Chocobo-no...
#2 of Patreon
Summary: Sometimes humans (who are actively finding it difficult to focus on how exactly they themselves are turning into cute marketable plushie birds) just want to have fun.
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Chocobo-no...
"James I'm not sure this is a good idea," I said, hand hovering over the exit.
"People mod MMOs all the time without getting banned, we won't be the first and we won't be the last," said James as he sent yet another suspicious file over our currently broadcasting chat program to me
The instructions to me as to where it should be slotted came in a slow and almost esoteric fashion. An occasional explanation
"I just don't know about this, it seems like quite a lot of work for not a lot of reward."
"Sure it doesn't adjust the gameplay in any meaningful sense, but I think the new textures and other changes recontextualize the existing gameplay loop enough to make it slightly more fun."
"For all the work we're doing to fiddle with this, why doesn't it do something a bit more interesting than change the looks of it?"
"Just boot up the... game..."
I glanced over at our chat. James' webcam was tilted downwards, and something an awful lot like feathers had worked their way across his chest. Tufts of feathers too seemed to be rising up from the hair on his head, swiftly coming to surround and cover his face as they spread.
"What is happening to you?" I asked, pointing now at my screen.
"Dude stop pointing at me and look at your hand, it's a wing!" shout James.
"What? You're being ridiculous," I said, folding my soft arms together.
Blinking now. Or at least after trying to blink... I looked him over once again. I was definitely not the one turning into a stuffed chocobo, James was. It could not have been more obvious with how bright yellow the feathers were that were sliding so swiftly across his body.
"Dude, you just folded up your wings and you're gonna tell me that I'm the one turning into a chocobo? You're being ridiculous!"
I refrained from looking down. I was not about to be tricked into thinking I was the one turning into the stuffed animal James was destined to become. With a dismissive flap of my hand I brushed him off as he began to disrobe slightly. I shook my head, shirt feeling oddly off in the way it rest against my body.
"Look, I don't know what's happening," I managed, "It's like I can't focus on my own body... just yours... I'm still human though, right?"
"You're not human. Not anymore," James offered.
It was so impossibly cute the way his little plush beak chopped up and down to deliver those ominous words. I'm not human anymore, but I felt like one. Something about the cameras and the computers must have let me see the impossibility of his own situation with my eyes quite clearly, and yet my own experience was too alien to consider.
This proved to be quite a deal more exciting than I ever thought it would to, as the notion that I too was becoming something that cute, in spite of my own ability to sense such a becoming, was arousing beyond all measure. I mewled out as I fumbled with my pants.
Dimly. So very dimly indeed. As I wrapped my fingers around the button and began to fumble with it awkwardly I could feel something deeply out of place. While looking down my hands were imagined to be the hands I had all my life, I could nevertheless feel something off.
Eyes were lying little cameras. Or perhaps it was more so the brain, taking in the image of my increasingly little chocobo plushie body and broadcasting to my consciousness the form I was more familiar with. It was a thorough delusion, but one easily leans on by the way in which I felt my wing-hand patting so feebly at the button.
"Your tail feathers are sprouting," said James, prompting a glance over at his own doing likewise.
"Is that what that subtle tingle is?" I asked, grinning in my head, but unsure whether enough of a beak had formed upon my face to make such a display difficult to reliably transmit to my old friend.
"I... feel that too... yeah..." said James.
"We're both changing aren't we, I can't see it with my eyes, but I can feel it. It's subtle, but it's there," I said, running my wing-hand through the space where I presumed tail feathers might well be.
I could feel them well. They were so soft to the touch. I turned around, trying to look at them as I walked around my chair on what where doubtlessly stalky bird legs. I heard a gentle cooing from my headphones as I did so, but focused my efforts on swatching at these blurry nigh invisible feathers at my backside.
"Keep... keep holding them up," said James through strained breaths.
"Why?" I asked, glancing up to see his wing running around the length of his belly and stroking at-
James was masturbating. More to the point, James was masturbating to me! It was a peculiar and embarrassing honor, one that sent a tingle to the base of those hard to see tailfeathers once again. As he did so I could not help but indulge myself.
I pulled my hand around where I suspected tail feathers might be. With a doubtlessly beaked grin I tried to further raise them for my overeager friend on the other side. Based on his grunts of pleasure I could tell I had done exactly what I wanted.
Something about this situation though. The idea that just raising my tailfeathers was enough to get my friend to spill so much stuffing between his legs... it was an arousing thought really. As James sat there panting I went to work enjoying my own arousal.
Dim awareness of my body began to creep into consciousness. Now that I knew what to look at and look for I could see more of myself. Including of course that tapered little cock poking free from a slit between my legs. I patted at it ineffectually, having a touch too much trouble reaching with my wings. I glanced back at James.
The stuffing he had spilled from his own plushie bird cock seemed to hang off the end of his open beak. Were these bodies that flexible? I dared to try it, catching the sight of my splayed plushie chocobo legs spreading apart as I made room for my descent.
Self satisfaction to this degree was a capacity thankfully denied to most humans. Even as my soft little beak clasped feebly around my cock I was unsure if I could ever hope to handle the responsibility such a power entails. I started bobbing my head.
Even with our more rounded plushie features, the lengthy neck of my new chocobo body made this more than doable. How I had missed the opportunity to tease James for stooping into such an embarrassing position is beyond me, but the pleasure was far too grand to dwell.
That's the truly lovely thing about sliding my beak around this little cock of mine. I could not hope but think of anything else save for the pleasure of my own touch. My soft bird claws kicked out erratically, shaking and clenching as I pressed down to swallow all of me.
There was no hardness to worry about with my beak. Even my cock was quite soft in spite of all the arousal. We were truly plushie birds, big abstract representations of feathers flapping all about as I rolled over into my gaming chair to get a better little grip.
It felt good. Great, even. And soon, began to feel better with every rubbing grip of beak to cock. The tiny tapered member felt at home amongst my soft beaky bits, fabric rubbing against oh so sensitive fabric. How in the world could it feel this good to be a plushie?
As I considered this I felt the first bit of stuffing spill free. Erratic erotic filiments darted swiftly from the tip, settling only for a moment in the back of my beak. What a sensation that was, feeling it tingle and tease the back of my open mouth as I mulled over strands of pre.
"I think I'm going to run out of stuffing at this rate," said James.
I glanced over, still with my mouth wrapped around that soon to climax cock, catching sight of him going back for seconds or maybe even thirds. Such an indulgence friendly body. I hoped we regenerated this stuff, as I was beginning to think the same thing even before my climax.
As I watched James' own beak go darting around his cock I felt myself pushed over the edge. Something about engaging in such a lewd act with a friend on the other line indulging in much the same was too much for my new little body to handle. I felt my cock twitch suddenly in my jaw.
Far more stuffing flew forth than from the bit of pre from before. A whole tiny teddy bear worth of stuffing went rolling free from the tip of my cock in spurts that were just a bit too strong for me to hold onto. I released my little cock, head rolling back as the member continued to spray and spurt that white fabric across my feathery belly.
I huffed. Not much more one could do than to try and catch their breath as you cum. The sensations that washed over me were positively ensorcelling. I yearned to feel more. No doubt James felt the same.
Glancing up briefly to my computer screen to see what James was up to I noticed another friend suddenly joining the call. I glanced toward my webcam, stuffing still hanging from my beak. Oh no...