Knickknacks from the Multiverse

(and lewd stories about them)

[trinket-tales]

Considering a Discord server

Hello to all 40 of my followers. With Tumblr falling to pieces I’m considering making a Discord server, at least as a temporary measure, in order to have a place to post my stories. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than the nothing I’ll have after Tumblr goes down.

I’m not going to bother unless I think that there’s an actual point in doing it, so if you want me to do it just like/comment/whatever.

[trinket-tales]

Considering a Discord server

Hello to all 40 of my followers. With Tumblr falling to pieces I’m considering making a Discord server, at least as a temporary measure, in order to have a place to post my stories. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than the nothing I’ll have after Tumblr goes down.

I’m not going to bother unless I think that there’s an actual point in doing it, so if you want me to do it just like/comment/whatever.

[trinket-tales]

Considering a Discord server

Hello to all 40 of my followers. With Tumblr falling to pieces I’m considering making a Discord server, at least as a temporary measure, in order to have a place to post my stories. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than the nothing I’ll have after Tumblr goes down.

I’m not going to bother unless I think that there’s an actual point in doing it, so if you want me to do it just like/comment/whatever.

[trinket-tales]

So, what happens next

Not a story this time. Since Tumblr’s not gonna allow adult stuff any more, I need to find a place to post my work. No idea where the hell that’s gonna be.

If I figure something out before my blog is deleted, I’ll make another post about it. In the meantime, I did recently set up a twitter, https://twitter.com/TrinketTales, so if I don’t figure something out between now and then, keep an eye on me there.

[trinket-tales]

Treat Yourself

(A/N: This one’s a doozy! Initially intended to be a short-ish bimbofication story, it turned into something considerably longer. Written for Treforce, this story features his Jekyll and Hyde-type characters, Monique and Moniker, and involves bimbofication and possession-y stuff, with a lot of resistance. Fun times!) (Premise: Brilliant scientist Monique tries her hardest to keep her bimbo-self, Moniker, from taking over her body outside a sex shop.) (Length: ~2,500 words)

Secret Receipt

A long strip of thin printing paper, detailing a considerably sized order from a single store.

THE POT LUCK Movies & Romantic Supermarket Order #0002334 11-13-18 15:03 XXXL Eq Flared         $199.99 “Hung Out To Try” mv   $39.99 4.5” bgag              $14.99 Pad cuff – pink        $11.99 Pad cuff – pink        $11.99 Leath/Chain leash      $24.99 Qs Egg vb              $9.50 Qs Egg vb              $9.50 Qs Egg vb              $9.50 Qs Egg vb              $9.50 Qs Egg vb              $9.50 …

What about that steakhouse down by the mall?

Too expensive.

Monique brushed a lock of blue hair away from her eye as she flipped through her phone, occasionally glancing up at the sidewalk to make sure she wasn’t about to crash into anyone.

Well, then, what about that pub downtown?

I don’t want to walk all that way. Besides, last time we went there you kept hitting on the waiter.

Why do you think I want to go back?

Monique rolled her eyes as a giggle echoed in her head.

Come on! We almost had him.

You almost had him. I didn’t want anything to do with it.

Aw, c’mon… You thought he was cute too.

It had been almost a year since Monique and Moniker had become… acquainted, and by now Monique was used to having a second voice in her head. Mostly. As a prestigious scientist, she had taken it upon herself to prove the existence of parallel universes, a world akin to her own with one key difference, and one chilly November evening, she had proved it.

She just didn’t expect to prove it by zipping up the two into one singular world. But luckily, she managed to avoid widespread chaos. After all, there was only one major change between her world and the neighboring one.

And I bet he had a huge dick.

The other her was a hopeless bimbo, and now shared a body with her.

You need to stop making me think things like that, Monique thought pointedly, shaking her head in disgust. Save it for your free time.

Come on! If I didn’t put those thoughts in your head, it’d all be boring numbers and calculations. Moniker’s voice was a touch lower than Monique’s, a bit more sultry. At least it made it easy to tell her apart from herself. You need to have more fun.

Yes — numbers and calculations, because I’m a scientist, it’s my job. I’m trying… She trailed off, and shook her head again. Arguing with Moniker never went anywhere. Even if the other her had access to all Monique’s brainpower, she never used any of it to stop being stubborn. It was better to just change the subject. What about that cafe that’s just around here? We’ll get a sandwich.

What? Aw, come on — There are never any men there.

It took all her effort to keep from thinking “exactly” out loud, even for all her practice in “thinking to herself” — A rare skill that’s only valuable when you have a friend who can read your thoughts. She had learned it as soon as she realized that agitating Moniker, intentionally or not, just tended to result in control of her body being wrested from her for the next couple hours, like in situations like this.

A chill washed over her and she glanced up from her phone, then back down — then up again. She slowed to a stop and glanced around. The road was unfamiliar, an apartment road with a few stores mixed in. Inwardly, she cursed herself for getting distracted, and she spoke to herself in a defeated sigh. Moniker, where are we?

Weeell… Moniker’s playful lilt already told Monique that she was in for nothing good. I just figured… We’re coming up on an anniversary, aren’t we? I think it’s just next week, and we’ve been together for a whole year now! So I’m just setting up for a little celebration.

Monique felt one of her legs try to rise, but she firmly planted her heel down and put her arms by her sides. Moniker, if you don’t tell me what you’re doing right now —

Tell you? Why, what kind of surprise would that be?~ Moniker’s giggle echoed in Monique’s head. She already felt herself losing control, a familiar sensation that, unlike Moniker’s voice, never got less annoying. We’re just going to buy a few things…

What kind of things? She could feel Moniker trying to walk again, but she held firm, which seemed to surprise even Moniker. It took a few seconds for the sultry voice to respond.

Wow, you’re being… Kind of stubborn today, aren’t you? Don’t you trust me?

Monique’s tail flicked in annoyance.

No.

… Er… Fine. She could nearly see Moniker’s pouty, arms-folded expression. If you must know, I was going to buy a cake from a little bakery up ahead. I thought you’d appreciate it…

Monique’s firm stance softened a little and a small pang of guilt made her ears drop. Had she been a little too hard on Moniker? For all her failings, the bimbo rarely seemed malicious. On the other hand… No, she said to herself with a sigh, and she allowed herself to start walking again. You’re right, maybe I don’t give you enough credit. I’m sorry, Moniker. The woman in her head gave a little coo of delight, and Monique was pretty sure she would’ve been kissed if they weren’t both in the same body. Her cheeks felt a bit warm and her ears flattened out more in embarrassment. Moniker was kind of cute when she wasn’t trying to get in some guy’s…

She looked up again.

“THE POT LUCK, Movies & Romantic Supermarket,” the sign read. The shop was a tiny thing, sunken back into a gravel lot between buildings, and the windows were decorated with female mannequins in skimpy outfits. Moniker had stopped.

Moniker?

Yes?

What was the name of that bakery, anyway?

Moniker didn’t try to keep up the act. Monique sensed it; she grabbed onto a nearby telephone pole before Moniker could try to get them to move forward. Moniker!! I am not going in there!

Come on! It’ll be fun! Loosen up a bit!

Monique, fearing for her dignity, wrapped her other arm around the pole. No! No way! You can do whatever you want once you’re back in your own body! Leave me out of this!

Come ooooon! Do you know how disappointed I was to find out my toy drawer went missing? It took me years to build that up!

A tingle touched at Monique’s scalp. Hair tickled the back of her neck, as her pleasant blue pixie cut started to grow into Moniker’s long, voluminous curls. Her skirt, comfortably snug, was starting to feel tight around her butt as it began swelling to Moniker’s curve. She knew she was practically helpless to fight it, but she clung tighter to the pole all the same, her eyes rolling upward and a groan escaping her lips. That’s my money, you know — I’m not letting you spend my money on… on sex toys!

Your money? Moniker responded, indignant. So where did my money go? You drag me into your dumb, boring scientist life and everything I had is gone? That’s not fair! Let me buy some sex toys!

Monique clutched her hands to the pole. She could feel her nails — or, Moniker’s long, painted nails — digging into the wood. She stopped trying to argue with Moniker, just focusing on keeping enough control to resist what Moniker was doing. Her skirt was feeling painfully tight. A hole tore in the fabric, split down the middle; She sighed in relief. By this point she hardly even cared about the number of times she had to replace her clothes. She grit her teeth, and pursed her lips, squeezing them against one another as they swelled and plumped and started taking on Moniker’s purple lipstick color. Her hair reached the small of her back, a thick, fluffy curtain of blue that would be far too difficult to maintain in day to day life as a scientist. She was a scientist. Moniker was some perverse bimbo of her, and she wasn’t going to let her take over…

One of her arms detached from the telephone pole, and Moniker took a step forward, but Monique dug her nails in harder and clung to the wood even as Moniker tried to reach out. A bit of sweat dripped off her brow and she bared her teeth as she strained to regain control, and she managed just enough to wrap her fingers around a lamppost nearby. In her head, Moniker gave an annoyed sound, which Monique took as a small victory. Another tearing sound rang out as her butt — Moniker’s butt — ripped another few holes in her skirt. Threads hung on for dear life, causing the plush, round cheeks to squeeze and bulge out of the oval holes. Her chest was growing warm as well as Moniker started channeling herself into her breasts, causing her bra straps to dig into her shoulders and her nipples to grind against the cups.

Damn it, Moni… Why are you being such a hassle today? Moniker finally managed to make Monique let go of the telephone pole, stumbling closer to the lamppost as if she’d just been freed from a rubber band. Monique panted and clutched higher at the pole while Moniker was recovering, and felt a snap against her chest as her bra gave up the ghost. The two cups fell to the sides and allowed her nipples to grind against the blue fabric of her crop top, electric sensations running down her back and forcing her to shiver. They were puffy and sensitive, they always were when Moniker took over. She hated how much she enjoyed it. Her waist narrowed, causing her poor, abused skirt to fall halfway down her butt before getting caught on the growing flesh. Her underwear was briefly exposed, but Moniker’s attire took over for her; the halves of her bra grew out and altered into two long, thin strips of fabric, connecting with the straps of her panties and combining into a red-and-blue sling bikini that would barely cover anything. It never did.

She tried to purse her lips again, but failed. Moniker’s lips were thick and soft, too large to be properly pressed together. Usually, when her lips reached that point, she wasn’t in control of talking any longer, but she made the attempt just for the sake of defiance. “If you wanna… Get in that store — nrfff — You’re going to have to pull this lamp out of the sidewalk!” She was surprised to hear the words fall on her own ears, but it helped keep her morale up. She moved a bit closer to the pole and stood up straight, hearing the clacking of stiletto heels instead of her typical sneakers. She was a good few inches taller than usual, only part of which was accounted by the change in footwear; the rest was simply Moniker’s long, shapely legs having taken form.

Moniker jerked back to try and wrench Monique’s grip off, but all she accomplished was splitting a seam in Monique’s top. Her breasts bounced and swayed long after the motion was complete, tearing a few more holes in the blue fabric, some near the neck and others near the hem, both of which crept closer to becoming a simple band around Monique’s nipples. The waistband of her skirt was beginning to prove bothersome, as it squeezed down hard around the widest part of Moniker’s butt, effectively clamping it into two halves. “Come on —” Moniker grunted, leaning back further and trying to pry free one of her hands. “At least let me unbutton your dumb skirt!”

Never! Monique tried to say, but she couldn’t seem to take control of her lips again. In her head, she scowled; she had never understood how dumb bimbo Moniker could overpower her so easily. She tried to focus all her energy on keeping her hands in place, but Moniker was too tough; she managed to remove one, and swiftly undid the button holding Monique’s skirt together. It fell to the ground for Moniker to step out of, and Monique simply tried to force her remaining iron grip to stay steady. She let Moniker take her mouth, her legs, and one hand — But she wasn’t about to lose this last little piece of control. Give up! I’ll keep you here all night! This is my body!

Moniker’s ear flicked, and she smirked devilishly. She came closer to the pole, and braced one hand against it. “Yeah, well… It’s my body too!” She pushed against the pole with one hand and twisted her body, forcing Monique’s fingers away from the pole. Her hand clenched around nothing, but Moniker flexed her fingers open, then closed, then open again, and gave a soft giggle. She squatted down, swaying her tail and causing her butt to round out wonderfully as she grabbed Monique’s dropped purse, and as she rose to her feet she tugged the torn remnants of Monique’s blue shirt over her head and tossed them to the ground with her skirt. “There we are,” she said, bouncing softly on her toes and feeling her body jiggle in its familiar way — hair, breasts, and butt all in tandem. Feeling like her old, gorgeous self, Moniker slung the purse over her shoulder and started towards the shop, neatly placing one foot in front of the other in a near-perfect line. Her generous thighs rubbed together, her entire body swaying enticingly, especially her bountiful hips. It was a practiced way of walking, so much so that it had just become her natural stride, carefully designed to show off all her body to anyone interested enough to watch.

Damn it, Moniker! Monique was fuming inside Moniker’s head, helpless and trapped. She tried to stop her legs from moving, tried to move her arms to grab something, but she couldn’t. Moniker had taken over, like she always did. This is a step too far! It’s bad enough you keep humiliating me, but you use my card to buy your stupid toys and I’ll — I’ll — She tried to find a suitable threat, but what could she threaten? She couldn’t say she’d never separate them, because Moniker loved having Monique’s brain. And if she tried to do anything else it would be just as bad for Monique as it were for Moniker. So her attempt petered off pathetically, and she resigned to a seething silence in Moniker’s head as the bimbo waltzed through the doorway with all the grace of a stripper stepping onstage for a dance, and Monique’s feeble attempt to latch her hand to the handle failed without even making Moniker twitch.

Don’t worry, Moni, Moniker thought, her voice as blithely cheerful as ever, I’ll make sure you enjoy it just as much as me! After all, who knows your body better than yourself?

“Yourself.” As if Moniker and Monique had anything in common. She resented the phrase and loathed the implication, but she kept her mouth shut. It was bad enough to tempt Moniker’s patience when she was just a thought in Monique’s head, but when she was in control she could do so much worse.

And hey, Monique? She asked, scanning the shelves for a dildo her size. Happy anniversary.~

[trinket-tales]

Public Display

(A/N: Another fairly shot story to practice my transformation sequences, here’s a slightly creepy inanimate TF featuring girl into mannequin. Enjoy!) (Premise: An arrogant youth’s crusade for corporate justice gives her a change of perspective after-hours.) (Length: ~2000 words)

Crumpled Note

A ragged piece of lined paper apparently torn off as a corner from a larger piece, and folded into quarters. Folded into its interior is a note, written in black ink, with neat, curving handwriting:

I leave this note to inform you that your arrogant, capitalist behavior will no longer be tolerated by this community.

You have bullied well-intentioned families into closing their businesses, stretched your customers’ loyalty as far as you can milk it, and abused your workers for your own personal gain.

It was bad enough to see you tear down trees to build your disgusting warehouse instead of simply buying an empty plot or empty building, but this is the final straw.

It’s too late to change. A wave is coming, and I’ll see to it that I’m at the front of the charge.

-X

Sneak in. Pretend to browse. While nobody is looking, get up among the mannequins and pose. Pale makeup, sunglasses, just enough to look inconspicuous for the final check, which would leave her free to roam the store and vandalize it in retribution for its awful corporate behavior.

It had been a perfect plan up until the doors latched shut, and she felt a sting in her left calf.

“What the fuck?” She breathed, attempting to turn to see what had gotten her. Her left leg wouldn’t move, and she nearly stumbled over if not for something holding her firmly in place.

“What the fuck?” She said, louder, when she twisted around enough to see the metal pole that had planted itself in her leg.

Under the pale makeup, her skin took on a similar hue.

“What the fuck kind of deathtrap is this —” She grumbled, squatting down to try and feel, an effort made difficult by the strange stiffness in her leg. There wasn’t any blood, it looked like, just… She frowned. Her fingers didn’t touch flesh. The area around the “wound” was hard, firm, and cool to the touch, like plastic.

She tried not to look panicked. She wanted to look angry, and she twisted her lips into a toothy scowl. But despite her best efforts she was beginning to freak out in her head. This was not normal. She rose to her feet again and looked around. The store was dark. People probably wouldn’t be in until early in the morning, when the early stockers and the janitors came in. She had to try, though. “Hey! Is anyone here?!” She yelled out, enough that she could barely hear the echo bouncing off the distance warehouse wall. No answer.

She tried to clench her fist, to keep her anger, but her left hand wouldn’t flex. When she realized what was happening, she raised it to her face and looked at it with widening eyes. Already, her fingers were fusing together, her pale skin becoming hard, gray plastic, a rectangular mitten shape with only a thumb exposed. She let out a whimper and cupped her hands to her lips, breathing deep and booming as best she could. “HEY!! Is anyone out there?! C… Come on, this isn’t funny!”

There was no answer. She was about to yell again when she felt a slight stiffness in her wrist, and then it went numb. The plastic had reached her arm; when she looked down, she saw that her wrist had been replaced with a ball-joint. The same sensation was echoed in her left ankle, and she didn’t even need to guess what had happened. The fear was getting to her head, a bit of dizziness rocking her as her heart tried to prioritize her limbs. She would’ve leaned backwards if her leg would allow it, but it wasn’t long before she couldn’t even move her toes any more. Presumably the same thing that had happened to her hand.

Her elbow began to feel tense like her wrist before it, and she thought to watch this time. Before her eyes, her skin began to tighten, sucking down against a shape inside her. The rounded form of the ball joint became clear, and as the plastic overtook her skin seams began to form. They sunk deep into her plastic flesh, separating her bicep from her elbow and her elbow from her forearm, and when it was all complete, her arm began to move without her. Her wrist flexed until her palm was straight up; her elbow bent to a squared-off angle. She could still move at her shoulder, but everything below it had vanished to her. She could still feel her shirt when she rubbed her plastic hand against it, but it was helpless to try and move it.

She shook her head. Her body switched gears. If she couldn’t flee from it, she’d have to fight it.

She placed her foot on the ground beside her pedestal and braced herself on the display stand, and put all her strength into lifting up her foot. And much to her surprise, she met little resistance in doing so. Unprepared for the way her leg lifted, she swung her arms out to the sides, gave a yelp, and toppled backwards to land flat on her back on the carpeted floor. “Owwwww… Fucking hell,” She gasped, winded but thankfully unhurt. She lifted her head and looked down at herself, ignoring the sensations of her shoulder and knee changing into ball joints, her hand moving to her hip in a typical pose. For all she could discern, she had been standing on her own base plate before, hence why she couldn’t lift her leg until now. Or maybe it was just some sick joke the store had played on her.

The store? She let her head fall back against the rug, defeated. This place had always felt like a personal antagonist, but she never prepared for it to attack her so directly. It’s probably just some kind of lesson to would-be burglars, she thought. Whoever did this will change me back in, like, a couple days. With her one good arm and leg, she tried to pick herself up off the floor, causing her plastic arm to twist as it was wedged between her and the floor. It didn’t really feel like her joints were turning, she noticed; Without muscles to hold her in place, without anything to tug on, all she could sense were the actual touches on her body. She managed to roll onto her other side and began to pick herself up when a jolt coursed through her and sent her flat onto her stomach again.

The plastic, consuming her hips, had crept over her sex. It was a strange feeling, like something had been sucked out of her, as the transformation removed everything that was unnecessary to her new form — not painful nor pleasurable, but leaving her with a strange, hollow tightness in her stomach. She choked on her own saliva, coughing a few times to recover her breath before moving her hand to her stomach. Her skin seemed to sink in a bit deeper than it should have when she pressed her fingers to it, and as her hand slid deeper she braced for the familiar tingle of pleasure from something rubbing against her crotch — and felt nothing of the sort. As her fingers slid across the smooth plastic surface through her denim shorts, her body registered the vague presence of a touch, but none of the nerve endings she had grown so familiar with were lighting up. For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to get distracted from her plight and whined pitifully at the missing feeling, but her moaning mourning was soon overtaken by another sucking feeling from within her chest.

The creeping, infectious plastic washed over her breasts and back, consuming them and converting them into features more suited for her new form. Her chest was tweaked and reshaped, to better show off the hang of dresses and the icons on shirts, while the nubs of her nipples smoothed away. Her shoulder blades were flattened into a simple curve along her spine, robbing her right arm of much of its motion. Air blossomed within her, vanishing her heart and lungs, and she suddenly found herself without breath. Her face started to turn red, her throat tensing, and she thumped her fist against the ground until, several seconds after, her neck relaxed just as swiftly and let her inhale again. Her initial, sucking gasp caused a hollow sound to ring out inside her, like blowing into a plastic bottle, and when she breathed back out her exhale became a cough at the unexpected taste of dusty plastic.

She didn’t bother to question it. The change was making short work of her right leg, her right arm, and it was sliding down her stomach, taking the rest of her guts as it went. She could sense the cold, hard “shell” — as she could only describe it — crawling up her neck, along her chin, her hair disappearing in a slow wave as the plastic covered her scalp. Her jaw felt increasingly stiff, her features fixing into place — mannequins hardly needed to speak, after all. “Nhh…” She growled, through forced-grit teeth. “Fck yhh! Fck…” As the change covered her lips, her face smoothed over, the feature disappearing entirely and the last echo of speech simply echoing within her hollow head. Her cheeks leveled out. Her nose sunk away. And she didn’t even get the courtesy of having her eyes changed last, her vision fading to an inky black as the curse crept carelessly over the last of her features.

She had no idea how long she sat there. It must have been hours, but it all seemed to pass as a blur. She heard the store’s shutters open distantly, the industrial lights click on high overhead. Workers began to move through the store, arranging displays and preparing for the morning. She heard footsteps come near and she felt a pair of eyes land on her. Staring at her. Judging her. Her clothes, her appearance.

“What the hell?” She heard him ask, feeling his hands grab her waist and lift her up into a standing position. She wanted to call out and tell him she was inside, but she didn’t have a voice any longer. She stayed silent. “Hey, Andy!” He yelled, and another person came by, and she felt another pair of eyes on her. “I found this thing laying on the ground. Think someone broke in?”

“No, probably just the temperature,” he said casually. “Don’t know who put it in this getup, though. Bring it to the back room and put it in a summer outfit.”

She felt herself being lifted, slung sideways and carried by the waist. She felt the worker set her down on a table and unscrew the pole from her leg, setting it aside so he could undress her more easily. As her shirt was removed, she felt strange. Not embarrassed, like she should’ve been, but strange, like there was something missing. She wanted him to put something back on her. Anything. He stripped her clean, then walked away for a minute, and returned with a small cart. He put a pair of white flip-flops on her… She wasn’t sure how she knew that. Then he screwed her base back into her leg and stood her back upright. He lifted her arms so he could slide on a pale yellow sundress, with white polka-dots and frills at the edges. It felt nice. Comfortable. Pretty, she thought mindlessly. She didn’t used to like looking pretty, did she? He pulled her arms back down to her sides and placed a wide-brimmed white sun hat on her. She was dressed again, easing her nerves. She was supposed to be dressed, after all; If she was seen without her clothes then she wouldn’t be doing… her… job?

Her mind felt fuzzy, and she couldn’t focus as he lifted her up and moved her elsewhere in the store. She was hefted higher and onto a display stand, turned to face the walking crowds of customers. Or, where they would be. The shelves and racks near her were stocked. The floor polisher passed by. Vacuums worked around her.

At the chime of 7:00, the store music began to play, and the doors were opened to the customer. It was a Saturday, one of their busiest days, exactly why she had wanted to disrupt it the night before. She couldn’t remember why she’d wanted to. As the store became crowded, dozens of pairs of eyes laid on her, in her pretty yellow sundress and her cute sandals and the wide-brimmed hat she wore. It felt wonderful to be seen, and she posed for them all, stiff, still, and silent, basking in the warmth of their gazes.

