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Shattered Shards: Myshelle's Medicine

By Von Krieger

Myshelle took a deep breath, moaning softly at the twin scents of horse and sex, the scents she had faintly detected outside the club what seemed like a lifetime ago.

The horses weren't penned up within their stalls, but were allowed to roam around freely. A white mare with a pale blue mane approached the satyr, curiosity sparkling in her sapphire eyes. Myshelle knew these weren't mere beasts, but creatures of the fey, like herself. A part of her new that, but another part of her gasped in awe at the sight of the beautiful snow mare.

The equine gently nudged Myshelle's middle with her snout, her long tongue playfully lapping at the satyr's shaft. She knew exactly what Myshelle wanted, and seemed rather eager to give it to her.

Her member ached, its massive weight longing for relief. But she wasn't tall enough to mount the mare properly. Her eyes darted around, finding a wooden plank atop some cinder blocks that was used for the specific purpose, the way it was stained with seed.

The mare gently took Myshelle's cockring in her teeth, leading her over to it. As she climbed up onto the platform, she felt her hooves stick a bit to the presence of past satyr ejaculations. Rather than disgusting her, it excited her. She knew from Melissa that this was a perfectly acceptable thing for a satyr to do, but she still had a very human mindset, and found it comforting that she wasn't the only satyr that did this.

She was a little hesitant, even though the horses kept here had human levels of intellect, they were still animals of a sort. The more Myshelle thought about it, the less she wanted to actually go through with...

The thoughts of finding something else to make love to immediately vanished from her mind as the mare backed herself up, allowing the first few inches of Myshelle's equine shaft to slip into her.

The former human cried out softly, not at all minding the moo she made as she did so. She gripped the mare's snow white flanks and pushed herself in deeper, every inch of her three foot shaft buried within the playful mare's snatch.

Myshelle mooed happily as she began to thrust. No wonder the satyrs kept horses here, no bipedal creature would be able to take their massive bestial shafts and grip them as the mare did. There just wasn't enough body to make a pussy that long, even the satyr magic didn't help.

There was also such an erotic thrill that Myshelle felt, every bit of her that was still human, though there weren't many, screamed out that this was repulsive, disgusting, and wrong. Every bit of her satyr self, every part that she had gained from Melissa, told her that it was a fun thing to do exactly because humans felt it to be something that was wrong.

The mare was so large, so heavy, so easy for Myshelle to put her five hundred plus pound bulk into every thrust, another reason for the horses to be here. After all, most human girls, and some of the smaller satyrs, would be unable to support Myshelle's new weight; just a minor problem with her new, beautiful bulk. But the satyr wouldn't give up even a single pound of her gorgeous girth.

She loved being big, she loved being heavy, she loved having a huge belly, huge butt, huge tits, hot, heavy balls, and a throbbing three foot cock. She loved the sensations she felt as gallons of seed surged from her, of milk being suckled from her impressive udders.

No way could she give this up. No way could she imagine returning to being a stick thin, scrawny woman. She couldn't possible give up her cock, oh how she wished she could've had one earlier. The image came to mind of Myshelle's favorite photo of herself, a smile on her face, eyes half lidded, leaning back, seemingly in the wind, the short red dress she was wearing moving up, mere millimeters from showing panties.

She imagined the dress bunched up a few inches, the thick, hot horsemeat between her legs jutting from the small, svelte, sexy body that she'd had before. Certainly not as sexy as she was now, but her thin, human self was exactly the kind of thing that would just about give her an instant orgasm now.

The thought of a small, thin human girl sitting in her lap, tentatively sliding down her massive cock, it was enough that she couldn't wait to be able to perform again, or for the first time. She wasn't quite sure which. Thought over all it didn't really matter, she knew what she was doing, and the part of her that had been Melissa knew that combined the magical power they controlled while in the dance would more than make up for an inexperience left over from Myshelle.

