself inside and locked the door. She quickly ran to the bathroom and saw her new face and let out a shriek.

"My Face!" she cried as she slumped to the ground, absent-mindedly letting her hand find its way to her still wet private.

"What the fuck is happening to me?" she stated again as waves of pleasure flew through her from her masturbation.

"I think I know" said a voice from the doorway. Veronica turned her had as fast as she could, and saw a figure standing in the bathroom doorway, a girl, plump as could be, wearing brightly colored clothes. Her face was familiar, and then it hit her.

"You!" she said. "The girl I tried to arrest yesterday! The one with the weed!" she hissed. "What are you doing…how'd you get in here?"

The girl giggled. "No need to thank me…I just wanted to make you smile!"

"What?! What are you talking about?!" Veronica snapped.

"Why your thrilling changes! I hope you like them!" the plump girl laughed.

"You did this? How?!" Veronica said, her mind spinning.

"Magic. My name is Bubbles, although you remember me as Molly. I was once human, then I found a world of magic and fun. There they have magical weed, and I smoked myself stupid, literally. I was able to get a few smarts back when I was asked to show you the fun side of life though." She giggled.

Veronica could not believe what she had heard, but somehow it made sense. All these strange changes occurring over the day…Was magic really the explination. She had to find out.

"Prove it!" she stated. "Prove to me that you really did this and that I am not dreaming!"

Bubbles shrugged and smiled. "Alright, if you insist. Please, let's go somewhere more comfortable" she said as she helped Veronica off the floor.

Veronica then lead the plump girl into the near by bedroom.

"Now then!" Bubbles said as she took out her purse and pulled out a joint. "I'll prove it to you, just like you wanted."

She lit up, and inhaled a huge hit off the rolled weed, and then blew the smoke on Veronica's bare naked chest.

Veronica was at first unimpressed, until a tingle began forming, and she looked down and saw her chest begin to explode outwards. They had been getting slightly bigger all day, but now, they were getting huge, cartoonishly so!

"Look at those knockers!" giggled Bubbles as she puffed on her joint. Veronica looked at the giant tits and gasped. It was real, they felt real, and she knew that somehow that weed was turning her into… a clown of some sorts.

As Bubbles smoked, the façade of Molly vanished, and her true clowny self appeared. Veronica gasped at the sight of the obese clown.

"You look like a cartoon!" she said to Bubbles.

"You should talk…" Bubbles giggled in retort. She then walked over to Veronica. "Come here, Ronnie. Give me a Kiss." She giggled as she took in more smoke from the joint and pressed her lips against Veronica's. Once embraced in the kiss, Bubbles let the smoke pass into Veronica's mouth, and then pulled away with a giggle.

"That should help speed things along." Bubbles laughed as Veronica felt her head get cloudy. She collapsed on her bed, and let out a giggle. Bubbled walked over, took another inhale of her weed and blew smoke right in her crotch again.

"Sleep well, Ronnie…and tomorrow, everything will make perfect sense, I promise!" she laughed as she vanished in a puff of smoke.

Veronica looked around, and then felt a tingle in her loins that needed to be attended to, nothing else mattered. She thrust her fingers into her vagina and began to pump, more vigoursly then she had ever done before, soon she was lost in pleasure, and the world melted around her as she passed out in total bliss.



She awoke what seemed like moments later, and walked to the bathroom. She saw her clownish reflection in the mirror, white face, pink and purple hair, wavy black drawn on lines instead of eyebrows, pink around her eyes, a big red nose in the center of her face, and pink lips, plump and sexy. She let out a giggle.

"I guess this is a dream" she said, not realizing she wasn't still asleep. She headed back to her room and saw a box sitting on her dresser.

"For Ronnie" a big tag on the box read as she opened it. Inside was a pile of clothes, and on top was a joint, just like the one Bubbles had been smoking, sitting next to a colorful lighter.

"Lighten Up! Light one Up!" another note read. Veronica giggled, and since she thought she was in a dream shrugged and smiled. She picked up the joint and lighter and lit it and began to smoke. She felt light headed at first, then felt a tingle in her mouth. She walked over to the nearby mirror and smiled. She watched in awe as her teeth started changing structure. Soon, she was left with an adorable gap between her front two teeth, big enough to stick at least two quarters in like a coin slot. She giggled at the sight of it, and puffed away more. Her ears began to stick out a bit more, but not a whole lot…

She then turned attention back to the box, and the outfit that sat within. It was a tight top that would hold her pale giant breasts quite well, as well as a colorful bra to go with it. Below that was a short skirt that would show off her bigger butt to anyone who wanted to sneak a peak, as well as a cute pair of thong panties.

"Oh, this is so cute" she giggled, her mind accepting it all because her assumption it was a dream. She giggled as she slid on the thong and clipped on the bra, both of which fit perfectly as if they had been made especially for her new body.

She quickly slipped the shirt on, struggling only for a moment to get it over her breasts. Soon the blue shirt with red polka-dots was snuggly fit over her huge tits, and she giggled at the way it's low cut showed off ample amounts of cleavage.

Next was the skirt and it slid on with no problems. It was the opposite of the shirt, Red with blue stripes, and it came with a cute neon green belt as well.

Looking in the box again, she found a pair of plastic pump style heels that were also neon green. She giggled and took them out and found they were perfect for her overly large feet. Putting them on, she began to strut around her room, posing in the mirror.

"Hey, if it's a dream, might as well have fun. I am one sexy clown" she laughed at reflection. She then decided it was time to go out and see the world in her new form.

"Look out everyone, here comes Ronnie!"



She slammed the door to her apartment, and walked down the hall with a sexy sway as she moved towards the stairwell. She was going to go out and explore the dream, and she was going to enjoy it. As she rounded the corner, she bumped into someone, literally. The young man seemed flabbergasted as he looked at the girl who had just walked into him.

"I am, like, so sorry!" giggled Veronica in a voice that was entirely new to her. "You are that cute boy that's been staring at me every time I got work, aren't you?" she asked. She had seen him several times, always too shy to say anything to her, but always staring, like a kid with a puppy love crush.

"Here" she said as she bent over to pick up some papers he had dropped when she collided with him. In doing this, she raised her ass as high as she could, showing off the fabric of her thong clinging tightly to her pussy, complimenting her round (and getting rounder) ass cheeks.

She stood up and handed him the paper, and then smiled.

"What's your name?" she asked sweetly.

"Brian. " he said softly as he shoved the paper in his pocket.

"Well, Brian. I believe I owe you an apology. I haven't meant to ignore you all these months. I…just wasn't myself" she said, giggling, her mind shifting more and more every second. She then grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, as she had done to the officer in her department the day before, but this time she knew exactly what she was doing and why. She was going to make out with him. She was doing it so that he would have sex with her. She would get what she wanted, she knew it.

Her lips touched his, and tingles swept through the both of them, and within the half an hour, he had invited her into his apartment, and they had found their way onto his small bed.

"You seem shy. I bet I can fix that" Veronica giggled as she rubbed her creamy white breasts, and quickly removed them from her bra cups.

"What happened to you?" Brian said, amazed at the difference between this clown looking nympho and the girl who had been so cold to him so very often.