[trinket-tales]

Back in the Day

(A/N: A short TF flick written to be concise. BE and other changes ahoy.) (Premise: During an annoyingly slow girl’s night out, Jessica gets a first-hand look into the bar’s heyday.) (Length: 1700 words)

Contest Photo

An 8”x10” landscape photograph, printed on old-fashioned instant film and enclosed in a simple wood frame with a glass cover. The colors are somewhat faded, but the photograph depicts 7 women (with the seventh partly cut off due to the angle) on a small indoor stage, all wearing soaked-through white T-shirts. The third girl is stepped forward and striking a pose. A few silhouetted heads can be seen near the bottom of the photograph; on the back of the photo, visible once removed from the frame, “6/18/86” is written in blue pen.

A sharp chill ran down Jessica’s back as the water splashed across the front of her black tee.

“Aw — Damn it,” she said, exasperated, throwing a dirty look to Vivian across the table. The girl winced, sinking slightly into her shoulders as she brought the salt shaker back to her.

“Sorry, Jess,” she began, but the raven-haired girl just shook her head.

“It’s fine.” Her tone was sour, bitter, entirely unconvincing. She picked up the glass and toweled up the mess in front of her with a napkin. “I’m just glad I’m wearing black.” Suitably content that the table was clean, she rose to her feet. “I’ll go dry off. Be back in a minute.”

It had been a rough night. When Vivian and the others had invited her to a bar outing, she expected something a little more impressive than this nearly-empty little hole in the wall. “This place used to have a lot going on,” she was assured, but she could hardly envision it given the sorry state of the bar today. The place looked like it hadn’t quite moved out of the 80s, dimly lit and with tacky décor. There weren’t even any cute guys to look at. Nothing about it was suited for a girls’ night out.

She pushed into the bathroom with a sigh and grabbed a few paper towels, starting to pad at her soaked chest as she stood in front of the mirror. The door swung shut behind her, thumping a few times before settling into place. The blue and white tiles around the room were dull and faded, and the light bulbs were getting yellowy as they neared the end of their lifespan. Miserable, like the rest of the place.

The ice cold from the water had made her nipples stiff, she realized with a grumble. Each time the wad of paper towels passed over one her back tingled electrically. It only made her grumble more; if she’d had her way, there could’ve been a guy doing that for her tonight. She let her mind wander into a daydream at the idea, only making herself more frustrated that she had accepted her coworkers’ request the more she thought — until a well-placed stroke of the towels dragged the fabric of her T-shirt directly across a nipple.

She gave a surprised squeak and flinched away, blinking in surprise. Immediately, she took a hand to her chest and pawed at herself, searching for the edge of her bra. Then the strap. Then the other cup. Perplexed, she tugged at the collar of her shirt and leaned forward, letting some light creep in. Nothing. She stepped back, looking around herself in the odd chance it had fallen out of her shirt and to the tile floor. But no, it had vanished, as if dissolved by the water Vivian had knocked over onto it.

“What the hell?” She tried to retrace her steps. She had definitely put a bra on today. She had been wearing it when she got out of the car. When she sat down at the table. She was certain she had been wearing it up to the point she had gotten splashed, and then it had simply, impossibly disappeared.

She touched her hand to her forehead. No fever. She wasn’t feeling dizzy or strange. She set the paper towels aside and rubbed her temple, trying to convince herself she was imagining things. It was then that a warmth flooded into her chest, then a mounting pressure from within. She clutched her hand down instinctively; Her heart was pounding. Concern washed over her. Maybe she was having some kind of allergic reaction to the cleaning chemicals, or something. This place seemed like it used cheap chemicals. She breathed a bit harder, her chest puffing out and grinding her nipples into the damp fabric. It was maddening. And every time she breathed in, it felt like the fabric’s grip on her breasts was getting tighter.

It wasn’t until the fourth or fifth breath that Jessica realized her breasts were rounding out her shirt much more than she had remembered then looking just a minute ago. Face now locked into a conflicted mixture of confusion and the beginnings of panic, she cupped her breasts in either hand and lifted them slightly. They were definitely heavier than before. And firm… She took another breath, and the flesh rounded out against her fingers; She dropped them and they bobbled artificially. “W-what’s happening?!”

Another breath, this time accompanied by a low creaking sound. Her once-modest bust had swelled to double-D’s, going on E. A small tug pulled on the back of her head, and as she looked into the mirror she saw her hair had come undone. Her only solace was that her shirt seemed to be growing with her, no longer pressing down on her nipples, but beginning to creep up her stomach instead. A draft touched her calves, and a quick look confirmed that her jeans were receding up her legs. The overhead lights were slowly getting brighter, whiter, and the faded colors in the tiles creeping back, but with her concerns about her own body Jessica hardly noticed.

She leaned back in and supported herself on the counter. Her chest was still growing, and she was starting to feel it in her back. Again, testing, she lifted one hand up and sunk the tips of her fingers into her flesh — but rather than the familiar consistency of flesh and the sensitive sensation of her fingers pressing into it, she felt little more than the touch on her skin, and the unnatural, springy resistance of silicone. She grit her teeth and sucked in breath, pushing them past the E threshold. She looked back at her face, staring into her eyes rather than at her body, her gaze flicking across the corners of her face.

She looked younger. More vibrant, at least. Her cheeks were a bit less gaunt, the corners of her eyes not so creased. Looking at her hands, her skin seemed a tad peachier. When she looked back up at the mirror, her hair had begun to change from its blackened hue to a honey color, while the smooth, straight strands started to crimp and curl into fluffy waves, pushing against one another and making her hair poof outward. The gloomy green of her eyes shifted to a bright emerald color while she watched. Her lips turned ruby, and she touched a fingertip to her bottom lip and pulled it away; A red mark proved it was regular lipstick, but even still her lip seemed a little softer and fuller than she had remembered.

Biting her lip, she stood straight again and stepped back, stumbling when her heel dropped further than she was used to. The sole of her once-stiletto, now-sneaker hit the floor with a thud, followed shortly by the other. Her hair had finished turning blonde and frizzing, surrounding her head like a thick blanket. Her pants trimmed off the last inch to the very top of her thighs, the corners of the pockets inside barely peeking out. Her face had become that of a college-age girl, and her breasts of a slutty college-age girl. The only thing left from her old self was her black shirt, which, with everything else complete, began to change before her eyes as well.

As if it had been splattered with bleach, a stain of white formed on the center of her chest, and began creeping outward, soaking into the black fabric. It tingled lightly as it passed over her skin, but the wetness seemed to creep away. Warm, fluffy cotton hugged her curves, leaving her nipples to poke small nubs at the cap of each breast. She bit her lip, face turning red at the sight, and whimpered softly as the last black threads changed on the hem of her shirt.

“What happened to me?”

She stood, slack-jawed, looking down at herself, until the sound of a thumping rhythm reached her ears, albeit muffled by the door — the door that seemed far fresher than she had recalled. She glanced back down at herself, then back toward the room’s exit. Shakily, she took a breath and pressed forward, pulling open the door and preparing to tell of whoever had played this joke on her.

The bar was packed.

There was hardly a seat empty, and when she saw the number of faces around she lost her nerve. She didn’t want to call attention to herself. She just wanted to run out of the store and get away before anyone saw her. She hardly made it a step out of the bathroom when she felt someone take her arm.

“Jen — there you are, we’re almost starting.” He was a young man, black-haired, with a firm jawline, wearing a white shirt and a leather jacket. She blinked, some flicker of recognition in her mind. He looked just like the bartender — or at least, the bartender, minus a couple decades.

“My name’s not —” She tried to explain, but he was leading her along by the hand to the small stage In the back. There were a number of other girls lined up, each of them wearing white shirts and some manner of jeans, with a man standing behind them. Before she could protest she was ushered up onto the stage, and the man in the leather jacket got up behind her. “What’s going on?”

“Alright, boys and girls,” spoke a man with a microphone near the bar, “it’s time for the contest to start!”

“Contest? What —?”

“We’ll douse ‘em, they’ll pose for you, and you just have to clap the hardest for your favorite!”

“Douse —!?”

“Ready?”

In the corner of her eye, Jess saw the other men lifting up buckets placed near them, and hefting them over the heads in front of them. She could hardly react in time to get out of the way, and a sharp chill ran down her back as cold water was poured across her new body.

[trinket-tales]

Long-Term Side Effects

(A/N: A short, light story written for a birthday in a Discord server I’m in. Quote the birthday boy, some weeks before the event: “more hair growing stories!” Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that! Enjoy.~) (Premise: Sylvia Wilde is the most gorgeous girl in town, or at least she likes to think so. So when her favorite cosmetics company offers her a couple experimental products, well — how could she ever say no?) (Length: ~2,750 words)

Kireina Corp. Invitation Letter

Dear Sylvia Wilde  :

We are pleased to announce that, due to your long-standing dedication to Kireina Corp products, you have been randomly selected to participate in a trial for two upcoming items which we intend to add to our catalog. We believe that your familiarity with our company and our products makes you a perfect candidate to help us develop our line of cosmetics, and that your continued loyalty deserves a suitable reward. Should you accept, you will not only be provided with experimental samples of the upcoming products, but you will also receive a free unit of the final product when it is released officially, as well as the standard monetary compensation for your time and participation.

The following experimental products are being offered for testing:

#X-HG-05581 (Hair Volumizer/Revitalizer) #X-LL-03101 (Exercise aide – Leg muscle definition)

All products have been tested extensively in-house, and have yielded minimal negative effects under lab conditions. Your participation should, above all, help us to discover if the products will interact with factors in ways which could not reasonably be accounted for or predicted in a lab environment. We at Kireina Corp are very passionate about releasing only products which conform to the highest standards of quality, and we require the generous aid of customers like yourself to ensure that we meet those standards.

If you are interested, please call our offices at 1-800-555-0112 and, when prompted, dial 96; visit kireina-corp.com/trials/ and use the information on the attached sheet to proceed; or return this letter to the mailing address after having filled out the attached form. We at Kireina Corp look forward to your response.

Kendra L’Auchelle Kireina Corp testing division manager

Sylvia could hardly contain her excitement as she looked at the items in her hands. In her left, an opaque white bottle, a few ounces in size. In her right, a small case, containing four pills. One promised to make her hair full, silky, soft and luxurious; the other claimed to make her legs sleek and shapely, without so much as a quarter of the exercise. As far as she knew, she was the only person in town who had these two beautiful things, which meant, of course, that she would have a leg up on everyone she knew.

Turning the bottle over, Sylvia began to scan the instructions printed on the label as she started towards the bathroom. Use while showering; Pour small amount of liquid into hair, then massage into scalp, and rinse. That seems easy enough, she thought, looking at the similar instructions on the case. Take one pill, then walk for 5-10 minutes to stimulate the effect. Ditto. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning, setting the two items on the sink counter alongside other Kireina Corp items: Makeup, lipstick, mascara, hand lotion. She was nothing if not dedicated to her appearance, she liked to think. Kireina Corp was among the best of the best, and even if it was a bit expensive, the constant, awed stares and occasional compliment she received meant it paid off.

As she took off her shirt, she looked herself over in the mirror, just to confirm that she still looked as good as ever. Her body was carefully sculpted, her breasts just large enough to be seen without being too heavy or uncomfortable. Her waist was carefully cinched to give her hips a nice curve. Her skin was clear and smooth, not so much as a freckle or a scratch marring her body, and her hair flowed down to her shoulders in a thick, wavy curtain of ginger red. Her smile only grew as she looked herself over, idly removing her bra as she did. She was gorgeous, and soon about to stand out even more.

She began to run the water as she took off the rest of her clothes, letting it warm and leaving it ready for her to step in once she were in the nude. As eager as she was, though, she chose to suppress her excitement and wait on using the formula for now. She let the water run over her supple skin, trailing over the hills and the valleys of her body, rinsing away traces of her day as she took up a sponge and wet it. With a touch of soap for lather, she scrubbed slow circles on her body, only firm enough to make herself shine without fear of overworking her precious skin. Once she was suitably coated in a layer of froth, she stepped back into the water, rinsing off both the sponge and herself at once. Clean once again, she smiled and reached out to grab the tiny bottle from its spot on the counter. Now, she was perfect enough to let the formula do its work.

As the instructions requested, she stepped out of the water and uncorked the bottle, dripping just a bit of the liquid into her hair, then plugged it again and began working it in among her hair. As her fingers massaged the syrupy liquid into her scalp, a tingling, fizzing feeling tickled her, like soda on her tongue. She gave a soft coo and a giggle, but didn’t dare stop, carefully pressing her fingertips in circles, ensuring that it was rubbed into every inch of her head that had hair — front, back, sides, and all. Giving it a second run through to ensure that she had gotten everything, she moved back under the shower head and let the warm water wash the residue down the drain, remaining for another minute or so and turning around to ensure that it was rinsed away entirely. Satisfied, she shut off the water, grabbed her towel from the rack, and dried thoroughly before stepping out, turning her attention next to the pill case on the sink and picking it up.

Giggling softly as the fizzy feeling on her scalp began to fade, she flicked her eyes back to the mirror while she turned the case over in her fingers. Her hair looked normal enough, she thought, leaning in to look more closely. Her long locks still hung just past her shoulder blades, but given that they were wet down from the shower they lacked the fluff she was used to. The new formula would take care of that, she figured, grinning even wider. Grabbing a second towel, she tied her hair up and wrapped it in the cloth, turning to leave and very nearly forgetting the case of pills on the counter until the last second.

Between the time it took her hair to dry and the walk, Sylvia had given the first formula about 45 minutes to do its work by the time she got home. Never letting her facade of calm, collected beauty drop until she was safely inside where nobody peering out their windows could see her. In her entryway, she broke out into an ecstatic beam once more and jogged to her bathroom to view the changes. She could’ve sworn she felt her head being pulled back as she walked, and as she looked into the mirror she was elated at what she saw — her fiery hair, just as promised, had become sleeker and shinier than ever before. It would’ve hung an inch or so lower than before, but the other effect had taken hold to counteract it. Instead of simply laying flat like a curtain, the mass of silky strands on her head had grown fuller, bouncier, picking itself up and rolling down her neck in a pillowy mass. She giggled and ran her hands across the surface, not daring at first to press too hard for fear of disrupting its balance, but as her palms pressed tentatively into it she found it gave and bounced right back in perfect form. Bounding with excitement, she let her fingers sink between the locks, giving a soft, shuddering breath as her fingers were caressed. It was so soft; Just touching it, and letting it touch her back, was delightful.

She pulled her hands away before she could mess it up too much, simply gazing at herself in the mirror for a while before her eyes turned to her legs. She shifted her weight onto one and stretched out the other, trying to discern if they had changed at all. It was hard to say; she never looked at herself in this way that much, after all, but she had to admit that they looked nice now in any circumstance. Smooth, toned calves, and her thighs were nice and firm as well. She gave herself one more look in the mirror, checking her sides and as much of her back as she could, before doing an about-face and heading back out to the kitchen for a quick snack.

As Sylvia popped open one of the cabinets, a small wave of recognition washed over her. Something was different, she thought. The boxes and cans looked all the same as she had left them, that wasn’t it. She grabbed a granola bar from the box and unwrapped it as she stepped back, furrowing her brow. It was subtle, but it was there — just enough to be felt, but not enough to be understood for several seconds until it finally clicked in her mind. She could see the surface of the shelf from where she stood. That never happened. She was always just short enough that her eyes were slightly below the lower edge of the cabinet. She scratched the side of her head, stroking her new hair in the process. Have I gained an inch? She thought, looking down at herself. Her shoes weren’t new. Setting the granola bar aside, she slipped out of her shoes and hurried to the bathroom to check herself.

Snatching up a roll of measuring tape from the cabinet, she stood against the wall, pinned one end against her heel, and unrolled it until it reached the top of her head. It took some effort with her new head of hair, but she managed to find the surface of her scalp and pinch the other end of the tape at that point. Six feet, even, she thought, puzzled. She was usually five-foot-eight. It took her a bit longer for the realization to dawn, spurred on mostly by a small pang in her legs, that it may have been the pill’s doing. A bit of nervousness worked its way onto her face, and she turned to the mirror to get a look at herself when another shock hit her.

Her hair — which she knew had only been reaching just to her underarms — was now further down her back than before. And worse yet, as she stared agape in the mirror, she realized it was getting longer. “No —” she murmured, shaking her head and reaching her hands up to the luscious locks. “No, no, it’s long enough! Stop growing!” Now that she knew what was happening, she became aware of a faint tingle in her scalp that her body had until now ignored, gritting her teeth in concern. She stepped forward again and placed her arms on the sink counter, realizing as she did so that she was bending over a bit more than usual. Already knowing what to expect, she looked over her shoulder and watched as her hips rose steadily, giving a low whine. “M-my legs, too?!”

She grunted and rose to her feet, a little too quickly. With her new height, rising up straight gave her a bit of vertigo, unfamiliar with being so far from the ground. She raised a hand to her forehead and leaned back against the wall, hoping for it to go away before doing anything else. As she waited for the moment to pass, she became aware of the strange sensations across her body. The hems of her pant legs seemed to be sliding up her calves, and her back was rubbing against the door frame even as she seemed to be standing completely still. In the mirror, she could see her hair flowing downward, growing to her waist, then her hips, then her thighs… Distracted by the spectacle, she didn’t recognize that her pants were feeling tighter until it began to hurt. Wincing, she looked down once more, and heaved another sigh.

“My butt, too…?” She lamented, hastily unbuckling her belt in the hopes not to let her circulation be cut off for too long. The lessened pressure was a relief, but not much of one; she could hear the stitches straining around widening hips, and she swiftly grabbed the edges and tried to pull it over the hump of her butt — a task that proved far more difficult than she would’ve ever expected. “Urgh — everyone jokes about not being able to put your pants on, what the hell is this?!” Feeling vaguely stable again, she pushed away from the door and tried to walk over to her bed, a task made monumental by the unfamiliar length of her legs, and the tightness of her jeans leaving her with little wiggle room. She did make it close, at least, before a misstep scuffed the ball of her foot against the carpet and sent her tumbling, thankfully safely slung onto the edge of her mattress. Her hair spilled over her face, blinding her momentarily, but she didn’t bother to deal with it yet. Her ass was feeling dangerously compacted, and if she waited much longer she’d ruin her favorite jeans! Gripping the waistband with a new resolve, she arched her back, tried her hardest to flatten her butt, and tugged once, twice, again…

The waist slowly crept down with each hard pull, exposing more of her new, rounded cheeks and her plain white underwear. The denim dug into the growing globes, causing her fair-skinned flesh to bulge like a stress toy. Tug, tug — And one final yank got her jeans over the hump and allowed them to fall unaided down her thighs, to her knees, where things were considerably less crowded. Sylvia huffed and panted, finally raising a hand to her face and brushing away some of her ruby locks so she wouldn’t get any in her mouth. Her face was red and a bit of perspiration was dotting her forehead from the effort, forcing her to take another minute before she reached back down and pulled her jeans off the rest of the way; by that point, her silky red tresses had already begun creeping below the edge of the bed.

Finally in just her shirt and underwear, Sylvia rolled over and sat up and looked at herself. I look ridiculous, she thought; her butt was truly massive, nearly twice the width of her shoulders with each cheek rivaling a large pumpkin in size, her legs had gained at least two feet of length, and she felt like more hair than person. The sea of ginger was twisted around her like a soft quilt, forming bouncy curls as it neared her ankles and dangled against the floor. She reached a hand up to rub her scalp, noticing that the tingling feeling was gone, as was the straining sensation in her legs. Hesitantly, she stretched out, trying to ensure that she wasn’t gaining any more height, and it looked like she wasn’t getting any more hair, either. And after a few seconds to confirm, she heaved a sigh of relief, and laid back into the cushiony expanse of hair around her.

“Yeah… Alright. In a couple days, yep. Thanks. Goodbye.”

Sylvia clicked ‘end call’ on her phone and set it down on the table. In a few days, she’d be back to normal, supposedly, and they’d send someone in to check up on her just in case she wasn’t — as well as a partial advance on her compensation for the trial. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being stuck like this, she figured. Hair trailing and flowing behind her like a gown, she made her way back to her bedroom with long strides she had grown surprisingly accustomed to taking, causing the thick fluff to bob and bounce softly. She ducked under the doorframe, the top of her hair still getting brushed down despite it, and fell back onto her bed with a dramatic sigh. Her hair cushioned the impact more than her mattress, she thought, scooping up an armful of the stuff to either side and crossing it over her.

She did have to give them credit, at least. It sure felt nice.

[jamesab-smut]

Ruffles, for Trinket-Tales https://trinket-tales.tumblr.com/

Full size and PSD on Patreon. https://www.patreon.com/posts/22443844

= ☆ =

Check out my other websites. - https://jamesabarchive.wordpress.com/my-websites/

[trinket-tales]

Half of a trade that I’m still in the progress of working on. This character hasn’t been in any stories yet, but expect to see her sooner or later -- for now, enjoy James’ great art. He put in way more effort than I could’ve ever hoped for, I’m super appreciative of him, and any signal boost I can give the guy oughta be worth it.

[trinket-tales]

Lighten Up

(A/N: This story was conceived while I had nothing better to do, and features one of four witch characters I’ve been sitting on for a little while now. With any luck I’ll find stories for the other three, but for now – enjoy a mean little TF inflicted on someone who did literally nothing!) (Premise: Midori visits a local coffee shop to do some light reading, but she just wishes it were a little brighter…) (Length: ~2500 words)

Running Shoes

These specially-designed shoes are made to let air flow in and out of the interior, and with springy soles that cushion firm impacts. They are gray, with an orange logo on the tongues reading “M&E” in white lettering within a white oval. On the sides of the shoes are hexagonal mesh material strung between strips of thicker material, providing the breathability to the wearer. She soles of the shoes are a goldenrod color, built from rubbery square tubes.

The tag indicates that the shoes were manufactured four years before acquisition, but despite this they are relatively undamaged and underworn, bearing only a few small scuff marks on the sides, and a few wrinkles from being flexed.

Midori strolled into the café and breathed a contented sigh as the frigid air-conditioned interior washed away the oppressive summer humidity directly outside. She put an arm out and pressed on the door to ensure it closed behind her, the mounted bell tinkling as the glass panel latched back into its frame. The smell of coffee and sandwiches filled the room, one of many reasons this sleepy little store was among Midori’s favorite reading spots, alongside the wide storefront windows allowing in the morning sun, and how quiet everyone was, at least while she was around.

As she walked to the counter, Midori failed to notice the multitude of concerned stares directed at her. Most of them didn’t dare look directly at her, throwing gazes from their peripherals, over shoulders, behind newspapers. Regulars, they were – people who had seen Midori enough times to begin bracing at her mere arrival. Conversations trailed off as she passed, more keen to hear the first words out of her lips as she came up to the pale-faced, redheaded barista working the register this morning.

“One latte with whipped cream, please,” Midori chirped, voice slightly accented with traces of the Japanese language. As she fiddled in her pockets for her card, she missed the entire store simultaneously relaxing, none so much as the barista standing face-to-face with her.

“For here or to go?” She asked, eyes darting briefly to the book under Midori’s arm.

“For here!”

The tension in the cafe rose again, silent but tangible, noticed by everyone – everyone, of course, except the ever oblivious Midori.

To an uninformed observer, there was no rightful reason to be afraid of her. Midori was barely five feet tall, and with a girlish figure that would have difficulty putting a dent in cardboard. She didn’t seem especially punkish – her short black hair was neat and tidy, her green hoodie and black jeans not particularly rugged. Even her sneakers were none too scuffed. So when the bell jingled to admit entry to one of the shop’s less regular customers, the new arrival’s first observation was the strange vibe in the room – and her second was the even stranger target of its anxious air.

