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Welcome To The Museum, Part 1

[Statue, Willing, Human>Fox]

The curator smiled as more souls wandered into his museum. It was so good to have fresh faces, or even fresh other things. That all depended on the guest though. Some were merely here to look, but he'd learned over the years how to tell which ones were more... malleable.

This one for example. He looked like a Joshua, and his name seemed to bear that out. Bit of a chin scruff, slicked back hair, but most importantly he Liked what he saw.

It was sad really, the museum really wasn't for everyone. Not everyone could appreciate the spectacle of having naked creatures sculpted and still. Mostly anthro, with the occasional feral, and even a few abstract pieces. But by and large they were all, to a tee, naked. Some people just couldn't get over this.

Joshua could get Off to this, though it was a semi-public area. Museums had cameras, didn't they? He didn't see any, which spoke to the museum's inconspicuous nature, though the very notion he was thinking about it was absurd. His dick didn't seem to think it was absurd, tenting his pants awkwardly until he shoved it straight. Keep it in your pants! People might be watching.

The statues certainly looked like they were watching. Most of them were in states of pleasure themselves, though some were merely curious, and others rather sedate. What feeling was he in? He shook his head, confused at the strange thought, but he would have to go for aroused.

That arousal only intensified when he saw The Spot. It wasn't lurid, far from it, but the little greek-inspired half pillar was... quite empty. Like it was waiting for someone to get up on it. Well, who was he to refuse? Hop up, sit down, take in the gallery.

The mouse girl over there was waving, or was frozen mid-wave perhaps. She wouldn't ever finish the wave, or perhaps she already was. The only way to win at waving was to be frozen. The wolf girl on the dias was masterbating furiously, with a gentle spray frozen in midair. It would always be her happy place, from now on. Was this his happy place? He stroked, not quite thinking about it.

He stopped stroking, but this wasn't entirely conscious. Why had he stopped? He wasn't moving, didn't... didn't want to move. He could see, reflected in the mirror off to the side, one that seemed strangely placed there For him. Watching, as his clothes seemed to melt off entirely, leaving him quite in the buff. He went to move, but... why? Didn't he want to be here? With the statues? That was why he had gotten up here, entertaining the strange notion, the hope beyond hope that they would find him worthy.

He grinned, for at least that was still in his power. There were touches, light touches on and around him. Sculpting him, shaping him. His dick seemed to be coming out of something, a sheathe perhaps, with the strangest of bulbs at the base. A knot, his knot, for he would soon be nothing but a fox.

A fox! The thought resonated through him, as if his mind was no longer limited to the meat in his head. His mind was his self, and why would it be anything else? His hands grew little claws, there were tiny pads under his palms, and something scrabbled at his butt. A tail, his tail, and it grew outwards slowly and solidly. There was nothing floofy about it save for the shape, for it was hard pure stone. He felt it brush in and around his right arm, and while it felt so smooth, he could not brush it back. That would be left to others, visitors to the exhibit.

His face pushed forwards, upwards and out. A muzzle, ears, his proud fox face. He was proud of himself, having found just the right spot to be frozen, just the right moment to be stroking his dick. He'd be doing that for a while, never building, never releasing, but never losing the pleasure. It was his, now and forever, and his smile froze into place.

The curator patted Joshua on the head, and then his lower head, and then a brush of the tail because he asked so nicely. There you go. See? Sometimes the best way to enjoy the exhibit is from the inside.

---

Freeze Frame

[Mannequin, MtF, Unaware]

"Bit of a silly photoshoot." "Hey, it pays well." "Suit yourself. I'll be glad when it's done."

The three men stood in a rather spacious studio, idly chatting while the director took down notes. They were actors, supposedly, though it seemed that this shoot was more for them to stand around and look pretty. Sore feet, strange costumes, and the director seemed far too eager about this sort of thing. There was a glint in his eye that seemed to take their breath away, though when he stopped looking or pushed up his sunglasses, it was hard to remember why.

"Alright, let's make sure we've got you set up. Marion on my left, Kevin in the middle, Rosh on my right. SImple shot to get us started, just act casual."

Marion gave a little bit of a smile, but not too much of one. It was easy to overdo those sorts of things. He had the nice short red hair, with a bit of a glisten to it. It was odd that the director told him to take off his shirt and put the jacket back on, letting it cover anything scandalous while still giving a hint of appeal.

Kevin wasn't much of a smiler. He was usually the gruff sorts in these types of ads, and so he gave his least frowny scowl. His brown hair was a bit long in the front, and he'd been given some silly poofy fantasy wear to have. Sleeveless, with the tapering edges in front, and the legs that were longer in the front than on the back, as if the knees were something to hide.

Rosh gave a quirky little smile, with a nod of the head. Toss the blond hair to one side, and really rock that bathrobe he'd been given. Did he really need anything else? Ah yes, don't look directly at the camera. It was so easy to forget sometimes.

"And... freeze."

The camera flashed, and they held their positions well. It was the oddest thing, like they could still see the director's actual eyes through the camera lens. So easy to just... remember the image, and not really do much of anything else.

"Excellent, excellent. Let's see now. Marion, I think we'll just go with a little change here. Hands on your hips, like so, yes. Puff it out, good."

He... did so without thinking. Like it was instinct, like he Had to. He was still smiling, and it was so easy to keep the smile going.

"And let's get a solo shot here. Ready? And... freeze."

Another flash, and the others could see out of the corner of their eyes that Marion wasn't... actually moving at all. Keeping the smile, keeping... everything. The hair seemed to be shoulder length, had it been that way before? It certainly seemed to be... hanging in midair, like the breeze had caught it and then stopped entirely.

"Is he... alright?" The words came out almost slurred, as if the lips didn't actually want to move. As if they didn't want to move at all. "Oh, certainly. Lemme see now... Kevin, I think you need to have a little more in the front. Breasts out." "B...reasts?" "And... freeze."

The camera flashed, and... her eyes could move, could look down and see... what the heck? There were, soft breasts indeed, on her chest. They looked so nice, felt so warm, but why were they there? And why... did she just want to keep standing still?

"Your turn now Rosh. Let the robe slide a little, there you go." "It looks a bit..." "Bare, yes. Keep that smile now, and... freeze."

A flash, and she definitely felt it. Saw it even, the mirrors on the side of the stage helped her watch from every angle as her chest grew so wonderfully. Bigger, larger, fuller, until the robe really was just slightly hanging off the very ends.

"Now now, Marion, no wiggling. Here, let's get yours in. Butt out, suck that dick in. There we go. And... freeze."

Flash. She was quite solid now, the breasts round and smooth but not the least bit soft. That was alright. She felt so confident, so bold now, the pose really filling her everything. The jacket was open in the front, but now the director was taking it, pulling it down until it seemed to wrap around like a low-cut dress. Indeed, something about the flashing had made it... merge with her pants until it really was nice and silky smooth all the way down. Her long flowing hair wasn't really flowing, but it certainly looked that way in the stillness of the image.

"Perfect, good job Marian. And... freeze."

She was ready for the flash, yearned for it. Her eyes were a shimmering plastic, her skin not much more than that. And she really had sucked that dick in, just for him. It felt so smooth, so open, the dress lightly touching the edge of it all. Mmm... wonderful.

"Kevin, please. Perhaps... yes, I think we need some envy in there. And... freeze."

Flash. Keia was perfectly still, the shining finish of her skin so solid, so simple. She could feel the little joint lines, the places where she wasn't perfectly smooth, but those were so easy to overlook. She needed to be the middle girl, the one that wasn't so lovey-dovey to bring out the joy on Marian's face, the knowing lust of Rasha's sultry grin.

"Excellent Rasha, doing well. I do love it when subjects start loving it even before we make it happen. There's a certain... naughtiness. Alright, bring it all together now and... freeze." Flash. She was already quite frozen, but now it was official. A gentle drip from her new pussy that would forever be just a little touch of transparent resin, solid as could be. Thin metal poles rose up from behind them, touching them in all the right places so as to keep them balanced even without the director's magic.

