FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"I hereby call this meeting of the Cryptid Society to order!" "Yes yes, we heard you the last three times."

"Ah, but you see... we have ARRIVED. That makes it official."

With a final, wheezing gasp, their battered green van came to a halt outside what Dawson described as a SPOOKY HAUNTED MANSION. Victorian, quite large, and situated off in the woods supposedly for privacy, though the added SPOOKY factor was always a plus. The trees had cleared when they approached, and the teenagers could see the vague hints of the cliffside on the far edge of the two-and-a-half story manor. There was a reasonably filthy lake below the cliff, but they were not there for watertime shenanigans. No, tonight was to be spent... EXPLORING!

It was near dusk, and the four teenagers hauled out of the van with flashlights and notebooks. "Dawson, what am I looking at?" Larry knew, but it was best to let their FEARLESS LEADER give his spiel. Otherwise, he would never shut up.

"THIS! This is a mansion once held by the late Lady Mcgania!" "Gesundheit," said Mirai.

"And lo, she was suspected of being... a WITCH!" "Aren't they all." "Witch just means they own a house that everyone else wants," added Evan.

"Yes well, she was up to SPOOKY DEALINGS before her sad demise a month ago." Dawson crossed himself, sarcastically. "And now that her house lays fallow, it is up to US, the CRYPTID SOCIETY, to investigate the truth of this matter." "And sleep in a cool haunted house overnight." "Well yes, that too."

"Now then... INTO THE BREACH!" "That's what she said." "Zing!"

Inside the house was... quite nice actually. It had kind of a burnished mahogany look without being overly beige. A little fumbling found a lightswitch, and the crystal chandelier overhead burst into light.

"Ooh, good, the electricity's still on." "Not for too much longer though, hence why we're here tonight instead of next week." "Well yes." "The statuary is... different."

The entryway was large, open, spacious in a way. It had the classic "I'm rich!" look of a split staircase leading up to an overhanging balcony. Still, even as they took in the architecture, their eyes were indeed drawn to the various statues. Some were set into the walls, some were small on little tables, but all seemed to be of various animal people. A proud wolf(some might say werewolf) dressed in the stone equivalent of 1800's finery. A feline mistress in gorgeous period dress. Deer butlers and relaxing raccoon children. They all seemed... peaceful. Happy and content, though certainly not the traditional victorian art style.

"Spooooky." "No, just furry." "Technically it's sandstone and marble." "Anyway... let's split up, gang!" "Oh god." "Whyyyy" "Because it's important. We can all meet back here later to report our findings." "He's off for the kitchens." "Ewww, no. Month old food is bad for you." "Ah, good. Dawson has some standards."

"I know what standards are, at least."

It was with some sloth that Larry opened the doors behind the stairs. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy these sorts of romps, more that... he didn't expect much of them any more. It was fun the first few times, hunting for cryptids and expecting spooky happenings. But this...? Well, it was really just an abandoned house. Dead tenant. Nice place, but it would most likely soon belong to some rich person who would renovate it into the ground.

Back here seemed to be a small hallway, leading down a few stairs. Not much, just enough to get slightly underground in order to be a little cooler in the summertime. Coat hooks adorned the walls, all empty, and a closet revealed itself to be made for stashing... gowns. Party finery. Very nice, very pretty, though all the pearls had been swiped by now. Looters, though not vandals. Curious, that.

Opening the far door however, Larry gave a slight whistle. It was... big, for one, but... lights... where is... there. Oh wow.

A large, elegant square room stood here, with gentle carpets around the outside and an elegantly tiled dance floor in the center. Squishy armchairs for relaxing, an old record turntable for musicating, and many embroidered tapestries along the walls to set the mood. It wouldn't have been out of place in a fancy castle, and Larry wondered how much entertaining had been done down here.

He sighed, and moved deeper into the room, letting his tennis shoes clack and squeak on the tile. This was the sort of thing that reminded him how scrawny and unrefined his body felt. He loved watching dancers, dancing, moving with the grooving, yet he himself never really was much good at it. Too awkward, too gangly. Still, dance like no one was watching, right? He slid over to the turntable, and gave it a few cranks.

The melody was light, smooth. Not jazzy, as he expected, but more of an upbeat waltz. Back, and forth and fro, and to and forth and onward, the flow carrying something uplifting in his chest. If only, if only, but... really. No one was watching. He'd hear anyone come through the hallway down here, and... yes. The door clicked shut and locked gently. Now he could be alone, with his private guilty pleasure. No fear of judgment, no worrying about the peanut gallery back in the rest of the SPOOKY MANSION.

Larry stepped. One, two three, one two threeEE! Not graceful, but... he soon found the rhythm. It took more effort than he would have liked. Dancers of Real talent always made it look so graceful, so simple. Yet he could listen. Listen to the music, and let everything fade away. He closed his eyes, and found that he music carried him, around and back and around again... he'd never really managed to just... let go like this. It was... he wanted more.

The air felt warm down here. Nice, peaceful, easy to have his mind fog over. Flow with the motions, rise and fall with the tempo. He let his arms sway, then float out to his sides, feeling the balance like never before. He almost tripped over his shoes... but when had he taken them off? Did it matter? The floor was gentle to the touch, not cold at all. It felt more comfortable like this. He could feel his legs start to slide outwards, further, side to side and back and around. He gave a little twirl, and chuckled. It was a warm, elegant chuckle, the sort that any partygoer would love. Larry imagined taking one by the hand, a spectral reveler who was only happy to let him lead. His head stretched outward, reaching towards some joy beyond his neck that he wasn't quite sure what it was. He tossed his hair back, wondering when it had become so long. Did it matter? The longer, the better, to flow and swish and draw in the melody. His ears swiveled, side to side, following the turntable even as he revolved round and around.

The song ended, and a little intermission played leading into the next. He paused, and looked... and inhaled deeply. What... was all this? The room seemed brighter, more alive. HE seemed brighter, more alive. His shirt had been lain on a chair by the edge, but he knew he hadn't taken it off. His limbs seemed lighter, toned with more muscle than they had before, yet still just as thin and petite as ever. His hair stretched to his shoulders, and his ears kept craning for the next song. This... couldn't just be his imagination, could it?

The next song began, a more detailed ensemble with flutes and harps mixed in with the viola. He felt a tingle, and a rush, and somehow he knew. He knew there was something, something about this room about the music changing and moving through and inside him. If... if he stayed... what might happen? How far would it go, how far would it take him? He stared at the door, seeing it only a few steps away.

But he didn't want that. He couldn't want that. This... this calm, peaceful flow. It really was the sort of thing he had longed for. He stepped, and pranced, and gave a little leap into the center of the floor. This time he watched. His legs came out, and in, and the simple denim of the jeans did not entirely follow. They turned a deep purple, then lighter, and slowly the blue fell out of them like so many droplets of water. The sleeves flowed, and stretched, and began to give him all the freedom he needed. The inseam came downwards, further and further until he felt it give way in the middle, splitting and merging with the outside until the two sleeves became one, and then loosened into a wholly different sort of fabric. Fleecy, then velvet, then simply a reddish crimson silk that shone and glistened as he swished it back and forth. The dress clung to his hips, even as they widened, taking on a graceful, elegant spread. The front of the dress fell downwards, coming almost to his crotch, and somehow he didn't mind how empty it felt. More room, more freedom, a chance to dance and prance and become!

His chest wiggled, and then wobbled, and slowly began to grow. Peeking forth, stretching forth, filling with something that wasn't at all known to his years of living. This was wholly new, strange and bewildering yet somehow enticing. Larry grasped at them, and pondered briefly to push the strange masses back in. Yet the more he held, even as he swayed, the more they seemed right. Fitting and proper. And yet they waited. They waited for something, almost as if asking permission. Would... it be alright, to have this dance milady?

Larry paused, letting his steps slow, almost stopping. He... he could... and really... it wouldn't do to stop now. Even this momentary pause was causing his mind to want to dance more. Don't stop now. "It's okay... for you to come out. If it feels this good... I don't mind."

He thought he heard something, in the back of his mind. Not words, but feelings. Thoughts without language, yet he tried to put them to lyrics anyway. To come out... even if it meant that he would own them? To truly wear them with pride, and joy, and all the trappings and expectations that required?

"I..." He paused. "Will I still... be me?" Of course, milady. You are whatever you become, always in control, always the master of your own dance.

"Then... I do wish to dance with you. As... a true, elegant, refined..." If... if he said it... there wouldn't be any going back. But... the dance always moved forwards. Always. "Lady."

The music seemed to rise, faster, more passionate. Larry let go of his chest, and the small breasts floated free once more. She gasped, as a deep, powerful suction began to gather with every beat. Gently, as she swayed and floated, she pulled at the dress, and watched mesmerized as the long, awkward shaft began to pull itself away. You don't need this anymore. "I... I don't need it, no." Say it. Say your wish, milady.

"I wish... I wish I didn't have a penis. Didn't have balls, or anything of value down there." Not even your femininity? She stopped thinking for a moment, yet the music carried her steps. "No, that... I want..." She wasn't entirely sure why, or what that would even feel like. But... it seemed right. The better to entertain, the better to feel and enjoy. Dancers required passion, and an outlet for that passion... the smoother and more graceful the better. "Take my manliness, take it all, that I might have a lady's cleft!"

Larry gasped, shocked at her brazenness. And indeed, the music took. It took it all, stealing and siphoning away. Her face flushed, and she let the dress fall, slightly low, enough to watch. The strange, male organ sat on the front of the fabric, then slid behind, and then ceased to exist at all. A triumphant chorus began to play, and she felt as the bends and folds of her skin worked their way inward. Upward and outward leaving behind a small, tender mound meant for holding only the most female of belongings.

Her chest swayed, becoming truly round, the nipples growing and spreading and she could feel something starting to fill within. Not flesh, but liquid, giving and nurturing. The breasts were heavy, yet she dare not restrain them. It was better this way, as she twirled and leapt. They floated, upwards, then downwards, and the feeling of their return was more than she had ever imagined. They grew, and grew, thicker than her arms, almost thicker than the rest of her torso. These... were not just a girl's breasts, they were a lady's. A woman's. Mature and wonderful. She leapt again, and felt the hair land on her shoulders as well. Free, loose, but not finished.