"I lightened up!" she giggled as she ripped off his pants and began to stroke the tip of his erect penis through his boxers. "Someone looks happy to see me!" she added with a extra giggle.

He let out a laugh too. He had always fantazied about getting her into bed, but was too shy, but here his dream was coming true. He helped her slide his boxers off, and rolled her over.

"Well, then. If you've lightened up, you won't mind if I fuck you silly?" he asked, gaining a confidence that was quite foreign to him.

She looked him in the eyes as he pinned her to the mattress and smiled wide. "Please do, sexy!" she said.

He then entered her wet sex with his throbbing erection, and began to pump. He wasn't a novice, much to Veronica's surprise and delight, as he fucked her with ease.

"Oh, yesssss, Brian!" she moaned as she rubbed her huge breasts with her hands as he continued to pump in and out.

He reached down and began to caress her breasts as well, grunting a bit as he thrust forward into her vagina until he felt himself release, and when he did, a wave of tingles washed over him and sent him into the best orgasm he had ever had.

Veronica's mind began to shift even more, especially with the final thrust from Brian's cock. She was now a slutty clown girl, and she loved every second of it.

Brian pulled out of her and smiled. "That was fucking fun" he said, not noticing the tone of his skin starting to lighten.

"It was! We'll have to do it again. Come on over some time soon" she giggled as she dressed herself again and wiggled her ass as she left his apartment and headed outside.

The reality of the situation no longer mattered to her, she had forgotten if she was awake or dreaming, nor did she care. She was happy, and still very horny. She pulled the half smoked blunt of weed that Bubbles had give her and light it up again, and began to inhale deep puffs of it, loving every second. She felt like her cares were melting away, and that wasn't the only thing. Her intelligence was going as well, taking her from a headstrong smart cop to a ditzy sex-a-holic bimbo slut of a clown girl.

"Wow, this stuff, is like, awesome. Bubbles was, like, totally right!" she said as her ears grew a bit larger, adding to the comical look she now sported proudly.

As she strutted down the street, she came face to face with a man who had previously been the bane of her existence.

"Well, Hello there, Officer James. You are looking quite interesting today."

"Oh, hello, Mr. Pimp!" she giggled to the man dressed to the nines like a cartoon gangster. He smiled wide as she eyed him.

"Enjoying your day?" he asked with a smile.

"Oh, totally. I am, like, so fucking horny, and I love it!" she said with a laugh. He reached up and honked her new clown nose, which casued her to orgasm instantly, and she moaned loudly and giggled.

"Thanks, Mister. Hey, you want a blowjob?" she asked, smiling wide as can be. The Pimp simply smiled, and wagged his finger.

"Follow me, my dear!" he said.

She giggled and did as she was told, her cartoonish body wobbing as she did. He lead her inside the nearby building and over to a mirror.

"Step through, sweetheart" he smiled.

She put her foot into the mirror and gasped when it went right through. Soon she was waist deep and in no time at all, she vanished into the mirror.

She looked around and saw she was in a very colorful room. The mirror shimmered and out stepped the man with a grin. His features morphed as he did, and it became clear that the pimp was also a clown.

"How about that blowjob, my dear?" he asked with a devilish grin.

Soon, she was on her knees licking, sucking, and blowing on this clowns man parts, and she briefly thought to herself, "Why am I doing this?" but that passed in seconds as the very last remnants of Veronica James disappeared, and the new clown-girl took her place.

After the clown pimp finished in her mouth, he straightened himself up.

"Now then, Veronica doesn't suit you anymore, nor does Ronni. We need a special name for you" he said as he helped her to her big feet.

"How about Knockers, since you have some pretty big ones!" he laughed as he tapped one of her breasts, causing it to wobble.

She giggled and nodded.

"Knockers sounds sexy!" she purred.

"Then Knockers it is. Oh, Bubbles!" he called as the fat clown waddled around the corner.

"Your handiwork." He said pointing at the newly christened Knockers.

"She's beautiful!" giggled the clown as she hugged the new addition to her world. "Let's keep her"



Months passed in the human world, and no one ever knew what happened to Veronica James. She had left work that one day that she had been acting very strange, and never returned. One of her co-workers suffered a similar fate soon after, but that was the last anyone saw of strangeness in the department.

Meanwhile, in Clowntopia, Knockers had become a popular stripper at the club known as The Big Top. Run by a clown called Punch, she took to the job like a fish to water when introduced to Punch by the friendly Pimp, who she know knew was called Slappy.

If she wasn't working, she was usually having sex with some lucky clown guy, or barring that, she was hanging out with her new roommate, Bubbles. Together they'd smoke different variations of Wacky Weed and laugh about how wonderful their lives were.

See, in the end, it's a Happy Ending for Ms. James. She will never be unhappy again, never have to worry about punk kids causing trouble or anything like that. Right now all she has to worry about is how big her breasts are going to get from that last hit of Bubbles Bong.

"But what if they get too big?" giggled Bubbles.

"Too Big?! Don't make me laugh!" grinned Knockers.

The Farmers Daughter by #tfmistress

#WeightGain #Transformation #PigGirls #PigGirl #FemalePigTransformation #FemaleTransformationStory
#TransformationStory

Jeri was the daughter of four generations of farmers. In her early 20’s, she had shoulder length brown hair, and a nice, slightly athletic, build. This was due to the fact that she worked on the farm.

Her family had always been relatively well off, but the past decade was more profitable for her family then the last hundred combined. That was because, since she was about ten, a man would visit periodically to sell them animals.

He had silver hair, and tended to wear a brown leather jacket. He was middle aged, but didn’t seem to age much over the years. Despite originally being a stranger, he had since built a great relationship with the family due to how incredible the animals he brought were.

Bovine, pigs, donkeys, you name it. He always had the best breeds, and they were always exceptionally fertile. Better yet, he only sold them for a fraction of what they were worth. When Jeri’s father once asked him how he could afford such great animals, he simply said it was a ‘trade secret.’

While he didn’t stay long, Jeri would always enjoy his visits, and eventually made a great relationship with him. He loved seeing her, and would tell all sorts of funny stories. He had even given her a nickname to call him by, which was ‘The Man.’

Jeri was now in her mid twenties. She was working in the field while the rest of her family was busy with errands. She wore a large sun hat atop her shoulder length brown hair. Due to how hot it was, she had rolled her shirt up, exposing her midriff, and shorts.

She was just taking a five minute break when she saw a truck pulling up.

It was The Man, driving a truck with two donkeys braying at the top of their lungs. Jeri smiled and went to see him, though slightly dreaded the bad news she would have to give him.

“Hello Jeri, how’s my favorite farmer?” he asked, smiling warmly. “I just happened across two lovely donkeys which I think would be great for your farm. Is your dad home?”

“It’s good to see you. Unfortunatly, dad’s not home. He’s on some erands and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll come back then”

“Actually… you don’t need to. We… won’t be needing them” Jeri started, slightly uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be the one to say this to him. “We have quite enough right now.”