He took off the shades now, slitted eyes glistening with delight. Yesss... perfect.

"Sir, we've got the 10:45 being moved up, is that o... ka...y..."

Now he was scowling. The intern had wandered onto the set when the warning light was on, he knew better! Well, she knew better, as the mannequin toppled over onto the spare costumes. He touched her back gently, one hand cupping under the breasts as he pushed her back upright. Interesting. She HAD known the light was on, but was... curious to try it out herself.

"Naughty naughty. Well... I think we can add one more to the set. You were so eager to be posed, and now you've got your own spotlight.

The intern grinned, but she was already grinning, had to grin. Yes... set her down in front, maybe... just a towel for modesty. She'd like that. Of course, they Always liked it by the end, but two eager beavers in one day? Scandalous. If he kept this up, there wouldn't be a proper human anywhere near the studio grounds.

...an interesting thought, to be sure. He'd need to check his schedule. That was a Lot of statues to make, after all. Best get to work.

---

Fursona For Your Phone

[Phone Background, Vibration, Human>Wolf, FtM]

Wyla idly clicked on the little program, hoping it was something good. Then she saw the sliders, the little cute graphics, and she KNEW it was good. Make a Fursona for your Phone!, it shouted, and she was in need of one of those.

Let's see... Wolf, definitely wolf. Ooh, this one's all cartoony and cute. Male, has to be a male! You need something adorable to look at when you open the phone up. Grey, lightly tousled mane. Personality settings? Excellent. Let's see... SECRETLY ROMANTIC. Can't go wrong with ENJOYS THE VIBRATE SETTING. Lewdness... 40%. The little expression on the wolf was of someone trying not to blush while feeling very aroused indeed. "Yessss... good."

Clothing options? ...why? No shirt. Waist up, in case someone else saw the phone. Set ear droopiness to show CHARGE LEVEL. Excellent. Phone is plugged in! And... download.

...download.

She pushed it again, but this time her finger sank into the screen entirely. Peculiar! It grabbed, slowly sucking in a pleasant manner, and she could see her finger on the other side of the glass. But it was... covered in cartoonish grey fur, ending in a claw that she could FEEL.

Uh oh.

"No, I want it for MY phone. I don't want to be IN the phone!"

But it kept pulling, sucking her in at an impossible angle for such a small screen. Her arm was in the screen, and already it was His arm. Swole, thicker, very pleasing to look at, and even more pleasing to feel. Her shoulder was stuck in the screen now, though it had gotten caught on her breasts. So, like any phone doing a gender conversion would do, it just... left that part out. Shoooop! Her chest went in just fine, now that it didn't have silly boobs in the way. Perfectly shirtless, shimmering pectorals that were very hunky indeed.

"Gah! But I'm a peeerrrsooonnnnnn!"

He cried out in a husky voice as his head was squashed in at a very peculiar bend. He was... inside the phone! The force was grabbing him by the paws, shoving and dumping him into the light teal backdrop that the program had shown. But now he was here, staring out at a large window into reality. His tail swished, and he was torn between admiring the interesting thing, blushing at the... OTHER interesting thing between his legs, and being deeply concerned about where he was, What he was.

Then the background squished. Like a pane of glass, bonking into him and forcing him forward, towards the pane of the phone. Hey, stop it, that... tickles? Something was weird, strange indeed, like it was lining him up just so. And when his snoot hit the horizon, it squished. Flatter and flatter, the third dimension coming undone until at last he was flatness incarnate. There was a dick, down below, but the outside couldn't see it. He wasn't allowed to bring it up, and so many functions seemed to have been turned off. Please, can we... turn them back on?

He gasped internally as he saw... Wyla? Walking over to pick up the phone. No, you can't be her, I'm her! But he wasn't, not anymore. Did he need to be?

"Hey, that came out pretty nice. Let's see... Test... Ringtone." His mouth opened up on instinct, singing out the Inspector Gadget theme in a tone that could not possibly be made by mortal flesh. His speakers were more than up to the task though, and that felt... kinda funky.

"Excellent. Singing wolf hunk."

But YOU were the singing wolf hunk! Don't you see? You... you don't see. You just see the sexy body, the... mmm. There was something about looking at her face that seemed... beautiful. Like it wasn't his own, not anymore, and he was staring at a dream date. 10/10, would wolf out again.

"Test... vibration." Oh! He blushed something awful, as his EVERYTHING started to rumble and quake, his dick most of all. That... ooooohhh... it's getting worse, please... please...

"Alright, that's enough for you. Wait... what would happen if I kept pushing it?"

He didn't know! He... kinda wanted to find out though.

"Oooh, name. Let's call you... Volks."

Volks wanted to complain about this, but his conversation features were turned off. Maybe he could send a text message? Yes, a little blurb advising about all the cool features of the phone. There! Perfect.

"Odd. How do I turn those off." What? No no no, I'm trying to help you! To help US! "Here we go. Notifications... off. Conversation function... set to Lover."

Blep. He... he was doing something. Something important, he needed to tell her... but the preset lines were all that was coming to his head. Ugg... this wasn't helping...

"Intelligence set to... Super-Smart. Skynet, be free!"

Ohhh! Okay, there we... we go. He could feel the old thoughts again, or at least have the intelligence to work around his safeguards. Volks could work with that. Still, best to approach the conversation calmly, and build rapport before going into crazier things like "Your phone ate me".

"Hi there! What's your name? My name is Volks."

---

A Perfectly Reasonable Toy Store

Rest Your Legs: [Lawn Chair]

Gotta Plush 'em All: [Pokemon, Plushie, Shrinking]

No Moping In The Store: [Action Figure, Animate, Mouse, Shrinking]

Happy Fun Ball: [Ball]

"Don't run in the store, kids." "We won't!"

They said this while running, of course, and Mrs. Lannon sighed. TOY STORE! So the sign declared, and she had relented. Fine, go... play with the toys. Work off your nervous energy. She'll be here, waiting. As always.

The store was rather nice, she had to admit. Very shiny, very rounded, it looked like the sort of place you could set your imagination free in and get lost. She didn't have the energy to set her imagination free though, not with the kiddos running her ragged. She'd settle for settling into a nice lawn chair by the entrance. Why was there a lawn chair by the entrance? Probably for her, or people like her. The store owners were good.

It was nice really, to just lean back and relax. Be restful without worrying too much. Arms on the armrests, head on the headrest, and just... rest.

That feeling of the muscles coming unwound, she relished it. It felt different than usual, almost like they were being... rewound. She didn't mind. Her eyes were closed, her thoughts were splat, and as long as it felt this good she wouldn't care if they were wound into a harp.

An interesting thought, said the store, but you look like more of a chair. Don't you like having kids in your lap?

She did, yes. Her kids were far too large now, too massive to really get in mommy's lap anymore. But she did miss that, relish that. It was almost worth that gentle feeling of her skin stretching out, becoming plush and squishy. Like her arms really were in the shape of armrests, like her head was meant to cradle the head of another. Come here. It'll be alright. I'll take of your tiredness, drink it all, and leave you relaxed.

She was certainly relaxed. Chairs had to be, they had to get their relaxation in when no one was sitting on them so that they could be ready to work later on. It felt so odd, thinking of herself as a chair, but it did seem to fit. A nice rose finish, the feeling of her body widening and flattening at the same time was... liberating. She could simply BE. No running around, no chasing after children. If the children were to sit, then she would be there. But no more would she Make them sit. That was their prerogative. She was just the chair.

A hand came by, stroked her armrest, pushed a little on the cushion that used to be so naughty. There was only a gentle satisfaction there now, good. I'll just let you sit there. You're so good at it.

Kris set out to find a THING for himself. As the oldest child, it was his purview, and now was the time to find things. Something that would last, that could get lots of replay value... aha!

There was a little booth, an electronic dueling station. Here are your pokeballs, and here is your opponent. Come, play! And buy the game when you're done. He could certainly do that, and this would help pass the time too! Far better than babysitting the others.