You wish to flow, to be graceful in all regards. "Yes... I do..."

That can be granted.

"Then please... change me, music. Let me become something new, and wonderful."

Already her voice was not the one Larry entered with. Why would it be? Her neck smoothed, and with it her timbre and pitch. She could feel the notes in her mind, in her words her speech her everything. And with a gentle nod, the music cascaded across her very skin. She watched, merrily, as soft white fur began to flow. Starting on her chest, and then her shoulders and arms and torso and down and up and every which way. Her shoulders fluffed slightly, as her face stretched outwards and upwards and so very smooth and graceful. Her hair twirled, past her shoulders, past her arms, down her back. She gasped, as the dress parted in back, but was quickly filled by more of the hair, and then flesh and blood and bone to support it. She swished her tail, grasping it and then letting it flow freely. One foot, two feet, three feet, a balance and poise that she had never felt, yet already she knew she never wanted it to leave.

She hummed, in time and then in accompaniment to the music. She could feel how it was supposed to go, as an instrument of the dance, as the leader and lady of the dance. Something was missing. A finishing touch, a glorious elegance. Even as her nails turned to claws, and her feet stretched into graceful lupine paws, she felt that something missing. What, dear music?

The lady needs a name.

It was true. Larry... the boy who entered. She was still Larry, and yet... she could be so much more. Imagine the looks on her friends faces when they saw her. Proud and elegant and the regal womanly dancer. It all clicked, and she wished.

"Please, music." Your wish is our command.

"Take my name. Steal it away, that I might become who I wish to be." It is done, milady.

She opened her mouth, her long graceful muzzle, and spoke. But nothing came. No thought, no word. This... pleased her. More than anything before, and it left her in awe. The music could take any worry away. Even ______, that name that was, now gone amidst the melody. She could refine herself, down to the utmost. To gain grace, to lose indignity. To decorate herself in passion, and lose any inhibition.

You desire more.

Of course she did. How could she not. The music faded to an intermission, and she paused, perhaps for the last time. She... she desired to Be, to Become. Some parts she knew, some she didn't, yet she knew she would find them all in time. Music...

Yes, milady.

I shall need a name. One to fit my form, my sex, but...

You have not found it. Not yet.

No.

When you find it, I will be here. I will always be here, and should I not be, you may make your own music. You are your own guide, your own mistress. The lady of the dance.

Th... thank you. I wish...

The music threatened to start again, and she gathered her courage.

"I wish... to dance beyond even your music. To carry this with me, wherever and whenever I might go." Then this house shall not be your final dance, only your first. "I wish... to be a woman beyond even my music. Mature and elegant and all that I am."

Then you shall know new sensations no matter what you do.

"I wish... to be a creature of passion beyond even my understanding. I know not what I am, but I will learn as I go."

Then when you speak the words of your people, you shall be as one forever.

She opened her mouth, and made to wish, but there was nothing there. No further need, no further desire. Instead, as the chorus began, she raised her head skyward and howled. It carried her, beyond her form and senses, into the happy reverie of the harmony. She sang, sound without meaning to anyone but herself.

Evan pondered the entrance hall. He'd let the others go off on their own, not entirely sure the house was uninhabited. I mean, the lights were still working, so it was feasible. And besides, something about the statues just... drew his gaze, his touch.

This one was a dragoness, suspended from the stairwell wall with its arms and legs embedded in the stonework. It was hard to miss the -ess part: her dangling posture ensured that her breasts fell forward in an "aesthetically pleasing" manner. Artists were weird.

He put forth a hand, and touched. It was certainly well crafted, though not to the point of being suspicious. He could see the chipped chiseling on the hair, and wondered why dragon people needed hair in the first place. Then again, why did dragon ladies need boobs? The better for artists to ogle, he supposed.

Evan brought his hand along the smooth marble, down the scales and onto the breasts. They were not gargantuan, merely teased outwards by the illusion of gravity, and something about them sparked a touch of... something. An emotion not quite of sexual desire, but...

Envy?

He paused, shaking his head slightly. It was silly, but... maybe. Maybe a little. He was a bit on the chubby side, and never seemed to attract women like he wanted. He didn't need some sexual conquest like the football team always paraded about, more just an intimacy that simple conversation lacked. An openness and ability to be forthright.

Acceptance.

No, not even that, just... he stroked the statue down further, pondering the stone. It would be nice to just... be for a bit. Someone who could accept Evan as Evan. His hopes, his dreams, his personality and presence. It didn't even have to be a woman, or even beautiful. The artist was compensating for something, but Evan... didn't want to have to compensate. Didn't want to have to be compared to anything but himself.

Like the statue.

Like... he shook his head again, and looked around. The small deer butler on the mantle was just... himself. The wolf man in the foyer was dressed up, but gave an impression that he Wanted to be dressed up. Like this was his choice, his way of being. What... was Evan's way of being?

He turned, and his gaze shifted to a large plinth, in the center between the stairs. It was empty, and gave the impression that it had recently been cleared to hold a new statue. Recently, he chided, plus a month that went fallow when the plinth's owner went belly up. It was a bit silly, but... why not.

Evan climbed onto the plinth, sitting there for a bit. Admiring the artwork, admiring the aesthetic. Something about it was just so simple. Free of... anything really. Creatures that lived as a single moment. What did they think of his intrusion here? Of... him? Of this lonely plinth that would never actually find more of an inhabitant than his temporary respite?

Solidarity.

He hadn't thought it, but the thought was there. Just for a bit. He stood, proudly, holding a silly pose. No, this wouldn't do. It was too forced, too excessive. His was more of a casual aesthetic. Of simply Being, however he wished to be in that moment. Looking down, he saw the plinth was... not quite flat. A place for hands... no, more like paws, in the front and the back. A noble beast was meant to stand here, not some goofy teenager.

No one is here to judge.

It... was true. Of course, one of the others probably WOULD come back in at the worst moment, but... that was their problem. Evan simply needed to be himself, whatever that was. He crouched down, then put his hands forward. One. Two. The impressions were large, but they made it... more comfortable. Like little grooves, inset, to help guide him along. Along... where?

Wherever you want to go.

He raised his head, looking at the statues, then the wall, then the front door. What... would it be like, to be one of these statues? To greet whomever might come in. To stand without worry, or doubt, or need, or fatigue... tiredness.

He was tired. He'd been tired for a while, he thought. Tired of having to pretend to be something he didn't want to be, tired of acting based on other people. If Evan was to pretend, he wanted to pretend based on his own wants, his own needs. He wanted to find pleasure in the existence he sought. If others liked him, so be it. If others disliked him, that was his problem. It would be simpler. Easier.

Say it, then. Wish for your desire.

"I..." He wasn't even sure why he was doing this, but... no. He was doing it because he wanted to. It was his choice, after all. "I wouldn't mind being here. Being a statue."

He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts clear for a bit. It did feel nice. Almost... warm and inviting, despite the cool sandstone he kneeled upon. He didn't really fit in, and he knew it. Even here, amidst all these... animals. Creatures. Why not join them?

Because... could he? Something tingled deep within, a strange almost silly hope. It would be so nice if he could. He thought of silly tales, of magical happenings where people were terrified of turning to stone, of somehow being locked away. Yet somehow... it seemed almost enticing. Not just to be stone, but to be Artwork. Beautiful, shapely, sensual. Locked in a moment of existence that was far beyond the mundane confines of Evan.

Would you?

"I... I think so." He stared, at the wolf and the cat and the deer and the dragoness on the side and the... so many. But they all had a sense of invitation. Of welcoming. He'd like to welcome, to be welcomed. They seemed happy. No, felt happy. "I wish I could be one of you." Even as a creature? "Especially as a creature. Beautiful, alluring..." Alluring. He liked that idea. He didn't know what it would look like, but...

A tingle shot through him again, up and down his spine, and somehow it felt... easier. Simpler to just kneel here. He looked down at his hands... his... they seemed almost... perfectly still. Solid. And then they... shone.

"What?"

He almost didn't dare say it. To spoil it. But he took a hand up and... it shone. Smoother than skin, smoother than anything mortal and fleshy. It felt warm, solid, firm and supportive. "It... this..." Is what you wished for.

He stopped, and then turned over, sitting on the plinth. His ass felt cold against it, and... when had he taken off his pants? His shoes... but even so, he took off his shirt. It was cool against his skin, but somehow the warmth from inside filled him, washed away any worries. It wasn't that he was afraid of being seen... he wanted to be seen. Let them gawk, let them stare. HE was staring, though he wasn't quite thrilled with what he saw. Not yet.

You can be.

Evan hesitated, then realized. These creatures, these statues... they WANTED him to join. Wanted to shape him, to mold him into something so alluring, so breathtaking, that he could be proud of himself, that others could be proud of whatever he was to be. He just... didn't know what that was.

Do you need to know?

He... didn't. He didn't need to know what, only whether he would. And that answer had long simmered inside him, waiting for the right reason to burst forth. "I wish I was solid. Changed. A beautiful statue. Please..."

Speak your will, let it become solid.

"Change me into..." It felt so lurid, so naughty, the idea of letting his very essence be the plaything of this house. But... the results were on display before him, and he knew how maddeningly he wanted it. "Change me into anything. Whatever it is, whatever you think would make me the most beautiful and wonderful."

You wish to enjoy yourself.

"And if I can enjoy myself, enjoy what I am... I don't mind whatever it is. Don't let me stop it. Trap me as my desire."