She couldn't leave. She couldn't possibly leave. She was the lead dancer and the most popular whore, after all. Meli... Myshelle couldn't just go and leave Kora with her best performer missing. Even if she had wanted to leave, it would only be polite to stay until Mistress Kora had a replacement.

But why would she ever want to leave? The food, the company, the many opportunities to dance and fuck every day, the sweet, sexy horses here, the beds, furniture, showers, doorways, everything designed to easily allow someone of Myshelle's bulk to move around with ease. Life at the Amorous Satyr would be heavenly.

Myshelle's daydreaming was cut short as the mare's vaginal walls tightened upon her shaft, the equine love tunnel gripped her tightly, milked her eagerly, almost hungrily. The satyr found herself unable to pull out, merely able to thrust in deeper, allowing more of her cock to be enveloped by the mare's pussy.

The tightness was too much for her to take; her pendant-fueled growth made her erupt with the now familiar amounts of seed. Myshelle threw back her head and moo-moaned in delight, her eight nipples sending stream of milk trickling down her body.

The mare whinnied happily, though her womb could not contain the flood of the satyr's seed, it gushed out from her, drenching Myshelle's belly, balls, and thighs, spattering down onto the platform beneath her. No wonder it was so sticky!

Though her climax had passed, the mare remained still, allowing Myshelle to empty herself within the equine. The satyr hugged the beast as best as she could, "Mmmooo... thank you." She half-moaned, shivering as the mare pulled away from her, the equine's sex parting from Myshelle's half-erect cock with wet slurping sounds.

Before the satyr could catch her breath she found a pair of red-brown stallions with bright orange manes nuzzling at her. Myshelle couldn't keep her balance, forced to hop down to the floor.

Once she was on the floor the nuzzling turned to shoves at the back of her legs with their broad snouts.

"H-hey! Stop that you guys!" Myshelle said, giggling nervously, trying to get away from the rowdy horses. Her hoof became submerged in a puddle of her own seed, sending her sprawling to the stable floor.

Before she could recover, one of the stallions was already standing over her, its thick, black member fully erect, dripping with precum, inches away from her face.

"Wh-what..." was all that the satyr was able to get out before the horse thrust forward, the shaft forcible shoved into her mouth and throat. She cried out in protest at the treatment, her shouts of displeasure muffled by the thick horse meat crammed into her.

The equine flopped onto his side, pulling Myshelle with him. The other stallion helped push Myshelle over as his twin rolled onto his back, leaving the satyr resting atop his belly and chest, head bent back as the laying horse bucked his hips, fucking her face.

The satyrs were apparently not the only ones with magic of a sort, as the second horse stood over Myshelle, somehow managing to guide his member into her ass without being able to see, and without any sort of way to position it, and also seemingly with not a single drop of resistance from Myshelle's body.

What was going on? She was being raped by two horses, what the hell was this? Another of Melissa's memories came to the surface; the new satyrs were typically shy and skittish about their bodies and their desires, their first week or two was spent on duty tending to the horses.

Oh gods, the two stallions had never seen Myshelle before, they didn't realize that she'd merged with Melissa; they just thought she was another horse whore! The thought of it made her shudder and wretch, trying to expel the bestial cock from within her mouth. She wasn't some random strumpet seduced in off the streets, she was a merger of one of the world's most popular models, and the club's best dancer! She shouldn't be... oh...

With her Motzenger's and her almost constant lust, Melissa spent a great deal of time in the stables, the horses more interested in sex than most of her satyr siblings. Melissa had willingly been the stable slut for the last few months. They horses knew the treatments for her illness, knew that if she found someone to merge with she was...

Myshelle cried out, her heavy arms striking the horse above her. As half Melissa and half newbie, she had been declared horse whore twice over. That wasn't fair! She hadn't known! Well, she did know, but she knew too late, her memories as Melissa weren't nearly as strong as her memories as Myshelle.

It was wrong, disgusting, hideous; an assault to her very sensibilities! She would fuck, suck, and dance for humans and human-like individuals; she would eagerly and willingly pleasure the horses, but not like this.