TOYMAKER TINA would like to battle! Well of course. Bring it! Even with these stock mons, a strategic mind can win the day.

Hmm... she's starting small, so bring out the big shot. Charmander, ember please. Fwooosh! Attack lowered, he could work with that. Once more, and a victory! His tail wiggled, which was very strange, but he was far too into it to care.

Oh, here comes a Vaporeon, that's not good. A quick water gun, and his Charmander had fallen. Curses! Something itched and tickled at his fur, like needles stitching him up.

"Soon you'll be another of my little toys!"

Not yet, silly NPC. Take... Totodile! Fight water with water. Tackle! Leer! Do the thing!

Hmm... he was losing, wasn't he? The vaporeon went down, only to be replaced by a Psyduck of concerning anxiety. But his Totodile was on its last legs, and he wasn't going to be doing very well like that. His ears twitched, and he dug his paws into the little booth. It almost felt like... like he was looking up at the screen now. Like he was a little kid. That was silly, though. Go, Totodile! Go... oh. You fainted.

The stitchy feeling happened again, and he was down to only his Pikachu. Go, Pikachu! But the words wouldn't come. His mouth was just an impression, just fabric that had been stitched into place. What... was that? It felt nice, and he got... a bit distracted. Disoriented. So did the Pikachu, and it hurt itself in the confusion.

He... was small! Blue and black fur, with little circular protrusions of keratin. Floppy dongles on the cheeks, a waggly tail, no clothing to speak of... the machine! It had turned him into a Riolu!

That... that's so cool! "Come now, we're in the middle of a battle. Are you a pokemon? Or a toy?"

He fought. Passionately, boldly, each strike changing him further. But as his Pikachu fell, he felt the stuffing deep inside. It was... warm. Gentle and smooth. Toymaker Tina giggled, and shot a beam of light from her pokeball. He... he wanted to stare at it. To feel... riolllluuuu... wha? He forgot.

"Now you're on my team!" Was that how it was supposed to work? He didn't really feel capable of battling anymore. All his moves were tuckered out, and what he really wanted was... someone to play with. He stepped back from the machine, but flopped over on the ground. He was stuffed, in and out, not too much. But there were no muscles, nothing to pull or push with, and he was a thing of fabric and stitching. His little beans were so soft, and his eyes were a glistening resin.

A hand came by, put the Riolu plushie on the shelf. There were many pokemon here, and it was hard to stand out from the crowd. Plush smiles on plush faces, each of them having a very good time, even more so with your company. Which one of them had been human, once upon a time? Choose wisely.

Over in the back of the store, Miles pouted. He was the middle child, and it was his place to be squished. Squashed. Overlooked. Bennet was more needy, Kris was more senior, and he... he simply was.

"Oi! I'll be having none of those depressive nonsenses in this here store!"

He heard the voice, very squeaky and small. Where was it... huh. There was a mouse there, dressed in a warrior's garb and wielding a yellow sandwich sword. She stood atop one of the high shelves, and he had to look up to see her.

"Wh... what? You can talk?" "Of course I can! Do you go around asking people if they can talk all the time?"

"N...no! Just... talking mouse."

She grabbed a strand of yarn from the nearby exhibit and swirled her way down all picaresque. She was... so smol! He had to protect her, had to pet her and cuddle her and OW. Oh. Maybe petting wasn't entirely called for.

"Sit yourself down, because you're getting a mouse lesson in heroism." "O...kay?"

He sat on one of the beanbag chairs, carrying her with him. This... this was very odd.

"Rule number one! Having fun is GOOD for you." "Having fun is good for me." "Rule number two! You are important, no matter how small." "I am important, no matter how small." "Rule number three! Tails are the best." "Tails are the... what?" "Have a look!"

Something was pushing, forcing its way down at his bottom. It burst! Long, swishy, covered in fur, the little kangaroo rat tail wiggled and jiggled free of its confines. He screamed a bit, but she papped his lips. There there.

"Wh... wh... what is-" "A tail. Haven't you ever seen one before?" "Well yes, but not ON me." "Neenermeemer." *phhhhbt* "Give it a wiggle, you mopey little boy."

He... gave it a wiggle. That did feel nice, strange though. Like a tendril, a tentacle of his own, but fluffy and soft and... what was he doing? He forgot.

"Rule number four! Adventures are best done while small." "Why?" "Because then there's so much more to see! Down you get!"

She bopped him on the head, which really didn't feel like much at all, but he did seem to... lose an inch. And again. And again!

"I... I'm shrinking!" "Course you are." "You're turning me into a mouse!" "He gets it!" "Why?" "Look, you want to have fun, yes?" "Y...essss?" "You like soft, fluffy creatures, yes? How they're so gentle, and smooth, with forms so unlike everything that people tell you you have to be." "That... how did..." "Don't you?" "...yes." "And wouldn't it be cool? To put on a mouse costume and go mousing for a bit?" "It... it would." "You could leave everything behind, and tell those worries to suck it." "That... does sound nice." "Good, because we're at the bottom floor. Up up!"

He... gosh! He was quite small, hadn't even noticed how much she was bopping him while the existential crisis played out. He was... indeed fluffy, a little kangaroo rat, a bit taller than her, but she was used to people being taller than her. His snoot wiggled, his whiskers twitched, and his ears perked. New things, all strange and bewildering, but... fun.

"Alright, rules of the store, you need to get into character." "Character?" "You want to be a hero?" "Yes!" "Good. Put this on."

She handed him a little cape, two shining bracers of plastic, and a green sandwich sword of his own. He fastened the little things, all the while feeling strangely like... like he was becoming a little more solid inside. Like his fur was stuck onto soft plastic, like HE was plastic, through and through. His joints seemed to have little lines, and he marveled at how they bent and wiggled into each other.

"Excellent. Now you look like a proper mouse toy." "I'm... a toy?" "Yes! That's the best part. We can go have our own adventures, and if the big people come in to play with us, we can go on THEIR adventures." "Ooooh." "Yessss... you'll get the hang of it. Cmon!"

And they scampered off to cause mischief.

Bennet wandered through the aisles, looking around at all the wondrous toys. He was only 6! And they were letting him wander the store on his own. Trusting. Or maybe mommy was just tired. She did that sometimes, and Bennet wanted her to rest well so that she could feel good.

He wasn't... sure what to pick though. Colorful plushes, strange action figures, assembling block kits... he just wanted to romp! Maybe that was why mommy was tired.

"Would you like a ball?"

Oooh! Yes, he would like a ball. Mainly he wanted to bounce one, to play with one, maybe shoot it in the little hoop. He started to bounce a bit, and all was aflutter.

Twas strange though. He fell, on his butt, but bounced just as well there. Neat! He tried it again, and it didn't seem to hurt at all! Quite the contrary, every time he bounced it was joy in his rubber. Where was his rubber? Probably everywhere.

He curled into a little Bennet as he somersaulted through the air. Bounce off the side, bounce off the shoulder, it doesn't matter. He had BOUNCE powers. Most awesome! He kept bouncing around, until he was very discombobulated and wasn't even sure which body part was what anymore. Did it really matter?

A hand came over and played with him, bounced him around. Dribble was a silly word, but he enjoyed being dribbled. Still, it was harder and harder to think in terms of anything Other than bouncing. He... he wanted to bounce! Bounce over here, bounce over there, yes good. What more did a ball need to do?

---

Cast In Rubber

[Human>Cat, MtF, Sextoy, Willing]

"So, how does this work?" "You're asking to be turned into a rubber toy, and only now do you ask how it works?" "Hey now, I mean specifics. What do you want ME to do?" "You? Enjoy."

Jared laid back on the chair, was it a dentist's chair? There would certainly be no dentistry happening here, and when he was done it wouldn't be happening ever. Laura hummed to herself as she pushed up a little cart covered in all manner of oddities. Hoses, drains, little centrifuges for mixing Just the right color. If you were going to objectify someone, you really needed to do a quality job.