The bell seemed to dispel the spell and jolt the patrons back into their usual routines, nobody wanting to come off too awkwardly by the person entering. She was a jogger, it seemed, athletic muscles covered by tanned skin, hair a whitish blonde ponytail that may not have been all natural. Predictable clothing – running shorts, sports bra, crop top, running shoes, headband. Not a more typical morning runner in the world. As the crowd began to murmur in resumed discussions, she flicked her hazel eyes across the various people before shrugging it off and getting in line behind Midori, pulling her phone out of her pocket and beginning to scroll while she waited.

Ever polite, when Midori’s latte was placed in front of her, the girl gave a quick “thank you” and a small bow, just large enough to bump her hips into the woman who had gotten in line. She gave a startled “eep” and jumped forward, turning and facing her with an apologetic smile. “Ah – sorry, I must not have heard you come in,” she said, taking her coffee and giving the woman a small bow as well before scurrying off to an armchair sitting against the wall, near the front and at the very end of the counter lining the storefront windows. Her favorite spot to curl up and pop open a fantasy book, with a little end table to her side and just enough cushion to sink into. Like this, she could completely lose track of her surroundings…

Except… She frowned somewhat, tilting her book and holding it out a bit further from her body, her nose wrinkling the slightest bit. It seemed a little dimmer here today than most days. Bearable, of course, but – it must have been something about the season progressing, or perhaps she just got here a bit earlier than usual. She tried out a few more positions, none that were both bright enough to read without squinting and comfortable to hold, and ultimately sighed and chose to resign to her strain.

I wish they had a lamp, she thought, inwardly. She’d never dare complain, of course – it was unbecoming – but the thought lingered in her mind all the same. Meanwhile, as her eyes absorbed the vivid details on the page, and her brain tried to drown out her complaint with mental images of the book’s impressive vistas, the jogger made her way to the counter and climbed into one of the tall chairs, setting her coffee and sandwich on the surface and unintentionally stealing up the last bits of light Midori had left with her shadow. The girl gave a soft pout and glanced behind her to see what had happened, but only stared long enough to register the jogger’s presence in her mind. She didn’t want to inconvenience her by asking her to move, after all. Midori would just endure it.

Of course, if the café’s customers weren’t afraid of Midori’s physical prowess or personal connections, they had to be concerned about something else entirely. In a few words, Midori was a magic-user – a witch, but while most witches took years to practice their craft just to use it consciously, Midori had the opposite situation. It came to her naturally, too naturally, and as she got lost in thought (which she frequently did) it would begin to warp her surroundings to her whims. Luckily, it never posed a problem to Midori, mostly because – for all her good intentions in life – she had a tendency not to notice. Though she continued reading, trying to push the little nuisances out of her mind, her magic her had other plans. Her subconscious provided her power with a task, and subtly, something began to change.

The jogger was interrupted from her meal by what felt like a static shock centered on the back of her head. Instinctively, she raised her hand up and pawed at the spot, trying to find if something had stung or bit her, but when nothing presented itself and no further pain seemed to come from the region she gave a soft hum and a shrug, picking her sandwich back up to continue. But before the food could even touch her lips, another taste rolled across her tongue. Metallic – she frowned, rubbing her tongue across the roof of her mouth. She hadn’t been running that hard, she thought, pursing her lips as she ran her tongue along the interior in search of a source. It wasn’t until she reached her front teeth that she became aware of something amiss, as rather than the uneven surface of her enamel, her tongue ran along the cool, smooth interior curve of a glass bubble.

Immediately, she pushed back and opened her lips, giving a startled “gwuh?!” as she reached up to confirm the barrier’s existence. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped against the solid surface, causing a soft, hollow donk to sound out inside her head. More worrisome, she quickly found that she couldn’t close her mouth again – the glass was pressing against her jaws like a gag, pinning her open. Her reaction had caused some of the other customers to turn their heads, some wincing in silent sympathy while others simply watched, nobody willing to interrupt lest Midori turn on them, too. Muffled by her new feature, and quite unable to articulate any consonants, the jogger gave a few pithy grunts and scanned the room, desperate for some kind of explanation.

As her hands roamed from her mouth and lips to her cheeks, the jogger gave another cry of surprise. Her skin was rapidly changing from its firm, warm texture to cool, smooth, like the glass that had covered the inside of her mouth. In the reflection in the shop’s window, she could see her beautiful tan draining from her visage, her eyes turning glassy and doll-like as well. Hastily, she moved her hands to her arms to ensure they weren’t changing too – then to her shoulders, chest, and up to her neck where she finally found the stopping point. Right above her collar was a metal band, like a choker, from which the rest of her neck emerged… Smooth, glassy like the rest of her head.

Her thoughts were cut short as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. One hand went to clutch the edge of the counter, the other pressing up to her forehead. She tried to focus back on her reflection, but she was having difficulty moving her eyes, forced to tip her head upward and stare into the glass – easier said than done without neck muscles. The color had drained from her face entirely – so much so, in fact, that she had become entirely transparent, just like the ‘bubble’ that was between her lips. Inside it was nothing, except for a small fleck of black… She stood up and leaned in to try and get a better look, moaning with worry. A curly thing suspended on two long, spindly legs, diving into the black void of her neck.

A filament.

She barely had the time to process it before another wave of dizziness sent her down into her chair, barely avoiding tumbling back by how tightly she was gripping the counter’s edge. By now the poor girl’s plight had attracted the full attention of the café. It felt like something was pumping air into her head, her cheeks puffing out like she were holding her breath. Her vision started to warp, her eyes seeming to come closer to the pane of glass ahead of her and grow further apart from each other. Her nose vanished into the swell of her head, her lips and eyes becoming nothing but cartoony replicas of her panicked expression, etched into the glass. Contours of her face smoothed, her jaw disappearing into her neck as she began to form a familiar shape. This had to be a dream, she thought, trying to stifle her confused, panicked whimpers. Any second now she’d wake up and forget it all in a few minutes. Any second…

But even if it were a dream it wasn’t done with her yet. From the bottom up, the last few details began to smooth out. Her hair slid off her new, round head like a cheap wig, falling to the floor in a coiled heap. Her mouth vanished, the feelings in her lips becoming indistinct from the rest of her lower facial area. She hadn’t noticed it until now, either, but her vision was beginning to get… Blurry? Faded? Brighter. She looked down to one of her hands, hovering it over the table to see its shadow growing darker from a new source of illumination – herself. In the reflective glass, details began to get washed out, replaced by a blob of golden color from her filament. Every second made it harder to see, like she were staring directly into a lamp without all the… eye pain. From the center of her view, a white pinprick began to swell, forming a starburst that became a circle that grew to cover every inch of her view, and then…

Her initial reaction was to give a cry of shock, but when nothing came out she simply froze, then tried to blink, just for old time’s sake. The world went black. Feeling hopeful, she opened her eyes once more, and again saw nothing but white. Black. White. Black. Releasing her grip on the counter, she slumped in her chair. She was blind, and by her own light at that – not even able to see that the light of her bulb was going in and out with her blinks. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to scream now, screaming felt more appropriate for shock. She wasn’t particularly shocked, more just… numb. And besides, if her second attempt to vocalize was any indication, she wouldn’t have made much noise even if she tried to scream. Her limbs felt heavy, but she hefted a hand up to her new head all the same, running it across the flawless glass surface, trying to make out her old face… She noticed her hair had gone as well, but she assumed it had just been absorbed into the bulb, unaware that it was on the floor below her.

Behind her, at least, Midori was feeling pleased at the new influx of luminescence by which to read her book – even if she didn’t stop to think where it came from or why. Humming softly to herself, she turned a page with a noticeable rustle, just loud enough for the jogger to pick up. It came as a surprise – part of her had fully expected to go deaf as well, but she hadn’t even realized she was still hearing the soft music playing through the store’s speakers. It was dull and echoed, like it were further away than it truly was, but it was there. Maybe it was being picked up in the glass, she didn’t really care. Not having all of her senses robbed of her was relieving enough. She pawed in front of her until she found the counter again, using it for support as she turned to climb off her stool – only for a hand to take her shoulder and hold her in place.

“Don’t move around,” he said, his voice a hasty whisper. “I think she’s reading by the light and if you leave she’ll probably do something else. Let’s let her leave first.”

The jogger froze, afraid of both the man she couldn’t see and the prospect of something worse happening. Her high of still being able to hear waned at the reminder of her helplessness, but she put a hand down to make sure her phone was still in her pocket, and he didn’t seem to be doing anything untrustworthy. The next few minutes felt like the longest minutes of her life, with nothing to see or do besides wait and listen to the turning of pages and the clinking of utensils from nervous patrons.

Midori hardly even realized – naturally – that her latte was almost done until she sipped out the last drops from her mug and noticed no more was sliding down her tongue. She paused, surprised, then pried her eyes away from the book and into the basin of her drinkware to confirm her suspicions. “Huh. Oh well,” she said, placing a mark in her book and clapping it shut. She rose to her feet, stretched with a cute little groan, and picked up her mug to carry it back to the counter. “Thanks, Hannah!” She said, giving the barista a friendly wave, even as the poor redhead seemed about to collapse behind the register, and turned toward the door without ever catching sight of the jogger to the side. As the bell jingled and the door latched shut again, the entire shop heaved a massive sigh of relief, half of them getting up to give a hand to the afflicted jogger.

Outside, Midori looked skyward, to the rising towers touching the blue of the sky as she made her way down the sidewalk. Flipping her book back open, she began to scroll down the page, to scenes of knights and cavalry preparing for battle against a fierce dragon.

Of course, she failed to notice, as she walked past a young businessman, the scaled tail beginning to peek out of the back of his suit…

[trinket-tales]

Wallow in the Mud

(A/N: This story is a self-indulgent piece, inspired by a comment in a TF art stream. With any luck, you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed cooking it up. I’ll try my best to put any questionable content in the tags so that you can avoid reading something you dislike, but if you see something you’d like me to add (whether because you want to blacklist it, or just because you want to find it more easily in the future!) just send me an ask and I’ll try to make sure it happens!) (Premise: Danielle is a scout for a research team studying a demon-infested region of jungle. But when she meets a friendly pair of demons, she lets her guard down…) (Length: ~9500 words)

Excerpt from The Survivalist’s Guide to Demonic Biomes, Vol. III, preface

In the times of old, demons ruled the earth. Their tainted magic twisted all that they touched, creating awful parodies of life as we know it. They raided settlements, ruined fields, and reduced humans to small strongholds, defending against their infection. Their sick games created deadly beasts, perverted plants and insects, and made a mockery of decency for the purposes of their own selfish hedonism. But one thing that the demons failed to account for was the ingenuity, and the tenacity, of Man. When backed into a corner, humans invented better weapons, created more resistant walls, and developed better strategies to fight back. And one day, something miraculous occurred: Humans began to win. Not only were the demons no longer getting past the defenses, but the defenses were moving forward, pushing the demons into corners of their own. Today, the infection has been reduced to only the most reclusive pockets of the world. Like a wad of paper, you may only squeeze it so hard before it simply has no give left to grow smaller. These regions are known as Demonic Biomes: Highly concentrated regions teeming with corruption and demonic life. But no matter how small the disease has become, its dangers are still apparent. Should you ever find yourself in or near a Demonic Biome, this book will aim to help you survive the dangers you will face. But no matter what occurs, you must remember one thing: Always stay alert. The corruption is insidious, and any lapse in judgment can lead to your downfall – whether a literal death, or a deep-rooted perversion of your self. If you fail to take these words to heart, you will fail. The moment that you allow something unexpected to happen is the moment your life changes forever. ~ Samson Hardy

Danielle wasn’t sure how long she had been lost for, but whatever it was, it had been far too long. She had expected to be back to the camp by noon, but the sun had reached its peak well before now… Or at least, she thought so. Hacking aside a few more vines before setting her machete on her hip, she raised a hand to her forehead and peered into the thick canopy of the jungle. The leaves were so thick that the sun’s exact position was hard to pin… Which, in turn, meant that her sense of direction was pretty well shot, as well. Even a compass was more or less useless to her, as evading pursuit from a large beast earlier had sent her on a winding path. The camp could’ve been in any direction, now.

Sighing and finding the attempt to locate herself fruitless, she grabbed her canteen off her hip and took a swig. She was half empty… Not good. Setting the bottle back on her belt, she reached into her pack and produced an invaluable tool for her field of work: The Survivalist’s Guide to Demonic Biomes, Vol. III.

If you had seen her on the street, or even in the woods somewhere, Danielle would have looked rather plain. A short, mousey girl of about five foot five, with a short mop of brown hair and a few freckles scattered across her cheeks. She was scrawny, built more for athletics than seduction, a result of her dutiful training for this job. Under the unassuming facade, Danielle was an explorer – her technical job title was “Demon Habitat Researcher, scouting”, but “explorer” was much easier to say. Put simply, she, along with a team of other scientists, were dropped at the edge of an infested region – a place where unnatural corruption had been beaten back until it simply wouldn’t shrink any further – and her job, specifically, was to go in and get a good lay of the land so that the nervous eggheads knew where it was and wasn’t safe to study, as well as collecting the occasional sample of plant or animal life to bring back to camp.

Surveying the area for any present dangers, be they man, beast, or plant, Danielle thumbed to the bookmarked page for “Infested Jungle” and sat on a rock. One of the worst of the worst, jungles were hotbeds for corruption to create unearthly creatures from the already teeming life. Giant bugs, monstrous serpents, carnivorous fauna capable of scooping up whole people in one motion. It had taken Danielle two years to get here, proving herself capable, and she wasn’t about to let a bit of disorientation ruin it for her.

“Natural running water in an infested jungle frequently carries parasites, as well as an exceptionally high concentration of corrupting essence. Avoid drinking at all costs, but in dire situations, prepare well in advance, as a thorough purification can take upward of two hours.” Damn. That ruled out surviving until the camp found her. Danielle sighed and flicked through the pages, seeking out any kind of alternative solution. If the book didn’t have an answer for her, she’d just have to make an answer for herself. Dragon serpent, pig demon, exploding fruit… She lingered on that page. If she could find some of that, she’d be able to create a makeshift flare. Perfect.

With a new resolve, she climbed to her feet and cupped a hand to her ear. Her next goal was to find a clearing – probably near some running water, where the river had cut a swath through the trees and left open sky. Over the ambiance of the forest, the untrained ear might have failed to hear it, but not Danielle. In the distance, the telltale rushing of a waterfall. A smile spread across her lips and she began to make her way there, taking her machete off one hip… and her gun off the other. Just in case.

For another twenty minutes or so, Danielle managed to keep a low profile and avoid attracting any undue attention. The occasional small creature attacking her was quickly dispatched with the strike of her knife. But her luck was short-lived. As she cleared out some brush, the girl reached her foot out for another step forward… And touched nothing. She blinked, settling back on solid ground and staring over the cliff she had encountered. “Tch.”

Having a waterfall in the jungle wasn’t without its downsides. In the fertile earth, water could soak in for miles – and create sprawling, bubbling mires of mud that were nigh impossible to navigate around. Danielle cursed her luck, pulling away from the ledge and walking down to a spot where the gooey mixture actually reached ground level, to better survey her options. If there were fallen logs, or a rock outcropping, she reasoned, scowling at the mass of muck, she could hop further along and hopefully find an island…

Her thoughts were cut off. A gurgling sound behind her immediately grabbed her attention, and she dove for a hiding place without waiting to investigate the source. A few rocks by the mud provided just enough cover for her to conceal herself, a small crack between them just enough to watch as the footsteps grew steadily closer… Danielle had to stifle a gasp as a leg planted itself right outside her window of view, and stood there. Fearing the worst, she pulled back slightly, and peered up, expecting to see a pair of eyes staring back at her… but, amazingly, finding nothing of the sort.

No, instead, Danielle had a direct line of sight to the rear of a humanoid creature – a real, live demon, standing not five feet away from her. Her eyes widened and she struggled to stay silent. Most demons were aggressive to humans. The best of them would attack on sight and kill you before you could feel the pain. And others… would not. She trembled slightly, trying to focus on just what was in front of her, to gather a plan of actions before she was noticed. Whatever it was was big… Huge. At least seven feet tall, and packed with layers of fat across its entire body. Thick thighs, massive globes of flesh for an ass, and the hints of a muffin top around a too-tight rope holding up the crude pelt loincloth it wore. A curly, corkscrew tail poked out at the bottom of its back, and from its long, shaggy black hair, Danielle could see two floppy ears…

Inwardly, Danielle gave a gasp of relief. It was a pig demon – and a female, at that. Unlike most creatures, they were rarely hostile – too lazy to go about attacking anything that didn’t pose an immediate threat, and more interested in filling their cheeks with food than making games with human playthings. Hastily, she flicked open her survival guide, to the pig-man page, and gave another inward cheer. Pig demons have a honed sense of smell, and are often capable of locating the origin of certain scents from several miles away. In some instances, they have been known to act as escorts for humans who offer them food, and double as effective bodyguards due to their immense physical strength when agitated. Here she was trying to create an elaborate plan with small chance for success, and the perfect rescue had fallen straight into her lap.

Danielle was so distracted by her book, that she hadn’t noticed the demoness in front of her undressing – and was even more surprised when a heavy pelt fell directly upon her, followed shortly by another. Danielle’s first instinct was to give a startled cry, which she suppressed. In its place, she gasped, which brought forth her second instinct: to gag. She was so occupied with her own relief that her brain had ignored the porky woman’s smell until it was literally pressed on her taste buds, sweat and natural musk mingling together in a way that Danielle could only assume was some kind of natural predator repellent. Suppressing her urge to cough and choke aloud, she dove out from under the massive garments and stuck her tongue out, hoping that the humid jungle air would take away the aftertaste. In her daze, her eyes landed back on the page and read another excerpt from the book. Due to their habits, pig demons have a distinctive musk which serves as a pheromone to potential mates, but has the side effect of leaving them vulnerable to scent-tracking predators. In order to counteract this, most pig demons will spend a considerable amount of time mud bathing, which conceals their own natural scent with that of earth.

Ah yes, Danielle thought, glumly. That makes sense.

Hearing the wet, slurping noise of the pig-woman sinking into the bog, Danielle wormed her way out of the clothing and took as deep a breath as possible without making a loud sound. A course of action which sadly backfired on her when another set of clothing fell upon her, giving her another lungful of pig sweat. She choked softly, her eyes watering and rolling back into her skull as she threw the ham-scented fur aside. Thankfully, the second pig-woman didn’t notice, sinking into the bog with her compatriot and making what sounded like small talk in demon tongue, allowing Danielle to stand up and wobble over to a nearby tree for support as she recovered. It seemed like no amount of huffing was getting the smell out of her sinuses, which she considered may have been because it rubbed off on her person. Maybe she would need a mud bath when she got back to the camp.

Either way. She shook it off – sending flecks of sweat to the jungle floor, not all of which she was certain was her own – and held back a few final gags as she straightened up and tried to make herself look presentable again. Once she was relatively confident in herself, she turned and approached the shore, bringing her hand to her lips for a short, sharp whistle. Their ears perked up, conversation interrupted, and both turned to face her. Danielle shivered. Even if the book said they weren’t too dangerous, there was still something in their eyes. Black sclerae, with red-orange irises. Their faces were pudgy, with round cheeks and plump lips, making them look almost like they had mouthfuls of food even now. Between eyes and lips, each of them had a thick snout of a nose, shaped kind of like a bean – or an upside-down heart, rounded off on the point. The nearest one – the second to enter the bog – sported a deep crimson shade of skin, making her look fairly traditional as far as demons went. Her hair was a honey-tinged brown, tied back in a ponytail by some kind of crude grass rope. From her lower jaw, a pair of tiny tusks pressed into her upper lip. The further demoness had a greenish skin tone, her shaggy black hair sunk almost fully into the mud. Her septum was pierced with a simple bone decoration, maybe some kind of trophy. Maybe she just thought it’d be cute.

Danielle couldn’t speak for a few seconds, fully expecting some kind of attack to come. Swallowing a couple times to wet her tongue, she cleared her throat and spat it out. “I… I’m a researcher, and I’m lost here in the jungle. I believe you two can help me locate my camp, and if you accept you will be rewarded with a large amount of food for your troubles.” She shuffled on the spot, not even sure if these women understood her language. Already, she began digging into the book for useful phrases, but she didn’t get far before she got her answer.

“Hay, if you need help, we kin do it, yah?” The red-skinned pig demon drawled, her voice deep and brutish, clearly not native to the tongue but surprisingly skilled at it regardless. “But’chu gonna have to wait for us, yah? We wannu relax while the mud’s still warm, guhuhu.” Behind her, the green demon gave an agreeing nod, starting to rub some of the muck over her arms. Danielle was briefly stunned at how well it had gone, and sat awkwardly down on the rocks she had been hiding behind earlier.

“Well, um… Thank you, very much,” she mumbled, closing the book and dropping it back into its pouch. “That’s very generous of you.”

“You givin’ us food, right?” The green demon said, her voice a bit higher and more nasal than her friend’s. “Thanks enough for us! Guhuhu! What’chur name, anyway?”

“It’s – um – Danielle,” she said, reaching a hand up to rub her cheek. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt… off. She couldn’t seem to focus as well as she usually could. She was exhausted, she figured – this heat was getting to her. Running away from creatures, hacking up vines, and in this humidity… Now that she had a chance to sit and relax, it was starting to hit her. She tried to ignore it. “Your names?”

“Poulu,” the red-skinned demon said, rubbing some mud onto her neck.

“Heima!” The green-skinned demon spoke more cheerfully, tilting her head back and letting herself sink into the bog. The thick, murky goop swelled inward as her shoulders went below the surface, clinging to the edges of her neck as she wallowed. Danielle couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it. She had always hated mud – how it clung to her hair, ruined her clothes, but now, she couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to… She blinked a few times, sending the haze in her mind scattering. Maybe the heat was getting to her.

Poulu seemed to notice Danielle’s state, and pouted softly, causing her tusks to protrude a bit further. “Hay, Danielle? You don’ look so good.” She moved a bit closer to the side of the pool, raising her thick, mud-covered arms onto the ground. Reflexively, Danielle pulled her feet away from the splatter. “You wanna come cool off with us?”

“Ah – no, that’s alright,” Danielle said, smiling apologetically. “I think… I think, if I did that, there might be some side effects. I shouldn’t.”

Poulu blinked, uncomprehendingly, but gave a shrug and sunk back into the bog, leaving Danielle alone with her thoughts. She leaned back, breathing deeply through her mouth and staring up at the sky. She just needed to hold out for a little longer, she thought. She took another deep breath through her nose, not realizing that she was looming directly over the two pig-women’s sweaty pelts. As the thick jungle air flooded into her lungs, she felt her tired body relax a little. She felt kind of like she was drifting off, her mind not all there as it was gripped deeper by the haze. Exhale. Inhale. Her eyes half-lidded as more corrupt air worked its way into her system. Subconsciously, she pressed her legs together, her face beginning to feel warm. As she inhaled again, her nostrils flared up – but didn’t shrink back down again.

“Uhh, are you sure you’ okay?” Heima asked, noticing Danielle’s reddening features. “You’ lookin’ kinda warm there… Maybe just a little mud won’t do too much?”

Yeah, Danielle thought, her lips curling into a small smile. Just a little can’t hurt too much. “Ah… You’re right. I can’t afford to get heatstroke now,” she said, standing up and walking over to the mud pit, kneeling at its edge. Gingerly, she reached her hands down into the viscous muck. It was cool, but not cold – just the right temperature for an overheating girl in the jungle. It was smooth and creamy on her skin, the bog seeming to cling to her body, trying to pull her in deeper. But she resisted, returning with just her hands coated up to her wrists. Cautiously, she began to apply it. Two fingers on each cheek, a smear on her forehead, and both hands to massage it against her neck. Against her warm features, the coldness was a blessing.