He felt something shift, in himself, his mind, his Being. Something quivered inside him, outside him, and he felt so, so warm. His muscles twitched, and the power seemed to be seeping out of them, taken away to be used in the Shaping. He felt something... like hands, no... paws, sliding gently around his exposed flesh. They stroked, and petted, and he exhaled a slow heat. He felt them trail down, down to his penis, and then... they pulled. Teased, toyed with and ensured that it would not get away from their invisible ministrations. Evan gasped, kneading at the ungiving stone beneath him. The energies reached inside his shaft, inside his crotch and his waist, and started to draw out every bit of power. It... was going away, somewhere far away beyond the plinth, somewhere he wouldn't be able to reach unless he left the plinth, but... he couldn't do that, Wouldn't do that.

"Nnnngh. This... what is..."

This is not an invitation.

His eyes fluttered open, as he realized. "No... you're... taking it?"

Replacing it.

He pawed at the ground, pulled his ass upwards slowly, sluggishly. It was... the strangest feeling. It wasn't like gravity. If he stopped pulling, stopped moving, then he'd stay where he was, but there was a thickness and a resistance that was like sloshing through water. Yet no feeling of water, no feeling of impedance except the restrained response of his body. He turned, onto his hands and feet, but as he tried to rise, the invisible paws gently brought him back down to the plinth. "Ahhhh... oh god..."

An invitation.

It... left. He felt the weight between his legs pull off, then vanish. The heat remained, concentrated in his waist, and already he felt the paws pushing, kneading at his crotch. It... folded, the ass pushed upwards, rounding and extending and oh god. He could feel the breeze, now warm and inviting, flowing along his exposed cheeks, HER exposed cheeks. She could feel the lips, the curves, the subtle bends that would show ANYONE who walked behind her exactly what was on display. And... she liked it. She was afraid of it, but she liked it all the same, and she was afraid that the enjoyment was slowly, steadily winning out.

"I... let me see it."

She looked forward, and a mirror of ethereal glass slowly coalesced. Where did it come from? Did it matter? And in the pane, she saw... the most beautiful rear end. Certainly more inviting than what He had had, and more inviting than anything she had witnessed on others. Plump, yet not engorged. Smooth and delicate, yet firm and strong. This... she felt... proud of it. Proud, and hoping that others could see. That others could stare, and feel almost inadequate, and wish that they too could become beautiful.

She stared, and watched in awe as her spine started to elongate. Pulling outwards, thin and furry with a tan fluff that seemed to flow and wrap around the new appendage. More and more, twisting and spiraling upwards so as to show off the entrance below. She could feel the paws pulling and drawing it further, yet could not see them even in the glass. The tail reached its end, but the fur had yet to conclude, forming into a proud, fluffed tuft. "A... lion's tail."

It made sense to her. If she was to be in the middle of the room, the boldest statue, it would make sense for her to be a bold, powerful animal. A creature of pride and joy, to invite people in with their gaze and their curiosity. She moved the tail slightly, but when she stopped, it stopped as well, hanging in mid air without a care. Yes... good.

Will you cast aside your freedom?

A rush of adrenaline filled her, but it saw no release. How could it? Indeed, that was the entire point. "I..."

Will you stay here, raised and exposed?

"P... please. My feet, my legs... let them..." It was now or never. Here she could leave. Take her new rear end, her proud tail, and flee into the night. But why? "You can... seal me here... give me paws, and claws... let my flesh be stone."

She felt it. Felt as her feet dug into the stone plinth, into the recession, filling it. The shape wasn't right for human feet, but... a lion's paws... those would fit nicely. Fit forever, never leaving ever again. Five toes became four, nails became claws that dug into the warm plinth, legs bending into an inhuman posture. She breathed heavily as the knees pulled forwards, the flesh wrapping and warping and twisting into something feline, something made to sit in this four legged posture. It was... comforting. Relaxing. She could sit like this for hours, no forever, and never feel pain. Never tire, never waver. This firmness... she knew she was trapped, but... no, she had to truly prove it to herself.

She pulled at her feet. Willed the muscles to move, to bend, to do anything. They wiggled slightly. Tried to rise up, to slide outwards, but it only helped her fall into a deeper, crouching, lounging position. Her rear still raised, still offering a tempting entrance, but now it was even farther to escape. Farther to move, and she... she wouldn't be able to move anymore. "I'm... I'm trapped."

How long are you trapped? Say it.

"I'm... trapped here, immobile... forever."

Something clicked in her body when she said it, and it became true. The flesh, the bone, the muscles, they all became solid, and then as one. There was nothing living about it, nothing capable of movement or action or doing anything but being a part of the plinth. "This... this is me now."

In part. You have so much more to offer.

"Then... change me more. Please. I can't... I can't just be halfway..."

She felt a tingle, and then a pulse, and then a powerful pressure in her chest. This... she guessed it had to come, but... this power! Something was different, new here. The stillness of her body was so profound, but this drew out even more. It was... filling... "I... I'm growing... breasts..."

Wish it.

"Please... I want to be like the statues... for my chest to... to hang, to be pulled forth, to be truly beautiful."

They pushed. They pushed and shoved and slowly gave way. She gasped, and pawed and kneaded at the plinth, unable to stand the sheer concentration of Pleasure within them. Already they were filling, and she felt like it could not hold. A dim light shone, down below her face, and as the mirror flashed, she could see directly to her front. This... this was...

To show others the way.

Her breasts were growing, but they were shining. Shimmering. Almost scintillating as they became translucent, and the frosted glass began to gently reflect light "Nnngh..."

Are they to your liking?

She... did it matter? The change was taking her, taking her places that she could not control, could not fight. They were breathtaking, still beautiful, the glass on the changing flesh, even as her torso began to shape and curve and bend into something far more feminine, far less human... She would bear the weight, until everything was stone. Her role was to be seen, to be artwork, beautiful and inviting.

Will you give up your control? Your human power to manipulate?

She knew, and this, she said without hesitation. "Absolutely. I don't want to fear making mistakes... I don't want to fear making anything at all. I want to be."

Then cast them aside.

"I wish that I didn't have hands. That fingers would be beyond my grasp. That my arms be like a beast's, never to do anything but support me ever again."

The force pulled at her arms, her shoulders, down through her hands even as she felt the nerves, the deep sensations fade into something far more generic and shallow. Her fingers filled, merged into four, and the paw became flappy and simple. She wiggled it, slowly and methodically, but there was no bend. No fine manipulation, no ability to write or make or do anything but stand. And so she put them down, and let the fur wash over them, the claws stretch outward, and then their entire form become stone. Supportive. Powerful, but with no ability to change their purpose ever again.

So little humanity left.

It was true, and she wanted the rest to be gone. She wanted it torn, stripped from her, taken far away to a place that no statue could hope to travel.

Will you give up your name?

She... Evan. It was simple, but it was human and male and a reminder of everything she was discarding. "I wish that my human name would be beyond me. I wish... that you give me a name, one that I am forced to know, and bear... forever."

Something shifted in her mind, a grasping of the invisible paws around something so personal and important, yet just as easily it was plucked away. She looked, and in the mirror saw words be etched into the base of the plinth. Evaline.

"My... my name is... Evaline."

Say your old name.

"I... Eva... evaaa... it's not there. I should know what it is, but..." Should you?

"...no. You've given me a better name." She giggled, laughed even. Gone. Gone forever. She was finally free, free from that old life. Evaline knew, and was proud. Proud she could be Evaline. Proud that everything unwanted could be stolen away, not even under her own power. This... this was good.

Will you give up the rest of your human body?

Evaline wiggled, and tried to shift. Her arms, her legs, her tail, frozen in place. "That... I don't want that to be for me to decide. My humanity... I want to feel it stolen from me. Taken even as it tries so hard to hang on. Let me feel it."

It pulled. It pulled and it struggled and twisted and shaped. Something grabbed at her throat, and she cried. She cried out, but then her throat was a lion's. She sent words to her throat, and they came back garbled. Confused."Nnnggh. Iiii... I'rmmm. I carrrnnn't..."

Roar.

She felt the last words stolen from her throat, from her mind, and she couldn't speak anymore. No, something else was there, something proud and building and rushing. She ROOOOOOAAAARRRRed. She ROOOoooooaaaaarrrrred. The sound, the wind. She was casting it all out, giving it away, until there was nothing left to speak with. She roared again, but there was silence. Her jaw, long and feline, her ears extended as far as they could go. Left in a pose of triumph and passion. And even as she let the roar subside from her mind, she refused to let it go from her face. This... this is where she should stay. And the maw of the lion turned to stone.

You have the mind of a human.

But Evaline did not want that. Not anymore. She could not speak, even though she tried, and so she thought. Please. I want to be a dumb, proud, happy lion. I don't want to worry about anything anymore. Why think human thoughts? I'm a lion... a statue.

Then wish it.

She... was she ready? Here at the end of all things? She could stay, in human mind, watching and gazing and staring upon those around her. But that choice felt foolish. She was sure now, even as the anticipation made her giddy, made her so excited and guilty about wanting it so badly. I wish...

Evaline stopped, finding the words for the last time. If I am to be... a lioness... a statue... I wish to have myself locked... in pleasure.

This can be done.

Then I wish that... you take me. Take this sex, that I have never known, and with it, take my mind.

She felt it. How could she not? She was forced to feel, forced to experience everything, forever. The paws returned, stroking and teasing around her lips, front and back, sliding around her solid breasts, kneading at the warm glass yet somehow filling it with the most wonderful of sensations. And then... it struck. A powerful, thick feeling... invisible, almost intangible, yet the flesh of her pussy parted. Slowly, gently... then powerfully, viciously, manhandling her exposed, inviting rear. She gasped, but no sound came, and her mouth was forced to remain in its open, gaping position. Sparks of light shot out of her breasts as the nipples were tweaked, touched, as the glass itself bent under the pleasure.

Please...

She could feel it. The thoughts were being squished by the pleasure, smooshed out of her mind. This house, this force... was fucking her brains out, and she... she had to bear it. Had to let it go, had no choice but to be utterly used and taken.

I... I'm a dumb lion... I'm not human.

Admit it to yourself. Let it be true.

I... Evaline... is just... a slut. Artwork... to be used...

By anyone. Even the lowest of the low, they have more agency than you.