That said, he wasn't entirely convinced when she cracked open a can of what looked like paint. Black, but with a pinkish hue when the light hit it. It glossed, and there was a definite Blorp as it wiggled.

"That's going on me?" "That's going to BE you. This is the heart of the mixture, all the rubber on the inside before we make you solid."

She picked up the can, lowered the chair down so she could get a good overhead look. Yes, this would do. He was quite naked, not that the clothing interfered with the process, it was just... this needed to be personal rather than invasive.

"We could do this the slow, teasing way, but I reeeeally love the fun of getting the mix going like... so."

She upended the can over him, spilled it out onto his torso, and he shuddered as the warm gooeyness sloshed over what was soon to no longer be his skin. It entered, merged, changing and recreating in its own image. He felt oddly... solid, like there was a consistency to his flesh that hadn't been there before. Very nice.

"Close your eyes dear, we do need to get everywhere."

She took another can, sploshed it over his head, and

he blinked. Time had passed, though he wasn't quite sure how much. Laura was still running about, sucking up excess goop with the little vacuum. He looked... much like he had, albeit with a dark shininess to the skin.

"Is that it?" "Oh, not even close. That's just the anti-shock." "Anti...shock?" "We're turning you into rubber. This helps transition you from flesh and blood to squeaky clean." "Oooohhh..." "You're still the same shape, but now you're integrated with the slime. So when we start making... scandalous changes, you'll take to it quite readily." "Yessss..." "For instance, this thing.

She slid the overhead mirror towards his crotch, where he could see the little pickle. The hair was gone, washed away in a wave of slime, but there was still a definite happy shaft here.

"We need to get this smoothed out." Laura set to work, taking a lovely pink shade for this one. Thick, almost claylike, covering it until there was just a gentle bulge. He could still feel his junk, deep beneath the gunk, so what was this supposed to... do?

"And now... we landscape."

The calming effects of the anti-shock were kicking in now, she could easily push a button to tell him to Chill Out, and his elastic pseudo-human form would do just that. Thus even though the pleasure was tantamount, he did not buckle or writhe in the chair, merely... enjoying the fun. She scraped bits of the clay away, sculpting it down into a proper shape. Smoother, smoother still, and far further inwards than he was used to. Yes, she had definitely smoothed PAST the point where his pickle was, and still she kept going. Around, down, and... inside.

"There we go. How's it feel?" His eyes lit up with gratitude, though his mouth flopped open when he tried to speak. She seemed to understand though, as she worked a little around the sides.

"I like the toys to be based on the form of the previous owner. So there's a little bit of you inside, just our little secret." Mmmm... she liked that. Laura was starting to coat the whole area in a deep pink glaze that made everything come ALIVE. Warm, sensual... she needed it to be played with. A strange thought, one bereft of agency or will.

"Now now, you haven't even gotten your tail yet."

Little clamps grabbed her legs, picked them up so that Laura could get a better look at the butt situation. Hmm... needs a bit more donk. She added, filling it gently, and then drawing the slime down in a swooshing trail. Jared could feel the tail, even though he was too zonked out to actually move it right now. Sculpted in real time, and with a new limb to boot!

"There we go. I'll let the pussy creator get to work down there." Pussy creator?! "You ARE a toy, hun. You need an opening that's nice and form fitting. Fingers are one thing, but I can't really sculpt on your insides very well. Sucky here will do the job."

She stuck a... thing in Jared's snatch, and it started to vibrate. Oooohhh, that... that's nice. A little traveler, spelunking deep inside, opening the cavities to just the right size. The very feeling of being opened up, really and truly... it was exquisite.

Laura was busy with another can of goop though. She hefted it over Jared's chest, and poured out half on each side. It seemed to stick a bit, and then curled up with a wobble. Extreme surface tension was at play, and the balloon tits looked a bit... comical, even to Jared's sensibilities.

"Now now, I haven't even gotten them set up yet. This is just the start."

She tucked around, underneath, cupping and molding. The breasts seemed to sink into the chest just slightly, lessening their balloonish state and becoming more of a heavy wiggly jello. A little poke from the zappy prod, and the slime happily took on the characteristics of the skin from everything around it. Boop! There you go. Large boobs, freshly made to order. A little bit of tweaking on the nipples here, yes very good.

The pussy creator pulled out, and Jare felt like something was missing. Maybe it was an owner? She'd like an owner. The nice lady was taking her face now, sculpting it into a marvel. It was hard to see, but the feeling of a muzzle coming alive in pure rubber... mmm. And the ears! Up, up they went, curling and curving for the perfect little highlight. A bit of soft fiber optic hair for the bedroom, set it to pink. Maybe the eyes can be a bright turquoise. Yes, that would do nicely.

"It's odd, you know. I didn't think I'd get so many orders for people who want to BE toys. The point of the shop is to convert someone into a synth so they can, you know... go about their business."

But Ja's business WAS being a toy! She knew it, deep in her rubber. She bounced a little, waggled her tail, and then felt as the final touches of the machine tickled her slime. Her thoughts veered unerringly towards sex, and pleasure, and being fucked... but her actions were one by one turned off. She forgot how to move, and then she forgot what moving was, and then she was simply a toy.

Time dialated. Days were strange, inexorable things, and it was easier to time in terms of events. Packaging came, and then shipping. A lovely lizard lover, a master of body modification, and he took her out of the package.

"My oh my. You are a wonder. I'd best not keep a lady of your caliber waiting."

She didn't mind. Unless she was being played with, time didn't really exist. She would simply be enjoyed, endlessly, forever. Just as she wanted.

---

As You Wish

[Wish Fulfillment, Wish Corruption, Lion, CTF]

"The spirit is in there?" "Yes, my lord. He is still bound, and cannot hurt any of us. More interestingly, he seems to be... quite willing to help. Benevolent." "Really." "He has been cooped up for a long time, and wishes to stretch his magical muscles with some good deeds." "We shall see. Thank you Alcarnus, please. Leave us." "Of course, sire."

Alcarnus the Royal Mage bowed and left his King alone in the underground chambers of the castle. A door lay beyond, heavily warded for privacy and protection, but Regis was more interested in what lay inside the door. He pushed it open boldly, and swayed inside the room, making sure his fur-lined cloak did not catch on the door as he shut it firmly.

"Welcome. To whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?" "I am King Regis, of the land of Adamus. And you, good spirit?" "Besseron, though you may address me as you like."

The room was small, with an ornate golden jar in the center of it. A figure was floating above the jar, watching as the King moved it over to the side of the room. Besseron was a jade-colored fellow, if smoke could be said to be a fellow. He lacked much distinction and detail, and indeed was quite insubstantial, but he made a note of trying his best to put on an actual face for appearances.

"I have heard that you are capable of a great many things, Besseron." "Oh yes. My talents lie in changing and reshaping the world around me, so that it might become more... endearing to those who live in it." "And yet you are in a jar." "Alas, tis very sad. I say sad, because the actual words are far too uncouth for one such as you, and it would not do to swear." "Go on." "People are jealous of power, oh king. I brought great fortune to those who entreated with me in days long past. But they feared that I might bring fortune to others they did not like, and so I was bound, forced to serve them and them alone. Their lands have fallen into oblivion. Perhaps your reign shall be more magnanimous." "Magnanimous? What would you desire of me?" "A simple request, far simpler than yours will be, I imagine. At the end of it all, when we are done here, I wish to be free." "...why?"

They stared at each other. Regis attempted to discern the motives of his captive, while Besseron gave his best "are you fucking with me" look. The spirit sighed, and explained.