The satyr felt her cock stirring, surging almost instantly to full arousal. She panicked, wriggling her plentiful body, trying to dislodge herself from the type equine shafts that impaled her. However all she managed to so was to rub her breasts and cock against the chest of the horse above her.

The two beasts thrust into her slowly, languidly, teasingly. They knew that she was trapped, sandwiched between them, and that they could take their time with her. It was wrong, disgusting, horrible, and all sorts of other things and yet...

Yet it made Myshelle feel as horny as she had the moment she walked into the stable. The more her human half hated what was being done to her, the more disgusting, loathsome, and unpleasant, the more her satyr half gleefully embraced it.

She was being raped by two horses and her body delighted in it. Her rump and throat seemed to tingle with pleasure as they were penetrated. She couldn't help but obey the lustful needs of her body, her hands going to her udders, curling her thumb and forefinger in a crescent about her nipples, her second finger placed a bit further down.

She squeezed, tilting her hands outward from her body, tugging her titflesh upward at the same time, causing a few ounces of milk to leak from her eight nipples. She arched her back and then bucked her hips, her rump tightening on the shaft within her, milking it as her muscles tightened as she thrust her cock between her soft belly and the horse's solid chest.

The beast's fur provided texture, sending delicious sensations into the massive member. As she bucked something seemed to give way inside Myshelle. Her cock leaked precum, or at least tried to. But rather than leak, a thick, plentiful torrent shot out, lubricating the passage between satyr and equine flesh, making it all the easier to buck against the beast.

It dripped down her belly, down into the gulf between her breasts, it quickly coated them as Myshelle squeezed her tits together, the warm precum seeming to aid the flow of her milk, two thick fluids dripping down her breasts now.

A second warm jet spread over her, and a third, leaving her coated and dripping with her own arousal. Her skin felt warm as she broke out into a shameful flush, tears leaked from her eyes as the scraps of her human self surged to the forefront, protesting her treatment.

All she had wanted was some relief for her fat, throbbing, aching horsecock. It felt so wrong to think that, so very wrong, so very disgusting. The last remnants of Myshelle's original personality surged to the surface. She shuddered as she realized what she was, what had happened to her.

Her true consciousness had escaped from the pleasurable prison it had been placed in, finally able to break free as even her newly transformed satyr self had been horrified as she'd been penetrated by two animals against her will.

And yet she could not stop herself, she couldn't keep her hands off her tits, couldn't stop thrusting against the horse above her, couldn't prevent her long, bovine tongue from curling around the shaft in her mouth, caressing it, coaxing it closer and closer the climax. Her hungry flesh, hungry for food and for sex, for overindulgence of any sort. Her lusts were out of control.

The part of her that had been Melissa felt gleeful, delighting in the sensations of a larger body, a larger cock, and bigger, more sensitive tits. It felt so good to be a satyr, and most of her mind was that of a satyr now. The essence of Melissa uniting with the bits of her consciousness converted into one of the fey creatures, overwhelming Myshelle's sanity with an endless deluge of sex.

It wasn't fair! How could she ever hope to return to her human self, return to the her old life, with so much magic and an entire other person within her longing to dive deep into a pool of desire, never to come up for air?

It was so seductive, the offer of so much pleasure and delight every day. It would be so easy to merely let go, to allow herself to become a satyr. The true Myshelle, the real Myshelle, the one buried beneath an additional 425 pounds of mass, didn't want to stay, didn't want to be fat, didn't want to be a shemale.

She was a woman, she wanted to be a woman, a proper woman, without a cock. But she... she couldn't give up Melissa. She wasn't sure how she truly felt about the neon satyr that was now a part of her. She lamented spurning her years before, she could easily have had the love and affection that would have brought joy to her miserable, icy, empty life.