Now that she was away from the pile of pheromone-soaked pelts, and had the mud cooling off her features, Danielle became aware of a new predicament. Against all odds, she was horny. While the mud worked hard to absorb the heat in her face, her groin was beginning to generate some warmth of its own. Rising to her feet, she walked away from the pool and instead settled back down against the rocks, her back to the pigs. She curled her legs up against her chest, fidgeting softly. She didn’t even notice how the pig-demons’ stench was still hovering in her airway any more. Shuffling a bit more so that the two wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing, Danielle reached a hand up to her chest. She didn’t even realize she was doing it, really. For all that it mattered, she may as well have been asleep – the entire thing felt like some kind of slow, waltzing dream. A soft, needy whine escaped her as her fingers brushed across her nipple, legs clenching desperately together. A squeeze to her petite chest coaxed out another. Biting her lip, Danielle hesitated, the logical part of her mind trying to argue against it. But there was another part of her chiming in, something deep in her core simply telling her: do it.

So she did.

Her fingers, still cool with the slick muck, worked their way under her shirt pressing into the burning core of her stomach. Her back arched as she ran her fingers up her body, trailing the gray-brown substance up her peachy skin, until it finally rested over her breast. Her shirt was lifted up to her neck, exposing her whole upper body to the jungle air. She moaned in soft, restrained mewls, her free hand reaching to her pants to begin undoing the button and zipper holding it together. Soon, her underwear – plain, white cotton – was exposed as well, stained by the thick layer of mud on her hands. She shuddered, pressing her fingers down against the fabric, biting her lip harder to keep herself from crying out.

The now-familiar wet sound of the sucking mud caught her ear and she looked behind her. Poulu had risen from her bath and was facing partway toward Danielle, showing off her mud-coated body in full. Her heaving bosom, her hanging gut, the ample curves of her hips and thighs, coated in an inch-thick layer of glossy, soft mud. Danielle had never been interested in women before, full-figured or otherwise. So why was she feeling the blood surge into her crotch when she looked at her? Was it the mud? She pulled her hand away from her breast and stared at it as it trembled. That couldn’t be it. She had always hated mud. Always… Didn’t she?

Her eyes went back to Poulu for another sweep of the pig-woman’s body. This time, her eyes caught on a new feature… Hanging between the demon’s thick, head-crushing thighs was a cock. Danielle felt her heart leap into her throat. It was unmistakable… It was huge. If Poulu was seven feet tall, her cock alone must have been over a foot in length. It was as thick as Danielle’s own leg. And Poulu’s balls were similarly massive, easily triple the size of Danielle’s head. The girl’s mind was flooded with lurid images of the demon’s pendulous prick plowing into her, weighed down by Poulu’s stomach as her own bulged out obscenely. The mud on Poulu’s stomach dripping across her, smearing onto her, smothering her skin with its coloration. Her breathing got heavy, her mouth drying. The thought that Heima might have one as well struck her like a lightning bolt, making her whole body shudder with a burning need. Part of her knew that she couldn’t, she wouldn’t dare. She wasn’t about to spread her legs for some strangers, let alone demons. Doing that was like a death wish.

As she looked away from the two, her eyes landed momentarily on the pile of furs that the two had left behind. Her already addled brain was assaulted with a new series of depraved thoughts. The two porky women had probably been wearing their loincloths all day, in the thick, oppressive humidity of the jungle. Sweating, soaking, their cocks cramped under the fabric for hours at a time. The remnant of her logical mind was screaming for her to fight it – but Danielle wasn’t following her logic any more.

Waiting for Poulu to sit back down and turn away, Danielle got back up and hurried to the hidden corner where the demons had thrown their clothes. Even if they were skimpy on the bodies of the women, they were still huge in comparison to Danielle. She grabbed one of the pelts off the pile and held it out; it was a simple thing, a grass rope thong with a large tattered fur on the front. Exactly what she was looking for. Danielle stared at it, quivering in excitement, her body frozen until her libido won out and urged her to press it into her face. Bunching the pelt up until it was just big enough for her head, she leaned back against the boulders and mashed it up against her nose. The sensation was intense and immediately overwhelming – as she breathed deep, the rank odor flooded every passage, worming into her mind and body like a drug. What had been making her choke and gag earlier was now giving her the sexual high of a lifetime. Pushing her muddy fingers under the waistband of her underwear, she stuffed two fingers into her sweltering snatch, desperate to cool it off like she had cooled off the rest of her.

Her breaths became quicker, more desperate to flood her system with more of those glorious pheromones. As she pushed the cloth into her nose, her nose pushed back, curling and fattening. Her desperate huffing deepened into guttural, bestial snorting. Her eyes wheeled backward, her legs spreading wider to give her fingers more space to work. From her messy brown hair, a pair of small, black nubs sprouted. Every inhalation twisted her being further into a perverse parody of her former self, and she was enjoying it the whole way.

As her climax crept closer she was glad the pelt was so thick. Her moans were barely audible through the bundle of sweaty fur, her hips arched into the air as a few final pumps caused a rush of slick juices to spray into her underwear, something she had only ever heard of before today. She couldn’t be sure whether it was the pheromones or the beginning of asphyxiation that had caused it, but when it finally ended she fell into a pathetic heap on the dirt, arm lolling to the side and letting her gasp for breath again. Most of her face had been changed now, her nose into the same heart shape that the two pig-women had, and her lips thickened like theirs as well. Her new, wide nostrils could suck up the scents in the air even more easily than before, making it all the simpler to prolong her high. Her tongue lolled out slightly past her lips, now quite a bit longer and fatter than it had been before, with a small fork at the tip. Her face, too, was turning a chocolate brown color, in splotches spreading outward from the mud she had smeared on herself earlier.

In her daze, she gave a giddy giggle, pushing herself up into a sitting position and doffing her backpack at the same time. She was exhausted… She had to relax. And her new brain knew the best way to cool off after something like that, too.~ Rising to her feet, she walked to the bog on shaky legs. Despite her new instincts, Danielle still had no idea how this was going to feel. Gingerly, she removed her shoes and socks and set them aside, then reached out a foot to touch the mud. As her toes began to sink in, she gave a delighted little coo, feeling the thick concoction of earth seep into the gaps between her digits. The ball of her foot sunk in, then the heel, and she finally touched semi-solid clay at the base. Finding a good foothold first, she moved her other foot in as well, giving a little groan of delight at just this. It felt so heavy and massive, holding her in place, sucking on her ankles as she shifted her weight from side to side. As she indulged herself, she didn’t even notice as her toes began to fuse together, her bones receding and reshaping into the shape of a trotter. On a new, smaller surface, the clay gave way to the pressure and she sunk in further, struggling to extricate her toes from the clay and loving every moment.

Heima finally noticed Danielle getting into the pool with them and gave a chipper cheer. “Hay, Danielle! You come to join?” She asked, causing Poulu to look over as well. Closer and generally more observant, the red-skinned pig noticed the changes to Danielle’s face more easily. She was surprised, to be sure. But after a few seconds, she shrugged, cracked a smile, and raised a hand out of the pool to wave Danielle over.

“Good to see you came to!” She said, snickering softly. “Come, get in deeper!”

“Okay!” Danielle said, finding some slightly more stable ground below the mud and wading in deeper. As the thick slurry crept up her legs, Danielle felt herself beginning to get hot and bothered again, her new fetish coming in quite nicely; just as the mud began to reach her butt, a small tingling feeling precipitated the formation of a curly tail, stretching longer until it disappeared into the muck. She made her way to Poulu, adapting quickly to the new feet and features, her skin steadily turning to its new color – and once she was finally in front of the red pig demon, she let herself fall forward, wrapping her arms over the woman’s fat belly and nuzzling into her expansive cleavage.

The pig’s stomach was warm and inviting, layered with fat just dense enough to nearly engulf Danielle’s arms without being droopy. It was like a big, comfy body pillow, pleasantly warm even through the thick coating of mud. Danielle couldn’t help but roll her arms up and down, massaging the soft flesh and smearing away some of the muck onto her arms in the process. In her drowsy, half-aware state, she didn’t think to look up and notice Poulu’s increasingly aroused expression. Her chubby red cheeks were turning a bit darker, her eyes half-lidded, with no intent to stop Danielle. She settled back into the mud, resting on the bed of the bog and lifting her upper body slightly out of the liquid, breasts and the top of her stomach round and glossy with their coating. And Danielle was just as eager to continue massaging until something thick and spongy prodded against her thighs.

“Eep.” She reflexively moved back a bit, causing the perpetrator to spring upward unobstructed except by the earthy slurry they were wallowing in. The mud surged slowly, rolling away from the surfacing protrusion until all excess had dripped away, leaving just the coated form of Poulu’s cock, no longer hanging between her legs but now pressing against the underside of her gut. Danielle was transfixed, her gaze focused solely on the thick, round head as a cloudy bead of pre pushed through the mud at the tip. Poulu smiled toothily, showing off her teeth and tusks, letting Danielle stare for a minute before piping up to snap her out of it.

“Well? What’chu waitin’ for?” she asked, moving her arms back and pushing herself a bit further onto the shore. The liquid earth around her sucked and bubbled around her, but gave way and slid off, leaving her coated thickly from the knees up but otherwise exposed, every curve smoothed out by the material. “If’n yor’ interested, I don’ mind. Guhuhu.” She leaned back on her hands, flexing her muscles and letting her cock give a twitch, flicking a few gobs of mud in Danielle’s direction. The girl gave another squeak as the splatter landed across her new snout, but recovered swiftly with no intention to let the opportunity pass her by. She crawled toward Poulu as quickly as the swamp would allow her, the vacuum left behind by her legs trying its best to keep her sealed inside and finding it far more difficult than the stronger pig-woman in front of her. But with significant effort, she managed to drop to her knees between her massive thighs, staring in awe at the spire before her.

Cautiously, Danielle reached her hands up and pressed them down over the head, barely able to fit around the circumference from wrist to fingertip. She began to slide her hands down with an anxious slowness, sloughing off the layer of mud and exposing the dark red skin underneath. It must’ve been the length of her forearm and then some. She stopped as her hands hit the halfway point, leaning in and sticking out her plump, forked tongue to scoop off another dollop of precum welling at the tip. She had to moan just at the taste as it melted across the rugged surface of her tongue and rolled into the back of her throat, swiftly leaning in to catch another drop rolling down the underside. Her snout collided with the pillar of flesh in the process, filling her nostrils with another whiff of the demon’s musk – even if it were masked heavily by the earthly scent Poulu had been wallowing in. As the ball of salty, creamy liquid caught on the tip of her tongue, Danielle shut her eyes and gave a few more undignified, piggish snorts, huffing up as much of the sweaty cock-stink she could muster. Coiling her tongue back past her lips, she let the gob of pre roll around in her mouth for a bit before swallowing it back and working her way back to the head, sniffing all the while. It wasn’t quite like having the demon’s loincloth encompassing her face, but it was still something for her new addiction.

She pulled a hand away from the shaft and moved it back to her crotch, sinking her mud-soaked fingers past the waistband of her underwear and pushing two digits into the folds of her muff again. She didn’t realize that her pants had gone missing, probably vanished into the mud while she was climbing out, but she didn’t really care either. Having the wet earth inside her as well as engulfing her was giving her chills, sending her into instinct as she began to lap at the pig-woman’s knob. Streaks of glossy brown left behind from her hands vanished as she polished, working herself up to wrap her lips around the warm flesh and start to push down. She gave a soft grunt as her jaw stretched, finding it difficult to quite reach the crown of the cockhead. Her cheeks bulged, her eyes forced into a strained squint as her jaw was wedged wider and wider. She sighed and pulled back a bit, taking a few more breaths through her new piggy nose, then reeled back and swung her head forward as firmly as she could.

“Hrlk! Glrbbghl!”

She had overestimated, sending herself careening halfway down the cock and, by extension, sending the cock halfway down her throat. Her body shook, her throat squeezing and undulating in an effort to remove the intrusion. Her brow furrowed, tears welling up in her eyes as she gagged on its length. Ropes of spit splattered out of the corners of her lips, adding to the mess on the lower half of the demon’s shaft. Pushing her hands down into Poulu’s thighs, Danielle managed to push herself back, prying her head away from Poulu’s prick, struggling on the crown once more until she could finally get her jaw over the hump with a wet pop. She gasped for air, her lungs swelling and pushing her petite breasts out as she stared at what she had done. The upper third was slicked with saliva, glossy in the streaks of light shining from the canopy and completely cleaned from her time in the bog. Which meant… Danielle shivered softly, rolling her tongue around in her mouth and swallowing. The old her would’ve been completely disgusted, but to the new Danielle it felt like the most normal thing in the world. She licked her lips, collecting the splattered brown droplets that had collected around her mouth, and leaned back in.

The second attempt came far more naturally, her jaw stretching over the cusp with little effort. Her tongue rolled against the sensitive tube bulging out the underside, earning the sound of a low, throaty moan from Poulu. By now, Heima had picked up on the hubbub and moved closer with interest, wading through the thick slop with a practiced ease. Nearly her full body now had been coated, up to the edges of her face – even her hair. Curious, but not interested in interrupting just yet, she settled in near the shore, laying on her pudgy gut and lifting her legs into the air to spectate, leaving the curves of her butt and the sides of her breasts exposed above the liquid’s surface.

Danielle only barely recognized Heima’s approach, but she didn’t particularly care either way. Trying to prep her throat by relaxing, she drew Poulu’s cock past the back of her tongue with a swallowing motion. No amount of prep could truly override her lack of experience, of course; in reflex, she gave another few gags before getting under control and lowering herself deeper. While one hand clung to the side of Poulu’s shaft for support, the other moved back between her legs to pleasure herself, scooping up a gob of mud onto her middle and ring fingers before plunging them back in. She worked her way down with slow, steady bobs, each one diving a little further than the last. Between the sensation her hand was offering, and the feeling of her airway being cut off, her eyes half-shut and curled backward until only a sliver of her irises were exposed – revealing a creeping blackness beginning to fill the whites from the back, moving forward.

Poulu, meanwhile, was having the time of her life. Finding Danielle’s rhythm, she began to move her hips, thrusting forward slightly and burying more of her length into Danielle’s bulging throat. Her thick fingers dug into the dirt she was supporting herself on, her tongue lolling out and heaving panting breaths in hedonistic enjoyment. Shifting her weight to one side, she raised a hand to her chest and began to knead the heavy flesh, leaving trails of her fingers in the mud as she pinched and teased a fat nipple. Her head fell back as Danielle reached the remainder of the mud, pushing her lips into the thick coating and causing it to splatter and smush around the lower half of her face, painting her chin, cheeks and snout. She was almost at the base, she could feel it…

Steeling her nerves, she shut her eyes, pulled back, and slid forward as much as she could, trying not to stop. Blobs of wet earth piled up around her porky face, her forehead and hair pressing into the base of Poulu’s considerable gut and getting mud stamped there, as well. She was gagging pretty heavily now – “Hlrk, ghrlk, gllrrrch” - but through sheer force of will she powered past her body’s efforts to prevent her from getting Poulu’s cockhead in the vicinity of her ribcage. Slid down to the base, her hand now moved to one of Poulu’s sizable balls, giving it soft strokes and gentle squeezes. It felt hot, powerful… Packed with corrupted essence, ready to infect Danielle’s mind. The thought was a surprise moment of clarity, a flare sent up from the pushed-down portion of her mind dictating logic and reason, and it forced her eyes to open and look down at herself once more. Gooey muck dripped from her eyelashes, but she had a plentiful view of her new nose, and a chance to observe just what the hell she was doing.

In her rush of revelation, Danielle moved to pull back, before the situation could get any more problematic. But she had found her window just a little too late. While she was busy trying to choke down Poulu’s dick, the pressure on her ears and the porcine belly in her face had kept her from hearing or seeing Heima getting up. Her attempt to retreat was thwarted by a pair of hands clapping down on her muddy butt, startling her and causing her to lock up as her throat squeezed around its quarry. Another heavy weight settled itself straight down the middle, causing her whole body to freeze up and try and look out of her peripheral. Just barely, she could see the green pig-demon behind her, kneading her cheeks and rubbing her package back and forth along her back. The two demons said something to one another in their native tongue; just from the tone, Danielle had a feeling she knew what they were saying. “Do you mind if I join in? Watching you has me all horny.” “Sure, she seems like she’s enjoying it. Go ahead!” Sure, she might have been wrong – but then, what else were they talking about? The weather?

Desperately, Danielle tried to shake her head, but with the stiff tool down her throat she simply didn’t have the mobility for it. Her attempt to speak up was similarly fruitless. “Mhhgh! Heifgh hmmfh –” She dragged her hand out of her sex and tried to press on Poulu’s thighs like before, to pry herself off, but already Heima had the fat knob of her dick pressed… Between her cheeks?! Danielle’s body tensed up in fear once again, tighter this time, as though her body were resisting what she was trying to do. She wanted to shake her head and beg for anything but that – but just as she got the crown of Poulu’s cock to the back of her tongue, Heima swung her hips forward.

In a moment, Danielle was slid back down to the base of Poulu’s cock, her face further smeared with mud in the process. And as if that weren’t enough, the other pig’s dick entered her ass as soon as she was braced against the solid surface of Poulu’s pelvis, sliding into her in a single swift motion until Heima’s balls smacked against her stomach. Danielle was dazed, hardly able to do anything but give a pathetic squeak – or she would, if not for the fleshy object occupying her throat. Her arms went limp beneath her as she tried to adjust to the sensation of her virgin ass being stretched by something as thick as a liter of soda. Her stomach hugged the intrusion, clinging to it in a bulge that outlined every detail. To Heima’s credit, at least, she did give Danielle some time to adjust… All of a few seconds before she began thrusting.

Danielle was a ragdoll in their hands, her hips lifted up off the ground and causing the blood to rush to her head as it bounced back and forth on Poulu’s length. “Gluk, glrk, gurk!” The wet, sucking noises were really all she could make, her entire body shut off while her brain tried to catch up with what was occurring. It was a wonder that she had fit Heima inside her at all, let alone so comfortably… It occurred to her that the slick mud had probably helped her along. Packed inside her, twisting her further… The pain of being penetrated began to dull, though not fade entirely, and in its place came a sense of pleasure that radiated out with every thrust into her. She couldn’t be sure if it was something about the demons, or if this was just how anal felt – but the current situation feeling good was making it increasingly difficult to focus on how fucked she was, both figuratively and literally.

Her brain was melting into mush, only able to process the most direct stimulus as it came to her. The soreness in her jaw. The way her throat was stroking back and forth on the veins of Poulu’s cock. The heaving, jiggling feeling of Heima’s gut on top of her back… She felt a familiar pressure building up inside her, and trembled. It was out of her control, now. A wave of ecstasy washed over her as strings of clear, sticky juices sprayed from her snatch and added to the wetness of the mud, sealing her fate to whatever these demons had in mind. She no longer had the energy to fight back against the urges being planted in her mind by the demonic essence. Her tongue lapped at Poulu, while her ass squeezed to milk Heima’s cock as well. The two were both panting, excitedly fucking their shared little toy, growing steadily closer to an explosion that Danielle could feel incoming but which she had no means to stop. Resigned, she simply shut her eyes, and braced the best she could.

Unsurprisingly, it was Poulu who reached fever pitch first, her low, throaty moans turning into high, blissful squeals as she broke her rhythm and replaced it with a fierce, animal thrusting. Danielle was glad that Poulu was so soft all over; if she wasn’t, she might have broken her new snout getting Poulu’s pubic bone rammed into it. The pig’s cock throbbed and lurched, swelling in preparation, Danielle helpless but to stroke her forked tongue against the bulging underside to help it along. She mustered out a disgusted groan as her lips were forced a bit wider, the rush of jizz viscous enough that Danielle could feel it travel down her throat, sending her into a squirming fit in some vain last effort to prevent it from entering her body, as if she weren’t already completely defiled. The first shot felt like a cannon and made her gurgle out a gag, the ‘cork’ soon followed by a torrent of pig cum flowing into her guts like a fire hose. Her eyes opened again, rolling back pathetically, revealing themselves to have become pure black, with jungle-green irises. As Poulu’s cum was fed into her, the corruption on her skin completed its progress, turning her fully chocolate brown like the mud she was hovering over. With the rate of flow being pushed into her, it wasn’t long before Danielle’s stomach began to round out like a water balloon, creaking ominously as her new, depraved body was put through its paces.

The feeling of filling must have made her tighten up on the other end, because Heima didn’t last much longer, either. She leaned forward, her hanging tongue dripping a thick string of saliva onto Danielle’s muddy back, and gave a few snorting pants before plowing deep into her and letting her own torrent loose. Her spunk wasn’t nearly as thick and heavy as Poulu’s was, but what it lacked in weight it made up for in sheer, overpowering flow. The pig-demon’s balls clenched up to her body as they pumped quart after quart of slimy seed through her cock and into poor Danielle. The girl could feel every pulse pushing it deeper into her belly, the warm flow curling and coiling around inside her as it passed through her intestines, before finally meeting up with the reservoir at her stomach and began to balloon her outward. Her stomach sank into the mud, pushing it aside as it passed the point of a typical pregnancy and into the realm of sheer absurdity. As it touched the ground inside the mud it began to swell outward instead, pressing against her breasts and against her limp thighs.

Danielle could feel Poulu’s cock slowing down, each bulging pulse coming a bit slower than the last, but by that point the girl was mentally checked out. The feeling of having her stomach swelled to the size of a prize-winning pumpkin had left her rather strapped as far as thoughts went. Her gut felt like any more pressure would cause her to burst open right then and there, but then, it had been feeling that way from when it all started. She could only gurgle weakly around Poulu as the two exhausted pigs kept themselves stuffed inside her, resting for a good few minutes until Poulu placed a hand on Danielle’s head and began to pull her head back. The scout couldn’t help but suck on the softening shaft as it was removed from her, her lips tugging away from her face as she tried not to let a drop of demon seed go to waste. Not that she had any idea why she wanted to avoid that. Even still, when Poulu’s cockhead finally popped out, a thin trickle of white spunk began to drool from her swollen lips, Danielle groaning wearily and not bothering to close her mouth again. Poulu scratched her neck a bit awkwardly, clearly aware that something was wrong with Danielle, but apparently not thinking it serious enough to know how to help her. Heima pulled out shortly after, the combination of her tired muscles and the grip of the swamp causing her to stumble slightly and roll Danielle onto her side as she sprung free. In the wake of the penetration, a small rush of cum came flooding out of Danielle’s gaping hole, mingling with the muck at the shore.

“Phew… That was good,” Poulu said, reaching a hand up to smear some mud on her warm forehead. Heima, dazzled as well, only fell back onto her butt, sending waves through the gooey mud. Poulu gave a few more deep breaths, then turned her gaze back to Danielle. “You feel okay, there?”

Danielle still couldn’t work up the muster to respond. Her mind was trapped in a haze of lust and strange new sensations. The demon jizz inside her was already working hard to taint her body with its evil essence, rewiring her mind like a hard drug. And with a low, bubbling gurgle, her body began to break down the material, for use in crafting a new form. As she laid on the ground, helpless, Danielle’s body began to grow. Her very bone structure itself was stretching out, her hips growing wider, ribs stretching outward, spine longer. Her flesh grew with it, painlessly, leaving her completely unaware of what was occurring to her. It wasn’t just her overall size, either. As more of the cum in her gut boiled away, the mass began to layer onto her body as fat. With how her stomach was stretched, it was hard to tell what was going on with her gut, but the effects on the rest of her body were noticeable enough. Her cute, perky breasts began to bloat outward, her body creaking softly as mass was added onto them. Her nipples puffed up, growing thicker and darker in color, small bumps forming at the edges of her areolae. Her hips faced a similar transformation, her athletic butt growing thicker and fatter, mass cascading down onto her thighs to keep it balanced.