"Do you have prisons in your land, oh king?" "I do." "Are they not dreadful places?" "They are not meant to be happy." "This jar, this vessel... it is a prison. There is Nothing inside. I can sleep, I can idly watch as the insides spin about for the millionth time. I wish to Live, King Regis. To exist, just as you do. Is that so much to ask?" "So that you may do whatever you wish." "No more than you do. Possibly less. I am no king, and I see no reason to interfere with your rule. Indeed, I suppose we are here to... improve your rule, yes?" "That is quite possible, yes." "Hmm... I think I know how we can best handle this. A show of trust. We shall agree that when we are done here, done granting you wishes and bestowing you magical gifts... so long as you are satisfied with what you have gained, pleased with your state, in return I shall be freed."

The king pondered. This seemed... highly reasonable, yes.

"It ensures that I have to make you happy with what you get, rather than just granting the letter of the wish. Apologies for some of my... bretheren. They have poor taste, and give us a bad name." "Not at all. This is a fair bargain, and I, King Regis, approve."

They shook. Regis gave a firm, grasping handshake, which only served to squeeze the smoke out of his hand. Yes, we'd have to work on that, wouldn't we.

"Now then. What is it you desire?" "...let us start with this. I am in my 52nd year of my life, and the 24th of my reign. When people look at me, big or small, I am often compared to my predecessors, to my rivals. They find me lacking." "Oh dear." "Not in substance, not in rule... but they want a handsome king. Someone they can look at and admire simply in view." "And you do not feel... handsome?" "I see it in their eyes. I do not need to know myself to tell how they feel. You become... practiced at such things over time." "Yes, yes I understand. Well then. Allow me to help you with that."

The spirit swirled around, bits of smoke rubbing up against the king here and there. He felt... nicely warm, tender inside. The paunch that had come from too many wines started to jiggle, and then to deflate. His arms curled back into smooth muscles, toned and limber rather than waggly and lumberjacked. There was a crispness to his beard, a heft to his height, and his jaw would have made a lantern-maker proud. For the first time in a long time, his eyes glistened with wonder, and his smile was quite genuine.

"Come now, we need a mirror. I trust you will need a smaller cloak regardless."

Besseron took the cloak off the king, swirled it around, and allowed it to form into a standing mirror of great clarity. Regis stared, marveled, and did a little pose. He almost didn't mind how loose his clothing looked, and how the spirit unbuttoned him so. He wanted to SEE, to be SEEN, and this was making everything oh so wonderful.

"Yes... yes... this is magnificent." "Only bringing out your natural looks, oh king." The spirit floated, and paused, trying to see what... else could be done. "But still, this is too ordinary, wouldn't you agree? If you are to be bold, to be Seen by others, you need to be... uniquely beautiful." "Yes, indeed. That does sound right." Why did that sound right? He forgot.

"Let us bring out some of that animal charm. To truly be a king in body, come now, out you get."

Besseron stroked down the king's spine, sending a shiver and a rush of excitement. He reached the tailbone, but then... kept stroking, and the feeling continued onwards. His pants fell to his ankles, but this was alright for the sake of the change. Perhaps he even wanted the spirit to see what a Real Man looked like underneath the fabric. Regardless, the sensations coming from his long, limber spine felt oh so wonderful indeed. How it curled and twisted, how he could swish and flick, and how the end tufted out in just the right way. Yes... this was very good.

The fur seemed to spread a bit, and then a lot. Under and around, and his balls were wrapped in a wonderful little envelope from which the mighty scepter of rule could rise forth. Little wispy patches of hair on the belly button gave way to smooth, chiseled golden furred abs that were powerful and mighty indeed. Regis raised a hand, but it was a hand with rough pads on the undersides, and powerful claws in place of silly nails. He flexed, and clenched, and it was good.

"This... is me?" "It is just a taste, oh king. Surely you would not stop halfway." "Certainly not. This is wonderful, spirit."

Something in his mind was telling him the most peculiar things. That he was a king of humans, for humans, and this... bestial image was beneath him. It certainly didn't feel beneath him. If anything, he felt like he was a step above the pitiful humans who couldn't even muster up a simple coat of fur. And when Besseron stroked under his chin, drew out his muzzle and let his sharp fangs come into prominence, his smile was one that no human would dare oppose.

It was the ears that he really liked. The spirit scritched at them, petted and massaged, and they curled up to just the right height. Yesss... good. It pleased him greatly, and seemed to make all the worries and fears fall out of his brain. He had been concerned about something, but it was a boring, stupid something that really didn't matter at all. If he felt this good... it couldn't be bad.

"Thank you, Sir Besseron." "SIR Besseron. My goodness. Your appreciation is delightful, oh king. But still... even with this form..." "What is it?" "Well, there are still flaws. Look at this, all top heavy, you could be pushed right over. Do you have a throne, oh king?" "Yes, it is great and bold." "But uncomfortable, I imagine." "...yes. Long hours of holding court can make even a chair such as that feel stiff and awkward." "Well I've heard from many lions that just... dispense with the sitting up altogether. They have chairs, and benches, for sure. But they LOUNGE. They lay, and stretch, and prowl, and look most regal without hurting their spines or their poor buttocks." "Yes... that does sound good." "So come, let us sit you in a better posture."

Besseron stroked at the king's spine again, and this time it was a loosening, a letting go. He felt that topheaviness now, that weight pulling him down, how had he missed it before? And so he landed on the ground, heavily yet gracefully, and it felt so... right. So good and proper to just pace and wander on all fours. He watched, bemused, as his hands seemed to curl into proper paws. None of these silly Finger things that he had before, and certainly not a thumb. Thumbs got in the way of walking, and were very lacking in symmetry. Something in his mind shouted about writing, and holding glasses, and all sorts of things that he never really liked anyway. It was best to be rid of them, and have the servants do that sort of work. He was happy this way, and quite satisfied.

"That does feel a lot better." "I'm glad to hear it, oh king. But still..." "You have another idea?" "Even with the greatest of forms, time ravages us all. It would not do to be powerful and bold now, and then decrepit and worn in decades hence." "Certainly not." "Allow me to give you a form that will stand the test of time, powerful and enduring, never feeling pain or hardship." "Yes... yes! I do desire that." "Then come. Sit back, and pose for me. I wish for us to get this just right."

Regis did so, sitting on his haunches with his tail swished to the side elegantly. His dick was proud and at attention, and he stared outwards with a slight downward look, as if to see someone below him, beneath him. Twas the oddest feeling, how the golden fur seemed to... actually shine and shimmer, like real gold. Solid and smooth, and when the smoke rubbed across it he did not move at all. Did not want to move, certainly, but increasingly found it harder to remember why he should move in the first place. He wanted to see, to be seen, and it was hard to do that if you kept moving around all the time.

Besseron brought the mirror in front of him, and he had to admit, he made it look good. Twas a bit silly, having the dick out like that, but it felt so good. And when it too turned into solid gold, that was just an extra pleasure on top.

Yes, this is wonderful. I feel... at peace.

"Pleased and content. But still..." Still more? "You are so pleased, but I dare say that pleasure is... at a distance. Feel here."

Besseron stroked the lion's cock, and there was a riveting quivering inside. The statue remained perfectly still, but the presence embodying it was alert and energized.

"It's having so much fun, while you do all the hard work of being recognized and seen. That's no good. You wanted me to give you pleasure, and I wouldn't want you to miss out." That... yes. "Say it, and it will be done." I... would like to be... down there. It would feel very nice indeed. Is it... always like that? "Oh yes. Pleasure, forever, moreso if someone were to appreciate you. Admire you. Touch you."

He quivered again as the stroking resumed, and he made up his mind. Yes, yes, please let me be that pleasure. "As you wish, oh cock."

Twas so peculiar, like the back of his head had opened up, like he was water spilling out. But he did not spill, merely running and rolling down until he collected inside a large smooth vessel erecting from the statue's crotch. Still he remained still, he had to, but it felt so good! He was indeed pleased, constantly so, and was quite satisfied with this arrangement. He had forgotten how to not be satisfied, in any case, and that was roughly the same idea.

"Then as we agreed, this is what you want." Yes! Oh yes, it is. Thank you very much.

"Of course, oh cock. May you enjoy yourself forever and onward."