She could have it now; all Myshelle had to do to feel that love, the love and lust of her fellow satyrs, was to give up everything that she was, that she had been. Give up her career, her home, her possessions, her body, her gender, her individuality. Her personality and memories and those of Melissa would meld more and more over time, resulting in a single individual.

The longer she was a satyr the less she would remember her human life, the less she would care about what she had been. It was so tempting, so very tempting to give up her old life, her old, empty life. All she had was money and fame, and they didn't make her happy, at all.

It took all her willpower to fight her satyr self, to prevent the slutty shemale that she was becoming from taking control of her consciousness, stuffing her into a corner of her mind, and leaving her to helplessly watch as her new self began a new life.

But it felt so good, feeling her precum saturated folds of skin and flab rubbing against each other. Having huge, milk filled udders that gave intense, erotic feelings when squeezed; she could only imagine what it would be like to be properly milked. And her cock, oh gods, her cock.

She couldn't imagine losing it now, she couldn't possibly go back to being just a normal woman, not after she'd felt the pleasure of her thick, bestial rod erupting, the weight of heavy equine balls between her legs, the delicious pleasure that surged over the length each time she stroked it. Sure, it would need to be smaller if she were to continue her modeling career.

Myshelle didn't want children anyways, odds were she'd never find a husband, and the pregnancy would be devastating on her figure. So she didn't need a pussy anyway. Just a big, beautiful horse dick, just long enough to reach her lips, just long enough to curl her tongue around and...

All thoughts, of sex, of humanity, of fear and confusion about her conflicting emotions and desires, all were washed away upon a white tide of pleasure as Myshelle felt herself climax.

It was like a tidal wave of cum pouring forth from her, a tsunami of seed that instantly doused her in her own essence within moments. There was so much of it, so much more that poured from her now that she sported a three foot length.

Without a mare to contain the jets, to slow them down, to direct them back out once her womb had been filled, Myshelle found herself expelling gallons upon gallons of seed, leaking away the excess of the some three hundred pounds of Melissa that she'd made a part of herself.

And what of Melissa? The sweet, sexy satyr would always be inside Myshelle, and she most certainly wouldn't like being a skinny human. She would want to stay at the Amorous Satyr, to continue performing, to...

Myshelle's mind hiccupped once more as the twin stallions experienced climaxes of their own, their warm, wonderful bestial seed surging into her, lighting up strange, psychic pleasure centers.

No wonder they would send the new girls in to be horse whores; Myshelle felt rather light headed and bubbly, giggling, and horny. Like she was drunk and popped a few Viagra. She wasn't sure if her lustful intoxication came from the satyr magic or the sorcery woven into the fey beasts themselves.

Even with her human self in control, she felt her inhibitions falling away, basking in the afterglow of the powerful climax the stallions had given her. She nearly whimpered and begged for them to return their cocks into her mouth and tailhole when they pulled away, having little interest in her now that they'd gotten their rocks off.

Myshelle was left in a pool of her own cum, her entire body dripping with shemale satyr seed. The scent made her achingly hard, the effect that it would have upon a human. She was still human! She just needed to get away! To take off the necklace and toss it aside. But that could wait, she was soooo horny, and there were so many mares close by.

It wasn't like things could get any worse. She'd boned a beast once; she might as well do it again. Besides, there might be some sort of problem if she didn't drain herself of the extra mass that was stored up from the pendant's magic. Once free of the cursed jewelry, her natural metabolism would reassert itself, and the pounds would just slide right off.

Myshelle smiled, this was the stable, after all, she could see the neon lights of the club next door through one of the windows. As soon as she'd fucked a mare, she would be able to just walk right out that door.

The satyr rose, dripping with her own seed, her long, thick, bovine tongue slipping out of her mouth, lapping up some of the mess as she walked, letting her satyr instincts guide her to the most desirable mare.

Rather than approach one of the free roaming horses, Myshelle made her way to an enclosed stall. She opened the latch and stepped inside. Gasping at the site within.