The Man’s smile faded slightly, but he still kept his chipper attiude. “Don’t need any more donkeys eh? Well that’s fine. If you give me a day, I could find a lovely cow for you to…”

“Actually” Jeri said, interupting him “we really don’t need any more animals. You’ve been so helpful to us, but we have hit just the right number of beasts to take care of right now, so we won’t be needing any more”

TJeri felt upset, hoping that this wasn’t hurting his feelings. She liked him after all.

He looked genuinely disappointed. Then, a smile. “Very well. I understand. But before I go, perhaps I can give you one more animal?

“I told you, we can't afford…” she began, before being silenced as he rose up a hand. “This one is free. And it’s not a donkey. Just a pig. You can never have too many of those, right?”

“I… guess… if its free” she said, not wanting to seem rude, or unappreciative for all the work he had done for their family. At the time, she didn’t realize that her forehead was starting to sweat. “Did you bring it? I don’t see it in the truck/” she added, looking at the braying donkeys.

“Oh no. But it will be here soon” he said, smiling in a reassuring way.

“God I feel hot… I didn’t work that hard today did I?”

“Oh trust me… I think you’re hard work is just getting started. Still, If you’re so hot, maybe you should take off your clothes”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” she said, rolling her eyes as she brushed her sweat soaked hair out of her eyes. However, her other hand was drifting down her midriff towards her shorts, unbuttoning them.

She was really soaked with sweat she thought, as she moved the wet hair from her eyes. Working on s farm most her life, hard work was hardly new to her. Yet, it had been years since she was this sweaty. Was she getting sick?

“I think… I need to lie down” she said apologetically to The Man. However, as she took a step she almost tripped. Looking down, she saw that her unbuttoned shorts were now around her ankles. It took her a second to process this, before realizing that her wet panties were on full display.

“What the hell!” She shouted, quickly reaching to pull them back on. However, her shorts felt like they a thousand pounds, unable to be lifted from around her ankles.

“Come now, why so embarrassed? Those tiny shorts were barely hiding anything anyway.”

“I- I- I need to go” Jeri stammered, still having trouble processing this. She was too confused to feel fear, but she had a feeling that getting away was the first step.

Unfortunately, her aforementioned shorts were weighing her feet in place. Wearing laced up boots, she couldn’t slip out of them.

Still operating on instincts, she bent down to to undo her laces. Walking behind her, this new position gave The Man a good look at her panty-clad posterior, which was slowly getting more transparent from her sweat.

“I must say, you really have developed nicely. I spent so many years thinking of you as that little girl that I never even noticed”

He slapped her on the ass just as she slipped her feet out of her boots. The impact was far stronger then she would have expected from a man like him, making her fall face first into the dirt, her hat falling off. The ground was rapidly getting soaked from how much she was sweating.

“In fact, why don’t you show me how much of a woman you’ve become… before I take it from you.”

“What are you talking about. Please… help me. Somethings wrong” she said, still unable to process that this was happening, much less from a family friend.

“I am helping you. Like I said, I’m giving your farm a gift before I leave. Now… show me how you’ve matured” he repeated, this time more forcefully.

In a display of acrobatics she never would have been capable of before, she rolled forward onto her hands, and flipped onto her feet.

She then spun around, but her hands behind her head, and moved her hips in a stripper dance, contorting and swaying her hips to show off her ass, and jiggle her chest.

“How are you doing this?! Stop it! Stop it now!”

But it didn’t stop. Her controlled body was completely committed to the show. She removed her socks and seductively wiped the sweat from her body. She then got on all fours and thrust her hips forward, like she was being savagely screwed up the ass by an invisible lover. Showers of sweat were thrown off her by the impact of each thrust.

The Man kneeled down to get face to face with her. She tried to shout something at him, but instead kissed him deeply on the lips. The shame of this, as well as his bad breath, made her gag.

As he broke from the kiss, she could speak again, but her words were constantly interrupted by the intense, invisible, bounding on her ass “why… are… you… doing… this?! You’re… our… friend!”

“I thought so too. But you said you didn't need me anymore… remember?”

“Is… THAT… what this… is about!? I’ll take... your animals! I’ll take them… AHHH!”

She was interrupted as she was once again forced to perform another acrobatic move, flipping onto her feet. Her hands moved to her top, untying it. Knowing what was about to happen, she could only whimper “please don’t make me! Please!”

But no sympathy was given, as she threw it off, showing her sweaty bare breasts to her tormentor. Her pantys were the only clothing she had left, and they had already slipped down to her thighs after all the thrusts she did, completely revealing her crotch and bare ass. This was especially humiliating as there was nothing to hide when she began pissing herself in fear.

The Man didn’t pay this bathroom emergency any mind however, as he was busy inspecting her tits. “Yes, you really HAVE matured. At least physically. I wonder if you’ve matured in other areas. Sexuality for one”

“Please don’t…” Jeri said, crying and having a feeling what he was about to make her do next. Her left hand moved itself towards her crotch, and without any time to prepare, immediately fingered herself. Meanwhile, the other was twisting her nipples.

She let out a cry. Ger fingers were flicking and twisting far harder than she was used to. This was only the beginning though, as she went harder. Her legs got weak as she collapsed onto her knees, still masturbating with everything she had. The Man was laughing “yes, you really are a woman. I’m so proud of you”

“OooHhhHh noOoooOo! I can’t, OH GOD OH JESUS, stoppPppp. HnnnNNMMMGGG oH fuOooUuuchhkkk! Make it GOD OH GoD soOoo GOOOD! NOO! Not gooOood! Ahhhh!”

And then she came, soaking the already wet, sweaty ground with her ejaculate.

“Well, I think we’ve established that you’ve grown up” The Man said, as if this were a science lecture he was giving to a child. “Now, let's move on to the gift for your family”

“You… you mean the pig?” She panted, completely exhausted. “Y-yes! We’ll take the pig. We’ll take anything you want! Just stop!”

“Oh don’t worry, I will stop soon enough. But first…” he said cryptically before snapping his fingers.

She stood up again, this time normally. Her pantys still around her ankles, she wadled over towards the pigsty. “What are you doing! No more! You promised”

“Oh my dear, your body may have gotten more mature, but your mind hasn’t. I would have expected you to guess by now” he laughed as she jumped onto the wooden fence that separated the swine from the rest of the farm. She let out a yelp as her bare butt impacted the splintery wood fence. It became even more uncomfortable as she was forced to spread her legs wider then she ever imagined, spreading them along the fence as she was forced to balance as she felt her pussy on the wood.

“No! You can’t keep making me do stuff like this! You can’t!

And then, she fell. Not from simply losing balance, but move like an invisible man pushed her over.

Screaming, she landed face first into the mud. The impact made her see stars, and barely keep conscious.

Lying there, she couldn’t help but think how nice the mud felt on her hot, sweaty skin. She felt a powerful urge to just lie there and sleep. Thos trance was broken as she felt one of the pigs snouts against her head as it sniffed her hair.

Her survival instincts kicked in again. Furthermore, she realized that she could move her body again, giving her hope.

She got up to see that she was in the middle of the pigsty. She didn’t even question why she was there, and not by the fence, as she turned to run away from The Man.

Unfortunately for her, she only made a few steps before falling face first into the muck again, from a combination of the slippery mud and the fact that her center of gravity felt off.