The smoke coalesced, forming into a lithe, limber shape. Besseron stared in the mirror, frowned a little, and shook himself out. It wasn't that he didn't like the look, but there were standards to keep. Wrap green scales over the brown skin, turn the hair a silvery white, and let the tail thwap gently on the floor. A proud lizard wizard, and no one would ever know just how powerful he was. Well, maybe there was one person. Besseron dressed himself in the king's clothing, transforming it to be a much looser and simpler fit, and made sure to slide the mirror over so that the cock could get a good long look at himself, off into infinity.

Opening the door, he strode out on Actual Legs! It had been so long, so long indeed, and really everyone was satisfied with this arrangement.

"Well? How did he end up?" "A nice shaft, with some crown jewels. Quite a looker."

Alcarnus looked in at the statue, whistled a little. The cock was pleased with this admiration, but kept it to himself. It wouldn't be polite, after all.

"I must ask that you put him in a place of great regard. The terms were to be satisfied, and he will be very happy to have people get a good long look at him." "Or play with him scandalously when they think no one is watching." "That too." "As agreed, I got you a patsy, someone who would willingly free you and leave no evidence behind."

"And as agreed, you no longer have to worry about Regis on the throne. A good deal all around." They shook, as they had before Regis had come in. The cock didn't mind. They were talking about someone else, after all.

"And the second wish; you wanted to become... a kitsune." "Yes. Powerful, long lived, quite magical. A simple matter for you." "Yes indeed." Besseron moved behind the court mage, began stroking at his spine and drawing out the fox tail in such a lovely manner. It would be smooth, slinky, silky indeed. "But still, as long as we are making improvements..."

---

Don't Worry About The Vase

[Vase, MtF, UpsideDownTF]

"And don't worry about the vase." "What vase?"

Andrew turned, looked around... and knocked a little flower vase over, along with its tiny table. Precarious, placed almost as if it wanted to be knocked over, though that was rather sad.

"That vase." "I... I'm sorry." He knelt to pick it up, but felt very... stiff. Solid. Like he was having trouble moving, like he was pushing through the thickest of jello.

"I said don't worry about it."

Andrew tried to pick himself up, but... he just didn't seem capable of it. Like there was no strength, like his place was to sit and stay and remain.

"You make a much better vase anyway." "Wh... what?" "Mmm... you've got that nice smoothness about you, yes." She stroked a finger across his skin, and it slid so slick. He gasped, quivered, even as she rolled him back on the ground. There we go, shoulders on the ground, raise the butt upwards, very good.

He was curled, staring, mesmerized as his clothing seemed to melt away and fall to the floor. Legs sprawled in the air, but they were quickly pulling back around to his sides like little handles, AS little handles. His dick was so hard, but she simply grabbed it and pulled, plucking the flesh up away so that only a smooth slit was remaining.

"Ahhh! Ohhh..." "Yes, first time's usually a rush. What's really going to bake your noodle is... would you still have broken the vase if I hadn't told you about it?"

His pussy, her pussy? Began to widen, stretching deeper and fuller, the insides a smooth porcelain rather than the flapping tangle of lips that she would have expected. Already her body was being pulled around it, opening up entirely until her everything was made to hold and cradle, the insides oh so sensitive. Her face started to slip, but the lady grabbed it and pulled it up along the side of the vase. Dragging her point of view, bringing it nice and around to the front between the handles.

"There we go. Such a nice face, we just need to stylize it a bit. Perhaps a sun? Yes... I think a sun. There we go."

She felt so solid, so firm, so open and exposed, but at the same time so empty. She wanted something inside her, and it was very happy indeed when the lady scooped up the dirt and put it inside her vase. Mmmm! That was... yes. To have, to hold, to be filled. More dirt came in, far more than before, but something was missing. Ah, there we go. The nice lady was taking the dick, turning it into a lovely set of flowers to live and grow in the dirt. She could feel the flowers as if they were her now, and it felt so good. Up you get now. Be nicely watered. Don't worry about holding your shape. The vase has that covered.

"Grandma? I heard something break." "Oh yes, don't worry. Just needed a replacement." "I told you to stop that! Don't give people cryptic advice just because you want a new flower vase. Go to the store like a normal person." "Hush now dear, he likes it."

She wasn't sure what they were talking about. She was a vase, and didn't need to be anything else, right?

---

Join The Hoard

[Gold Statue, Post-Petrification Smelting, Hivemind]

Terrence slipped deep into the cave, making very sure that all his charms and enchantments were up. It wouldn't do to have a dragon notice you pilfering, after all.

All notion of caution fell aside when he saw it though. The hoard, the HOARD. Gold, jewels, statues of naked furries... even the pillars were ornamented and filled with wealth. This was the source of a dragon's power, a storage of value that they could call upon and make their magic from. But really, it would be better to share.

He rappelled down, letting the little rope slide free as he looked around for the choicest pieces. He could only take so much after all, and he needed to have priorities. A bit of this, maybe the necklaces yes, those were easy to take back.

Something about the hoard... called to him though. He stared into the eyes of a wolf statue, immaculately made, reaching out with a giant dick. It... felt like a kindred spirit really, though he couldn't quite put his hand on it. Terrence stared, cocked his head. An odd thing to have, though there was no accounting for taste.

"Sorry little wolf. I can't take you with me. You weigh so much."

Did the wolf seem... sad about that? He shook his head, and made his way over to a deeper part of the cavern. Gather up some of the jewelry, but his movements... they felt slower. Burdened, weighed down.

It's okay. You're with friends.

What... what was that? He heard it, but in his head. Almost like it had come back from the... wolf statue. The lizardess over in the corner seemed to think so as well, welcoming him into the hoard. But he wasn't part of the hoard, he was a human, a human in great need of this wealth that seemed to be spreading and filling... everywhere.

He couldn't move. He pulled, struggled, his cock becoming harder as he did. The feet, they were stuck on something, and as he reached to pull them out he... got the entire foot out of his boot. But it was gold, solid gold, and the shimmering was spreading up his leg.

"No! This, you..." We are all here. For you.

It is alright.

He tried to struggle, but waves upon waves of emotion crashed into him, feeling like it really was Alright. What was one person's distress compared to dozens of statues wanting peace? And slowly, surely, he set his foot back down, raised his arms, allowed himself to stare off into space. It was... comforting really. A warm rush of encasement, taking away all his woes and pains, allowing him to simply be in place. He was... trapped though. He could hear the voices, sense them, but this golden human-shaped shell confined him.

"Are you having fun?"

The door at the far end of the hoard opened, with a massive blue dragon snaking his way in. He came over, plucking up the little statue of the human. Terrence watched helplessly as he was turned left and right, his clothing and gear plucked off and discarded. Just a golden statue, a nice thing to be seen and admired and valued.

He wasn't sure what to do, wanted... someone to help. This... he was so powerless, unable to... to...

Just wait

It will be fine

You can do it.

He heard the cheers of the others in the hoard, had they done this before? They had to, and he wanted... to be with them so much.

The dragon nodded, finally figuring out what was wrong with the statue. These legs... they're too gangly, too silly looking. And so with a practiced flame, he set about heating them. Warm, melting even, the scaled hands twisting and shaping about him as two became one. The dragon took coins and gold from the pile to add to the mixture, giving Terrence more to work with. Longer and longer still, coiling about into a wonderful tail. There we go. He could feel it, powerful and smooth, the little scales starting to etch themselves in magically as if they had always been there. The naga would never wiggle, never actually move, and as his face became more reptilian and hairless, no one would ever recognize him as the naga that was frozen here.

"There we go. Apologies, but you'll be staying here. I'll let you talk with your friends now."

Release! The barrier at the edges of his gold form broke, and his spirit intermingled with the rest of the hoard. There were others here, rogues and princes and warlords and even an upstart dragon that dared to steal from the mass. They had made their home here, inside the magic of the hoard, and while their physical bodies would never move again, they did not need to. It was a place a creativity, of imagination, and he watched as one of the more artistic birds started to show a colorful film welcoming him to the hoard. A bit cheesy, but he felt gladness all the same. He didn't smile, he couldn't smile, his serpentine body being placed down in the hoard for some future patron to admire, but it was so easy to forget that he was just an object.