She found it erotic, hideous, disgusting, and so very arousing. A blonde woman peered up at Myshelle from her place in the straw, a look in her eyes equal parts, fear and pleading lust.

At first glance she seemed to be a satyr, her body furred and equine to the waist, but the long tail matching her blonde hair was a bit lower than it ought to be, scarcely covering her dark black pucker.

Her hands had become hooves as well, absolutely useless for the purpose she was trying to put them to, trying to give pleasure to her aching, throbbing stallionhood. Her cock dripped thick precum onto the floor.

Myshelle could see that the fur had begun to creep up onto the woman's midsection, her ears long and furred as well. A few small changes in the face showed that she wasn't becoming a satyr, but rather an outright stallion.

Unable to speak, the horse-woman let out a soft, pleading sound, her tail raised. Myshelle couldn't help herself, as this was just about the perfect thing to set off her satyr lusts. A mix of human and beast, the exotic and strange.

The satyr stepped forward, bringing a cum-covered hand to the woman's rump, rubbing her seed against the she-stallion's tailhole to ease the entrance of Myshelle's own stallionhood.

The woman cried softly, tears of relief and terror, the scent of her longing thick in the air.

Myshelle brought the flare of her cock up to the she-stallion's rump, gripping her tail, preparing to sink her shaft into the poor plaything. But another scent reached her nose, one that made her mouth water and her belly rumble.

Food came before sex, she still wasn't big enough. Or so her satyr-self believed. What were a few more pounds? It'd take her months to ditch all the weight anyway.

The former model turned her back upon the captive woman, clopping clumsily towards the enticing aroma.

She didn't have far to go, she stepped from the stable stall to find Kora standing a few feet away with a grin, an erection, and what looked like a rather large can in one hand.

Myshelle found herself turning beet red, "I... I..." she stuttered, feeling humiliated that she'd been caught here by the captor. It was obvious what she'd been doing.

"My, looks as if you're the popular girl. A mare, two stallions, and just about to get it on with our resident horse thief." The red-headed satyr said with a chuckle.

The former model found herself crying, "P-please, please let me go, Mistress." She begged, "Please, change me back. I... I've learned my lesson."

Kora only grinned the wider, waving the can under Myshelle's nose, the delicious scent making her drool, her bovine tongue lolling out, trying to scoop up whatever was inside.

But the satyr kept the tin out of reach, "There's a problem, my dear. You see, if you leave, you take dear Melissa with you. I think you'd be much happier if the two of you stayed for awhile, and then made your decision once you've gotten your hybrid mentality sorted out."

Myshelle shook her head, dropping to her knees, wrapping her arms around her Mistress' waist, taking all the willpower she had not to lick or caress the sweet cock that was so very close to her. She could feel the delicious warmth, it would be so easy to have that warm sweetness between her lips.

"I... I don't want to be a satyr! I don't want to be fat!" she protested.

"I don't hear you saying you don't want to be a shemale, my toy. I don't hear you saying you don't want to have these big, sexy udders." Kora reached down and ran a latex-clad fingertip in a circle around one of Myshelle's nipples, making small droplets of milk leak from it.

Myshelle whimpered, unable to contradict Kora, even her human self didn't want to be quite as human as she had originally been.

"But I am a fair woman; I'll let you decide what you truly are." She said, dipping a finger into the can and returning with a dollop of something thick and not quite white in coloration.

Myshelle found it within her mouth, the taste spreading across her tongue, her four stomachs rumbled, craving whatever the wonderful, delicious substance within the can was.

As Kora pulled her finger away, Myshelle found herself following it, trying to suckle the last bits of the wonderful foodstuff. The lead satyr merely laughed and took a few steps back.

"Now, I'm going to count to thirty. You can prove you're a human by being able to resist what I'm offering. You have food and you have sex. Both base desires, both things that are irresistible to indulgent fey such as my pets. A human would be able to hold off her urges for a few short seconds. And even if you can hold on that long, honey, do you really want to? You know how good it feels to be a satyr. You know you'll be loved here. You know I can offer you wonderful opportunities that you'd never find out in the human world. It's your choice."