She tried to stand again, but immediately fell back onto her hands, her balance continued to shift. For some reason, being on all fours felt natural. This time, it felt like she broke her nose on that fall. It felt so flat and deformed… no… it was changing. It widened and lengthened outwards into a snout.

Her face, already pink from embarrassment, became even pinker, a trait that was spreading along her glistening, muddy body.

Unable to stand, she crawled forward, hoping that she could somehow still escape. She had no plan, she just wanted to get as far away from this man whom she had previously thought was a friend. She even flung the panties off her ankles, any feelings of modesty long gone.

Two things made this more difficult. First was the amount of pigs in her way, all too lazy to move, even as she incoherently screamed and pushed them. The other issue was that her hands were progressively feeling off. They were numb and her fingers barely moved. It took her nearly 30 seconds to notice that they were swelling. She froze in terror as she watched her index and middle fingers fusing together into a hard mass, and her thumb retreat into her rapidly deforming palm.

“What the hell is hapanEEEEEEEEEing!” squealed. She then gasped at the noise whe just made. “What are you SQEEEEEEE doing to (grunt) meEREEEE (snort) (snort) StopEeeEEE (grunt) it!”

She couldn’t stop squealing and grunting, a sound lost in the cries of the other swine around her.

“No!” She thought to herself “not other swine! I’m me! I’m a person.” She refused to acknowledge what her brain was telling her was happening. It was too horrible to even think about.

Unfortunately, her denial did nothing to slow her changes. Her stomach gurgled unpleasantly as her belly expanded outwards. In fact, her whole body was gaining fat. Her athletic build, developed over years of hard work in the farm, was eroding away.

This made movement impossible, as her limbs hadn’t compensated for her gaining mass yet. She collapsed onto her growing belly, splatting mud everywhere.

“My my dear. Looks like you’ve put on a bit of weight since I met you!”

Jeri was crying, still trying to reject the reality in front of her. “SqEEEEE no! Not (grunt) real! Not my (snort) (grunt) body! Just SQUEEEE HEEE HEHE bad (snort) bad (grunt) dream!”

The Man just shook his head, having seen this thought process go through his victims more times than he could remember. Still, he had hoped the Jeri he knew would have been a bit stronger willed.

She was so big now, having gained her previous weight in pure fat, and was still gaining more. Her legs were positioning themselves. Her feet stretched out into her new hind legs, as her toes grew and merged, developeding her new hooves.

Her hair was falling out in clumps. Unable to get up, she felt them fat and stay on her fat back.

As her belly grew larger, she also got hungrier. After all, she only had the food she had eaten as a human in there, which wasn’t enough to sustain her currently 300 pound body. Looking over, she noticed the slop the swine were eating. It looked so appetizing… maybe she could…

NO! This wasn’t her! She wasn’t a pig! She refused to be broken so easily!

Determination filling her heart, she forced herself onto her hooves, slowly taking a step forward. Just doing that took tremendous effort.

She was so determined that she didn’t even notice that she was bald, or that her nose had totally become a snout, or even that her ears were getting flopier and changing position.

She DID notice her vagina shifting position however. It filled her with a mix of orgasm and pain so intense that she lost her balance and fell onto her chin. Behind it, her neck was lost in a blanket of flab.

The sensation between her back legs brought her attention to her behind, and what was growing above her ass. She didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help it. With great effort, she moved her neck enough to see something that made her heart sink even lower. A curly pig tail, confirming without any doubt what she was becoming.

She let out a high pitched that was totally divorced from anything human. She got back to her feet, but found she had gotten even fatter. She weighed a little under 400 pounds now, and had never been more starving.

Her boobs were migrating backwards, closer to her pussy. Meanwhile, a second set of tits grew where the old ones once hung. Then, they too migrated back, as did a third set. Six teats were resting on her belly.

“NOo (snort) (grunt) pleaEeEEEEE sSQEEEE (snort) mercYEeEEEYYY! You (snort) (grunt) SQUEEEEE (snort) friend!” she barely managed to cry. Speaking was getting even more difficult as her teeth grew out into tusks.

Hairs grew out of her pink flesh. To a casual observer she looked like nothing more than a sow, though if one were to look closely, here face and eyes still had traces of humanity… for now.

Still, this was more than enough to fool the local swine, as they registered her as one of their own.

One in particular, Richard the most fertile boar in the farm, found the new sow especially exciting. Jeri didn’t even notice his member hardening, until she felt his forelegs on her back as he mounted her.

Looking back at him, her mind went blank in horror. No, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t do it with an animal.

“NoEeeEee! You (snort) RichEEEEErd I’m (snort) (grunt) SQUEEEE (grunt) (snort) SQUEEEE your ownEEEEERr!”

But Richard clearly didn’t understand this as he entered her. Jeri let out another squeal when he began thrusting deeper into her. She felt shame, horror, pain, and perhaps worse of all, pleasure.

“No SQUEEEL (snort) (grunt) SQUEEEE! Not withEEEEEL (grunt) an (snort) SQUEEEE SQUEEEEEEEL animal!!!”

“Well, if it’s any solace, there’s a 50% chance that he’s not entirely an animal, but once a human.”

This was far from reassuring, and only added more horror. Realizing how much of her family's stock came from this man, it made her wonder how many of her animals, which her family had bred, sold, and slaughtered, were once human beings?

Of course, those moments of thought were constantly interrupted by the sensation of being pounded deeper and deeper into her new pig womb.

Finally her mate released into her, filling her with hot seed. A moment later, she came, letting out the highest pitched squeal of her life. It was so unlike any orgasm she ever had, raw and beasteal.

This moment also signaled the end of her humanity, as the final changes overcame her. Her eyes lost their shreds of humanity, as her head altered itself. Her vocal cords shifted, forever stealing her speech.

She was now nothing more than the lone sow in a pen full of boars. She continues to squeal and grunt at the man, wanting nothing more then to be changed back.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your new change in life. Just think, before you took care of the animals, but now you can be taken care of. Once your parents find a replacement for their daughter anyway.”

Jeri kept squealing at him as The Man turned to leave. She tried to get out of the fence to chase after him, but was totally pinned in.

The Man then looked back one more time. “I’ll be looking for a new farm to sell my donkeys to then. I’m sure I’ll find some to take them. After all, who woudn’t want two former sisters made into a breeding pair” he said loud enough for his transformed donkeys to hear. “As for you, I usually take away my victims control, but as a special favor to you, I’ll let you keep it so you can learn to live as a pig. Though I’ll be taking your ability to write.. Wouldn’t want you cheating.”

Immediately, Jeri forgot the alphabet or any form of human language. She had no way of notifying her family who she was.

She cried out as The Man left. She had lost everything, and was trapped in her own pig pen with over a dozen boars, each one as fertile as the day The Man sold them to her.

In response Strigis.com Archive to its Publication

PART 2

(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.

The next morning, they rose early, traveling hard after their quarry. By the day after, they were again within two hours of the Nockmaar party. Madmartigan wanted to scout them, and Willow agreed. "I think I should send you in as a bird, to get the feel for their disposition and schedule," he said.

"What? You want to turn me into something, too? A bird, a pig, and a peck – that'll scare them," he snorted.