I'm... gaaahhh... Please... make me love it... make me... crave it.

The desire to resist, to fight, faded from her mind. That required flesh, and bone, and blood and muscle and... humanity. Motion. All things that she took for granted, but never could do again. She... tried all of them. Tried to move, tried to speak, tried to remember. Each of them came up against a stone wall, and then the very desire turned to stone.

I have... I have to be fucked... I have to stand here... and be...

Anyone who wishes, who chances upon you, can do the same.

That... I'm like a toy... less than that...

An invitation.

A... pussy. And... tits.

If you wish it.

She could... she could and the thought... the idea... it tempted...

I... I wish... oh god...

It was hard. Hard to think, hard to let the words be known. But they had to be known. They had to happen, to be let loose, before everything was gone.

I wish... I was nothing more... than...

Silence. Waiting. Pushing and pounding and oh god something was building down there. She... she had to...

I wish I'm... just nothing more... than two... two breasts. To feel... them stroked. To feel... my pussy pounded.

Breasts have no words. No motivation, other than to see, and be seen, and be milked.

Please... just... finish me... I can't... take it...

And that climax?

Let me... feel that release... forever.

Something changed, deep inside. The last of her power, building and crashing forth and... a moment of true pleasure. Liquid burst from her pussy, but then it was just stone clattering on the ground, and then her pussy was stone as well. Milk shot from her breasts, but then it was just a puddle on the ground, and then they stood still. She sent a roar out her mouth, but no sound came, and nothing moved. Nothing changed, until she felt the power open up beneath her. A hole, at the bottom of her mind, where her consciousness fell out of it.

She fell, her mind grasping at thoughts and memories that were not meant for her anymore. Her vision closed, and then when it opened again, it was from her breasts. Staring outwards from glassy confines on a stone lion. Pleasurable, solid, perfect. The hole closed above her, and her thoughts and memories became stone.

She felt, though. She felt the aftereffects of pleasure. She felt warm, and inviting. She felt a pussy, deep behind her, though her gaze would not leave the pleasing confines of the breasts. The breeze blew on a body that would never move, across feminine curves that hoped one day that... that she could invite someone in. She lacked the words to describe it, but she knew that feeling, even as it solidified, and time itself turned to stone. She would be there, waiting, and one day feeling that climax once more, if someone wished it.

It was not her power to wish. Not anymore, and that was exactly as she wanted.

Mirai opened the second floor door with a creak, sliding into a larger room on the left side of the house. The place was nice, if a little odd, though nothing had really attracted her fancy. But... ooooh. What was that?

The room was made like a quarter circle, radiating outward from the house with large windows on the outer wall to let in all the atmosphere. But along the left wall, from the corner up to the window and even some shelves past them... were a plethora of toys. Toy chests, sets of castles with little tiny knights, stuffed foxes and bears, little ponies going about their day next to a large, extravagant dollhouse.

She moved closer, examining, bending down slightly for a better view. They all seemed... loved. Cared for. Despite the menagerie of wood and plastic and occasionally metal, they were all arranged upright, spread amongst each other so they could have little toy friends to visit with. She poked a stuffed fox, and it while it did not respond, the slight give of the fabric filled her with a sense of nostalgia.

Mirai loved these sorts of things, even when... no, Especially when people told her to act her age. Phooey! Dolls are for little girls, they said. Action figures are for small boys. Aren't you too big to be playing with those things? Who were they to judge? To demand that somehow her fun cater to other people's whims? She picked up two of the little horses. One was very machine-made, plastic and pink yet with an expression of glee. Another was... very finely crafted wood, old yet varnished and cared for, with a mane that clearly came from an actual horse's hair. How... long had they been here? Played with, well beyond any hope of being an actual child? If these could be played with well into adulthood, why couldn't she do the same? What... what was so wrong about it?

Nothing.

She felt the feeling in her mind, a reinforcement of what she already knew and demanded that others know. Nothing was wrong about it! She really did wish she could just... be free from those sorts of comments. Enjoy, and revel, and play how she wanted to play, even if others had forgotten how to be a child.

Did she wish for it?

Mirai paused, holding the little pony close. What was it like, being one of these toys? Where anyone who saw them accepted that they were supposed to be toys, supposed to be having fun with their toy friends, maybe even their non-toy friends at times. Dawson insisted the house was SPOOKY and MAGICAL, yet there was a happy joy to be found here. Magic indeed. Magic that couldn't be found in the banal, human, grownup world.

Join them.

"J... join them?" A possibility, if it was even that... it seemed so silly, so fantastic, but... didn't she want to be silly? To indulge her fantasies, to thumb her nose at any sorts of demands of the adults? If she could... she'd gladly wish to be everything they said she couldn't be, and have All the fun in spite of them, in spite At them.

A wish is useless when bottled up inside.

It... it was true, yes. She'd bottled those feelings up inside for so long, and now... "I wish I could just play with these toys. To... be like them." Mirai stared at the little horse, this creature that others said wasn't for her, and somehow she knew. She knew, she had to be like them, to show off just how free and happy she could be. "If it's... silly and childish, then I want to be silly and childish." She stood, and hollered into the night. "I wish I was a silly filly like you, a cute little pony with all my friends!"

She breathed, gasped, a bit shocked at the rush. Something tingled, flowed up and down and through her. This... oof! Something had grabbed deep within, taken hold of something fully intangible and then... forced it to shrink. To recede, to fall away, and as she gasped, the room around her grew. It grew, only slightly, but she could see it. Feel it. She... had shrunk. Her clothes, just a bit looser, her mind, just a bit lighter. "This... I really..."

Let it all out.

"Yes... I... I'm going to be a silly little filly. Not a grownup, not... I don't want to live in their world anymore!"

She staggered, wobbled, as the room grew again. She... she had to say it, had to make sure... "I'm... 15 years old... oh! I'm..." She was, and it felt so natural to say it. Of course it did, it was true now. "But... I wish I was younger. Smaller, lighter, a little pony!"

The room swirled, and as her shirt started to dangle off her shoulders, she looked in awe as purple fur started to sprout and swell along her arms. She could feel something, way in the back, wanting to push out and grow, if only it wasn't trapped by these silly adult things. Bras, and panties, and pants and shirts and all this clothing that got in the way. Mirai thought back to an early memory, where as a young kid she had thoughtlessly gone running around the yard stark naked. Put some clothes on, they yelled. Have some decency. Well... she didn't want decency. No one judged these little ponies for being stark naked. Or the time when she'd been romping around on all fours, because that was clearly the best way to climb stairs. Stop that. Get up on your feet, you look like an animal. Well, that was what they were, what they were supposed to be. "I... I wish I was a naked little pony. Wild and free, on all fours. Let them see, let them hoot and holler. I'm going to be me!"

The room slid again, and this time her clothes slid with her. The bra was gone, the shirt became smaller and further down and then fell in a heap at her feet. She barely had any breasts left, and as she grasped at what was left, she wondered. Maybe that was when it had started to go wrong. When everyone could see that she was going to become a lady, a woman, and demanded that she get there faster, for their own enjoyment. Well phhhhbt.

Childish.

She... Mirai knew. She knew what that meant, and she hesitated. It had given her pleasure, quite a bit, in fact. But that was adult pleasure, it was... momentary and fleeting and not the same as true enjoyment. If she wished, she could cast that all aside. Cast away thoughts of womanhood, cast away any hope of sexual stimulation, or even the need for it. She could let it all go, in pursuit of true enjoyment, and... was there even really a choice? "I wish... I wish I wasn't some beautiful mare for grownups to enjoy. I wish to be a little filly, who doesn't feel that pleasure, who doesn't carry that weight, simple and childish and innocent!"

The changes shot, deep into her exposed nethers, and she could feel all those thoughts become strange and distant. Her lips, which had swollen slightly with the arousal of the situation... they calmed, and became quiet. Her passage became smaller, simpler, the nerves and feelings and emotions dimming and reverting and fading into pre-pubescence. She placed a hand against them, marveling at how... stiff her hand felt. How simple and unimportant her hole felt. It was like any other part of her body now. Her breasts became simple nipples, and then even those faded into nothingness. What did a child need with nipples, anyway? It was a silly word, an adult word, and she... she was just a kid. Mirai giggled, and laughed a high pitched, girl's laugh. It all tickled, deep inside, and she fell rolling on the floor, laughing and crying with giddiness.

She raised her hands, her feet, trying to find a way to get her footing against the tickling, but the hands turned solid, a dark deep purple hoof that was hers. She rolled, staggered to her feet, her... other feet. On the ground, exposed, simple and free. Everything seemed so big, so full of life. Even the toys, the dollhouse were more vibrant.

Fall to their level.

This... she was still Big by their standards. The size of a small child, a silly filly. But somehow, this felt right. She wanted to move, to play, to enjoy, and something about manipulating the little toys felt like the correct way to do it.

Then wish.

"I... I wish to play with all of you. Not as a toy, but... as a happy little pony, who's fluffy and magical and free to be herself!"

Her face pulled, extending, being drawn out. "Heehee! I... I got a horsey face. Why the long face?" She placed a hoof on it, flexible and mobile. More than a horse's, at least, but good little ponies needed flexible limbs. The better to make up for their hooves, the better to hold and play with their little friends. She spun, and cantered, and hopped a little, swishing her tail back and forth as her mane fluttered with her impromptu dance. Mirai wasn't some grownup human anymore. Mirai... the very person associated with it was a silly purple little filly, with hooves and tail and ears and fur and...

She didn't know what else. Did it really matter? Here, with all her friends, she'd make sure to have the most fun possible. She picked up the little pink pony, delicately between her front hooves. "Hi! I'm Mirai. What's your name?" The pony didn't respond, but Mirai pretended that her name was Gumdrop. "That's a good name. I like it!"

Dawson pushed open the second story door, yammering on a cell phone as he did. "Yeah, the spooooky victorian house in the woods, off 70. Yeah, the Mysterious Van is parked out front, you can't miss it. See you soon!"