Myshelle's eyes widened and she pulled her tongue back in, trying unsuccessfully to rein in her saliva, "Th-that's not fair! The satyr magic, and Melissa, and the pendant, how am I supposed to be able to chose? What if I can resist just one? I... I'm so hungry..."

Kora grinned, "I'm not sure you'll want to do that. After all, this is some special stuff. A lot of enchantment went into this. It's pure lard, I'm not sure exactly how much more weight you'll gain, but if you eat a cup full of this stuff, you'll never lose weight beyond what it gives you."

Myshelle's eyes widened in horror, and her stomachs protested all the louder, her satyr-self wanted it, Melissa wanted her to devour it, to become the biggest satyr in the entire club, the pendant around her neck demanded that she eat.

"But alright. If you can hold off from eating, I'll take away all those extra pounds. If you can keep your lips off my cock, I'll change you back into a human. You do both, you can walk out of here however you want to look, keep the parts you enjoy, ditch all the rest, deal?" the satyr seductress said with a grin.

Myshelle closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, holding it in as she nodded. Just as long as she could keep herself focused on something else besides what Kora had to offer, she'd be okay.

"One, two..." Kora began to count.

Myshelle could prove herself human easily, and when she did she'd be able to walk out of the Amorous Satyr on her own two feet, though hooves weren't all that bad, but they didn't lend themselves to fashion very easily.

She'd be able to get exactly what she wanted, a nice big bust, and Kora could probably alter her cock to make it big and thick when she was aroused and wanted it out, and small and inconspicuous otherwise.

With Melissa within her, Myshelle was sure she could keep herself and her lover's spirits separate, so she'd have someone to talk to, to have fun with, someone kind and caring that loved her for her.

But then again it would also be nice to let the unpleasant parts of Myshelle drift away, portions of her icy, prickly personality, her unfriendly demeanor, and her whole ice queen thing. She could go and find a cock to loosen her up every once in awhile, or, better yet, find a cute model that was just starting out, eager to spread her legs to get ahead, even for another woman.

Then again she'd have to keep the tale of Myshelle's member a secret. If she stayed on at the club, odds were that there would be a steady stream of men, women, and every gender in between that would love to have a roll in the hay with her.

That brought back to mind the sexy she-stallion. Not only would she have lovers as part of her duties at the Amorous Satyr, but she'd also have the stallions, the mares, and the occasional plaything, like the former horse thief. Strange exoticness that she would never be able to get as a human, at least not without paying through the nose for it.

And she wouldn't be alone here, there would be the other satyrs, whom were already her friends. Stephanie, the dragon-satyr cook, Dixie, the dark elf that had been beside her at breakfast, and so many others. All of them loved her, cared for her. Kora especially.

The two shared a bed more often than not, the lead satyr understanding of Myshelle's Motzenger's Syndrome, and always eager to lend a hand, or a cock, or a tailhole, or a pair of lips.

She was sure Kora would miss her company, as Myshelle was one of the few satyrs that say that their Mistress was a person too and needed friends, not merely pets. Kora would miss her if she left, and there would be an empty spot on the couch and half of a big bowl of popcorn uneaten when Kora watched their favorite shows.

Myshelle gasped and shook her head, trying to clear her mind, trying to rid herself of Melissa's memories. She was breathing again, her eyes open.

"Twenty four, twenty five..." Kora grinned and reached into the can, slathering her cock with the thick, greasy lard.

Myshelle couldn't help it, ninety five percent of being surged forward, shoving the small portion of her psyche that still remained fully human into the back of her mind. The can of enchanted lard was in one three fingered hand, the other curled around Kora's cock, holding it as she greedily licked it clean.

Tears filled her eyes, the only protest her human self could make as she was forever enslaved to the satyr. She felt her body begin to swell, already using the manifold calories from the lard to bulk up her flesh. As she grew her human self withdrew in disgust, curling up into a ball in the tiny corner of Myshelle's mind. Not wanting any part of the shemale slave-slut she'd become.