"I don't want you getting into a fight prematurely. I know you, remember? Just scout around and report back. Then the three of us will plan our attack together."

"Alright, Willow," the swordsman said, rolling his eyes.

Willow raised his hands, muttering the words of transformation. The pig came close to watch, curious. Madmartigan squawked, visibly shrinking in his clothes. He looked like he was growing thicker facial hair – but no, it was light feathers! Sorsha watched closely, seeing her lover's nose and mouth toughen, beginning to point out, hardening into a black beak. His eyes got darker and rounder, his shape getting much smaller. The sow regretted how much clothing he was wearing, wanting to see the process. Besides, he looked good unclothed, and she liked seeing his bare form.

As he shrunk, Madmartigan chirped, his human voice fading away. His long dark hair had almost entirely become dingy brown feathers, and the shape of his head and neck were becoming more avian. She could see his fingertips disappear into his sleeves, to be replaced with a flicker of feathered movement – and then his forming wings were too short to be seen anymore. At last, he became small enough that his clothes fell off, and the almost-fully-formed sparrow chirped as his wings and tail feathers filled out. He bounced around a little on the balls of his clawed feet, and settled down as the transformation finished. The pig snorted, impressed.

Willow muttered a charm again, and the chirping turned back into Madmartigan's voice – or a high-pitched version of it. "This stinks!" he trilled, flapping his new wings a little. Sorsha grunted in laughter, at how song-like his speech was.

"Oh, come on. You're hardly as bad off as you were when I first met you," Willow chided.

The sparrow settled down a little. "You'd better not put me in a bird's cage," he said in a voice he'd probably intended to be threatening, gesturing with a brown wing.

"Well? You're the one who wanted to go scout them." The little man waived his arms. "Get to it!"

The bird took to the air, flapping and chirping. Madmartigan was amazed that he knew how to fly, even though he had seen Raizel pick it up quickly. Their animal forms enjoyed instinctive race knowledge, and he could fly as easily as Sorsha could discern scents. He circled a bit, enjoying the alien sensation for a bit, then flew forward. His penetrating eyes would have no problem locating more than a dozen men. He could see a worm on the ground, if he wanted to.

Willow smiled as the sparrow took off, gathering up Madmartigan's discarded clothes and weapons. "Hopefully he doesn't get lost," he said jovially to the fat sow. "No offense, but your lover has a bird brain." The pig grunted in amusement at that.

Willow and the sow kept up their pace that day. The landscape had changed, and the slate grays of the blighted Nockmaar countryside were infecting the greens of the wood. The kidnappers were within a few days of their destination – the site of Bavmorda's altar. It wouldn't be long before they had to attack. But for now, they still had nature as their only company. Willow filled up the water bottles, and the pig drank her fill, from the Troon river. Too much farther north, and it would probably become polluted. Already, it tasted stale with what had washed downstream. Sorsha sniffed the ground intently, following the trail.

She enjoyed scouting and tracking. The sow had always preferred the outdoors, and missions like this were more rewarding for her than traditional army-against-army warfare had ever been. She was having the best time of her life, despite being a fat pig.

It had been enough time to get over the shock, and the fat sow was growing accustomed to her new form. Being a pig was beginning to feel right to her. She was surprised to feel such a thing. When she had first transformed into a sow, she had felt only humiliation and despair. Now, her porcine body seemed uniquely talented, and hopeful. She realized that if something bad happened and she was trapped as she was, she wouldn't be entirely unhappy. After all, smells were so much more vibrant to her snout. The pig felt more in touch with the natural world than she had ever been.

And she found herself surprised that she was not unhappy with her appearance. She had always admired the aesthetics of swine, and wild boar-hunting had been a favorite hobby as a human. The thick, compact form of bunched muscle and fat seemed as stately to her as did a stag's appearance to a deer hunter. Now, of course, she had no more desire to hunt boar. And her fat body was distinctively that of a domestic sow, not a wild one. But still, her old love of chasing swine had left her with an appreciation, and even an affinity for, her heavyset new body.

As the fat pig looked at her reflection in the water, she decided that she made for a very attractive sow. She was plump without being obese, and strongly built without being brutish. The angles of her snout and ears were softened by enough curve to suggest femininity. And her smell… her new nose had quickly grown accustomed to her new scent, and she found it quite pleasing. It just smelled right to her, what she ought to smell like. She was certain that any amorous boar would think her quite the prize.

Madmartigan was gone a whole day and night, flying back to them around noon on the second day. Willow and the pig hurried over to the energetic bird, eager to hear his report. Willow started his incantation, and the bird began to swell, hollow bones solidifying into human mass, wings turning into muscled arms. Sorsha watched appreciatively as his feathers faded, replaced with familiar black body hair. His muscles tensed, swelling into his defined chest and abdomen. His face became more evident, eyes shifting around his forming mouth and nose, and ears growing back. She looked between his muscular legs at his growing penis, swaying tentatively with his movements. The birdlike carapace on his feet and legs softened into human flesh, and then Madmartigan was standing naked before them, his long hair disheveled.

The plump sow huffed at the sparrow-turned-man, jealous that he got to turn back and forth. But she wasn't as jealous as she would have expected. "Willow, where are my clothes?" the soldier asked, trying to disguise his manhood with his hands. Willow chuckled, handing them back to the embarrassed Madmartigan.

He quickly pulled on his pants and boots, but then fell into step with his companions, carrying the rest on his back. The pig liked that, getting to see his muscular chest and arms. Oh, how good those had felt around her! That was the biggest downside to being a sow. She missed her beautiful lover's embrace.

"You're right, there are fifteen of them," Madmartigan confirmed. "Six are the kidnapper's party, and they're only armed with spare weapons from the others. The wizard is named Carbolomir, and he's generally always pretty close to Elora. He seems to be a druid of the sect that cozied up to Bavmorda. The others don't appear magical. Harkenwell and his men account for the other nine, although one has an injured arm and isn't much of a fighter."

"They seem most vulnerable at night. When they rest at night, they have four watches, with two men each for two hours per watch – all of Harkenwell's group but him. They mostly gamble on dice for their shift. They've long since concluded that they've moved past any real opposition, despite Carbolomir's and Harkenwell's frequent exhortations to caution."

"I think we should wait until the watch with the injured man, and strike quickly. If we kill both without making noise, we can kill the others in their sleep and take Elora back with minimum risk to her or ourselves." He looked at the other two. "What do you think?"

"How do they have Elora secured at night?" asked Willow.

"Well, her arms are always tied – they even monitor her when she goes to relieve herself. At night, Carbolomir wraps her arms and ankles in extra bands of cloth and then ties her to a tree, makes sure the area around her is clear of debris she could use to free herself, and then beds down close to her. He seems like a finicky sleeper, probably not used to being outdoors, and looks around for the softest place to lie before settling down."

"Is it a dead tree?" asked Willow. Madmartigan nodded.

"When he's moving around, he's creating wards around the party. Attacking them at night, or even approaching them, will instantly wake Carbolomir. And the cloth bands on Elora are enchanted – probably constrictor bands. Touching the tree will cause them to tighten on her, probably so her screaming will distract us. The tree's a focus. They're not vulnerable at night at all."