“Hnnn...” Danielle was beginning to realize something was happening, as her hips were lifted off the ground with the layers of padding being added to them, but she couldn’t be bothered to resist. As chub rounded out her cheeks and plumped her lips, she grappled with the changes to her mind. With every second ticking away, she was feeling… Simpler. Her concerns about getting back to the camp, and about the effect this expedition had had on her body, was being replaced with banal, primal urges. She wanted to eat. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to wallow in the filthy mud and cool off like piggies do… She groaned softly and tried to shake her head, but it was useless. Deep down behind her fears, she was feeling relaxed. It felt good to let it all slip away. Maybe this would be fine after all…

Her stomach was shrinking rapidly, allowing for the added blubber to be revealed more clearly. While her chest had escaped the measurements of modern bras, and her butt could probably fit a whole person between its titanic cheeks, her stomach now resembled some kind of large beanbag. It hugged her once-lithe, proud body like a thick blanket, warm, comfortable and heavy. Slowly, she rolled onto her back, her gut sloshing and jiggling as it settled back into place. Something bubbled within her, rising up her throat and toward her lips. Not even caring to restrain it, she opened her snout and gave a low, rumbling belch, tasting of cum. Rather than recoiling in disgust, she let her eyes half-close and cracked a smile. This did feel pretty good, not having to care about silly things like that…

A welling warmth drew her attention downward, past her gut and between her legs. She craned her neck, trying to see past it, but when that failed she rose into a sitting position and let a hand wander to her muff. When her finger touched her clit, she gasped and recoiled. It was so sensitive… Gently, she brought her hand back down for a feel. Her labia had fattened up quite a bit, and now seemed to simply drip thick strands of natural lube, but what was more interesting was her clit. The tiny nub had grown into something the size of her thumb, engulfing the small hole that had been above her snatch. She lightly played with it until a surge ran up her back, forcing her to throw her head back as a pressure built at her groin.

By now, Poulu and Heima were watching in a sort of confused awe. They had never seen a human go through this before, and it was hard to tell if she was in trouble or not. Kneeling on either side of her in the mud, they watched in silence, leaning away whenever Danielle made a particularly sudden movement.

As the pressure built up, so too did Danielle’s pleasure. It was like something was inside her, trying to get out, and tickling all of her nerves in just the right way. She panted and squirmed, pressing her legs together as her clit grew larger, thicker, then began to press outward. Moving closer to the front of her crotch, Danielle’s clit grew a hood of skin, fattening until it had a distinct head with a crown. At the base of the new protrusion, two more spots began to swell, forming heavy orbs which grew to the size of Danielle’s head before lowering themselves from her body in a sack of loose skin. The new sensation of her balls dipping into the mud caused her legs to twitch, digging into the clay at the bottom of the pond, and forced a shot of creamy liquid from underneath the new hood. Through her lust-fueled confusion, she managed to look down as it pushed past the round ball of her belly. She was growing a cock…

Something compelled her to touch it, and touch it she did. As her hand wrapped around it, another new wave of pleasure surged through her and forced her head back once more. On instinct, she started to stroke, soon adding her second hand as well. It simply wouldn’t stop growing, and every new inch was another chance to stimulate herself. The head was the size of her old human head now, and it must have beaten out the other two’s cocks by half. Not that Danielle could think to measure. Desperate to make it easier, she reached a hand down and lifted up a glob of mud, slapping the cool ooze against the burning-hot side of her cock, and started to stroke. She was moaning like a true pig now, shameless and fearless. It was liberating – no concerns about taboos, judgment, punishment. She was a fat, slutty pig now, and she loved it.

“Huuuh… F-fuck… Fffuuuck!” She bit her lip and gave a few thrusts of her hips as another pressure mounted within her, Her balls clenched, cock throbbed and ached for release – this was it, her first orgasm with a pig-demon dick! She fell onto her back, stroking furiously as the spring inside her wound up tighter and tighter, a valve turning inside her, releasing the reward she desperately craved. Splrck. Splrgh. Splgck… Rope after rope of creamy jizz arced into the air, falling back and splattering across her muddy stomach and chest. She squealed in ecstasy, mindlessly humping her hands like an animal, even as her cumshot was reduced to a slow, lazy trickle, and only stopped when the exhaustion set in. Moving her new, blubbery body was hard work…

As she laid there, panting, a smell caught her nose. She sniffed, then snorted, weakly sitting up and trying to get a better sense for it. The other two seemed to smell the same thing, already smiling at the thought; Poulu rose to her feet and held a hand out to Danielle, which Heima mirrored on her other side. “The others cook meat and mushrooms!” Poulu said excitedly. “Is good smell, yeah? We show you camp. You come with us now! Guhuhu!”

She couldn’t be totally sure if it was the exhaustion or her new mind, but Danielle gave a weary smile. Good food, a place to sleep… And a whole group of other sexy fat pigs to mingle with, who wouldn’t criticize her… Yes, that did sound better than her boring old human camp, after all.

A team of three rode into the jungle on a small buggy, large enough to carry them without being too large to maneuver the uneven terrain. Danielle, the scout, had been missing for 24 hours, which meant that they had to get an idea for what might have happened to her. Following the path she was supposed to trace, they came across the footprints of some large beast, and decided that it must have chased her off course. Making a mark on their maps for their current location, they began to follow the tracks into the jungle.

It wasn’t long before they came across a proverbial dead end, what looked like the scene of a scuffle, the tracks mixed with blood and veering off course. Danielle must have chased it off, but by now she would’ve been hopelessly lost. One of the three caught sight of her boot prints – faint, but visible – and began to follow them toward the sound of a river. It wasn’t long before they reached a difficult obstacle, a pit of mud far too wide and deep to cross without the proper equipment. We can’t safely follow any further, they decided. But a cursory examination did yield some clues, her belongings behind a rock – her pack even mostly intact. She must have taken it off to hunt something quietly, they reasoned, and chose to believe that she must have gotten killed while she was doing so.

Alpha hefted the pack onto his back while Beta wrote his notes down. Delta chose to turn and ensure nothing was sneaking up on them, and as he peered among the trees he jumped at the sight of a large, humanoid figure. He stepped back, tapping his teammates on the backs to silently attract their attention, and nodded toward the figure. It had already seen them. Calmly, they each drew a gun from their holsters, and waited for a reaction.

“You there!” She finally said, her voice deep and rumbling. She began to come closer, initially inspiring Delta to raise his gun, but Alpha commanded him to hold fire. On closer inspection, it was a demon, yes – but a pig demon. Relatively tame, harmless unless provoked. As she came closer, they got a better look at her. Messy, dirty brown hair, and forest green eyes. Her stomach hung well below her waist, her breasts contained only barely within a cheetah-pelt top. A matching loincloth hung off her hips, but failed to conceal the head of a nearly two foot flaccid cock, and definitely didn’t hide the swollen balls behind it either.

“You look lost,” She purred, slowing to a stop around thirty feet away. “What brings you here?”

“We are not lost,” Alpha said, plainly. He took a moment to survey their surroundings; there was an escape to the side. “We have come here to locate a missing scout. Her name is Danielle, around five feet, five inches, with brown hair. Do you know her?”

A small flicker lit up in the demon’s eyes, but she waited for him to finish talking, folding her arms under her bust and causing part of a dark areola to become visible over the edge of her top. “Danielle...” She hummed, smiling warmly. “Danielle is safe, and in good condition.”

“If you’d like… I could show you what happened to her.”

[trinket-tales]

A Final Request

(A/N: I waffled for a while on posting this because it’s pretty dumb in hindsight, and might be in poorer taste than I anticipated, but here it is. A tale about a goth who wants to go out with a bang, before her life descends into mediocrity. Features a futa demon, rough deepthroating, and (if the brief premise was too subtle) a story featuring assisted suicide as a central concept, even if it’s by demon cock and generally heavily fetishized. So, you know, if that kind of thing makes you uncomfortable, don’t read, and just keep in mind this is at its core nothing more than a kinky fantasy for people who like dark stuff. Enjoy!)

(Length: ~5,300 words)

Ritual candle

A simple candle, made of red wax. It has been almost depleted while on a flat surface, causing the melting wax to flatten out into a pile of of thick globules about six inches wide. Only about a half inch of wick remains; the remainder smells of plant ash and iron. On the underside of the melted wax, trace amounts of white chalk can be seen, having been caught in the substance as it melted.

“You want me to what?”

Eberreth had been summoned by mortals countless times in her life. Yanked from her duties, pushed into the overworld to showboat a little and grant their desires, demand a bit of payment for her trouble and then return to her comfortable lifestyle in the world below. By this point, it had become routine; predictable. Sure, it was always fascinating to see how the world had changed since she was last called upon, and her summoners were never lacking for differences in appearance or personality, but the act was fairly typical by now. Some people wanted magic powers. Others wanted an effective, untraceable assassin. Occasionally they wanted little more than a quick sexual fling that Eberreth was always happy to oblige.

None of them, however, had quite asked for this before.

“You heard me –” the girl said, staring with a confident defiance into the demon’s eyes. “I want you to kill me.”

Eberreth stared at the girl, slack-jawed, her lips tugged into a puzzled smile and one eyebrow quirked. She was what you might expect for a casual, modern-day demon summoner – a pale-skinned, black-haired girl, probably around the age of 20, decked out fully in goth fashion: Leather boots, thigh-high stockings, fingerless gloves, black denim shorts and a leather vest framing the gritty icon of a blood-spattered skull on the black T-shirt underneath. Her eyebrows were pierced with barbells, giving a little glint to a space otherwise occupied solely by gloomy black eye shadow and deep green irises. Her hair was shaved on just one side of her head, the rest cut shoulder-length and spiky. Her middle was a bit thick with chub, as were her thighs and especially her butt. Her breasts, somewhere in the D range under her shirt, had a similar plump weight to them. She was everything Eberreth liked in a girl; if not for the circumstances throwing her off, the demon would have been fantasizing about means to get her in bed already.

“… This… This is a joke, right?” Eberreth asked, forcing out an awkward chuckle and leaning against the bureau behind her. She could only imagine what she looked like. She had blood-red skin, every inch rippling with muscle, and her hook-shaped onyx horns added another foot to her already impressive stature, nearly scraping the paint off the ceiling. An unearthly light illuminated her face like a jack-o-lantern, bright yellow shining from her eyes and through her shark-like teeth. Black, waxy locks of hair cascaded from her head to her waist, acting as a backdrop to highlight her rippling Adonis-like abs and thick, powerful arms – all four of them. Both pairs were folded, hugging muscular breasts close to her chest and showing off a quartet of silver manacles, while one set of inches-long claws drummed against a trunk-like bicep. At her waist, the crimson skin transitioned into black fur, coating a pair of goat legs with thighs nearly as thick as the Goth girl's torso. From the base of her spine emerged a long, thin, black tail, with a bony tip resembling a kitchen knife. Her only garment was a skirt that formed from four loincloth-like strips, clearly designed for elegance more than modesty as it did nothing to hide the heavy bulge at her groin.

She was a ferocious creature who could strike fear into the hearts of the strongest of men – and she was acting like an uncomfortable college girl at a bar.

“I mean – There’s a camera here somewhere, right? You wanted to get a demon on tape, or something… It’s like one of those “prank videos”? You don’t really…” She trailed off, faltering as the firm look in the girl’s eyes never wavered. The demon blinked, shook her head, and finally let out a genuine laugh. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” the girl said, matter-of-factly, moving to her bed to sit down on it. She folded one leg over her knee, never taking her eyes off the demoness she had summoned. “I don’t have any prospects for the future. I never got good grades. I don’t have any useful hobbies. And even if I did, it’s impossible to get a job these days. So instead of wasting my time floundering and being useless in the world, I’ve decided I’d rather just die while I’m ahead.”

Eberreth still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Humans had always been stupid, and they’d always done stupid self-destructive things, but she never thought they would start seeking death on purpose. “That’s…” She trailed away again, then just shook her head and gave up arguing. “So why the summoning, then? You’d think there are easier ways…”

“Sure, there are easier ways. But if I’m gonna die I may as well have some fun doing it.” The girl rolled her shoulders in a casual shrug, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say. “So – I don’t just want you to kill me, I want you to fuck me to death. Beat me up, choke me, do whatever you want. Go to town.”

Eberreth was still stunned. She tried to stammer out a few responses, but never got beyond part of a syllable before canceling and trying something different. “What’s the big deal?” The girl asked, leaning back and using her arms for support. “You’ve gotten summoned for assassinations, haven’t you? I read about you. You’ve killed plenty of people before. Why is this so different? Come on.” She was insistent, for sure. Trying to give her demon a greater incentive to carry out her demands, the girl tugged off her jacket and let it fall to the bed behind her, then crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head in one swift motion. She wasn’t even wearing a bra, allowing her plump, heaving breasts to bounce and jiggle tantalizingly once freed from their confinement. Despite her ghostly pallor, the girl’s nipples were perky and rosy pink, entirely ready for what was to come, and a bit of blush was spreading across her visage, her stern expression growing more definitive as she furrowed her brow. “Fucking kill me. I want it. And you know you want it too.”

Eberreth laughed and shook her head again. “You’re insane. Just…” She sighed and let her lips settle into a smirk, unfolding her arms and standing upright from her lean. “Fine. If that’s what you’ve summoned me for, so be it. I don’t make a habit of letting my summonings go to waste.” She stepped forward, every movement causing her muscles to tense and relax. Her legs seemed so full of power, like she could pounce at any moment. Playfully, she let the tip of her tapered tongue slide into view, running across her lips to show off its dexterity, while her bladed tail dragged a waving line into the wood floor. “But before we get into it… What’s your name, anyway?”

“H–heather,” she said, her voice catching in her throat from excitement. Her face was turning red, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t dare admit it, for fear that the illusion might suddenly disappear if she did, but this felt too good to be true. Her fantasy was about to be realized – She was going to be used, abused, killed and discarded by a powerful, sexy demoness, and she was going to love it the whole while. Her composure broke, and she squirmed in her seat, jumping lightly as the beast’s hands rested on her shoulder, her honed claws delicately resting against the pale skin of her back, threatening to draw blood if she were just gripped a little tighter. She didn’t dare ask for that either. Her eyes tried to stay fixed on Eberreth’s face, but she found herself glancing at the woman’s chest, her stomach… her skirt, just barely concealing the most impressive part of the demon’s form. Her mouth was getting dry; she swallowed and tried to look back up into the lantern-like eyes above. “Do…”

“Don’t talk,” the demoness purred, tensing her fingers and creating a few pinprick holes in the skin over Heather’s shoulderblade. The girl gasped and tried to stifle a pathetic mewl of pleasure, forcing her hands to stay at her side instead of rushing to remove her pants and start fingering herself here and now. The demon’s breath was hot and humid, and between that and the anticipation, a few drops of sweat began forming on her forehead. “Do exactly as I say, and you’ll get your reward. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes...” Heather said, uncertain whether to append an honorific to the statement. After a moment’s hesitation, she took the safest bet, and hastily restated: “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Eberreth smiled coldly, staring down at Heather like one might look at a piece of steak at the grocery store. Her claws relaxed, allowing small drops of blood to well up at the cuts she had made, and gave the girl a firm shove onto her back before moving her hand away. Heather grunted softly and clutched at the blanket below her, looking up to see as the beastly demon’s knife-like tail lifted up, glinting in the dim candlelight, and brought its tip dangerously close to the pale flesh of her soft stomach. Reflexively, she winced away, squeezing her eyes shut and earning a soft chuckle from her summoned lover; But instead of the razor-like blade plunging into the fat in her gut, it made a practiced swipe downward, cutting effortlessly through her leather belt and the black denim of her shorts. Caught by surprise, she gave a gasp, which turned into a pithy whine when Eberreth placed her upper pair of hands on her shoulders. The lower pair hooked their claws into her waist band, and in a single, powerful pull, the fabric tore into frayed threads, exposing Heather’s bare muff underneath.

Eberreth had to grin at that, showing off her pointed fangs and the steamy puffs of her breath. This girl had prepared, it seemed – a good shave, foregoing even underwear. She wasn’t going to let her preparations go to waste. Keeping the heels of her palms pressed firmly down on Heather’s shoulders, the demon slid her hands along Heather’s thighs and leaned down, squatting and bringing her face above Heather’s groin. Heather’s heart was beating like a drum now – she could feel her face beginning to burn, pale skin turning bright red with blood. The demon above her radiated power, keeping her forced to the bed with barely any effort. Heather was helpless, a slave to the demon’s whims, just as likely to be torn to pieces as she was to be plowed like a cheap whore, and she loved it. She suppressed the urge to give a needy moan, kneading the bed as she kept her gaze locked with Eberreth’s own feral stare.

Slowly, Eberreth allowed her jaw to open, her long, glowing tongue to spill from her lips and dangle teasingly against the tip of Heather’s clit. The teen gave a restless whine and let her hips twitch softly, but bit her lip and kept herself from going further. A thin layer of drool dripped off Eberreth’s fierce teeth, forming strings that glistened in the lantern-like light of her glowing flesh and a thicker rivulet running down the center of her tongue. She lowered down a bit more, letting her tongue tip slither against the girl’s folds, slowly slurping her tongue back and briefly hooking the sensitive nub at the tip before her tongue flicked back inside and her jaws closed with a soft click. Heather allowed a moan to escape, her eyes swirling back into her skull; She squirmed pitifully against the pressure, and Eberreth could only chuckle. Humans were so cute.

One of her hands released their press on Heather’s shoulder, sliding up her collar, her neck, the sharp tip of her thumb’s claw tracing dangerously close to her veins, but never quite breaking skin. Eberreth had practiced with her hands for years, to make sure she knew exactly how much pressure she could apply to the body before skin pierced… Blood spilled… Bones snapped. Her palm glided up until it rested on Heather’s cheek, coaxing a pithy mewl of want out of her lips. Eberreth’s tail swayed back and forth, letting the goth’s mind run wild with its own imagination before she spoke in her deep, demonic purr. “Moan for me, Heather… I want to hear how excited you are to give me your soul.”

Heather’s face grew ever hotter with those words, enough for Eberreth to detect through her own thermogenic palms, and in the daze of arousal, she could only give a small obedient squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The demon’s cruel smile widened, her eyes glinting in the candlelight below her. Her hand slid back down, using the claw of her thumb to slice a shallow cut into Heather’s cheek and no further, tendering tracing over her neck once again. Heather gasped, the sting only making her more excited, gently moving her hand up to place it over the cut.

Her distraction was brief, though, as she felt a jolt lance up her back, forcing her eyes upward and pushing a low whine from her throat. Eberreth had locked lips with Heather’s loins, the tapered tendril of her tongue burrowing into the girl’s soaked folds and slithering deeper and deeper, twirling and rubbing at the surfaces inside, bringing increasingly delighted squeals and a steadily arching back from Heather.

Before her volume could rise too far, she clapped a hand over her mouth – just in time for Eberreth’s lancing tongue to make a teasing flick at her cervix. Her eyes snapped wide, watering up from the sheer intensity of the sensation, a few stray tears causing her black eye shadow to run down her cheeks. But no sooner did that explosion of pleasure lance through her than it was all pulled away, the demon coiling her tongue back into her glowing maw with a soft slurp and a wet pop as she pulled away.

“Ahh… You are tasty,” Eberreth crooned, reaching up to stroke Heather’s hair. The girl relaxed, nuzzling into Eberreth’s touch, only to be met by a sudden grasp and a firm tug against her scalp. Eberreth rose to stand, while Heather was forced onto her knees, back against the bed, staring helplessly into the demon’s slit eyes. “Now… time to return the favor.”

With a flourish, Eberreth reached a lower hand down and grabbed the strap of her loincloth, tearing it away in showy fashion. Quite suddenly, Heather was literally face to face with the demoness’ most exciting aspect. Heather had seen it in drawings, but it was far more intimidating in person – even soft, the demon’s cock hung over a foot long, as thick as Heather’s wrist. It was a red-violet color, emerging from a black sheath between the demon’s legs, with a head shaped something like an upside-down triangle, barbed at the points. Two further lines of barbs ran down the top of the shaft, still soft but doubtlessly soon to be brought to full stiffness. Between Eberreth’s muscular thighs hung a pair of balls, comparable in size to Heather’s head and encased in the same leathery black skin that made up the demon’s sheath. Even when flaccid, heat seemed to radiate off Eberreth’s package, oozing strength and virility even when blood wasn’t being pumped fully into her cock, and the smell… Heather shuddered. It was making her head fuzzy in all the right ways, some mix of sweat and ash and musk. A little mini orgasm rocked her body, sending a few strings of juices onto the floor, as she just breathed deep in her stun.

The demon had to grin at Heather’s reaction. Humans were so cute. She let Heather stay dazed for a few more seconds, then reached down and grabbed the weighty club that was her cock and gave the girl a firm smack on the cheek with it, enough to nearly send Heather off balance and toppling to the side. She managed to catch herself before she fell over completely, using an arm for support. “Alright, girl. Enough staring. Get sucking.”

Heather was stunned, reaching up to rub her cheek as she straightened up, but she wasn’t even offered the chance to recover fully before the head of Eberreth’s monstrous cock was shoved against her lips. “Gweh?!” She reflexively reached and tried to move the obstruction away, but Eberreth’s lower hands caught her wrists and pinned them back against the side of the bed, while her upper right pressed against Heather’s forehead and forced her mouth open. Heather gagged helplessly as the spiny, demonic tool ground up near the back of her tongue, but as she locked gazes with the demon, Eberreth saw no true fear or hesitance – just bright, unwavering excitement. She really intended to go through with this, didn’t she? She was loving the abuse, and she wanted to take it all the way.

Well, Eberreth didn’t make a living by questioning her masters.

Planting a hoof up on Heather’s bed, the demon pulled Heather’s hands up and pushed her head onto the mattress, creating a straight line from her mouth to her throat, and one which Eberreth was now in the perfect position to abuse. Flexing her thighs, Eberreth swung her hips downward, forcing her cock into the tight aperture of Heather’s throat. The girl’s eyes snapped wide open as her body choked, her throat squeezing down against Eberreth’s shaft. The spiny ridges raked at her soft muscles, just soft enough not to damage her but just stiff enough to make her gag harder. As Eberreth’s length bottomed out, the girl’s lips against the rim of the demon’s sheath, Heather’s throat squeezed and caused bubbles of spit to drip out around her lips. Eberreth held it there for about five seconds, Heather’s body already beginning to tremble as it worked to expel the intrusion, before pulling away and letting Heather gasp for breath. On the spines of her cock, a slimy coating of saliva and mucus was dredged back, dripping against Heather’s face. “Too much for you?” The demon cooed, staring into Heather’s dazed, rolled-back eyes.

“M-mgk… Mohh-uhk!” Heather’s request was interrupted by another deep plunge into the recesses of her throat. “Ghhck! Glleck! Kkhhghck!” Her body’s response was music to Eberreth’s ears, a familiar cacophony of gurgles and gags that Heather had no control over. It meant she was doing her job well. Her chest heaved, her face turning red as blood rushed to her brain in an effort to improve her decision making faculties for a fight-or-flight situation. Her head bobbed slightly as she attempted to force the demon’s dick away, but despite the precautions her subconscious was taking, her conscious mind did nothing to take advantage. Instead of fighting back, her hands tugged at Eberreth’s grip, and once released, they darted down to her muff instead of beating on her captor’s hips. A pair of fingers dove hastily into the wet folds of her sex, pumping enthusiastically and reveling in the hazy, adrenaline-fueled pleasure quickly overtaking her mind.

Eberreth was making the most of it, as well. No sooner did she push past Heather’s lips than she began to pull back out, only to take another plunge with just as much force. Her balls, dense and heavy, pounded against Heather’s chest. The girl was given short, second-long windows to breathe when Eberreth’s shaft left her throat, but it wasn’t nearly enough to save her from the dizzying feeling gripping her brain like a vise. Her face was getting coated in a layer of clear spit and throat slop, while the tears welling up in her eyes made her eyeshadow run down her cheeks in thick, dark streaks. Her lipstick, inky black, painted a dark ring near the base of Eberreth’s dick, a steady gradient forming with each thrust.