No... not a slave, not even a pet. She was Kora's friend, her lover, not merely an employee or another satyr to snuggle with. Now that she wasn't going to be aching for sex all the time, things might even become a little bit tighter than that, more romantic. Yes...

"Mmm... thank you Myshelle," Kora moaned, reaching down and stroking the bovine satyr's ears, "I don't know what I would've done if you'd taken Melissa away from me. You're going to love it here, but then again, you already know that, right?"

Myshelle nodded; of course she'd love it here. She'd been there for almost as long as she could remember; the parts worth remembering anyway.

She reached into the tin, taking a mouthful of lard, enjoying the sensations of her expanding body. She wondered how big she would get. The bigger, the better.

-o-

Caitlyn moaned and pressed into the ample backside of the satyress dancer before her. She'd been rather shy about coming to the club, at first coming inside she'd wanted nothing more to get out, but then she'd seen this lovely woman dance, and she knew she'd be stopping by every so often from then on to get a glimpse.

The Amorous Satyr didn't have a cover fee, a minimum tip, or a drink minimum, though Caitlyn tipped heavily. It was worth it for the strange, erotic feelings she experienced. Somehow the seven hundred pound shemale satyr could make her cum from across the room, and right up close like this... oh it was heaven.

She bucked her hips, pressed her denim-clad loins against the white and blue fur of the performer's backside. She didn't seem to mind the contact. In fact, there was an awful lot of contact. Mainly because there was an awful lot of satyr butt.

The young blonde student sat upon the curved padded couch that seemed to be constructed in the Amorous Satyr's VIP lounge just for Myshelle to give lap dances. If she got a little too excited and pressed too hard, she'd break the chair the patron was sitting on, and possibly even the patron themselves.

The couch was very well padded, but a stiff padding, that barely dented from Caitlyn's one hundred and forty pounds. Myshelle spun with surprising grace, lifting a hooved leg that likely weighed more than her client did. Her huge, beautiful horse cock throbbed, apparently she enjoyed the lapdance as much as Caitlyn did.

"Wh... what does it feel like? Having one of those?" she asked, remembering her instructions, not to grope the dancers without having paid for the privilege. It was all she could do to stop herself from licking the golden ring upon the flare of the dancer's cock.

Myshelle moaned softly, shaking her hips and rear, "It feels wonderful, incredible, better than..." she took a deep breath and turned to the side, a generous surge of precum dripping onto the floor.

"Would you like to try it?" she asked the human, a grin on her face, "No charge."

"I'd love to!" Caitlyn said ecstatically without thinking, "Err... wait, what do you.... AAAAH!"

Myshelle changed her dance every so subtly, picking up the pace, leaning back against the heavy, reinforced bar placed before the couch. She leaned back with surprising grace, wrapping her thick legs around Caitlyn's waist. The satyr began to thrust and buck, her balls against Caitlyn's breasts, the cock so tantalizingly close...

She couldn't help herself. The girl wrapped her arms around and hugged the length against her, planting a kiss of the precum-drenched cockflesh, crying out with climax as she did so, her hips thrusting as hard as she could.

She felt something give way inside of her, something surging outward, like her normal climax, except it seemed to go on and on, down past the lips of her sex, pressing against the silk of her panties, the denim of her jeans, and then erupting with wet, hot, explosive bliss, surging outward against the satyr's bulk.

Caitlyn didn't notice the heat and wetness in her loins, as her entire upper body was coated in thick, sweet satyr seed. She gasped softly and fell back, eyes half lidded in a state of blissful lust.

Myshelle grinned and she untwined her legs from around another satisfied customer. Caitlyn would be occupied with herself for a good hour or two. The human dreamily tugged her ten inch length, decent size on a human. Myshelle didn't want to get her into the bestial stage too quickly, she knew her client would just love having a horsecock, but she wanted to take it slowly.