"You're sure?"

Willow nodded. "The name 'Carbolomir' comes originally from an evil sorcerer who created the troll race. This guy's taken that name deliberately, as a threat to other wizards. He's not Bavmorda-powerful, but he's not weak, and we can't underestimate him."

"I don't like our odds during the day."

"How are their supplies holding out?" asked Sorsha.

"They've run out of food – they're living off the land now, same as us."

The pig nodded. "How many bows do they have?"

"Two. And maybe a dozen arrows for each."

"Well, finding enough food is a bigger concern for them than us, to feed sixteen mouths. And there's very little big game the farther north we get into the wastes. I bet a big, fat, succulent pig would encourage a brief hunting party to split off – they need food for the trip back, too, after all."

Madmartigan raised an eyebrow. "You want to make yourself bait? Draw fire?"

"Why not? I am a hog. I shouldn't be afraid to act the part," the sow replied.

Willow nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, good. You can get close to them, since they won't see anything unusual about a grazing hog – just run when they've had a chance to see you, beat a clear trail, and lead the hunters into a trap. When you attack, use your hooves, tusks, and weight as weapons, and as you draw their attention, I'll attack from behind with magic."

"And I with a sword."

"Can you turn me human? At least, for the attack."

"A naked, unarmed woman is of less tactical use than a sow with tusks and hooves. You'll need to fight, too. A hog you shall remain." The pig snorted, but she could see the logic. She was, after all, a pig.

The group bedded down for the night, as close as they dared to the enemy. They would strike the next day, when the Nockmaarians seemed to be getting hungry. Madmartigan snuggled up next to the fat pig comfortingly. He was becoming at ease around his lover as a sow. She grunted in contentment, enjoying the proximity. It wasn't amorous, as their time together usually was, but it was still deeply meaningful to her. He talked with her quietly, and idly scratched the hog's big buttocks. It was almost like a man patting a faithful dog. Every previous time he had rubbed her round, appealing bottom, it had been romantic. But now she was a sow, and he touched her like a cherished animal. She found herself content to be one. They drifted off to sleep together, at peace, while Willow diligently worked on charms and talismans for the coming battle.

The next morning, they made their final preparations. Hopefully, the tasty pig would be able to pull away both bowmen and several other porters for hauling back her meat. She would take them far enough away where they couldn't cry out to the others, and ambush them. Madmartigan still wasn't thrilled with his piggish lover letting herself be bait, but he held his tongue.

It worked well. The fat sow waddled near enough to the Nockmaarians that they could see a glimpse of pink flesh, as she squealed and kicked like she was fighting some other predator. Then she took off into the woods, leaving a trail a blind man could follow.

"Look at that pig!" one of the soldiers exclaimed.

"That could feed us for days," another added.

"No," said Carbolomir. "We make for Nockmaar!"

"We need to eat, too," a man protested. They took their case to Harkenwell.

"Very well," he agreed. "You two, follow the pig, but don't shoot until you have a clean shot at it. We need to conserve arrows. You two, go with them and help carry back the pork." And with that, both archers, the injured warrior, and one of Carbolomir's group, hurried after Sorsha. Four men walking into a trap.

Sorsha took them deep into the wood, and down towards the now-filthy Troon river. The wind was blowing away from the rest of the party, which would mute their screams. As soon as she got into position, hiding in a thick bush, Willow and Madmartigan moved up carefully behind the eager, hungry hunters.

"Did it cross the river?" asked one of the archers, looking around. No one got the chance to answer.

The pig struck first, lunging out of concealment with small tusks bared. She was nearest the injured soldier, and she thrust into his legs, drawing a deep gash of crimson. He struggled to loose his sword, but her bulk crashed down on him, crushing him. Her hooves finished his life.

Immediately, the archers turned towards her, arrows nocked. But as they pulled back their bowstrings, Willow cast his spell, causing both strings to age and decay rapidly. They snapped, and the men gasped, suddenly realizing that all was not as it seemed. Then Madmartigan's sword found one archer's throat, ending his life.

The other archer fumbled for his sword, while the last man drew a dagger. Madmartigan laughed, stabbing the first before he could draw, and the second before he could attack. Within seconds of the pig's first move, all four were dead at their feet.

"Good job," said Willow. "The easy part's done. Now we just need to get the other five soldiers, the general, the wizard, and four others."

"If Nockmaar discipline is the same as it once was, Harkenwell won't think something is wrong for an hour," squealed the pig. "He'll send some men to investigate, but move the camp as a precaution. One man will be left behind, in hiding, to see who comes by the old campsite."

"But they'll all be on their guard," mused Madmartigan as he re-strung a bow, shouldering both quivers.

"Yeah, but they won't really start to worry until the search party has been missing for two hours, as well. Then, they'll be sure it's a trap."

"I'll cast a silence spell on us so we can get close, and when they do what you say, we'll kill the three or so that break off, and follow Harkenwell to the new campsite. "Then we'll jump them before they really start to worry – Madmartigan, if you can even drop two of those with arrows, the odds won't be that bad for us."

"Not bad? The odds are terrible! They still have a wizard and a hostage with them. What's your counter for those things? You know what stinks about this plan?" he asked. "There's no room for error. If anything goes wrong, if any of us screw up even a little, if, God forbid, the situation changes unexpectedly for any reason, one or all of us are done for."

"So, are you saying you're going to screw up?" asked Willow mildly.

"No, I am not gonna screw up," answered Madmartigan in a put-upon voice.

"Then I don't see what the problem is," said Willow.

Madmartigan broke into a wide, cheeky smile. "None of us change," the swordsman said, shaking his head. "One of us is even a pig now, but none of us ever really changes."

The three friends quickly moved to catch up with the enemy camp, to be ready when they started to regroup. Willow's silence spell muted the sounds of footfalls, breathing, and rustling; but still they moved cautiously. They didn't want to be seen yet.

Sure enough, as they approached the camp, Sorsha's powerful ears could make out their quiet discussions, as they debated what had happened to the hunters. Carbolomir wanted to leave them behind, making best speed to Nockmaar's ruins. But General Harken wanted to know the fate of his men, and be certain that there was nothing threatening behind them. His caution won out, and two soldiers were dispatched, with one of Carbolomir's men staying behind in the thicket to see if the old camp was approached.

The rescuers waited long enough for Harkenwell and Carbolomir to depart with Elora, then went after their marks. Madmartigan opted to kill the soldiers with arrows, since he wanted to conserve his fighting strength for the battle with the burly and dangerous general. He was lucky with his first shot; severing the vocal chords of the man in back as the arrow went through his throat. The man in front wasn't even aware of his ally's death before an arrow punctured his chest, too. He went down wheezing, gasping for help, and Madmartigan hurried over to deliver the coup de grâce.

The pig sneaked up on the watchman, enjoying the silence spell and her own low form for quietly penetrating the underbrush. She attacked with her tusks to startle and knock him over, then trampled him. The three met back up, and Madmartigan passed Willow a dagger from one of the fallen.

"Three trained soldiers, three untrained, the general, and the wizard," muttered Madmartigan as Willow dismissed the silence spell.