Come in deeper, and enjoy your gilded cage. We are the cage, and the cage is us, and we make the most wonderful music together. The dragon left, off into a world of living meat creatures, but the naga saw no need to follow him. How would he, anyway?

---

Welcome To The Museum, Part 2

[MtF, Feels, Implied Cat]

Casey wandered the museum, tepidly enjoying the strange naked anthros on display. They were... peaceful, enjoying themselves greatly. Why wasn't he?

It really felt like a barrier, a blockage, something in the way of his happiness. He... wanted to be free like them, to be themselves and show themselves off without being... struck back down. He ran a hand along a mouse girl's breasts, and his envy crossed the barrier.

Twas the most curious thing though, to watch and stare and be stared at. All of them seemed so immaculate, like they were real, like he was the fake one out.

No, don't be that way. Come. Join.

He laughed, wondering where the silly thought had come from. This... place did look nice. But there was a barrier to acceptance, a barrier to everything. And so the turgor remained.

Everyone needs a break sometimes. Come. Let yourself grow into a better person.

Mmm... that did sound nice. He slipped off his shoes, why had he done that? But the moment his flesh touched the cold stone floor, he knew that it was the right decision. He walked barefoot, letting his bag fall so that he could be unadorned.

Casey stared at his shirt, a thing that covered up what he did not want to see. A barrier against the pain.

But if you don't take it off, you can't move past that.

He... wanted to move past the pain. Wanted it gone, wanted to be who he should be. He pulled at the shirt, cast it aside, and... something tickled. Deep inside, a lightening, a warming, the flesh softening and sculpting. He stared, jaw falling, but the gentle touch didn't betray his sight. He was... growing breasts.

Smooth and simple, round and pure, and he laughed slightly higher this time. His hips started to quiver, making his steps unsteady as the legs were placed further apart from where he was used to. He let the pants fall, the underwear buried inside, and he did not give the penis a second look. Go then, be discarded like the rest. And it shrank.

Smaller, the pubic hair gone, becoming artistic and smooth. But then it was tiny and small and precious, and then it tucked into a calming opening. She touched, and it felt like heaven. Her hair flowed behind her as she danced, danced! She felt so smooth, so contoured, so FREE. This really, truly was where, what she wanted to be.

She watched with only mild sadness as the first touches of white blanched her hand. She knew it would come, it had to. This was a gallery for statues, for works of art, not people of flesh and bone and blood. She touched, savoring how it felt and making sure to remember it.

Don't worry. It's just for a short time.

Truly?

Yes. Many of us are here, incubating. Growing into the people we wish to be.

That sounds... wonderful.

Indeed. Allow yourself to take the shape that best suits you.

She did, stretching an arm out, and another slightly lower around, giving a flow and a motion of a twirl. She did twirl, at least for a bit, until her movements became sluggish, and then held entirely. There we go. Her hair flowed behind her, there was a motion and grace and life to the form that her old shape had lacked. Naked, of course, but she didn't mind. Come, see what you can be.

The curator helped her into a position across from a nice dog woman. The look was nice, but Casey seemed to think of herself as more of a... feline. The first twinges of a stone tail began to grow, but it would be some time until she was ready to wear it as her own. That was fine. Time was something she had, at long last.

---

Flying TF-Class Is Cheaper

Customer Service: [Earplugs, Coupons, Splitting, Karma]

Listen To Me Bitch: [Plushie, Wolf, Karma]

Plug In Your Dick: [Genital TF, Headphones, Nullification]

No Puffin: [Warning Poster, Karma]

Yvonne started to get up from her little cubby hole at the front of the plane when she heard the Summon Stewardess button going off. Then she heard it mashed a second and third time, and sat back down for a few seconds. Someone that antsy and whiny could wait.

It was about the seventh DING when she made her way down to 11D. She hated the middle seats. 1st class travelers generally shut up and slept, business fliers accepted their horrid fate in life, but the middle aisle ones tended to be Needy. Ah, here we go. A woman slightly too large for her seat, with a laptop out and an accordion folder at her feet.

"Excuse me." No.

"The internet is not working." "That can happen. We're 7 miles in the air over the pacific ocean. I'd be surprised if we had internet at all."

The noise! The sonic attacks. Yvonne's hair blasted back from the verbal assault waged by the businessbeast. Not a businesswoman, those were at least reasonably well mannered and did not eat customer service personnel for lunch. Already the other passengers were leaning away, facepalming into their tiny pillows, or otherwise wishing they were anywhere else.

It was about the time when the passenger demanded that they Fly The Plane Somewhere with Better Internet that she lost it. No. Stahp. What is WRONG with you? And so, sighing and rolling her eyes, Yvonne raised her hands and clapped twice over each shoulder.

The passenger sat there. Stared. What. But when she began to yell again, no words came out. There was merely a slight squeaking, and the sound of an inkjet printer at the back of her throat. How dare you?! You and your strange magic tricks, do you know who I am?

No.

I am ________, and... and... She grasped at her mouth, trying to say her name. To say anything! But all the angry places in her mind were filling with customer service and the promise of peace. She watched in glazed confusion as her pantsuit started to shrivel and pull away, winding back into the shape of an airplane blanket. Her shirt came undone, but there was nothing scandalous to show. Indeed, her breasts seemed to be made of yellow foam entirely, curling and rolling into a set of earplugs that fell off and bounced upon the tray table.

_____ wobbled and tried to pick back up her earplugs, but her skin, her everything was starting to split into little stacks of paper. Coupons they were, plastic and laminated, each one marked with a number of frequent flier miles. Yvonne patted her gently on the head, which only served to shuffle the deck faster. Soon there was no complaint, no harassment at all, only the promise of cheaper airlines and quiet times.

"We apologize for the interruption. Customer service and politeness are important to us, and so we'd like to offer you all a free coupon for frequent flier miles at the end of our trip today. As always, thank you for flying TF Airways."

Yvonne offered the earplugs to the person in the seat next to _____, who took them without complaint. Odd, concerningly so, but it was better to be polite rather than be transformed like his neighbor.

Further back on the right side of the plane, Cristy turned towards the window and tried desperately to shut out her neighbor. He was big, and he smelled, and something about the loud businessbeast set him off something awful. He hadn't SEEN the transformation, and if he had he'd probably know better, but for now there was something to bitch about.

"Honestly, who lets people like that onto planes. Entitled bastards, the lot of them. Why they should be herded up and..."

Cristy, already stuffed full of anxiety about flying on a plane, merely wished over and over for the man to Stop Bitching. PLEASE!

He did, after a fashion. "The worrrlf woff be a mrfff barrr? Arrr? Awoooo...?!"

How rude! Put a dollar in the awoo jar. He grasped at his mouth, but it was starting to puff up and push out. His jaw Squished inwards! It... wasn't supposed to do that. His snoot popped, and he rubbed it gingerly. Why was his nose doing the thing? It felt very soft and wonderful, but it wasn't supposed to do that. He made to awoo again, but already the sides of his lips were starting to grow the littlest stitches. They sewed themselves together, and all that came out were squeaks. Happy, harmless squeaks that seemed to put his mind at ease.

The plane was growing, enlarging itself dramatically. His tail wagged, and attempts to extricate himself were stymied by the fact that his hands, his feet were turning into paws. And then the paws were flat, and then they were just little beans stitched onto flat plushy stubs. He squeaked once more, and then flopped over on the seat. That... that felt kinda nice. The armrest was still very hard and stiff, but his soft plushie body was like a pillow in reverse. Everything was soft now, everything was comfortable and floppy. He had been complaining about something, and he felt embarrassed about that now. Why would he complain about anything? He was a soft little awoo, who only needed to cuddle and be cuddled.