Temporary transformations as a first, a few hours to feel the best parts of having the male member, then when she was curious about how the equine length would feel, they'd take it from there. Temporary until Caitlyn asked her if she could keep it, and then from the equine cock, she'd see if she could coax the cutie into a few more satyr-ish features. It was more fun the longer than change was drawn out.

She sighed; it was the one thing she regretted about her transformation. She'd walked into the bar, said a few words, and experienced a world of bliss in less than twenty four hours. Not even a day between skinny bitch, and busty, beautiful, big-balled babe.

She felt the familiar sensation rise in the pit of her gut, quickly turning into a shameful blush. Myshelle loved the aspect of her change, the little bit of her old, human self that remained, stuffed into a corner of her consciousness, allowing her to feel delicious shame, humiliation, and disgust at the things she did, making them all the more delectable.

She walked from the VIP room, out into the main bar area, a grin spreading across her face as she saw the familiar red on black of Kora from behind. With a giggle she wrapped her hefty arms around the smaller satyr.

Kora turned her head, allowing Myshelle's lips to meet her own, allowing the bovine satyr's tongue to slip hungrily into her mouth, her own long, studded tongue curling around it, seeking entry into Myshelle's own maw.

The spotted satyr's three fingers hands gripped her Mistress' breast and groin, the latter of which got a playful swat as Kora turned, her latex-gloved hands running over Myshelle's pale skin, fingertips slipping between plentiful folds of flesh to tickle the sensitive skin hidden within, giving the bovine's udders enough of a playful tweak to make droplets of milk form upon her nipples, but not enough to let them leak down.

Kora pressed against her, Myshelle feeling a heat in the redhead's loins, her Mistress' cock half hardening as the bovine's hands moved down Kora's back, gripping her rump and pulling her lover even closer.

The redhead broke the kiss, panting, her eyes darting across the room where patrons stared, their attention diverted from the stage, where a feather winged, unicorn satyress also seemed enraptured by the two.

"Get out of here before the customers blow their loads for free." Kora said with a giggle.

"Yes, Mistress." Myshelle responded, shivering softly as a small flash of malice surged across her mind, like the bussing of a gnat, not even loud enough to make out more than the emotional content.

"Will Café Krygar still take our weekly reservations? Did the matter about us and the cute waiter get cleared up?" she asked.

Kora grinned, "Waitress now. Matters of gender are a bit... flexible in temples of Krygar, be they brothel or restaurant. Nothing to clear up, hun, they actually called to confirm that we were coming again tonight."

"In more ways than one." Myshelle said with a giggle, "I'll remember to bring some condoms in my purse. I didn't think it was possible for someone's belly to grow so big so fast."

Kora patted the plentiful roundness, "And I'm sure you'd be an expert." She said with a grin, giving Myshelle a parting peck.

"Shoo, off with you! We're drawing the focus from the stage!" Kora said, giving Myshelle a swat to the rump, which the bovine satyr wiggled cutely as she strode across the room, slipping into the hallway beside the bar, heading for the stables. Oh did she ever adore the stables, especially the last few months...

-o-

Myshelle sat in the straw, mooing contentedly as a fey-foal suckled at her udder. The small creature ought to be weaned off milk by now, but the bovine satyr always had plenty to give.

She ran her three fingered hand over the foal's fur, radiant white coupled with deep navy spots, and an auburn mane and tail that faded to icy blue at the tips.

The little boquine (Bo from bovine, quine from equine) always trotted up to greet Myshelle on her little cloven hooves.

"My, you're getting big," Myshelle said, patting the four month old foal, "You're getting your horns in early." She said, raising a thick finger to scratch at the base of her horns, five inches long and following the curve of her head, rather unlike bovine horns.

"Just like your daddy." She said with a smile, moaning softly as she stroked her cock, the words always bringing those delicious, arousing feelings of disgust and shame to the surface.

Oh how she loved being a satyr.