"I'll quiet us again as we make our approach," the Nelwyn said. "Sorsha, you focus on the three that accompanied Carbolomir. Madmartigan, you focus on the remaining soldiers and Harkenwell. I'll take on the wizard."

"They're doing a good job of moving quietly – there isn't much of a physical trail," snorted the hog. "Good thing I can follow them by scent."

Willow nodded. "Be careful, they'll be on alert for us now." And with that, the man, the Halfling, and the pig were moving after their quarry.

Harkenwell had picked a relatively clear campsite. After a month of avoiding roads and clearings, now he wanted maximum visibility and warning if an attacker approached. Besides, there were no civilized settlements here – even bog people seldom wandered this far away from home. They were hunkered down in a thicket in the center of the clearing in case of missile weapon attacks, and the remaining soldiers had bolas and throwing stars in their hands. Carbolomir was with Elora, who pouted and glared at him; and the other three were poised as sentries. It was an impressive formation for only eight people.

Sorsha crept around the periphery of the glade, drawing close to one of the untrained men. Madmartigan drew his bowstring, taking aim carefully. As one, the lovers attacked. This time, Sorsha bit the man, jerking him back into the wood with her powerful jaws and throwing him to the ground. He had the chance to yell "A pig!" before she was digging her small tusks into his face, stomping on his body. Then she fled, not wanting to draw fire or caring if the man was dead or just disabled.

Simultaneously, an arrow from Madmartigan pierced a soldier's chest. The man dropped to his knees, gasping, then fell over. They recognized his general position easily, but the silence spell kept them from pinpointing him until another soldier died, an arrow sticking out of his head. His bola dropped to the ground. But the last man began throwing stars in Madmartigan's direction, and the swordsman ducked into cover, changing position.

"The pig must be a soldier from Tir Asleen!" a man yelled.

"The archer isn't!" answered the soldier.

"Quiet!" barked Carbolomir. They have a wizard with them! There's a glamour on the lot of them, disguising their movements!

"How did they not get ensorcelled in Asleen?" Harkenwell demanded of the wizard.

"How should I know? Perhaps they were never enchanted to begin with. I only re-activated the witch queen's spells; I didn't cast any new ones."

"Well, you'd better cast some now!" Harkenwell ordered. Carbolomir cursed, but began his incantation as his party circled closer. The heroes repositioned, looking with disquiet as the ground in the clearing started to bubble; foul, hairy pods growing large. Willow's eyes went wide as he realized what he was seeing; why the wizard had taken the name 'Carbolomir'.

Trolls were rising up out of the ground, the stink of black magic overpowering even their own body odor. They grunted and shrieked, forming a furry humanoid wall around Elora and her five remaining captors.

Madmartigan attacked first, shooting once more from cover, and one more hasty shot as he ran forward, then dropping the bow to draw his sword. Then he was up against two trolls, his sword making a ringing sound as it arced through the air and came down on a shaggy head. Beady red eyes glared at him, a beast hissed, and then died. But instantly, another took its place. Harkenwell roared, surging forward with his last reliable soldier, trying to push past the trolls to get at Madmartigan.

Sorsha lunged out, thrusting her small tusks at a troll's knee and plowing into one beside it. "Pork!" one of the trolls hissed, and the beasts started to form up on her. Willow stepped out, throwing a charm saturated in tree sap, and a troll fell, the ground around him becoming slick and sticky with magic residue. Carbolomir grimaced as he saw the Nelwyn, and flung out his fingers at him, incanting a small fireball. Willow threw himself to the ground, dodging.

"A Halfling sorcerer!" Carbolomir yelled in warning.

"And an evil Britemain druid," muttered Willow, dragging himself back up and readying another charm. "I won't let you harm that child!" Carbolomir's hands glowed as he summoned another fireball, but Willow threw his charm first, this one saturated in sunlight. A brilliant burst of light temporarily blinded the wizard, and his shot went wide, igniting a cluster of dry bushes. While he was still struggling to regain his vision, Willow incanted a spell of his own, and the air began to fill with a light mist. Quickly, it began to coalesce into fog.

There were screams from the few remaining men as eerie darkness settled around them, but the pig was ecstatic. Her sense of smell was strong enough that she could tell where every enemy was, especially the harsh odors of the foul trolls. And with the silence spell still masking them, there was little other than perhaps two feet of sight for the villains to rely on. She could hear and smell the magic as the druid cast spells blindly, expending his reservoirs of strength. She plunged through the fog, biting, stabbing, and trampling trolls and unarmored men. She felt exhilaration. Trolls grunted in rage or screeched in pain as she broke their bones and left them behind, neutralizing as many targets as she could. It felt right to her. Tusk and hoof were better weapons to her than sword and bow had been. Being a sow was better than being a woman.

For his part, Madmartigan was in fine form, his blade dancing majestically as he fought trolls and Harkenwell. He had already eviscerated the other soldier, who lay gasping on the ground. He grinned at the skull mask, seeing flesh behind the corner he had destroyed on General Kael. Harkenwell was every bit as good a fighter as Kael had been, despite his age. So rarely did Madmartigan encounter warriors of his own caliber, that he relished the fight. If only there were a few less trolls, so the fight could be fair.

Suddenly, a troll screeched and fell next to him, burning eyes wide in shock, before it disappeared in the fog. The swordsman grinned. His pig lover was fighting with him. He turned his attention to Harkenwell, trusting the sow to handle the trolls.

"Die, vermin!" the general hissed, his sword weaving around Madmartigan's defenses, but unable to penetrate them.

"Die yourself," said Madmartigan, although the silence spell left him inaudible. Sparks lit off their blades as they tested the other for weaknesses, gradually committing more and more of their reserves to the battle.

Willow was not doing as well as his friends. He had prepared for dueling a stronger sorcerer by pre-enchanting numerous talismans and charms, to keep up the pace of spells without exhausting himself. But he was running out, and the Nelwyn had always focused on nature and transformation spells, rather than combat magic. He flung a seed charm at the druid, and vines shot out, wrapping around limbs. But a blast of dark energy withered them, and then the evil wizard summoned a baking heat that dissolved the fog quickly. Willow responded with a quick counterspell, summoning a refreshing breeze. Heat would compromise the pig too quickly to allow that one to remain.

It dawned on the Halfling that most of his own spells had gone un-countered by Carbolomir. That was odd – the druid had recognized the silence spell immediately, and it gave them a significant advantage. Why hadn't it been dispelled? Surely he was able to. The fog, too, had been left alone far longer than he had expected. He must be concentrating on something else – but his combat spells didn't account for it. What was Carbolomir doing with all his power?

Willow let his senses flow, looking for patterns in the druid's power. And he smiled.

Carbolomir was focusing on barrier spells to keep others from approaching Elora, and most had been recently erected. He feared her for some reason – feared her direct involvement in this battle. As Willow dueled, he moved around, working himself closer to where he knew Elora was tied up. And then he threw everything he had into an unbinding spell.

It was blunt and inelegant, but he heard Elora's squeal of surprise as her bonds came undone. She was free to move out of Carbolomir's wards, if only she thought to do it. But the toddler was scared of the clash of steel and the flare of magic, and remained rooted to the spot. He tried to call to her, but the silence spell muted him.