Eberreth herself was enjoying this, as well. While her lower left hand kept Heather’s head steady, and the lower right was used for support, her upper pair of hands played with her heaving breasts, tracing her nipples delicately with her claws and flicking her thumbs against the black nipples, teasing out throaty moans alongside the wet noises of her own thrusts. But after a couple minutes, Eberreth decided that even the brief chances for breath were too much for Heather. On one inward plunge, she refused to pull back; instead, she pushed further, forcing Heather’s lips wider to accept even the black, leathery skin of her sheath. Heather’s throat bulged with an outline of the elastic ring, her eyes curling backward into her skull until only the whites remained visible. Her body shook, her throat squeezed, her lungs burned. Her vision was beginning to dim, and even as her hands started to feel distant she continued to pump, desperate for one final orgasmic high before she disappeared from the face of the earth…

As her conscious began to fade, her hearing beginning to muffle under the sound of her own blood pumping, the sultry voice of her summon caught her attention, and occupied the remaining portion of her brain not devoted to primal, instinctual response.

“I wish I could see the look on their face.”

Eberreth’s words were a cold, cruel purr, a domineering taunt during Heather’s final moments.

“When they find you here, dumped against the bed, full of corrupt, demonic jizz and surrounded by the tools of the occult.” Until now, there had been a certain playfulness in the demon’s voice, as if the demon were playing along in some game, that she hadn’t truly meant the teasing. But it was like someone had flicked a switch, and the true demon had come out. Dark, evil… and most of all, uncaring. Gone was the hesitance, the awkward chuckling. Eberreth was ready to kill Heather, whether the girl wanted it or not. Heather desperately focused her vision again and stared up into the yellow bulbs, finding them remorseless, her teeth bared in a predatory grin.

Her fingering wavered.

“You humans are so cute… when you suffer. The way you cry, and beg, and squirm, and grieve,” she crooned, leaning in over Heather’s head. “You’re such fascinating things in all forms, but I do adore the petty things you get upset about… The way you’ll despair about a person who cared only about themselves, who was selfish enough to give up only because of how they looked at themselves, and not how they were affecting others.” She chuckled, stroking a thumb through Heather’s hair. “It’s such a shame that I won’t be able to study those people when they come to find you.”

Heather’s eyes burned, already watered over, but she had to shut her eyes. She couldn’t look at Eberreth’s face any longer. Quite abruptly, Heather had everything jerked into perspective. Eberreth was no friendly creature who had some innate connection to her summoner. She wasn’t a person with some fancy anatomical features. Eberreth was a demon, a creature of evil and cruelty like the stories had warned her… She couldn’t care less about her. She was pinned here, underneath a beast formed of hatred and lust, and she was going to be killed. And for the first time since she had begun this whole plot, Heather’s mind turned away from the reasoning that had brought her here – of her own view of her pointless life, deathly afraid of inevitable mediocrity – and turned instead to the way other people viewed her. Her family, her friends, the people she had talked with and shared moments with, rushing from start to end in a moments-long replay of her life until this point and beyond, to the spread of the news, her own funeral, the people gathered there –

Eberreth was a monster, and this decision held far more weight than she knew. As the two revelations clashed together, like a flint and steel, a spark of emotion turned into a roaring fireball.

Heather was afraid of dying.

“What’s the matter, girlie?” Eberreth said, noticing that Heather had stopped masturbating. “You’re not passing out on me, are you? I didn’t see you cum!~” She gave a few small thrusts against Heather’s face, making more of a mess against her chin and cheeks. She was still conscious, but barely – Eberreth could tell. This girl had bigger lungs than that. Her eyes flicked down again at the sight of movement: A trembling, pale hand, rising up to press its palm against Eberreth’s firm, heated abs. The girl’s skin was cool, from all the blood being redirected to her brain and legs.

Heather gave a push. Weak as it was, it was all Eberreth had been waiting for.

Just as the pinprick holes of her vision closed, and her arm felt ready to collapse under its own weight, Heather felt a palm against her chin, and a firm tug in her throat. Entirely on its own, her body gasped, gulping down air in hyperventilating wheezes to make up for lost time. Heather’s vision flooded back, her chest shuddering and her heart pounding in her ears. She had an intense headache, and her limbs ached like she had been exercising for the past 10 hours. But she was breathing. She wasn’t sure if she was just dreaming, until a firm pressure came down on her chest and gave her a thump that shook her lungs back into a regular, deeper breathing pattern.

“There you go,” Eberreth said calmly, contentedly, smiling to herself as she waited for Heather to recuperate – and gently stroking her erection to ensure it didn’t lose its strength. “You gonna be alright?”

Heather kept swallowing air for another few minutes before she finally felt comfortable enough to talk again, gaze still fixated on the ceiling. “… W… Why did you stop?”

Eberreth shrugged. “You pushed on me, like you wanted me to get off. So I did. A summon must always obey its master.” In the period of calm, she had picked up a whetstone from her satchel, casually sharpening her knife-like tail. Heather, finally feeling the strength to sit up again, did so, and gave Eberreth a rather incredulous look.

“… You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Eberreth didn’t look at her, but she gave a telling smirk. “Do what? All I did was what you requested.”

Heather opened her mouth to argue the point, but she quickly realized it futile. A peaceful silence fell over the room while Heather thought about what to do next. Eberreth didn’t try to rush her, content to sharpen her tail and keep her cock stiff while Heather sorted out her feelings. The girl stared awkwardly down at her legs, fidgeting slightly until her mind came up with the proper words.

“Eberreth, um… Thanks for snapping me out of it.”

Eberreth rolled her shoulders in a casual shrug, smiling a bit wider. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not here to give advice, just to do as I’m told. But then, if I suppose that if I happened to do something incidentally which you’re thankful for… Then yes. You’re welcome.” She giggled, surprisingly cutely for such a powerful, musclebound creature. “Now then, Heather… Unless you have any additional tasks for me, I think it’s about time we discuss payment.”

“Uh – right,” Heather said, her face turning a bit red in embarrassment. “I almost forgot… You do need some compensation, don’t you. But – I kinda have a bad headache...”

“Don’t worry,” Eberreth said, reaching out and gently pressing on Heather’s shoulder to push her onto her back again. “I’ll give you a discount this once.” She slung her leg over Heather’s body, straddling the girl’s waist and causing her fat demonic cock to fall against her breasts. Heather gave a soft eep of surprise, but picked up quickly; She moved her hands to either side of her chest and pinned her breasts together around the throbbing, spiny tool, smiling shyly and giving a soft squeeze. Just feeling the heat, the raw power of the demon between her bosoms, started to get Heather aroused again. Maybe some other time, she’d need to set up another circle…

For now, she focused on the triangular head in front of her. Eberreth began to move, slowly but deliberately, sending slight ripples through the fatty flesh of Heather’s bust. Her upper hands pressed into the mattress above Heather’s head, the lower pair taking over for Heather’s hands in pressing her breasts together as Eberreth began to pick up speed. Her claws pressed in, threatening to pierce Heather’s delicate skin, but never quite doing so. Her tail, newly sharpened, curled around and placed itself against Heather’s neck, earning a tense, excited gasp, like when they had first started. Pressed down just enough to threaten, without truly endangering her. Eberreth smiled sultrily, then shut her glowing eyes and tightened her lips. “Hnf. Ahh, fuck…!”

With a few final thrusts, her hips ringing out fleshy smacks against Heather’s boobs, she pushed as far forward as she could. Her shaft twitched, lurched, swelled slightly, and released a thick splatter of pearly spunk across the center of Heather’s face, neck and hair – then another, and another, each paired with a small hump of her hips. A few ropes layered over her left eye before the flow finally slowed to a steady trickle. Nearly the full left half of her face was painted glossy white, heavy and warm… Heather shivered softly, her mind immediately filled with thoughts of having the beastly woman’s load pumped directly inside her.

Eberreth chuckled softly to herself as she saw Heather’s daydreaming expression, and climbed off her, careful that her horns didn’t poke holes in the girl’s ceiling. “Mm… This was fun, Heather-girl. And hey – if you ever want another little one-on-one sesh,” she said, walking over to the girl’s open demonology book; flipping the pages aside, she used a claw to trace a stylized E into the inside of the back cover, before closing the book completely. “You know where to find me.” She grabbed her loincloth and her satchel, quickly slipping them back on, and stepped back into the center of the circle for her desummoning.

“And one more thing,” she added, as the chalk lines on the floor began to glow with red-white light. “If I don’t get summoned within the year, I will find an excuse to come back up here and make sure you haven’t had any more stupid ideas, alright? Don’t make me have to knock some sense into you a second time.” As the floor between the lines began to glow, Eberreth blew a kiss toward the Goth on the bed, offering up a final “Ta!” before her body became engulfed in the same glow, and was absorbed into the circle on the floor. In a few seconds’ time, the light faded like a flame being extinguished, and the five flames on the candles were quick to follow, plunging Heather into a nearly pure darkness beyond the moonlight creeping in around her window’s shade.

Still sprawled out and exhausted, and under a thick layer of demonic cum, Heather cracked a small smile and sighed happily. She’d be back in a year, no matter what…

She pushed herself into a sitting position and made her way to the door, intent on getting a towel and washing off her face so she could get some sleep. After all, if she wanted have an impression to leave by this time next year, she’d have to start getting up early.

[trinket-tales]

Out With A Bang

(A/N: This one is a short one, made on the spot by a prompt from @ultimasheir, based on this image they commissioned from 8owties. And it’s second person, too, which I don’t do often. No actual smut in this, just some sexy bodies and a specific fetish. Enjoy!) (Length: 700 words)

Charred lighter

A small, stainless steel lighter of roughly rectangular shape, measuring 4cm wide, 6cm tall and 1.5cm deep. The top surface is slightly curved. As with most lighters, the top half is on a hinge, and opens up to reveal a rectangular metal wind guard and a flint wheel used to light the wick inside.

Though most identifying marks have been burned away, there is a crude, hand-made etching on the bottom, reading “пылающая слава”. This trinket was discovered near the site of a large explosion which collapsed a hotel, in a suspected case of political assassination.

You met her in a bar.

It was quiet, calm. People were making idle small talk, the occasional guy walking up to a girl to hit on her. Some succeeded, some not. From your spot at the end of the counter, you could see it all, relatively undisturbed. A few had even tried to approach you – to tempt you away with varying levels of sweet talk and cheap pick-up lines. But you turned them away, politely. You weren't really here for that kind of thing.

But her… She seemed to appear out of nowhere. She sat down beside you like she was meant to be there, her heels perched perfectly on the rung of the stool and her ponytail cascading down her back. She was dressed in a black leather vest and a pair of form-fitting jeans, hugging every curve of her toned calves, her thick thighs, her round, bountiful butt spilling against the edges of the stool. If she saw your ogling, she didn't care; with a flick of her fingers, she called for the bartender's attention, and ordered a vodka tonic. Her voice had the faintest hints of a Russian accent, and a cool calm that sent shivers up your spine.

It wasn't until she received her drink and took a sip that she spoke in your direction. A simple "hey", but it was still enough to flush your cheeks with red.

"You waiting on someone?"

A bit stunned, you meekly shook your head.

"Stood up?"

Once more, you denied it.

"You got a place to stay the night?"

She lead you up to her hotel room – just down the street. She told you that she was here on business – that tonight would be her last night in town. As you settled in on the plush mattress, she called to you from the other room – to wait a moment while she got ready.

As you waited, heart racing, a paper on the nightstand caught your eye – some sort of document, looking exceptionally important. Written all in Russian, but while the words escaped you, there was a photo clipped to the top: An image of some political figure you'd seen on the news as having been in town for a few days. But the sound of a zipper in the other room, and the thump of leather against carpet, distracted you.

The stretching creak of rubber gloves.

The click-click-fwush of a pocket cigarette lighter.

The door creaked open again. She had stripped to nothing but a black rubber corset with a plunging neck, and a thong of similar make, her thigh-high boots still donned and black gloves stretched up to her elbows. The jiggling round flesh of her cheeks were bared in full view, the pushed-up expanse of her cleavage… But as she strutted forward, something seemed off. She didn't have a cigarette, but if that's not what she lit…

A tingle ran up your spine as she neared the edge of the bed, and a new sound met your ears: The low, hissing ffsssssss of a burning fuse. She didn't bother to hide it, cocking her hip to the side as you tried to look around her, and found that placed just above the fat round mounds of her ass was a white rope, placed right at her tailbone. Your face burned hotter, moving to get up – but before you could do any such thing, she swung her leg on top of yours and climbed onto the bed with you, firmly pressing her hips down on yours.

"Hush, sweetie," she said, placing her gloved hands on your shoulders as a cruel smirk crossed her lips. Out of the corner of your eye, the sparkling flare of the fuse climbed up the corner of the bed, following its path ever closer. "I can't let you go now… Now that you know. Don't fight it. Relax… And let's, as they say, 'go out with a bang'."

You should've been afraid, but as she leaned in to brush her lips against yours… There was no reason to resist. In less than a minute, there would be no worries – just be you, her, and a bright, glorious fireball.

FffffsssssssssSSSSS-

[trinket-tales]

Game Girl, pt I

(A/N: First foray into actual writing in a fairly long while now, and it’s kink stuff. Hah, hah. This story, the first in a multi-part series, is something of a gift for @sutibaru, who generously allowed me to write a story about their characters Subi and Lien when the inspiration to begin writing struck me. And, if you are at all familiar with Sutibaru’s work, you will probably know what this story contains: Transformation. Specifically, in this case, Lien getting a few unwanted expansions, at the unwitting hands of Subi. It’s a little meandering, but the next story should have a little larger proportion of “meat” to it. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!) (Length: ~12,000 words)

Old gaming device

This electronic device consists of a broad, loosely rectangular body with a 256x256 pixel, 3-inch screen in the center, made of blue-violet plastic. To the left side of the screen is a plus-shaped directional pad made out of gray plastic, and to the right side are four buttons in a diamond shape, two red and two gray. The four buttons bear indented labels of the four suits; clockwise from the top, the buttons bear the Club, Diamond, Spade, and Heart. On the top right and top left corners of the device are two more gray buttons, marked as ‘RS’ and ‘LS’ respectively; their design is to allow the user to lay his or her index finger across them. The device once bore identifying stickers on the device, but someone or something has since scraped them away. The bottom edge has two sockets, one for its charging cable and the other for an unknown peripheral, while on the top edge, near the LS button, is a black ridged power switch.

On the back is a slot for a cartridge, currently containing a light gray plastic cart that protrudes slightly over the lip of the device, with a shallow divot near the top to allow users to pull it more easily. The label is heavily faded and torn; the remaining visible portion depicts a girl in Chinese monk robes, accompanied by an anthropomorphized pig and rabbit. In the top left of the label, part of a logo is legible:

CURS of the MO KING

Fwooooo!

A thick cloud of dust rose into the air, bounced off the wall, and spilled back into the face of the girl who had given it rise in the first place. Subi coughed reflexively, raising a clenched fist to her rosy pink lips, using the other to wave away the gray-brown smog. She stumbled back, leaning against one of the shelving units for support. Her extended coughing fit attracted the attention of a voice in the other room — “You alright in there?”

“Yeah —” Subi quickly replied, giving a couple more coughs and a quick thump to her collar to clear the last flecks out of her pipes. “I’m fine.” She gave a couple more rumbling coughs as another tickle welled up, then took a deep breath and held it before walking back over to the stack of containers.

Subi was a distinctive girl to be sure — a veritable bundle of energetic, bouncy fun with an almost cartoonishly sunny disposition, packed into a peculiar set of fashion choices that ensured she always stood out in a crowd. Voluminous hot pink hair contrasted her sky-blue eyes, scandalously high-cut green denim shorts showed off her white stockings and peachy thighs, and a striped green sweater meant the peculiar lass always evoked the image of a watermelon - to say nothing of the appearance it gave her improbably large bosom. She was a waitress at the Red Panda restaurant, a little slice of Chinese culture in the comfortable walking distance of downtown, located on a less-than-high-traffic road corner after a poorly-understood incident involving Subi and a watermelon lead to the demolition of the previous location.

“So where do you want these?” The girl asked, hefting the boxes out into the now-closed restaurant’s main floor and setting them down on the nearest table. Once she stopped moving, the restaurant’s mascot – a red panda with a red apple-icon bandana around its neck — came up to her and squeezed its way between her calves, which Subi happily reciprocated by squatting down and scratching between its ears.

To say that Subi and her boss were different would be an understatement. Subi worked for an Asian woman named Lien, who shared neither Subi’s unusual appearance nor her joie de vivre. Lien was petite in both stature and figure; her eyeline was just high enough to match with the turtleneck of Subi’s sweater, allowing for the blatant comparison inches lower to be more easily ignored. Where Subi’s hair was short, fluffy, and pastel, Lien’s was dark blue, straight, and reached to her thighs, adorned by a red hairband and a pair of horn-like cowlicks just behind it. Her eyes, a darker blue than her locks, contrasted starkly with Subi’s sky-like hue. Rarely was she seen out of uniform: A red qipao-like dress with gold trim, cut down the center rather than the sides to expose her navel, and a pair of knee-length blue pants and a pair of blue flats, both of which matched her hair. In place of Subi’s enthusiasm, Lien possessed a dry cynicism, a penchant for sternness and a temper nearly as short as she was - all curbed just enough to avoid being outright abrasive, especially to the silver-lining Subi.

But despite their considerable differences, Subi had been working for the Red Panda for years. She was just as much a familiar face to the restaurant’s patrons as Lien herself — and though one might have been hard-pressed to get her to admit it, deep down Lien would’ve considered Subi a friend. Most of the time.

At Subi’s call, Lien, busy sweeping, took one look at the labels on the boxes and spoke up in disinterest. “Just throw them away,” she said, unceremoniously, to the dismay of a now pouting Subi.

“Throw them away?” She asked, standing up again and letting the panda wander off to curl up somewhere. “There are cherished memories in those boxes! Weeks of our life, bundled up into these decorations.”

Lien threw Subi a slightly exasperated look but shrugged and returned to her sweeping. “If you want to unpack all those baubles, sort them out and hang them on the walls yourself, we’ll go ahead and keep them.”

Subi hesitated, opened her mouth to retort; but after a second, she closed up again, shrugged as if to say 'you have a point,’ and carried the boxes out to the dumpster out back.

While Lien continued to sweep, polish the tables and organize the silverware, Subi continued her spring cleaning task in dutiful relative silence, sorting the disorganized clutter into neat and tidy rows on the metal shelves in the back. Spare glassware, utensils, recipe notes and the like. Soon finding herself with more boxes than she had space in arms’ reach, Subi grabbed a nearby stepladder and began placing items on the top shelf.

As she slid a set of boxes back, however, they thumped against something a little too far forward to be the wall. Pouting curiously, the sweater-bound Subi slid the boxes to the side and raised a hand over her eyes to peer into the shadows. Indeed, there was something there, just barely visible in the light from the dim storeroom bulb. Frowning slightly and looking around to note that there was nothing else on the topmost shelf of any other unit, presumably due to how difficult it would be for Lien to reach, she stood up on her toes, stuck her arm out and tried to get a hand on its surface.

With some stretching, Subi managed to get her fingers on the top of the object — some manner of cardboard box, thoroughly covered in tape. It took a few attempts at a pull before it slid forward far enough to grab properly, and she dropped back to her heels with a soft “umph” as she lowered it down in both hands. It wasn’t particularly heavy, about a foot on each side, and inked solid black; tape crisscrossed its surface, covering the seams on the box several times over to ensure that any casual attempt to open it would face considerable difficulty. Underneath all the tape was a single label, stuck across the two flaps of the box in one final act of defiance: DO NOT OPEN

“Hey Lien, what’s this thing?” Subi asked, walking back onto the main floor of the restaurant with the parcel held in her hands, showing absolutely none of the care that its solid-black, taped-up, warning-marked appearance would recommend. Lien, only half paying attention as she scrubbed out the bottom of a cast-iron pot, threw a quick glance toward Subi in her peripheral before returning to her task — only to double take with wide eyes as the presence of the obsidian-colored object in Subi’s hands registered itself in her brain. Hastily, she set down the pot and the brush, ran toward Subi, and roughly snatched the box from across the counter.

“You —! Where did you find this?!” she snapped, holding the box off to her side as if playing keep-away from Subi, who now took a step back away from the bar in surprise at Lien’s outburst.

“I don’t know — it was just in there! Up on the top shelf, way in the back — why, what is it?”

“None of your business,” Lien said quickly, moving the box down in front of her chest to inspect the tape; seeing that none of it had been cut or even picked at, she heaved a sigh and lowered her bristles. “Listen — wherever you found this, put it back. Don’t open it. Don’t play with it. Just put it back on the shelf, way in the back, and leave it alone, alright?”

“Well — alright, but —” Subi replied, a confused pout and furrowed brow decorating her expression as she, with far more care than before, picked up the box again from Lien. “… Is it something dangerous?”

“No.”

“Personal?”

“No.”

“We can’t just throw it —”

“Subi,” Lien said, her voice growing stern again. “It’s not dangerous, and it’s not private. I just need to know that it’s still here, in the restaurant, in the box, without anybody touching it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Subi said, audibly disappointed; with some reluctance, she began to walk back to the storage room. “… Is it, like, some kind of soul contai-”

“Subi!”

“I’m putting it away!”

Watching Subi disappear back into the storeroom, Lien heaved a sigh and dug into her pocket to produce a pack of cigarettes. Typically she tried not to smoke inside the restaurant, but her nerves were still tense, and she didn’t want to go off on Subi again if she didn’t have to. Leaning against the wall, Lien stuck a cigarette between her lips, tucked the pack back into her pocket, and grabbed a small lighter from the same pocket to light it up. As she put that away, Lien took a long, slow drag off the tobacco and exhaled through her pale lips. She was getting worked up over nothing, she told herself. Subi wouldn’t ignore her on this… Sighing and keeping the cig between her lips, she pushed off the wall, went back to the sink, and returned to her scrubbing - kneeling down, before she got her hands wet, to pet the red panda as it walked between her calves.

A week had passed since the discovery of the strange box, and both Subi and Lien had more or less put the event out of their minds. Subi smiled and waved as the last of the Saturday customers trickled out of the restaurant, watching to make sure that everyone got to their vehicles safely while she locked up the front entrance. Hearing the click, Lien spoke up from across the restaurant as she polished off the surface of one of the tables.

“Hey, Subi — you’re getting this upcoming week off.” She flicked her eyes up to see Subi’s puzzled expression and sighed softly. “Some old friends of mine are having a get-together in Corona City, and they invited me to come. It’s been a while since I met with them so I figured I may as well agree, so I’ll be there for five or six days.”

“Wow, that’s great! I didn’t realize you had other friends!” Subi said brightly, leaning over a nearby table, resting her elbows on the surface and her cheeks on the heels of her balled-up hands.

“Yes, I…” Lien trailed off and threw Subi a small scowl; Subi reciprocated with an impish smile and a stuck out tongue. “… Hmph. Look, just — since I obviously can’t cook from Corona City and I definitely can’t leave you a bunch of pre-cooked food to serve to customers, I’m just going to give you a paid week of vacation.”

“Awh, you do care about me!”

“You have to take care of Red while I’m gone,” Lien said, scooping up the housecat-sized critter and holding it out toward Subi.