Perhaps more friends would help. If they were going to be spending the night here, might as well make it a party. Not like the place was actually going to be magical. Boring. Mundane. Just like the last ones. Just like all of them.

The bedroom was nice, if a bit dated. A four poster bed with approximately zero posters hung up. Old timey mirror on old timey drawers, with a few knicknacks and scattered doodads. It was dark outside by now, and the window would have given a nice view of the lake if there was light to see by.

He really didn't know what he was expecting. Less expecting, and more... hoping. Yearning. He wanted, needed there to be something magical about the world. His imagination could harbor so many fun ideas, so why couldn't they actually exist? Why did everything have to be so drab and banal? He plopped his phone on the empty bed, and sighed. Would it be too much to ask for the house to actually be haunted? Filled with a witch's curse, or strange wizardly artifacts? Hell, he'd welcome some sort of magical curse designed to thwart interlopers. At least then there would be magic, not just around him but affecting him. Making him a part of the fantasies he so desperately craved.

Browsing the room, his eyes fell upon a strange necklace. A collar? Yes, it was a bit thick for a normal choker, nice and fuzzy yet not entirely decorative. If this were a real haunted house, the collar would be the sort of thing to be Horribly Cursed. Dastardly images ran through his mind, of a witch standing over a feeble mundane, cackling as the sod was turned into a magical pet for the witch's amusement. Changed beyond recognition, without hope of escape, doomed to become a part of the magical world.

Longing.

He... did long for that. "I wish you were something cursed, really. Something magical, freeing." Dawson touched the collar gently, and picked it up. He felt kinda foolish, really. Like that One Person in all the stories who touches the big red button not because it was a good idea, but because it was there. Well, he wanted to touch the button. He wanted to cause everything to go wrong, because at least then something would happen.

Willing captivity.

Yes, something like that. If it meant being magical, it didn't really matter what the cost was. Anything would be worth it. Hell, the more costly it was, the more fun it would be.

Unclasping the collar, he gently slid it around his neck, and let it close again with a *click*. Something about it felt... calming. Reassuring. Like everything was going to be okay as long as he wore it.

Something melted, deep inside him. He moaned, leaning against the wall, almost panting for breath, but from what he could not say. "I wish you would change me. Make me something magical, worthy of wearing this." He smiled, internally, then externally. There was a certain refreshing honesty about admitting it. Maybe his friends wouldn't understand, but they didn't need to. This was his feeling, his reason, and...

Thoughts flashed across his mind. Words. Sounds. Commands. What was that? Jokingly, he offered a simple "Sit." to himself... and promptly felt his feet yank out in front of him, landing him with a *thud* on the ground. What... was that...? Could it be?

Obedience.

No, not just obeying. Being forced to obey. The command to sit came, and he... couldn't have stood even if he wanted to.

Magic.

Dawson touched at the collar, and it felt warm. Almost hot, with a heat that seeped into his skin and his blood and his very being. It... it was! Oh yes. Finally... after so long, finally. "This collar... what do you think I should be?"

Changed.

Yes... he needed to be changed, to be shaped. He didn't know how, and honestly it was better if he didn't know. He wanted it to be a surprise, to shock and amaze him and force him into being. "I wish to be changed... to be made magical... in whatever way pleases you."

Then grow a tail.

He didn't hear words, per se, but he felt the command. Something pulled, hard on his spine, and he felt himself being dragged slightly upwards by the force. Lying on his back on the floor, he gazed and gaped as his pants were forced down his legs and a long, red, bushy mass of fur began to make its way into the world. He was being held by this tail, his legs raised in the air, and he desperately hoped it would keep growing. Don't stop. Please.

It pushed, and pulled, and gently drew itself outwards. Two feet. Three feet. Regal, thick, like a proud vulpine brush. He wiggled it to and fro, even as the end released and flopped back onto the floor. He had a tail. A marking of being an animal, a creature, something far beyond a banal human. "Th... thank you..."

His pants were gone, lost mysteriously while he was distracted by the floof. The underpants had gone with it, and his shaft bobbed and bounced at attention. It was so needy, so excited, more aroused than it had almost ever been. A joy and fulfillment that could only come from feeling his deepest, darkest desires come to fruition. He grasped, and stroked at it gently.

Shrink.

Dawson moaned, and gasped. That... he had felt it, and somehow he knew the intention... was this what the collar wanted? But... he was so needy, so... oh! The shaft continued to be tight and throbbing, but slowly it was shrinking, becoming smaller, lesser. Just... just like he was. A lesser creature, controlled by the magic, shaped as it willed. "Oh... oh god..." Spread.

The fur began to flow, out from the tail, along his crotch and hips and up and down and every which way. His penis refused to succumb to the fur, but there was so little left. Two inches. One and a half. One. It looked ridiculous, like a tiny nub on an increasingly wider span of fur and flesh. He kept stroking, kneading, rubbing, but now there was nothing except a long strip of smooth, exposed flesh. It was still extremely tender, perhaps even more so, but he felt no release. Couldn't feel any release. "Nnngh... ughhh..."

Flower.

Dawson let loose a gasp, as his chest pulled upwards. Growing, no... blossoming into little orbs, then spheres, then mounds. They were small, petite almost, but they were so... so needy. So sensitive. This thing... it was making him a girl, but... he didn't think that this arousal was natural. No, he didn't want it to be. He wanted to be teased and pushed beyond any mortal enjoyment. Even if... even if that meant losing his freedom.

Wish for it.

"I..." He knew he had to. He couldn't stop, not here. Not in this locked up state with no release. "I wish to be made into... a pet. A... bitch..."

Vixen.

Yessss... the word seemed right. Proper. "I'm... a vixen. I'm your vixen. Owned and controlled. Just please... let it release... let me..."

Soon.

He tossed and turned on the floor, panting and gasping for breath as his hips turned inwards, outwards, a rounded ass with a deep, deep cavity. Red and white fur on a luscious rear, with the throbbing pink lips in the center aching for attention. Needing no further invitation, Dawson plunged her hand deep in. It... didn't go far, but the passage deepened. Widened. Further and further and more than she thought could ever truly be filled. Something was changing within, shifting and altering. A womb, she thought, even as she rolled onto all fours letting her breasts jiggle and dangle with the pleasures of gravity.

The fur was on her arms now, past her elbows and down to her wrists. Her hands buckled slightly, then pushed outwards into soft pads. "Paws... I'm just... a beast."

And less, if you desire it.

She... of course she desired it! She could stop here, let it just make her into some vixen with a mind and will and freedom, but she didn't want that freedom. She couldn't want it, not anymore. "Please... I wish to be toyed with. Taken by the magic, shaped into something horny and needy and slutty..." Slutty. She never could have thought magic could make her want to be slutty. This... yes.

Something changed again, deep in her belly. She put a paw up there, and felt the fur, no the flesh... start to soften, to become lighter. Simpler. What... what was it doing to her? Her jaw stretched uncontrollably, and as she cried out in a voice that wasn't hers, a smooth vixen's muzzle formed, ending in a cute little snout. Yesss... Ears spreading, teeth changing, eyes hardening... hardening? She put a paw on her eye, and it felt... solid. Plastic. Her skin too seemed to squish, and give, and only now did she notice just how light she felt. Toyed with. She was becoming an actual toy. She laughed, and rolled around, marveling at how easy it was to flop and toss about without the weight of bones or meat or fat or any of those things. Her breasts jiggled, but it was with the soft, constant feeling of stuffing rather than any actual fluid. She bent her arm, and was pleased to see how it bent every which way, not much caring for joints or anatomy. As long as there was room to stretch, her plush limbs would gladly articulate.

The pleasure was still there, still needy. She needed something, anything...

Release has a price.

And she would gladly pay it. What did the magic want? Did it matter? A name.

Dawson arched her back, pawing at her soft silken pussy. "Take it... Pets... are named... by their owners..."

Dawn.

She giggled, and laughed. "Then... I'm Dawn. The lusty plushie vixen."

Will.

"Yess... when I... release... when I come... take my will with it."

What are you? "A pet. Your pet." For how long? "...forever."

Release.

Passion and power finally found its mark, and as it tore a YIP! from her muzzle, so much stuffing fired out of her pussy. Her tail arched and tensed, her arms flung back as her chest shot skyward, and all thoughts of disobedience and a life outside of being a vixen seemed to fire out of her. She... Dawn... didn't need to be anything else. She was proud, proud to be a toy, a pet, for someone else's enjoyment. And hers too. "Th... thank you."

Sleep now. She... she felt so drowsy. So cotton-headed. Everything was puffy and soft to think. Sense of equilibrium faded as the room seemed to swirl and twist, and she flopped down like so much plush. Yesss... this was as good a place as any. If the mistress wanted to find her, and play with her, she'd be here for a while. Waiting. Expecting the day when she'd be taken by magic once more.

It was some time later that a small, faded red car pulled up to the house. It was beaten and decrepit, but slightly better than the Mysterious Van, which was not a high bar to clear.

"So what am I looking at?"

"A spoooky house, according to Dawn." "She thinks all abandoned houses are spooky." So declared, Laura clambered out of the car. Reasonably decorated(that is to say, she looked like a hobo at a punk show), she puffed a bit on a joint, and pondered the architecture. "Lights are on, at least. Looks like they're already having fun. You ready to have fun?"

"Arf!" said Nacho, for he was a dog. He did not know why the humans would bring him here, but it did look like fun. And they brought snacks! Nacho liked the snacks.

"You say that, but you two are the ones already having fun." Leroy exited the driver seat. As he was the Vehicle Master, he had elected not to get TOTALLY WASTED until after entering the spooky house. His muscular, athlete frame contrasted with the rest of the junkies, but someone had to take the initiative and be the tank. That was Nacho, of course. Leroy was more of a go-getter type.

This was in stark contrast to the moppy headed gangly folk that wiggled out of the back seat, like he had grown there. People called him Windy, because that was what he called himself, though he probably had some other, less interesting birth name. "Fun is a journey, not a moment, man."