The Nelwyn didn't want to give up the advantage, but he was tiring and running out of options. He dismissed the spell, hearing Sorsha's enthusiastic squeals and Madmartigan's laugh as they battled their own opponents. "Elora, come to me!" he called, as he flung a pebble charm and ducked behind the sudden boulder. Fire licked on the other side of it.

Sorsha was finishing off the last troll, glad again to hear her own squealing. She was surprised that she had missed it – she had surprisingly come to regard everything about her new pig self warmly. She crushed in the beast's nose with her hoof. Beside the pig, Madmartigan twirled his blade, sliding slightly under Harkenwwell's guard and cutting his thigh. He had inflicted many minor wounds to the great bear of a man, slowing him and setting him up for exhaustion. He smiled at the thought of a man as a bear, and wondered what this battle would have been like if Willow had turned him into a grizzly before the fight. Being a bird hadn't been all bad, and Sorsha seemed to like being a pig. He might enjoy fighting as a bear. He curled again, adding another red slice to the larger man's arm. This is a fight he would win.

Meanwhile, Willow felt the boulder shudder with multiple impacts, and swallowed. The Daikini and the pig had no chance against the wizard if he couldn't hold out, and he was nearly spent. He summoned all his reserves, preparing for an attack. But then, he felt Elora's hand on his own. Suddenly, it felt like he had all the power in the world, that it would be child's play to battle Carbolomir. He gasped at the raw power, looking down into the innocent toddler's eyes. He could see her concentration – the little child knew the stakes, and was giving her untapped, untrained power to him to use as he saw fit. He smiled widely at her as the boulder dissolved completely, effortlessly creating a wall of force between Carbolomir and them. He heard the wizard scream in rage, and he turned around to face him, holding the sacred princess's hand. "Be gone," he said, and waved his hand, light emanating from it.

Both Carbolomir and Harkenwell, and all of their dead or fallen allies, began to glow and then incandesce. Before their eyes, all of them disappeared, and slowly the light dimmed to its usual intensity. Willow dropped to his knees, panting. That was a lot of power to have stewardship over. No wonder Bavmorda had feared Elora – she knew what the princess would grow to be capable of.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Madmartigan, a little incensed that he had been denied a clean victory.

"I couldn't kill them," admitted Willow. "It's not in my nature. I just sent them away."

"Where?" squealed the pig.

The Nelwyn smiled. "Some other continent. If they ever do come back to menace us, I'd rather it not be for a few years. By then, I think little Elora will be quite capable of protecting herself." And the three friends clustered around their young charge, safe once more.

They took their time returning to Tir Asleen. For much of the way, the child rode on the sow's broad back. As they left the slate of Nockmaar, greens began to come back to dominate the landscape, game becoming more plentiful. They stopped frequently to refresh the child, and catch up with each other. They cherished their friendship, and it was good to be reunited without threat or fear. No one thought about transforming the pig – it just seemed natural to all of them that she was a sow, Sorsha included.

At last, though, the city was in sight. As they entered the ghost town, they could see the pig-soldiers of the Shining Legion had fled the castle where the huge dragon was contained. Otherwise, it was how they had left it, with icy statues imprisoning the people. Quietly Elora took Willow's hand, and he felt her power again fill him – a wild, untamed thing.

"Okay, I'm about to undo what curses Bavmorda's minions reactivated," he said, and the sow grunted in sudden regret. Willow and Madmartigan both looked at her. "Are you ready, Sorsha?" Willow asked.

The pig grunted, thinking. "Actually, I've come to cherish being a sow. If it's all the same, I'd rather be left as I am."

Willow smiled. "Then a hog you shall remain," he said. "You'll have to turn human briefly, and then let me permanently lock you into your sow form." The hog nodded.

Willow looked across the city and up at the castle, and then let Elora's power flow through him. It radiated outwards, as ice statues melted and pigs slimmed down into men. The dragon screeched as it disenchanted, disappearing. Beside them, Sorsha squealed, thick red hair flowing out of the pig's head. She thinned, her corkscrew tail disappearing, as her squat legs flowed out into long, supple human limbs. Already she had lost the texture of smells, her senses realigning. Her snout and ears shrunk, returning to comely human features, and hooves split into fingers and toes. Breasts filled and her head shrank, and finally the plump sow was a beautiful, disheveled woman on all fours. The hog looked down at her bare body, now again a princess. Did she really want to give this beautiful shell up, to always be a pig?

Madmartigan came up and wrapped a cloak around her nakedness. They looked around, as the last vestiges of Bavmorda's evil disappeared, leaving startled but unharmed people to begin the process of repairs and healing.

Willow and Madmartigan led Sorsha into a barn so she could have privacy, and she let the cloak fall to the ground.

"Are you sure about this, Sorsha?" asked Madmartigan anxiously. They were together again, as humans, and could resume being lovers.

Sorsha nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sure," she said, and she was surprised to find that she was. She had preferred being a pig, and was looking forward to living as one. Her courtly human life seemed duller, less fulfilling – a poor exchange for a life as a plump pig. "I want to be a sow more than anything," she admitted, feeing relief in the truth. "Forever. I never want to be human again."

"Well, we know you make a good one," said Willow, and he began to cast his own spell. Again, Sorsha felt the change seize her, and welcomed it. She got back down onto all fours as her nose turned up, eyes dimming and tusks poking out shyly. She squealed, tossing her hair back, as her tail coiled out and her hooves returned. She loved the feeling of transformation. Teats filled out behind her breasts, and she fattened, her human shape disappearing into a sow's stature. Limbs shrunk and hair faded away, and finally she was again a fat pig. She grunted contentedly, feeling as though she had come home. Willow restored her voice.

"You look good, Sunshine," said Madmartigan.

"I feel good," the pig squealed. "I feel right. Beautiful, even. This is what I'm meant to be."

"Best looking sow I've ever seen," he laughed.

Willow spent some time layering every charm and curse he knew onto the sow's plump body, to render her new enchantment irreversible by any well-meaning but misguided court magicians. Elora's hand again filled his own palm, and so much power flowed into the enchantment that only the sacred princess would ever again be able to make her anything but a sow.

When they emerged from the barn, their hearts were at peace. It would take some explaining to others, especially the king, but eventually everyone came to accept the fat pig's new body. When Willow finally left, he promised to return often, to share in the peace they had all fought for.

The pig didn't let her new form stop her from living a full life. Madmartigan and Sorsha were always eager to team up in the field, as scout and warrior. Occasionally, he even tried on the form of a bear. They loved each other as brother and sister in arms – his infidelity was no longer a hindrance to them as they enjoyed the freedom of a deep relationship without the expectation of romance. They were the greatest of friends.

The former princess was a fat sow and scout for the rest of her days. She took a stout boar as a lover, and had a big family, between her campaigns with the military as a pig scout. The plump pig never once regretted her choice.

Sorsha the Hunter
By Cersei
PART 1

(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.

"Oh."

"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
#TransformationStory

TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART 2

#WeightGain #Transformation #PigGirls #PigGirl #FemalePigTransformation #FemaleTransformationStory
#TransformationStory
#DigitalCirce

Dancing Pig
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.

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