“Consider it done!” Subi said, seeming none too bothered by the string attached to her pay; she adored the little raccoon-bear, after all, and eagerly scooped it up from Lien’s arms to hug it close to the pillowy surface of her chest, earning a squeaking chirp from the pet. “Do you want help packing or anything? Ooh — we should get you a dress! Something black and glittery —”

“Subi, let’s not make a big deal out of this,” Lien interrupted, letting a faint blush of embarrassment show on her face. “It’s just a week with a few friends. I don’t need to dress up for it.”

“But… Corona City is huuuge!” Subi hoisted Red’s front legs onto her shoulder and waved her arm outward illustratively. “There are tons of cute guys there! What if you meet someone? At least wear some makeup!”

“I’m not going to get involved with some stranger, I’m just going there for a week. And if you think I’m going to get all dolled up in face paint, then you haven’t known me for long enough.” Lien pointed her rag in Subi’s direction with an exasperated glower on her face, then grabbed the bottle of cleaning fluid and gave a quick spray to resume work on a particularly difficult spot. Subi pouted slightly but chose not to press the issue, setting Red back down and starting to pack up the tablecloths to wash as well. The two spent the rest of the hour scrubbing and sweeping, but as the clock’s minute hand rolled back over to 12, and Subi found herself lacking for further tasks, she looked to her boss, who was taking inventory of the drinks in the bar, and spoke up.

“Hey Lien —” she said, reaching down to scoop the red panda up again. “I’m gonna head out now, alright? See you in a week!” She smiled warmly, hoping to crack the same out of Lien’s otherwise sulking visage. Lien glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, but was too focused on her work to reciprocate. “Right. See you next Monday. Take care.”

Subi pouted softly, but turned and stepped out onto the sidewalk and into the cool dusk air without letting it get to her. “Lien’s such a sourpuss,” she said, moving Red’s front legs onto her chest so she could scratch behind his ears. All too happy with the affection, he shut his eyes and nuzzled down against her turtleneck. “Don’t worry, Red. You and I will have tons of fun back at my place!”

Lien, meanwhile, spent the next twenty minutes or so cleaning and tidying before she finally noticed the time she was running and sighed. Choosing not to overwork herself before her big trip, she set down her current project, grabbed the keyring off her hip, locked the doors and climbed up the staircase to her flat on the second floor. It was a small place — quaint, some might say — but for Lien, it sufficed. A little living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, a balcony for her to smoke on. She didn’t need much else. She pushed her door closed and leaned against it as she released a stored breath through pursed lips, a smoking habit that carried over even when she didn’t have a cigarette in her hands. Like clockwork, she reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out her pack of cigarettes, tucking it into her lips as she walked toward the sliding balcony doors, pushing one open as she put the box in her pocket and replaced it with her lighter. A couple flicks brought the small flame to the tip of the cig, and she set it back into her pocket, leaning on the railing and staring at the opposite brick wall as the tobacco smoke began to rise into the night air.

Subi woke up the next morning with a smile on her face, and she sprung out of bed so quickly that she didn’t even realize that the red panda was sitting on her bed until it chirped in confusion at the sudden darkness. “Whoops!” Subi doubled back, pulling the thrown-over blanket off of Red, who shook his fur out and looked at Subi with a slightly unhappy expression; Subi just giggled and reached out to scratch his ears, coaxing him to lay down and shut his eyes like it hadn’t happened in the first place. She smiled warmly, leaving him to rest as she went to brush her teeth and shower up; by the time she finished, the panda was more awake, already out in the kitchen to eat from the bowl of bamboo shoots Subi had prepared the night before.

Subi threw open her closet, reached in and grabbed one of the many green turtleneck sweaters, and one of several green daisy dukes; then, into her drawers, grabbing a bra and underwear set which both were patterned to resemble the interior of a watermelon. She changed quickly, with a routine, practiced ease, and finally removed her towel from her head. A few shakes and a quick comb and her hair had taken on the distinctive, fluffy profile she was known for.

“Look out, world!” She said, throwing her arms out in a flourish as she stepped out onto the floor of her living room. “Subi has the day off, and she’s ready for you!”

The pink-haired girl proudly placed her hands on her hips and thrust them forward, grinning to her invisible audience. But after several seconds, she took a deep breath and looked around the quiet interior of her house.

“Now… What am I going to do today?”

Lien woke up around an hour after Subi, and with far less enthusiasm than her employee. She hit snooze on her early-set alarm once, then twice, then a third time before finally shutting it off, staring blearily up at the ceiling for a few minutes before coaxing herself to roll out of bed. Her hair was a mess, and she was wearing a painfully plain white nightgown. She slunk out into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, threw a couple of pieces of toast into the toaster, and opted to brush her teeth while she waited for it all to complete. At the sound of the mechanical spring unlatching, she did a quick brush over her tongue, spat out the frothy mixture coating the interior of her mouth, and did a quick water-rinse to clean out that last clouds from the back of her maw.

Luckily, the coffee would suffice to ready Lien for the day. She went back to her bedroom to grab her phone off her nightstand before returning to the kitchen for breakfast. While she buttered her bread, she opened up her phone’s web browser to check the bus schedule for the day. She was in luck — there was a bus leaving in the direction of Corona City at 1 in the afternoon, just late enough that she could grab lunch and still make it to the station on time. The whole trip would take around 3 hours, accounting for the wait time in a midway station. She sipped her coffee and sighed, leaning back and letting the caffeine bring her body up to speed.

Lien occupied herself for the remainder of the morning by packing and preparing, carefully folding and gathering six each of both shirts and pants into a red duffel bag, along with a spare pair of shoes, some bras and underwear, an umbrella, a couple of pajamas, and a few toiletries. She looked at her supplies and rubbed her chin, a contemplative pout pushing out her lips, and made her way back out to the living room to grab a few additional items. On top of the clothes, she piled a couple of books, including a hefty cookbook packed with potential menu items; a towel and a swimsuit, just in case she was dragged to a pool party or something of the sort; and, of course, before she forgot it, her phone charger, from her wall beside the bed.

Satisfied with the contents of her luggage, Lien slipped into the shower for a few minutes. As she toweled out her hair, her eyes fell upon a case of blush and a small tube of lipstick by the side of the sink. She tugged back the corner of her mouth into an awkward frown, reminiscing on the last time she used them — some evening event in the town that Subi had convinced her to go to, which Lien spent the whole time feeling out of place at. And yet, she thought back to what Subi had said. Corona City was big, and expensive, and her friends would doubtlessly be used to a little more… formality than the people in this sleepy little town.

So, after a bit of time spent internally debating herself, Lien sighed, swallowed her pride, and picked up the blush, and the brush sitting on top of it. She didn’t want to go overboard; the last thing she needed was to step onto a bus looking like some made-up sex-seeking slut. The mental image flashed across her mind, of herself, in the mirror, her lips pumped up and painted some unnatural shade of ruby, her cheeks an artificial pink and her lashes dark and overfull; just at the edge of the frame, a far-too-large bosom stretching out the collar of her qipao…

Lien shuddered in audible disgust and shook her head to clear her mind, flipping open the case and applying some foundation before dabbing the brush into the rosy substance. A little bit of pink on her cheeks was all she needed. The blush wasn’t even that far off from her natural complexion, which suited Lien — she didn’t need to look pretty, she just needed to look… Better. She sighed softly and set the brush down as she finished, looking at herself in the mirror and wiggling her jaw a bit to make sure it seemed alright. Internally, she admitted it — the touch of pink gave her pale, indoorsy complexion a certain je ne sais quoi she didn’t usually have. But she tried not to linger on it, grabbing the peachy lipstick from the sink top and applying a quick, smooth coat, flexing her lips a little to see if she’d missed anything.

“Not bad…” She caught herself saying softly into the mirror, frowning and standing upright again. She quickly capped the lipstick, flipped shut the blush and plugged the bottle of foundation — but nonetheless, she gathered up the tools and materials and carried them into her bedroom with her, to stuff them into a pocket of her travel bag before she got dressed in her usual outfit — the same clothing repeated six times over in her bag.

Sighing softly, Lien looked at her luggage and gave it one more once-over to ensure she hadn’t missed anything. Thumbing through the neatly folded, nicely arranged contents and finding nothing she could think was missing, Lien picked up one of the novels off the top and sat on the edge of her bed as she opened the cover. It was an old one, one she’d read before, but a good waste of time. She did have a few hours to kill before noon… Frowning as she began on the first paragraph, a thought flickered across her mind:

I bet Subi is having more fun than this.

“Unnnngghhhh.”

Subi rolled onto her side and gave a dejected groan, letting an arm dangle off the side of the couch. She looked at the time displayed on the local news channel - 12:32. She had lost the whole morning with absolutely no idea what to make of the day. And she had a whole week left of this oppressive nothingness. She didn’t need to go shopping - she had just bought groceries the day before. She had plenty of clothes and shoes, and besides, nothing looked as good as her sweater. Everyone she knew was hard at work at a job. She had tried to do some reading, but she didn’t even last an hour - books were best suited for killing time for something else.

Like on the bus ride Lien was going on. To a big, cool city miles away…

“Huuuuhhhnnnnff.”

As if sensing her mood, the red panda hopped off Subi’s armchair and wandered over to trot under Subi’s listless hand, giving itself a long stroke down the back. Subi tracked the little critter with her eyes, giving a soft 'humph’ as it hopped up onto the sofa and waddled up to curl up beside the warm pillows of her breasts. “Oh, red panda,” she lamented. “If only I lived such a carefree life as you. Sleep all day… Get pet and fed bamboo shoots whenever you want… I bet you never get bored. There’s always a bug to pounce or something.”

Reaching her arm down to stroke the panda’s fur, Subi continued to monologue to nobody in particular. “Heck, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been with Lien. You have it good; you’re always fed, you get to walk around anywhere, sleep anywhere… Lien treats you right. You’ve got the run of the restaurant.” Subi fell quiet for a second. A faint flicker crossed the back of her mind, and she furrowed her brow. “The restaurant… Lien…”

As if sensing something bad approaching, the red panda cocked his head up and looked at Subi with his teddy-bear eyes, then nuzzled into her stomach to try and drag her away from her current line of thinking.

“… The restaurant… That’s it!” Subi sat up so quickly that the panda, still nuzzling, flopped gracelessly over onto his side. “Red,” she said, scooping him up by his shoulders, “I know what we’re gonna do today! Thank you sooo much!” She brought him closer to kiss his forehead, then set him back down on the cushion and jumped to her feet, her vigor immediately recharged. The panda blinked a couple times, then hopped down and gave a squeak, hurrying toward the living room archway to try and stand in Subi’s path. His efforts went unnoticed; she simply walked past him.

“I’m glad you asked —” she said, clapping her hands together with an impish look on her face. Sliding open a drawer by her sink, she grabbed a small keyring adorned by a single gold-colored key. “We’re going to go see what’s in the box! Just a peek can’t hurt, right?”

Fears confirmed, the panda trotted ahead of Subi to try and block her from the front door. Similarly in vain. Subi giggled and unlocked the latch. “Getting ahead of me, are you? Just don’t run off, now!” Entirely misreading the animal’s efforts, she turned the handle and pulled the door inward, gently sliding him out of the way in the process. “Come on — keep up!”

Luckily for Lien, the time passed quickly. Unluckily for Lien, it passed more quickly than she might have expected. Though she had thought she was keeping a close eye on the time, it seemed like the next time she glanced at the clock, hours had passed. And now, the analog display of her bedside timepiece read close to 12:52.

“Shit!” Jumping to her feet, Lien clapped the book shut, tossing it back into her duffel bag and hastily zipping up the flap. She slung it over her shoulder and darted outside, pausing only to lock the doors before sprinting down the street, hardly paying attention to anything except what was directly in front of her.

Lien’s haste was serendipitous — for Subi, at least. Seeing Lien come out of the restaurant gave her just enough time to duck down and press herself against a mailbox before Lien could see her in return. Sighting an opportunity, the red panda gave out a chittering chirp and tried to walk out around the box, but Subi scooped him up before he could get far. “Red! Come on! You’re gonna get me in trouble!” She said, holding him out and reciprocating his frustrated expression. Hugging him close, Subi glanced around the corner to see where Lien had gone; spotting her distinctive qipao receding into the distance, the melon-sweatered girl gave a pleased smile and set the panda back down again. “Come on — we won’t be in for too long.”

Jogging to the Red Panda’s front door, Subi pulled the key from her pocket and undid the lock that Lien had just been so careful to turn. Internally, Subi was glad that Lien was so old-fashioned, or perhaps just that this was such a quiet town — “No alarm system,” she said to Red, swinging the door open into the restaurant. Closing it behind her once she was sure that Red was inside, Subi made a beeline for the back room and nudged the door open.

“Never really been in here with all the lights off…” she said to herself. Sure, she had opened up the restaurant plenty of times, but she usually turned the lights on right as soon as she got in. She had a solution, anyway. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, tapping the screen a few times to activate the built-in flashlight. Now with the benefit of a portable spotlight, Subi grabbed the stepladder from a nearby wall and dragged it to where she remembered placing the black box. A few cardboard containers shifted aside, and…

“There!” Just like she had found it the first time, Subi stretched her arm out until she could pull it forward, an inch at a time, and then get a good enough grip to pull it the rest of the way. She peered over it as she stepped down off the ladder; no symbols or markings, besides that one label on the top. It’d be impossible to hide if she cut through that, though. But luckily, as she gently rolled the box over, she saw there was no such sticker on the bottom - she could cut through it there, and tape it back up and Lien would never know the difference. She carried it out to the counter and set it down, starting to talk to the panda again as she searched the drawers for scissors.

“So, what do you think it is? Secret recipes? Deed to the restaurant? Pictures of an old boyfriend? A will that leaves everything to you?” Smiling ear to ear as she found the scissors, and the packing tape as well, Subi picked them up and walked back over to the box, a tingle of naughty excitement running up her spine. “Only one way to find out now, I guess…”

She set the tape down and slid her fingers into the holes of the scissors, carefully slotted them under the flap of the box, and cut the tape connecting the edges; then, with that done, she unfolded the blades and carefully sawed through the strip running down the center. Her eyes were wide, her smile wider, and as the last few millimeters of tape were sliced away the flaps of the box popped open, as if tempting her in deeper. She closed up the scissors again and set them aside, grabbing a flap and letting a shivering sigh escape her lips. “Lien would kill me if she found out… But! She’s not gonna find out!” She threw the panda a smile, not seeming concerned at how far he was standing from her. “It’s just you and me now… I feel like a modern-day Pandora! Well, except without all the magic.” She giggled to herself, musing in her mind how much of a crazy person she must sound like as she opened the flaps, giving view to a box full of packing peanuts. It was tantalizingly close, she just had to dig a little…

“… Wooooaaaah…” Subi’s eyes glittered in the reflected light of her phone as she wrapped her fingers around the hard plastic object inside. It seemed innocuous at a glance — a blue-violet, rectangular device, with a screen and a few buttons, a plastic black charger cable wrapped around it. “It’s, like, whatever Lien used to play when she was a little kid!” She turned it over in her hands, marveling in its retro charm. “I wonder why she was so protective of it? I’ve never seen one like this before… Maybe she got it from a foreign relative or something. Look — it’s even got a game in it!”

With surprising effort, Subi managed to push the cartridge out with her thumbs, letting her look at the label in full. Her excitement dampened a little at its illegibility, from the scraped-away sticker; But, shrugging it off, she slid it back in until it gave a satisfying click. “Hey, I wonder —” she said, taking the uncoiled power cord and plugging it into the nearest outlet; Like a soldier taking cover from a grenade, the red panda darted to the far wall, hiding behind one of the table’s legs. “I bet this thing still works… Ah, where do I plug in this end… Here we go!” It took some fiddling, but the plug went in, and a small yellow light illuminated on the screen. She didn’t even need to flick the switch — it was already in the on position. The screen glowed bright white, sucking the fascinated Subi in as the intro cinematic began.

500 YEARS AGO THERE WAS A MONKEY NAMED SUN WUKONG

The black background faded into the silhouette of a large mountain, before developing color into a full landscape — rendered in retro pixel graphics.

A MIGHTY WARRIOR AND SHAPESHIFTER, SUN WUKONG WIELDED THE MAGIC STAFF, RUYI JINGU BANG AND DEFEATED FOUR POWERFUL DRAGONS

Slowly, the background began to pan downward, revealing a large pile of rubble, with a paper talisman resting on the surface.

BUT SUN WUKONG GREW PRIDEFUL AND ANGERED THEGODS. HE WAS SEALED UNDER A MOUNTAIN, UNABLE TO ESCAPE...

As the 32-bit music reached a crescendo, it suddenly cut out, and a gust of bit-crushed wind blew across the screen, tearing the paper tag away from the rubble.

... UNTIL TODAY.

A golden glow shone from the cracks in the rock, then faded out as a white flash crossed the screen. A pale silhouette was left in its place, fading into color and showing the game’s title screen as triumphant music swelled:

CURSE of the MONKEY KING > NEW GAME CONTINUE OPTIONS

“Eeee!” Subi gave a delighted squeal as she looked it over. It was perfect. She could probably spend the whole week on this, or at least various small parts of it. She had no idea why Lien had tried to keep this from her; curious to see if Lien had left an old save file on the cartridge, she hit 'continue’ only to be greeted by the somewhat disappointing error message: NO SAVE FILES FOUND. Subi gave an audible pout, but shook it off quickly as she hit 'OK’ and instead moved the cursor to 'NEW GAME’. She leaned against the wall, finding herself rather rapidly engrossed, but she did glance over to see the red panda still cowering. “Hey — come on, don’t freak out!” She said, coaxing him to peek out from behind the table leg. “It’s just a video game. Lien already said it’s not dangerous. Look — let’s get this box taped back up and back on the shelf, then we’ll get home and play it for a bit!”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

By the time Lien arrived at the bus depot, she was out of breath. But she made it. Through panting, exhausted breaths, she managed to speak to the attendant and order a ticket for a full trip to Corona City. With a hasty thanks, she hefted her luggage up into a more comfortable position on her shoulder and half-jogged to the bus, catching the tail end of the line. Once the driver had confirmed her ticket, she heaved a sigh of relief and walked to an empty seat near the back-middle of the bus. With nobody sitting next to her, she ignored the luggage rack and instead set her bag down in the seat beside her instead, pulling open the zipper and grabbing her book from the pouch as the bus began to move. It would be a nice, relaxing trip.

She gazed lazily out the window as the familiar stores and buildings passed her by, her own restaurant included. But as the bus came up to the overpass and turned onto the ramp, Lien rolled her head back along her shoulders and flipped open her book to read. For the next ten minutes or so, she was almost entirely engrossed in her reading, until an odd glint of color caught her eye. Resting against her cheek, where her curled forelock would sit squarely in her peripheral most days, was an unfamiliar red-orange color. She locked up, her face frozen into a grimace as she tried to process the implications. When her brain finally caught up, she reached a hand back and swept a bundle of once-dark hair forward, only to see that it had all turned to the color of a setting sun.

“E-eh?!” She finally spluttered out, before she remembered she was on a bus. Trying not to attract attention to herself, she dug into her duffel bag and pulled out the flip-case of blush, opening it up to view her visage. It was unmistakable — her face was framed entirely in fiery color, but that wasn’t the end of it. In front of her eyes, a new change began. The roots of her hair, most visible at the part above her left eye, began to pale, turn to a bright golden blonde. With a soft rustling sound only audible to Lien’s nearby ears, the wavy white line began to travel down the length of her tresses, carrying behind it a blonde that looked too perfect to be natural. Lien was stunned silent, desperate to convince herself it was a trick of the light, but it was far too real to convince herself otherwise.

Gritting her teeth in a finally surfacing aggravation, Lien tried to will her frozen body to speak. “Ss… Sss-hrk!” A sudden pressure at her chest cut her off, Already all too aware of what was about to happen, the petite woman gave another frustrated growl of a groan, watching as her scarlet qipao began to swell outward accompanid by a muffled noise like liquid being pushed through a pump. Her hand reached down to the seat for support, digging her nails into the tough cloth as her seams strained, her modest breasts growing into C’s, then D’s, then further. The sound of a snapping thread garnered her attention, and she flicked her eyes to the side to see her right sleeve beginning to tear off from the main body of the garment. The pressure on her chest was unbearable. Every second broke another thread, soon starting on her left as well.

A pink gradient flooded her garment from the bottom up, the hem of her skirt beginning to shorten. Her breasts continued to grow rounder, as the sensations in her chest became more numb — it was clear that whatever was being added now was no longer regular fat. A few final snaps caused her sleeves to slide off her shoulders and dangle around her wrist and elbow, but the golden trim soon expanded and turned them into golden bangles. Her skirt-hem continued upward, the dress feeling looser and floatier, its golden trims vanishing as it converted into a hot-pink crop-top, exposing an inch or more of her underboob — which had been inflated to the size of watermelons, rivaling Subi’s own — and almost none of it felt real.

Lien could see a vein forming in her temple, her tongue still hissing through her grit teeth as she tried to form the rest of the word. Her skin, too, was changing color, from its pale complexion to a more tannish hue. Even her eyes altered from their usual navy color to a bright yellow that matched her hair. Finally, Lien managed to choke out a seething whisper of the name that had been tormenting her for a few minutes now:

“Subi!!”

Subi had settled back in her home, the device’s cable plugged into the wall beside her sofa so she could lay down and play it. She had watched through the intro sequence, and now had been tasked with something simple, something that tended to take any gamer far too much time:

Creating the main character.

Subi had settled on a pretty blonde color for her hair and eyes, a skin color not unlike her own, and had toyed a bit with one of the body sliders — the bust. She was entirely fascinated by this piece of electronic magic. Despite looking like it came out of the early 2000s, it was showing a fully-3D character model she could alter as she pleased — even if it was low resolution. For kicks, she had decided to max out the female monk’s chest, partly because it just reminded her of herself. But more than anything, she was just enthralled by the options available to her. How did they manage to fit so much on such a tiny system?

“Ooh… We can change hip size, height, weight… We can even change her outfit a little!” Subi was so engrossed by the game that she failed to notice the red panda’s judgemental stare, standing right beside her on the floor. He chirped, trying to grab her attention, but his efforts earned him nothing but a few scritches behind the ears. “Aw, Red, I know you’ve got plenty of food and water, I just refilled it when we got home. Ooh! We can even change her lip color!”

Subi giggled and began to flip through the various options, tweaking and adjusting until she found just what she liked. Bright red lips, a tall and heroic main character, hair tied back into a long ponytail. She flipped through the clothes until she found a nice set of robes, tied off to show the character’s waist, and a side-parted long dress. She looked cute, Subi thought. A few more fiddles, a touch-up on the girl’s hip size, and she had a character she felt she could spend the whole week with!

Having spat out her employee’s name like a vile curse, Lien quickly moved onto her next course of action: Stopping Subi. She set her book aside and tested for her phone in her back pocket; when she didn’t find it in either, she started to check the pockets of her bag. And then, the main pouch of her bag. She was caught off guard when she opened it up; all of the qipaos and pants she had packed had transformed into similarly humiliating outfits. Tiny miniskirts. Daisy Dukes. Strapless and spaghetti-strap tube tops. Even her bikini had turned into some sling more reminiscent of dental floss, and her pajamas into see-through nighties and lingerie. “Oh, piss off,” she groaned outwardly, digging around in the mess for her phone. It had to be here somewhere. It had to. She couldn’t have… She left it at home.

“Grrrff!” Lien stopped herself from erupting into a rage-fueled growl and took a few deep breaths, focusing on the seat ahead of her. The bus hit a small bump, jostling her vision, but when it came back she could swear her eyeline was… Higher. She furrowed her brow and tried to focus, but no - her eyeline was, in fact, steadily rising, at about an inch every few seconds. She resisted the urge to yell out Subi’s name again, trying instead to focus on getting out of this relatively unnoticed. A few more deep breaths brought a tingle to her hips, coaxing out another pathetic “why me” groan. She placed her hands down on her butt to feel the effect occur in real time — the usually fairly flat flesh beginning to swell outward with a fake, plastic mass and a similar bloating noise that she had heard from her breasts, stretching her carefully tailored pants out around their circumference. Her waistband was riding down — but so was her hem, riding up. The cloth fused together and then split into one large hole, creating a blue-gray miniskirt that didn’t cease until it was just at the start of her thighs. And if that weren’t humiliating enough, Lien gave a startled squeak as the fabric of her underwear suddenly snapped between her newly implanted cheeks, changing into a black shoestring thong that whale-tailed above the band of the skirt.