"Mmhmm. Well, try not to huff it all. Save some for me." "Me too." "Arf!"

Entering the house, they barked their Hellos, but didn't get much of a reply.

"Nice architecture." "Odd statuary" "Yeah, he said something about that. Check out the lion chick."

"Are those... glass boobs?" "Hang on, lemme flick some of the lightswitches..."

Nope, that was the porchlights. That one... did it do anything? This one... yes! The boobs of the lion lit up, like Jesus, and some of the other statues became lit as well. The werewolf's eyes, the deer's antlers, the raccoon's SHINY THING... it was definitely...

"Tacky?" "Was gonna say eccentric." "It's mood lighting." "For what kind of mood?" "Frolicking with nature, man. Animals and tits."

"You are So Odd." "I try." He paused, pondering the significance of this. "I try."

Nacho poked and snuffled at the plinth, not entirely sure about the vibe he was getting from the lion. She seemed... Extremely happy that people were here, in an adult sort of manner. Nacho was not old enough for those sorts of shenanigans, and it would have gone over his head anyway. Still, she felt friendly enough, even if he wasn't used to statues being friendly.

"Well, I'm gonna go find a bath first. No offense Leroy, but your car smells like a dead raccoon." "Because there was a dead raccoon? Remember? When it broke in and ate all the candy?" "Those were good times." "No they weren't! That window costs, you know?" "Shhyeah. Anyway, I'ma leave the goodies here, go check out the house. Get everybody and their stuff together."

"Sounds like a plan."

And the group parted. Nacho wandered up the stairs on the right, because he was curious about stairs and usually didn't get to climb such things. Laura wandered the bottom floor on the left looking for a bathroom. Now where would that be... Windy headed up the left stairs, waving hello to the statues as he climbed. Hi. How are you?

Fine.

Great, great. He didn't seem surprised that the statues sent feelings of wellness back, or if he did, he didn't comprehend them. There was a lot that went around his head, but that was part of the fun of feeling all cosmic.

"Aaaaand they're gone. Sheesh." Leroy huffed a little, then examined Windy's backpack. Oh snap, he brought the gooOOooddds. More of his ever present weed, but was this... acid? A random mushroom that... oh, that was a bag of pizza mushrooms. Why did he have... never mind. Windy was incomprehensible at the best of times, though friendly and well supplied. Still, if there was a place to trip balls, it was a spoooky house. With friends, of course. Trip responsibly, he thought, as he impulsively stuffed a blotter of unidentified chemicals on his tongue.

He ran a hand along the lioness statue, surprised at how warm it felt, and how the statue seemed almost... appreciative. The tits and ass was new, though. He'd never seen a ba-donk-a-donk of this size on any sort of cat, much less one in prime display. Showing off a passage that suggested incredibly lewd possibilities.

Leroy was not one for lewd possibilities. The others joked about it, but he really wasn't much of the boinking type. If this statue was the sultry lioness, he'd be more of a... tiger. Out on the prowl, having fun, and enjoying a good rest when it was done.

Awww.

"There there. I'm sure someone... appreciates your taste in artwork."

Join me!

"Maybe later. Gonna go lie down, stretch out my legs from all the driving." He was conversing with a statue. Even though there weren't words coming from it, he could almost pretend that it was sending feelings his way. This is because she was, though he wouldn't quite be okay with that concept just yet.

Leroy heard something... the crackling of a fire? Probably Dawn and the crew. It wasn't that nippy, but with the way the night was starting to go, it might be welcome. He wandered off to the right, looking for the source... there.

Opening the door, he found a... rather lovely lounge. Spacious plush couches arced around a calm, soothing fireplace. There was the occasional hiss and crackle of the sparking, but that just added to the feeling of... homeliness. Bookshelves with archaic literature, desks that had long since been emptied of paperwork, a window out to the darkness on the far wall, and an oval landscape portrait over the fireplace. It was... a white wolf? No, a white wolf lady, dressed in the loosest sense of the term, and probably closer to being draped over by fabrics. It was a nice oil painting, though he could see a few of the stranger tastes of the artist. The detail definitely got sharper around the breasts and tail. "Lady has weird tastes. Had. It's a good painting, at least."

Thank you.

Leroy imagined the painting being glad that he thanked it. Gah. He was becoming like Windy. Seeing people and personalities in everything. Was it the drugs talking? Not yet, probably. He could feel the initial tingles and twinges around the edge of his vision, as he sprawled out on the floor. There was no rug, but it was warm enough from the fire.

That was odd, though. Why was the fire lit, but none of the friends there? Were they all waiting to spook them? Please don't be waiting to spook them, he thought. Leroy did not need to add Jumpscares to the start of a trip. He just wanted to relax. To flow, and melt, and enjoy.

Like a cat.

Maybe? He wouldn't mind that. In this strange house of animal people, it wouldn't be out of place. He wouldn't be out of place. Not that he tended to feel that way, but he detested the feeling so strongly that he tried very hard to belong.

Why try? Just become.

Mmm. Sounds like something Windy would say. Just become what you want to belong as. Well right now, he wanted to just lie here. Like a tiger from his children's comics, in from the weather in front of a fireplace, with friends.

Wish for it.

Haha. That would be a strange trip. But sure, he'd heard that giving suggestions, thinking about things as you went in would help guide it along. Let the mind flow freeeee... "I wish I could just lounge here... like a cat, a tiger. Not having to do anything yet, a moment of... peace."

He yawned, and stretched. He did feel good. Nice, and warm, and safe and protected. This was a comfortable place, a peaceful place. His own little den to prowl and lounge and watch over. He felt weird. Twisty, bendy. He'd never done these sorts of chemicals before, but Windy insisted they were So Rad. He felt... like he wanted to prowl. To really get the feel of the tiger in him. He looked up at the picture of the wolfess, and she winked back at him. Haha. He was definitely high now. That's good. Just how he wanted it.

Leroy rolled over, getting on all fours, prowling around the room. It was easy to let everything fade away into the background. Like he was a cat, like he was a tiger. His shoes were off, though he didn't remember doing so, and really, what were clothes anyway? Just protection, trapping that a proper tiger didn't need. He wanted to create his own fur, his own coat to rest in, luxuriously.

He paced, prowling, and watched as his hands slowly shifted. The fingers congealed, melded, becoming thicker and muscular. Made for swatting and clawing and swiping. Nails into claws, and the beginnings of a lovely orange ruff. "Yeah... that's the stuff." His feet too, felt like they were shifting, though he didn't look back to see. He was more pleased with how the bones, the muscles felt, twisting and bending into a quadrupedal gait. It was easier now, to flow, to be the tiger. He could stalk, and swish, and turn, and... something was missing.

"Oh yeah... tigers have tails."

Wish for it.

"That would be soooo trippy if I grew a tail. Like just... ooohhhhh..." He felt it, the pushing, the pulling, the drawing out of the spine, like an extension of himself. He continued his pacing, but let the new appendage dangle behind him, then float behind him, then flow as part of the graceful movement. It was long, thick, supple, and very very different from what he was used to.

He wandered around to the fireplace again, lying down, and letting his tiger paws sit in front of him. It was a simple, elegant pose, one that his neck gladly shifted to allow. His head felt right, facing forwards like this, and he wouldn't mind if the tiger just... kept going.

You can do it. You're doing so well.

"Thanks wolf lady."

*giggling*

"I wish that I could really be a tiger like this... fangs and ears and all the kitty hugs." He had forgotten. Forgotten about life outside the mansion. It was there, in his mind, but it wasn't important at the moment. So easy to just be in the moment, to be cosmic and feline and... and...

His jaw pulled, tweaked outwards, and he snarled an inhuman snarl. Hey! Mind the dental work. But it was alright. He liked having a muzzle, and fur all over, and ears and a mane and... mmmm. It really was nice like this. Just to lay here. He wished it could go on.

How long?

"I wish... I just wanna stay here like this." Forever?

"For as long as I want to."

The fire felt so soothing. So relaxing. Warming from the outside, and then the inside, and he let his tiger lungs deflaaaaateeee... squishing into the tile which seemed to join in the warmth somehow. Cats really were kinda like liquid, when they put their minds away from it. He felt... flat. Like every muscle in his body had finally found their offswitch, after so much tension and work and effort. He could go flatter, though. He knew he could. Was it the drugs talking? Or the kitty? He didn't care. "Flatter... more relaxed... just limp... loose..."

His back paws gave way, even more than they had, even more than they should... and he didn't mind. It felt so good, so right. Even as his legs became flat hide, and his nethers sank into nothingness, and his rear wasn't much of a posterior anymore. Just flat, on the floor, like... like a rug.

Leroy pushed himself up, but only his front legs wanted to move. Looking back, he saw... saw how his back half had just deflated. Turned into a tiger skin rug, with the change slowly moving up his body. He... kinda liked it. Didn't mind, anyway. "Haha... that's so weird."

Still, it wouldn't do to be a wrinkly rug. He stretched his arms out again, letting his paws fall forward and his head lie flat on the ground. His shoulder blades went flat, and he watched as the arms seemed to wriggle, then sink, then splay outwards as a thin fluffy hide. His claws remained, outstretched, reminding everyone just how powerful the beast that lay here was.

But for now, he was just to lay here. His neck flattened, and then his... head... he felt light. Empty. Free. Like passing into sleep, yet with his eyes open. It was a nice feeling. Peaceful. He'd wake up sometime later, maybe stop being a rug. But right now... this was good.

Windy wandered the upstairs halls, going nowhere in particular like usual. Dawn had said the place was abandoned, but it felt so... alive. Inhabited. Emotional and purposeful. The theme was nice too. He liked animals. He liked the swishing sound they made when they ran away from him. Always very shy. He wanted a pet, but never had the chance to get one. Something small, fluffy, cuddly. A good friend, who didn't care about deeper meaning, and if they did, didn't impose their idea of what meaning should be.

"And Windy has stormy eyes, that flash at the sound of lies..." He sung to himself. He was a good singer, though a bit lackadaisical. There was a purity and innocence there though that made others take notice. The statue of the dragon noticed, or at least her bust did. Leaning outwards from the wall, as if to entice a weary traveler. She looked nice, but that wasn't really Windy's sort of thing. He liked comfort, cuddling, people who could be close and fun and enjoyable. Still, she was offering, and he gently patted the dragon on the head. There you go.

That's not the boobs. It wasn't, but that was her problem. Someone else might be a boob man. "And Windy has wings to fly, above the clouds... above the clouds..." He sighed, and continued onwards, trailing his hands along the woodwork as he went. His back twinged, but it did that sometimes. It needed to mellow out. Everyone needed to mellow out, just a little.

He opened the door, but wasn't quite sure what he was looking at. A small, purple horse, perhaps a pony? With limbs far more dextrous than any normal equine, she was playing with an assortment of dolls and figures. She had given them all the right hat, and now was arranging them to begin the most witty of conversations. It was... Mirai. He knew, somehow, though he didn't seem to recall her being a horse. Purple definitely was her color though. She had a purple vibe to her.

"Windy? What are you doing here?" "Dawn said there was good times, here in an old house. You're here, that sounds like good times."

She cantered over to him, and put him in a little hug. It was mildly awkward, given that she didn't come up to much past his elbows. She seemed... younger... lighter... even when the drugs talked, they didn't seem to make changes like this. This was new, but it was a good thing, and he was happy for her. "I like your wings."

"Huh?"

Windy turned sloppily, looking for something, and saw the strangest silvery wings, floating gently around him. Small, attached, like limbs that he could move and wave, feathered up and down his torso. He hadn't taken off his shirt, but it had just gotten up and walked somewhere. "Whooooaaaa."

"Trust you to be the one not to freak out." "Life isn't for freaking out. It's for enjoying."

"Were you singing the Windy song again?" "I do that, from time to time." "EEeeee! I knew it. Even your eyes, they look stormy now." "Huh?" "Green, but with little sparks and flashes. It's this place! This house, it does things."

"Are they nice things?" "Do they feel nice?"

He thought. Wings felt nice, and Mirai seemed happy, so he could feel happy about all of it. "Yeah, they kinda feel nice. Different. New." "Spooooooky" "Nahh... more cosmic."

"You should be a pony too! Cmon cmon, do it!" "Ubawhaa?" His confusion did not entirely translate, and he stared down at the little filly who was all but prancing in excitement.

"Wouldn't it be cool? You could be like a... what's the word, a pegasus! You could do all the things, and fly around, above the cloooouds..." "Above the clooooudssss..." They sang together, and she giggled a bit. That did sound fun. Strange though. New, odd, different. He tried not to make choices when he was all grassy. He tended to make bad choices when he did that, and mellow time was for being mellow, not for new frontiers, right?

Mirai was having none of it. She knew that sheepish aside glance, and now was Not the time. "Cmoooonnn, Windy. Don't be a stick in the mud!" "I'm more of a grassy sort." "Here, if you're so lazy, I can help!" "Well..." He wasn't sure, but her eyes were so pleading. So innocent. He loved the little eyes, on the little creatures, and now she was the little creature and wanted him to... "Alright." "YES! Cmon cmon cmon!" She tried to drag him over to the large dollhouse, but this moved him about no distance at all. What? Ooohhh, over there. He plodded, and flopped down with her. She remained standing, as ponies are want to do. "Alright, so first things first, you need to be... fun!" "I'm all about fun." "Yes, but you need to be fun. You'll see." She took off his shoes, tossing them aside, and neither of them really cared that they seemed to fade into nothingness when they weren't looking. "I wish... that you'd have the most adorable little hoofsies. To clop about and prance and be the best little pegasus. Big pegasus." She articulated, but nothing seemed to happen, and so she stared at Windy intently. "Um... oh! Is... is it my part?" "You have to pretend! We're having Serious Fun Time here." "Oh dang." "Yes. The most seriousest. Put on your fun hooves!" "Alright... what she said. I'm not much of a horse person though... more of a goat." "Goats have hooves too!" "That they do. Goatshoes."

Mirai giggled, and Windy watched blearily as his toes seemed to gather together. Grouping, forming up, creating newer better shoes for him to clop around in. Hard and thick, he rapped a knuckle against the edge and liked the little sound it made. "Those... are mine?" "Of cooourse they are, Windy. That's what I've been trying to say!" "Far outtt..."

"So see? You can change! You can become."

Windy stared out to the horizon, or slightly off from it, having a very deep moment indeed. He'd long since cottoned to the feeling of going with the flow, of letting life define him rather than the other way around. But now he was given the power not to just make his own kind of music, but to sing his own special song, to be whatever he wanted to be even if nobody else sang along. He shook his head, trying to bring it back to Earth a bit. Brain fart. A musical one though. He liked that song.

What did he Want to be? To become?

People had often demanded this of him, to little result. It was less a matter of what he wanted, and more what he was willing to tolerate. He'd never really had his own steam before, his own propulsion of fate. And now, set loose in the cosmos for the first time, he felt... adrift. Lost. Rudderless.

"Hellooooo. Earth to Windy." Mirai was staring at him, with those adorable eyes, wanting to know what went on in his head, but she didn't even have the context to grasp the thoughts that passed through it.

"Sorry, was just thinking." "What do you want to be?" "I... don't know."

Mirai made to speak, but her ears swiveled and she heard that sadness. There was an emptiness there, something that desperately wanted to be filled, yet didn't grasp that it had to be filled from within. The power to form, to become... he really wanted to be something. He just lacked the context to move it forward.

"Well... why don't we try something, and if it's not good, we move on from there?" "That... that does sound nice."

"Okay! Look deeeep into my eyes." "Hello eyes." "Now. Are you a boy? Or a girl?" "Does it matter?"

They both stopped, pondered. Windy was definitely male, but not... masculine. He just kinda was. It didn't really matter. He wasn't that sort of person. He could appreciate the decorative aspects of sex, but his idea of romance was far more... subtle. Simple.

"Then make it not matter." "...wha?" "It's up to you! If you say it doesn't matter, then that's Your Choice."

Ha. It was, wasn't it? So weird. Still, he liked it when his third options could actually be choices. "Alright. Then I wish it didn't matter."

He felt a strange tingling, a pulling sensation, and he looked down at his crotch. Peeling away the basketball shorts, he saw... a simple shaft. Just a thing that he had used, to piddle, occasionaly jerk for pleasure, but did it really matter? It wiggled, and shriveled down to a smaller size, and he stared in awe while Mirai gasped a girlish sort of gasp. Scandalous! But it didn't really matter. Already it was gone. There was a little cleft there, like a pussy, but... as he poked at it, it didn't feel all that important, all that sensitive. It just kinda was, like he was. Yeah. Good. A tingle at his chest alerted him to the strangest of changes, as his nipples slowly dissolved into perfectly normal, smooth skin. "Oh! Byeee." "That's what you focus on?" "They're weeeeird." "They are, aren't they. Okay! Question two! How old are you?"

Windy made to answer, but he realized the import of the question. How old... Would he be? He didn't like discussions of age. He liked to be, in the moment, as whatever he was, though if he had to pick... "I guess I could be a bit closer to your age." "You gotta wiiiish. Windy you are so bad at this." "That's why you're here." "Heeehee. Well?" "I... wish that I was... 14. A little younger, but still reasonable."

The room grew. He looked around, watching happily as everything seemed to become larger, as his friend seemed to become larger! She was still small, mind, but he... he was a smaller sort of lank. Still a doofus, but a younger, softer, less rugged doofus. "That feels so weird." "But good, right? Right?" "Yeah... it's good."

"Okay then! Now since you have these goatshoes..." "Clippercloppers." "You need a goat's legs too!" "Wigglepants." "Wiiiiindy..." "I wish... that I could be a bit more... faun." "Ha! Are you punning?" "I can punish when I need to."

The scruff on his legs gathered, then bushed out. Fluffy and thick, brown with a reddish tinge, and a few white spots here and there. His leg muscles thickened and twisted, settling in a far more supportive stance. The tiniest little tuft of fur poffed out of his spine, and he gave it a little waggle as it flapped on the floor. "This is the wiggler." "Then what's that up there?" "The tum." "Oh! Important."

"Goats need a good tum. It lets us eat all the grass." "You do have a lot of that." "I do. I do."

He twisted his head, as his ears stretched and fluffed. His hair became shaggy, wild, growing from all the way down his neck like a mane, but never losing that thick ruffly nature. Two horns, much like the hooves, pushed gently out of his head, but they were small. Rounded, blunt, not a tool of violence. He grabbed them, and was pleased. "I have coffee cup holders." "I'm pretty sure that's not what they're for." "They are for whatever they're for." "How do you manage to be extremely deep while being so baked?" "Practice."

He stroked his skin, noting that it seemed... smooth. Free from hair, as if it had all concentrated in the more wild parts of his anatomy. A scruff of fluff hung at his crotch, and the area didn't seem important at all. Windy got up, stretching his wings, and hopped a little. Only a little, and he fell over again, because after all he was Very Very baked.

"Okay, maybe no calisthenics tonight." "Tonight's a night for lounging. Fun." "Oooh! Cmon, I wanna show you my friends."

Mirai led him over to the little dolls and toys. They were appreciative. Glad to be played with. Had they all been people, at one point or another? Did it really matter? They were having fun, and the meatfolk would join in on that as well. "This one's name is GUMDROP." "That's a nice name." "Thanks! She thinks so too."

Nacho wandered into the upstairs bedroom, boldly. He was a proud sort of terrier, though he envied the bigger german shepherds, and the wolves beyond that. They were SO COOL you guys. So cool.

There was an odd smell. Dawn was here, but it was a more feminine scent, mixed with toys and stuffing and happiness. That was good, and he wagged. Nacho liked it when the people were happy.

Still, the smell was on... a large, plush fox. A vixen, perhaps. Like a teenager, but naked and fluffy and not entirely human. He snuffled and poked at it. Very strange.