“S-shubi, you are sho dead whem I geh… heh?” Lien was so focused on her butt that she didn’t even notice the similar tingling overtaking her mouth. Her hand darted up to her lips, bumping into a pillowy surface sooner than she had anticipated. Her fingers came away with a ruby red mark on them; hastily, she grabbed the blush case and flipped it open again for the mirror. Her lips looked like they’d been botoxed to an unmistakable degree. Her lower lip was nearly as fat as her middle finger, and her upper lip wasn’t much smaller. They had a perfect 'kissy’ pout like something straight out of a cartoon, which seemed all the more blatant with the ridiculous red lipstick she was now wearing. And on top of it all, her favorite hairstyle had been replaced with a tied-back ponytail that spilled into her lap.

Lien turned bright red and tried to articulate a few sounds. “Whemm… mmm… mmnnnn. Nnnn. Ssshsssoo-bee.” Her new, plumped lips jiggled lightly for a second after she finished speaking. This was humiliating - she could barely talk with these fat things. It was less than an hour away from home, and Subi had already managed to turn her into some kind of… bimbo. Just the thought made Lien squirm in her seat, and she couldn’t help but notice she was getting a few odd looks as well, from the people on the bus around her. She didn’t even know if they had seen what she looked like before, or if they were just getting their first impressions now. Sinking down into her seat to try and minimize eye contact with anyone, Lien grit her teeth again and spoke with deliberation.

“Subi… is… a… goner.”

Lien managed to avoid any further embarrassment until the bus pulled into the next station, a place in a medium-sized town not unlike the one she had just departed. She didn’t have to get a transfer at this station — for her, it would’ve been just a quick rest stop, where she could stay relaxed in her seat until the bus began moving again. But now, she had a mission. As the doors open, Lien rose quickly to her feet — and knocked her head hard on the overhead luggage rack. “Gahck!” She was a bit dazed by the impact and looked around in confusion. She was easily a foot taller than she used to be. Maybe even nearing two. The sudden change in vantage point gave Lien vertigo that took no small amount of time to wear off, which wasn’t helped by the way her legs wobbled in these atrocious, bubblegum-pink and rhinestone-adorned two-inch platform heels her flats had become. She stood over the heads of even most men in the bus, who now were giving plenty of varied, but universally humiliating looks to the once-unassuming and easily missed Lien.

She steeled herself and grabbed her bag, walking out of the bus as quickly as she could, and into the air-conditioned floor of the depot. There were people all around her — and she was practically indecent. Every person she glanced at told her the same thing. She tried to ignore it, seeking out the nearest pay phone. She had a few quarters in her bag she could use; Wasting no time, she pushed one into the slot of the phone, brought the handset to her ear… And blanked.

She didn’t know Subi’s number. She didn’t know Subi’s number? That can’t be right, she told herself, as if it would change anything. She called Subi all the time. She had Subi’s cell phone saved as a contact, for the days when Subi came in late. But it had been forever since she actually dialed Subi’s number. Her golden eyes widened as she stared at the keypad. Fuck, what was it? 555… five-five-five…

The allotted time for dialing has been exceeded. If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again. If you need help, please hang up, and dial 0 for an operator.

Of course, she thought, relieved, thumbing the lever to make it think it had been hung up, then punching in 0. The line rang once, twice, then was picked up by a bored, albeit nonetheless professional, female on the other end.

“Operator speaking, how may I assist you?”

“Hi -” she said, speaking quickly. “I need to be connected to a woman named Subi.”

“Subi?” The operator asked, clearly somewhat puzzled. “Last name, location?”

“Listen — her name is Subi. S-U-B-I. There can’t be that many of them. An hour and a half south of my current location.”

“Ma'am, I don’t know your current location. I’m going to need more information if I’m to… Oh — wait, here we are. Full name Subi —”

“Yes — that’s the one, I’m sure of it. Please just connect me.”

“Yes ma'am,” the operator replied, punching in a few keys to redirect the call.

Subi was still busy playing when the phone started ringing. She looked up toward the source of the ringing with a slightly frustrated grunt, pausing the game to save. She sighed and stood up, but didn’t quite move toward the phone yet. She looked back toward the device contemplatively. She did just save, after all. And she’d been charging it for almost an hour now. So, while the phone continued to ring, she turned back to the game and unplugged it from its cord, giving a small bounce of delight when it didn’t immediately shut off. A tiny green light lit up in place of the orange charging color, and she hurried over to unhook the handset. On the screen, she guided her little monk toward the NPC of her mother for a cutscene, just as she lifted the phone to her ear. “Yello?”

“Subi —” Lien said over the line, trying not to sound too angry despite her inner bubbling rage. The last thing she needed was to freak Subi out and potentially lose her chance. “It’s Lien. I’m —”

“Oh, hi, Lien!” Subi interrupted absentmindedly, clicking through the dialogue and only half-paying attention to Lien on the other side of the phone. “Wow, are you in Corona City already? I thought I saw you leaving for the bus stop only an hour ago!”

“No, I’m only halfway there, lis—”

“Is something wrong with your cell phone?” Subi continued, furrowing her brow. “The quality sounds different, and your voice sounds…” She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something off about Lien’s voice. A little more nasal? A little higher pitched? A bit… slurred? She frowned. “Do you have a cold or something?”

“Subi, I’m fine. L—”

“Well has the trip been alright so far?”

On the other end of the line, Lien pulled the phone away from her face to scream quietly into her palm. She took a couple deep breaths, and then returned the phone to her ear.

“…ien? Hello? Are you there?”

“No, Subi, I’m having an issue.”

“Do you need me to bring you someth—”

“Subi!” Lien snapped, letting her temper eke through. Already predicting Lien’s raised voice, Subi pulled the phone a little bit away from her ear and grimaced awkwardly, but quickly turned her attention back to the game while she listened to Lien rave. “Stop interrupting me, for Pete’s sake! If you would just-” She flinched, then took another deep breath, and tried to speak nicely one more time. “Listen, Subi. I’m not mad at you. I’m fine.”

Hearing Lien cool off, Subi gingerly brought the phone back to the crook of her shoulder and tapped the button once more on the game device. With the dialogue finished, the camera returned to the original view, with the little monk girl facing her mother, in the same place she had approached from.

YOU: WELL, I GUESS I'D BETTER HIT THE ROAD... YOU: I WILL REMEMBER TO SEND YOU A LETTER.

“I guess I should get back on the bus. I’ll call you when I get there!”

Wait, what?

Lien had to do a double-take. That wasn’t what she had meant to say at all. She was going to speak up, to tell Subi to delete the save file and drop the game — but something had cut into her mind, forcing the words through her voice box and into the receiver of the phone. It had just felt natural to say it. And it had sounded so cheerful… Whatever had spoken through her had spoken in her high range, giving her already-altered voice a cutesy, bubbly sound that was entirely out of character for the grumpy Asian, but which was still clearly her own voice.

But, Subi didn’t let it faze her too strongly. Though she took a few seconds to be confused, she broke out into a somewhat puzzled smile and piped up into the phone. “Well — I shouldn’t hold you up. See you in a couple hours, then!” She lifted the phone away from her ear just as Lien snapped out of her daze, and hung it back up on the hook before returning to the couch.

“Wait — Subi! No — don’t you hang up — don’t you da—” Lien was interrupted, not by Subi this time, but by the click of the receiver on Subi’s end. “Ohhhhh, you… you dimwit!” She snarled, forcing the handset back onto the hook with enough force to make a young woman at the phone beside her jump with surprise; Lien huffed, threw her an apologetic look, and decided to go find the bathroom to cool off a little.

Lien peeked out from the bunched-up bundle of her towel and scowled into the mirror at what she saw. No amount of water or wiping was getting rid of this makeup, even if her lips were leaving bright red marks on the cloth. She groaned and leaned over the counter, glaring at the stranger in the mirror. It was her, of course. Every shift of her weight, every movement of her eyes and her bloated lips was perfectly reflected. And all it took was a look down at the deep crevasse of cleavage to see it was no fancy trick of the light. And yet, when she looked back into the mirror, a part of her brain continued to reject what it was seeing. That wasn’t her. She was a stranger in her own body, and the moment Subi stopped screwing around with things she shouldn’t be was the moment she’d be back to her old self… She hoped.

A small glint of light drew Lien’s eyes off her lips and to her mouth. During her aggressive scrubbing and her pensive staring contest with herself, a trail of drool had begun to run down the crease of her puffy lower lip, and onto her chin. “Oh — yuck,” she said, grabbing her towel and wiping it away before the string could splatter onto her chest, plus a slight sucking to pull the remainder of the fluid back into her mouth. Not only were the physical changes bad enough, but now she had to worry about drooling, too? She groaned and tried to push her lips closed, which to her tempered relief she discovered she could accomplish — although, the moment she relaxed again, the puffy pillows pushed slightly apart, to let her leak slightly if she tipped her head a little too far forward. “If Subi would just listen to me one time…” She sighed, then shut her eyes and took a breath. There was no sense in staying angry about it. All she had to do was survive the bus ride to Corona City, find a pay phone, and call Subi without making an utter fool of herself.

Piped in from the outside world, a speaker hissed softly with static, followed by a chime and an announcement from a soothing female voice. “Bus A-15 will be leaving for Corona City in five minutes. Once again, all travelers to Corona City should board bus A-15. Thank you for your patronage.” A lower chime signaled the end of the announcement, and Lien quietly hoisted her duffel bag back onto her shoulder, making her way back out to the depot floor to find the bus she had boarded previously. She tried her hardest to ignore the gossiping whispers of the two women she passed as she exited the bathroom, and the ever-present dirty and perverse looks she garnered simply walking from point A to point B. This new, bimbo body drew the eye, that was for sure, and even with her new tanned skin color, her face could be seen turning red with blood. As she got into the line, she self-consciously adjusted her tiny skirt, which only seemed to draw a few more quick looks from the people moving in to line up behind her.

“Here you are,” she said, holding the ticket out for the driver to read. She was already starting to move down the aisle when the driver held his arm out and stopped her by her waist. “Ah, miss — This isn’t your bus. This is A-22, you’re looking for A-15 across the lot. That’s the one going to Corona.”

“Y— what?!” Lien’s attempt at calm quickly broke down as she stumbled back, the crowd behind her moving away from the door for her. “I — alright, thank you,” she said, turning on a pointed heel and hurrying down the steps, nearly tripping. “Damn heels —” she grunted, trying to run for her new destination; the platforms gave her an awkward gait, causing her new plastic parts to bounce and jiggle, her chest beating against her bra band with every step. Uff… If this is what Subi has to deal with all the time, maybe I shouldn’t make her run so many errands, she thought to herself, mostly to take her mind off the way her loose-fitting crop top was showing off her bra, or the lustful stares she left in her wake, watching her round butt when they thought she couldn’t feel it.

She came up to A-15 just in time to see its neighboring bus drive out onto the road again. The line was already gone, and it was clear they were waiting on her. Her approach garnered the gaze of an entire half of the vehicle, leaving Lien feeling especially self-conscious. She slowed to a brisk walk, trying to fix her shirt and maybe pull it down a little, exchanging lower concealment for a bit more cleavage. Her face was beet red as she, panting, showed her ticket to the new driver. Just like she had on her first ride in, she heaved a sigh of relief as he waved her on, and turned her gaze to the rows of seats.

To Lien’s dismay, this bus was packed. Booked nearly full, with only a handful of empty spots — none of which were isolated from another passenger. As she walked down, looking for a place to sit, the judging looks felt closer than ever, with only a couple inches between her hips and chest and some stranger’s eyes at any given moment. She felt… gross. Cheap. She nibbled on the inside of a bloated lip and realized she was walking in a scissor-step, causing her hips to bounce hypnotically. She never did that. But it felt so natural now, that she had to force herself just to walk straight like she always used to. Worse, she couldn’t tell how long she’d been doing it — whether it had come packaged with the earlier metamorphosis, or, more disconcertingly, that maybe her mind was subconsciously filling the new role her body had presented.

Either way, she moved toward the back of the bus like before, in her forced, straight gait, and gradually stopped as she came to one of the last seats available. There was a man there already, in the seat by the window; Lien swallowed and spoke up. “Do you mind —?” She asked, half-smiling sheepishly as he gestured to the seat. After grabbing a book, she hefted her duffel bag onto the top rack and sat down, this time being very careful not to knock her forehead against the metal bars above her. She tried to slide down onto the cushion like always, but she found herself caught. Her eyes widened and she looked down; her ass was pinched between the two armrests. “Oh, come on —” she bemoaned, trying to wiggle down a bit lower but finding it quite impossible; sighing, she tried to stand and lift the aisle armrest upward, but the bus jolted awake, pushed her back, and forced her wobbling cheeks down between the trap and into the seat, coaxing a grunt from Lien. She blinked, surprised, then looked down and swiftly tucked her miniskirt down from the armrest to preserve some sense of modesty.

The man didn’t seem too interested in conversation, which Lien was fine with. He was a dark-haired fellow with a skin tone Lien couldn’t quite place; maybe mixed. He was kind of cute… She shook her head, erasing the thought from her mind before her new state could convert it into something less innocuous. Instead, she opened the book to her marker and began to read, but it wasn’t five minutes before the high, bubbly voice from before spoke up without her thinking.

YOU: YOU THERE. ARE YOU NATIVE TO THESE WOODS?

“So, are you from around here?”

Lien’s eyes widened, and she brought a hand to her neck, rubbing it slightly as if trying to swallow back the words. Not now - she thought, clenching her teeth. Put the damn game down, Subi! She flicked her glance toward her neighbor, meeting his own somewhat surprised gaze.

“Uh, no -” he said, smiling politely. “I’m actually returning from a trip. I live in Corona. You?”

???: NOPE! I'M JUST PASSING THROUGH. ???: ABOUT AS LOST AS YOU LOOK! ???: WHAT ABOUT YOU? YOU: I'M UNDERTAKING A JOURNEY TO FIVE ELEMENTS MOUNTAIN. YOU: IT IS A MISSION OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE TO MY CLAN.

“I’m on a trip!” She said, her voice sounding sickeningly cheerful. Lien forced out a smile and looked back to her own book, shuddering to think that she sounded kind of like Subi, of all people. She took an exasperated breath as she felt another phrase working its way up her throat. “I’m, like, going to do some really important stuff there.” Inwardly, she groaned; 'like’? 'Stuff’? This couldn’t be happening.

But all the same, he kept his pleasant expression, seeming none too bothered by her unusual behavior — or her appearance. “Yeah? So you’re not too familiar with the big cities, or?”

“No — no, I’m not,” Lien said, glad to be in control of her own voice again. Immediately, her crabby tone returned to her, surprising the man beside her. “I don’t go to big cities much. Too much noise.”

“So then why the trip?” He asked, leaning back and stretching his neck slightly as he waited for her response.

“Friends. Some old acquaintances I haven’t seen in years — they sent me a text out of the blue, and I felt I may as well play catch-up.” Seeming disinterested in the conversation, she flipped the page of her book. In reality, she was barely paying attention to the page, instead trying to predict the next piece of dialogue being forced through her lips.

???: A JOURNEY? FANCY. WHAT'S YOUR NAME, ANYWAY? YOU:

Lien was ready this time. As she felt her throat tense, she focused on trying to keep herself from talking - clenching her teeth, trying to squeeze down the muscles of her esophagus. It worked at first, but the driving force wasn’t about to be held down. Like a blocked pipe, pressure welled up within her neck and chest, forcing her to struggle to keep it together. Her face began to redden, her eyes narrowing, and a trickle of drool dripping onto the page of her book. At the sight of the wet spot, Lien leaned back against the back of the chair, sucking through her teeth to pull the strand back into her mouth.

Subi frowned. Had the game frozen? No, it was still playing music, and a few details were still animating. Was it some kind of scripted event? A soft lock? Cartridge rot? Why was the monk hesitating? “Oh, come on — I didn’t get a chance to save in like 30 minutes!” She moaned, pressing the button a few times, but nothing changed. “Don’t tell me I’ll have to…”

“Hey, uh… Is everything alright?” the young man asked, reaching a hand out as if to grab Lien’s shoulder and lightly shake her out of it. By this point, she was clenching down on the armrests, her cheeks puffing out as she struggled to contain herself, but despite all her willpower, she was destined to fail.

“NnnnnmmmmmmmmMyname'sLienwhat'syours?” She finally choked out, in that same high, girly voice, unable to resist any more. A few strings of spittle came flying out with the phrase, adding to the mess on her chin.

YOU: MY NAME? IT'S Subi. WHAT'S YOURS? ???: CALL ME TUZI. GRAND TO MEETCHA!

As the game resumed function, Subi smiled again, seeming none too concerned about what had just transpired, and continued her conversation with the little rabbit-man.

“Oh, damn it!” Lien spat, wiping off her lips on the back of her hand and getting a smear of lipstick with it. She took a few panting breaths, then turned her eyes back to the man beside her, who had since recoiled his hand. “Haah… Look — I’m sorry,” She said, rubbing her forehead. “I’m having a weird day.”

“I could tell that,” he lobbed back, trying to lighten the mood a little. “What’s eating you? Some kind of tic?”

“No —” Lien said, resting her cheek in her hand and her elbow on the aisle armrest. “Just a very annoying employee who doesn’t listen to anything I say.”

“… I’m not sure I follow.”

“It’s a long story. You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“I’m not so sure. You’d be surprised what people can believe…” The conversation fell to a tense silence for a minute or two, the man returning to his phone and giving Lien the chance to cool off before he spoke up again. “So — You said your name was…?”

“… Lien,” she said, frowning deeper. She hadn’t wanted to say it. Admitting that she was Lien was like admitting this body was her. And to this stranger, it may as well have been.

“What’s it to you?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t catch it the first time. … If it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you know my name’s Henry.”

“… Alright. Henry it is.”

TUZI: SO, HERE'S THE DEAL: WE'RE BOTH LOST IN THESE WOODS. TUZI: I'VE EXPLORED ABOUT EVERY INCH I CAN, BUT I CAN'T FIND A WAY OUT! TUZI: SO LET ME SUGGEST: LET'S WORK TOGETHER! I CAN HELP YOU FIND YOUR WAY... TUZI: AND MAYBE YOU CAN DO SOMETHING I CAN'T, AND WE CAN BOTH GET OUTTA HERE. TUZI: WHADDAYA SAY? YOU: ... I SUPPOSE I WILL NEED A GUIDE. YOU: VERY WELL -- SHOW ME THE WAY, TUZI.

Another voice welled up in Lien’s throat, which she didn’t bother to fight this time. She found that, if she paid attention, she could read the words before they reached her lips. “Like, I don’t think I can find my way on my own. Henry - do you think you could, l… l-like, show me around?” She frowned a bit as she realized she couldn’t get rid of those annoying “like"s in her speech; or at least, if she could, she needed practice. ”… Nothing too special. I just need to know where the Sunrise Apartments are, on Eighth Street.“

Henry seemed surprised, but once he looked at her to make sure she wasn’t screwing with him after all, he smiled. "Sure, I guess I can do that. I think I know that building — I deliver there sometimes. It’s a nice place, right on the river.”

Lien kept her mouth shut for a moment before looking up from her book to look him over. He did seem friendly — warm, inviting, and not looking at her like the pumped-up slut she certainly resembled. It was hard to look serious with these lips, but she did her best to pout and narrow her eyes, scanning for any insincerity; and when she found none, she hesitatingly decided to pick up the line of conversation. “… You deliver things?”

“Oh yeah —” He was eager to see her soften a bit. “I work as a food courier part-time, but most of my income is from freelance web development. What about you?”

“… I run a restaurant back home. Head chef… Only chef. It’s not a large restaurant — or a large town.”

“Wow, really? If you worked in Corona, I might be delivering some of your dishes from time to time.”

“… Yeah. I guess so.” Lien turned back to her book to hide the tinge of pink running across the bridge of her nose. Another few minutes passed before Henry picked up on the next obvious question.

“How long are you staying?”

“Five days,” she said. “Just a week to catch up with my friends, see the sights, maybe check out some other restaurants for ideas. I don’t intend to set up shop here or anything.”

“Yeah — I can imagine,” Henry replied, leaning against the window.

That was all he had to say, really, and all Lien had as well. The remaining hour rolled by at a moderate pace, the edges of the highway blurring by as the bus followed the trail across the landscape. As the time seemed to near, Lien looked up from her book and peered past Henry to see out the window, where an unusual sight awaited her.

The bus was headed uphill, toward the skyline of a city that seemed as picturesque as the TV and advertisements made it out to be. Corona City was a veritable crown at the top of a large sloped region of land, bisected by an enormous river that flowed down from the mountains in the north. Huge manmade towers reached for the skies; streets bustled with people and vehicles in levels that were unheard of back home; window lights and illuminated signs ensured that all could be seen even as the sun went down. Every inch of this place had something, it seemed, to grab the eye. Lien leaned forward and let her bitter personality trail off somewhat, making way for awe, and an unsettling nervousness in the base of her gut.

Seeing the expression on her face, Henry chuckled. “It’s overwhelming, huh?” Her expression didn’t change, and he took that as all the answer he needed. “Don’t worry — I felt that way when I first moved here. You get used to it soon enough.”

Hitting the inner-city traffic, the bus slowed to a crawl, giving Lien plenty of time to gaze at the high-rising buildings and the expansive variety of storefronts on the edges of the sidewalks, the street performers and mini-parks and enormous intersections perfectly synchronized to let people and cars cross without fear at maximum efficiency. Lien felt another compulsion form in her throat, but as she read it off in her mind, she didn’t even care. “It’s… Amazing,” she squeaked, not realizing how far out she was leaning toward the window until a movement forward caused her to rock back, nearly hitting Henry’s arm. She decided to play it safe and picked up her book again, taking her mind off the view.

Just getting into the bus station at the heart of the city was an endeavor all its own, roughly ten minutes of traffic and winding turns. But the bus rolled to a stop, and its pneumatics hissed to pull the door open, allowing passengers to begin grabbing their luggage and filing off the vehicle. Like before, Lien rose to her feet all too quickly and knocked her head against the rack — stopping just late enough that she avoided a full-force impact. “Shit!” she grunted, rubbing her twice-sore scalp as she grabbed her bag off the parallel bars. “Stupid things… Alright. Hey, Henry — I’ll wait for you outside, yeah?” She began to turn, but thought of something at the last second and turned back to face him.

“And Henry — if I catch you staring at any part of me —”

“You’ll knock my teeth out?” He suggested, flashing her a teasing smile. Lien stammered, then closed her red lips and quietly adjusted her duffel bag, slipping into an opening in the crowd. Henry stayed behind, watching her work toward the front of the bus with the rest of the crowd, stretching out for a few seconds before finally standing to grab his own luggage.

As she stepped out into the bus depot and took a breath of the cooling sunset air, Lien took a bit of inventory on her current situation. Here she was, in an unfamiliar city, meeting people she hadn’t met for years, in an oversexualized, artificial, slutty body that wasn’t even her own. And unless she managed to get ahold of Subi fast, she could, at any time, in front of anyone, face another change perhaps even more radical than what she had experienced so far.

Finally free of the bus, Lien opened up her duffel bag and pulled out her cigarettes and lighter. She grabbed one, tucked it between her fat, botoxed lips, lit it up, and finally took another long, deep breath.

It was going to be a weird week.