"Heya Nacho. When did you get here?" "Arf!" "Haha. Sorry, I'm a little tired at the moment. I get it now, though. Being a pet. I can feel it."

Nacho cocked his head sideways, confused. Didn't you always understand? Big people were supposed to understand.

He wished that he was a real person. Smart, and brave, and foodbringing like Laura and Dawn and all the others. Maybe not like Windy. He smelled. But it would be so nice...

"Arf?" He stretched, tail flailing in panic, as he seemed to... grow! The room was shrinking, and he... felt very naked. Fur faded from him, receding behind so much skin like a naked big person. He tried to move, but his limbs felt long and odd and weird. Was... should he walk like a big person? Yes, they... they were becoming human limbs. Human. A strange word, new and altogether unfamiliar, though pleasant.

He gasped, as his snoot pulled back suddenly, reforming into a naked human face. Sidemounted ears and flat muzzle and pointy nose. He grasped at it with his... fingers? Nacho waggled the little fingers, and they were So Odd. Like tentacles, but boney. He could do THINGS with them, scandalous things, but what was a scandal? Very odd.

His legs streeeetched, forming out into thin, almost sticklike boy's legs. He looked the part of a 9 or 10 year old boy, with the little freckles and the mussy hair and a general sense of being very, very naked. He felt cold. Maybe this was why the humans wore blankets all the time.

"Nacho, did you just... wish to become human?" "I... I did? I think so. I feel funny." "You look ridiculous."

It was true. A naked boy, with a small doggy tail, still trying to figure out how everything about his body worked. He felt good though. Smart. Proud. He was a big person now! He could do all the things, like opening jars. They would rue the day they stayed shut. But first... the Dawn friend.

"Wanna hug."

"Haha. Some things don't change, do they. Cmon puppers. It can totally be hug time."

And they snuggled gently. It was different. Odd. Ganglier and bendier, and Dawn seemed far squishier than before. Had she wished to be squishy? It was a good wish, if it was. Squishy toys made for the best hugs.

Laura exhaled gently, letting herself slide into the tub as the bath neared its conclusion. She had to admit, the bathroom was swaaa-aaanky. A porcelain tub set into the ground itself, that you could slowly ease on into with little steps, or just lounge against a ramp on the far side. It seemed like the owner wasn't sure if they wanted a pool or a bath, and decided to just have both.

She would have both, she thought, puffing out a bit of leftover grass smoke. This was definitely a good adventure. She'd love to live in a place like this, to lounge and unwind and just let herself streeeeeettttch out. Yes. That's the way.

There were some bottles of the Fun Bath Stuff nearby. She'd used them once before, when at a rich person's place. It did make the bath smell all nice, make it extra soothing. Let's see here... wow. Smooth Snake Skin Surprise. It was greenish, and promised to have a wonderful fit of relaxation that would leave her scaley smooth. Kinky, she thought.

She added a bit, and then started to rub it on herself as well. That wasn't quite the ideal arrangement, but... who was to judge? It was her time, to enjoy, to relax. Even if it was in this strange place. It hadn't been anything but inviting so far, and she didn't want it to stop.

She gazed down at the water, and sighed. It would be nice when the bubbles filled, and she didn't have to look down and see unsightly things once more. It wasn't that she didn't try to be beautiful, it was that she had to start from further back in the pack. Maybe it was the statues on the way in, but she... felt a bit self conscious. Teeny tiny nubbles that couldn't really be called breasts. Short, squat legs. She wanted to be long, to be svelte and slinky.

Wish for it.

"Yeah... I do wish I could have boobs like that. Be long, be... beautiful." Admired.

"Yessss... admired. I'd looove to be admired."

She felt... odd. Wiggly and wriggly, like the bath water was pulling gently at her toes. She liked it though, and let them float freely. It was certainly spacious enough to do so. What would it be like? Being admired. Being objectively stunning. Still herself, of course. She had needs, and plans, and goals in life. But she'd like to be appreciated on an aesthetic level too, you know?

She felt warm. Thinking about it was making her hot and bothered, but it was a nice sort of feeling. She just wanted to streeeetttchhhh out there, let her ass go on for days, so that everyone could see it wiggling and wriggling and... that was really an odd sort of thought.

Unfamiliar.

But... but good. She lathered some of the SSSS on her booblets and... they did seem bigger. Maybe a little. A trick of the water, puffing things up. But she wanted more. She didn't care if they weighed her down, if they forced her to accommodate her beauty. Laura reached over, where was it... there. She'd set the joint down, but reeeeally needed a whiff now. She was relaxed, but she could be Uber relaxed. Yesssss... good.

She puffed, and let her mind float. It was... so nice, really. She had already let her legs just wiggle where they pleased, and they felt so simple yet powerful. Curved and regal and slinky and... they didn't want to move apart. She pulled them up, and... oh.

A jade, scaled tail rose from the tub, yet when she looked at it, there was no fear. She knew. Somehow it was hers, that it was what she should expect to see, yet it was definitely new. "How... did that... is this..."

Dawn had said the place was spoooooky, but... she didn't think that magic was really a thing. Was it? Could it?

It's your time to relax.

It was! She grinned, and pulled her tail in closer, to examine. Her body just seemed to... continue past her hips, with her snatch pushed slightly upwards to compensate, though there still was a little indentation as if to shout "I'm right here!". There was a smooth, triangled pattern of white and black on the green, and she loved how it shimmered and glistened in the bath light. It felt... sensual. SHE felt sensual, and she wanted more. "Don't stop now. I want to be beautiful. Bountiful."

On display.

She... hadn't considered it. How could she? She'd never been display material before. But this... Wiggling and jiggling and her breasts filling and pushing and demanding to grow more... she'd love to. She'd love to let others see her like this, to be herself while others gawked and pondered who could have possibly wanted a snake lady in the bath?

It was Laura. She wanted a snake lady in the bath, and she wanted to BE that woman. "I wouldn't mind that, no. To let everyone see, to make them see. Yessss... just for a little while."

As long as you want.

"Mmmm... god I'm stoned." If you wish.

"I wish I could let this go on then. To be, to be seen, to be bountiful and curved and beautiful and... please."

She drew herself up, at the edge of the tub. Her tail coiled around, forming a gentle spiral almost like a smooth, sexual ramp down into the confines of the waterway. She smiled as everything seemed to... slow down. Gentle, the waves of water lapping against her one and two and four and eight and they all blurred together. She rubbed at her breasts, and was pleased to see that they had incorporated themselves into the bath. She tweaked the left one, and cold water splashed out, from a nozzle somewhere deep within. She tweaked the right one, and hot water came forth as well, spilling out in an orgy of cleanliness. Yessss... good.

Laura threw her head back, letting her hair flow gently along the edges of the tub, and as she pulled it around in a strange, serpentine spiral, she locked into place. Lounging in the corner of the tub, as a smooth marble tep to let others in, a glistening fountain to bring forth the water, and perhaps a shimmering work of art to admire.

She might leave someday, but for now... she was far too relaxed. Far too pleased at her change. This was good. She let the waves blur together even more, until everything became timeless.

The morning had arrived. Dawn had not, for she was still asleep, cuddling with Nacho on the floor. The wolf of the house chuckled to herself as she watched. It was all well and good.

She hadn't gotten dressed, because did she really need to? The dress-like skirt was enough, letting her breasts hang freely as she waltzed through the halls. There was a certain Harmony to it all, and she smiled as it clicked. Yes... that would be a good name. Better than ______, at the very least.

There was a new tiger skin rug in the lounge. Flat, but proud and elegant. She petted it a little, and felt the appreciation under her paws. "Leroy, what have you done with yourself?"

Relaxed.

"Well I can see that. Were you planning on going prowling anytime soon?" Maybe next week. Harmony laughed, and patted the head of the rug gently. "Alright then. As long as you need to unwind."

There was a lioness in the foyer, bold and proud, yet very needy. Someone had left her lights on, rudely, and she was quite pent up from it. "Evaline, Evaline, what are we going to do with you?"

Fuck.

"Eww no. Not until second date." Please?

"I'll see what I can do. For now, go back to sleep." She patted the lion appreciatively, and turned off the lights. The boobs glistened, and then fell fallow. Goodnight, even if it was morning.

The bath seemed to have a naga in it. Long, twisting, yet architecturally useful. "Should I let the water out, dear?"

If you don't mind.

Harmony did, pulling a little chain that released a hole at the bottom of the tub. Away it would go, where it stopped, no one cared. It was easier to see the naga when the water was gone, even if the room was still quite steamy. Smooth, gentle, yet proud and deeply flattered at Harmony's opinion. She tweaked the nozzles a little, chuckling at the choice of where Laura had wanted them, but then turned the water off. They could talk later, perhaps tonight when Harmony would have a bath of her own.

In the toy room, a winged faun lay sleeping while a tired unicorn kept fidgeting with the little dolls idly.

"Don't you think you're up a bit early?" "Technically I'm up late!" "Haha. Well, I know somepony who needs a good, comfortable bed." "Mmmm... that does sound nice."

She hefted Windy up, though it did take a bit more effort than she liked. Oof. People were heavy. Mirai blearily trotted along the hallways, towards the bedrooms. She knew where they were, somehow. "Did you have fun? You look like you had fun." "Oh yes. Danced the night away." "That's good. Windy had fun too." "He'll be more fun when I'm not carrying him, dear." *phhhbt*

Mirai climbed up on the large bed, as Harmony hefted Windy onto it as well. "Do get some rest though, alright? Tonight's going to be lots of fun with all our new friends." "Of course, Harmony." She stopped, and giggled. "That's a good name." "It is. I picked it out myself."

"Good night." "Good night."

And the wolf left, flowing down the halls to her own chamber of respite. It had been a good outing. Not spooky at all. Very cozy and happy. She was a bit sad the previous host had left, of course, but she'd take good care of the house, and everyone who wanted to be a part of it. The thought caused her to think of a tune, and Harmony hummed it gladly as she walked.