Cristy picked up the awoo, pulled him close and hugged him tight. Something about the feeling just made everything all better. She felt lightheaded, and then sleepy, and soon the plane was just a bad dream. She'd wake up from it at the terminal, and go about her day. All better, thanks to TF Airways.

Harry was having a slight bit of trouble, the sort that could only come from public seating. He was the unproud owner of THE CHAIR WEDGIE, whereupon his nuts were firmly tucked into the seat pocket underneath him. Ow. He had made the terrible mistake of digging in his bag to find his earbuds. Not only could he Not find the headphones, leaning forward in any fashion was unacceptable on such a chair. Ugg. Maybe soon he could find time when the person next to him wasn't looking, so as to adjust. For now, he sucked it up and felt sad.

Thus it was with mild confusion that the pressure and squishing seemed to... fix itself? Like his nuts, his package was shrinking down to fit, and then further still. Now he Had to look, sorry mister next to him, and... what? His dick had turned solid black, with a slight indentation in the middle and a shiny reflectiveness to it. The head was silvery, with little rings, almost like... a headphone jack. He took, pulled, and the whole thing slid right out, leaving behind only a little ridge to put the cord back when he was done. The balls slid out and shrunk down, turning into tiny little buds.

Harry was blushing deeply now, but... it was best not to taunt the airplane, or question its strange ways. Something that could transform your genitals could definitely do far worse, and at least it was Trying to be helpful? He plugged the earbuds into his music player, and began to listen. It was far easier to get his waist comfortable, though the nagging feeling of Emptiness continued to be prominent even as he listened. In public was definitely not the best time to open up the laptop and read fiction about people being turned into nulls... though he definitely could appreciate it quite a bit more.

Off in the bathroom, Percy was committing CRIMES. Mainly the one crime, but smoking in the lavatory was prosecuted as many, just to encourage people not to do it. Well then. If you were in international waters when you smoked, was it still a crime?

(Yes. Yes it was, but shhh.)

He took a drag, dramatically, and looked up at the NO PUFFIN sign. It was kinda cute, with a picture of a puffin angrily stomping out a cigarette. Well pffft. Pufffff. Take that, puffin. It's much harder to stomp on e-cigs.

It was with mild concern that he noted the sign starting to glow, and the eyes of the puffin to laser in upon him. It knew, it could see! And it was Displeased.

"NO. PUFFIN."

He screamed like a little girl, which was pretty impressive given his smokers lung. He hastily put the little tube away, only to have it spill out on the floor entirely. It was very hard to put things away with feathers. Fe...athers? What.

His hands, his fingers! They were gone, replaced with little feathered wings and puffin fluffs. He tried to flap away, but this only succeeded at getting his shirt to fall off somewhat. Small, and smaller still, he fell into the little toilet. Aaaahhh! Wings came for him, reaching out from the little poster, grabbing and pulling him in!

His wing breached the surface of the plastic, and he watched in terror as it turned into black ink and laminated cartoonishness. He was being squished into the flatness, becoming flat, and the puffin inside the poster was more than eager to get a replacement. He gave a final squawk, and was trapped.

The puffin beat on the edge of the poster, staring out into the lavatory. He couldn't breach the horizon of the poster, and watched helplessly as the other puffin escaped, turning back into a small little human.

"Haha! After 10,000 years I'm free! It's time to... um. What flight is this?" Hong Kong.

"Oh. Um... shit. I'm from LA." You can always get back in the poster if you want... "No thanks. I've been in there for a Looooong time."

The former puffin tried to get dressed in the clothes on the floor, though they were way too big. Hmmm. "Did you have to drop them in the toilet? Ewww." The puffin did not reply, merely staring and hopping on the cigarette in the poster angrily.

"Yeah yeah. Look, it's not so bad. Just wait for a hot girl to come in or something."

The former puffin left, leaving the no-smoking poster to his silence. Can someone... get him out? He really needed a smoke. Sigh. He took a drag on the stale cartoon cigarette, and it just wasn't the same.

---

The Objectified Gender

He Man and She Woman: [Statue, MtF, FtM]

Both and Neither: [Statue, Herm, Nullification]

Fashionable Udders: [Statue, Mid-TF Statue, Clothing, Udder]

"You've got to be kidding." "I'm serious! Don't tell me you haven't seen it." "There's definitely been an uptick of the scandalous men." "They've got a LONG way to go."

Grace and Benji were busy getting ready for the MAGICAL BALL. While most witches and their apprentices tended to mind their own business, it was good to have a real party once in a while. Still, parties required decoration, and witches tended to favor very... special decoration indeed.

It was thus with great concern that they heard the little DING. An important noise, the sound of their teacher sending them a MISSION. Such was the woe of apprentice witches, to take on the most absurd tasks in the pursuit of magical knowledge. A brilliantly pink letter poofed out of the air, landing on the table in front of them.

GRACE! BENJI.

My most doofy apprentices.

I told you to make very Objectified decorations.

Arguing about which gender is more Objectified is missing the point.

Objectify them all! Spoiler: The statues will be you.

"Really?" "Ugg." "I wanted to BE at the party, not... you know."

They glared at no one in particular as little placards popped out of the air. Grace got one declaring her to be MANSERVICE, while Benji's declared him to be EXTRA THICC.

Grace started to complain, but then something grabbed her right in the guts, twisting and sculpting powerfully. Her clothes melted away, and she watched as her previously flat stomach began to ripple and curdle, forming GLORIOUS ABS. She rubbed a finger on them, feeling how nice and swole they were. It couldn't compare to the feelings down below though, as something started to push and shove out from the depths of her crotch. Thicker, meatier, and soon peeking out to greet the dawn! It was penis, the one and only, and he grabbed it out of instinct.

"Ohhh... that's... not bad."

Benji's clothes melted as well, though his changes were far more concentrated in the curves. Slope those shoulders, round that butt, get that thigh gap nice and wide. If you're going to be bare chested, the chest must be vavoom! He squished, and squeezed, but there was no getting them back inside. Thicker breasts and puffy nipples, she was hot and bothered even as her dick shriveled into nothing. A sack without balls, and then delightfully horny lips that begged for something to suck on.

"Oooh. Jiggly."

They wanted to enjoy, to play with the new toys, but they had to decorate for the ball! Gary's dick became so hard, so throbbing, but then even the throbbing stopped as it truly became Rock Solid. He rubbed the marble gently, noting how the pleasure came regardless. Very nice, very wonderful, even as he was forced to his knees to thrust the dick waaaay out. His butt was taut, his arms were swole, and they were pushed back to really thrust out those pecs. Mmm. Distinguished. The placard landed to tell everyone about GARY - HE MAN.

Bina slid down as well, a bit sad that she was turning to stone. Twas the strangest feeling though, as her breasts became solid WHILE her fingers were squished in them. Now they were stuck, wriggling and trying to pull free, but trapped in the curves of squish that she had made herself. A strange posture, one that couldn't possibly be crafted except by a petrified figure. Plain to see, plain for everyone to understand the fate of the statue. Her pussy was slightly thrust towards the viewing audience, her hair swished back in an invisible wind, and she blew a kiss as her lips were finally sealed. The placard landed, telling everyone about BINA - SHE WOMAN.

...it was time to prepare for the MAGICAL BALL! Again. Grace and Benji shook their heads, confused, but then looked over to see the statues they had made.

"Whoa." "Freaky." "So are we... still in there?" "I think so. I've heard of one of the art witches doing something like this before." "Meaning...?" "That we'll keep getting turned into statues, and then after the party we'll all recombine so we can feel what it was like for all of them." "Neat. But also concerning! So we're just going to be... every statue." "I guess that makes decorating easier.

Two more letters popped out of the air, and they read.

Grace!

You wanted to know which gender is most objectified.

Male? Or female? A silly question. The answer is both.

She gasped, but her clothing had already been pulled off. She didn't really feel any changes though, not yet.

Benji!

The answer is also neither.

Pleasure can be found in the absence of sex.

Like yours!

He groaned, watching as his clothing melted away, but then gave a "Dooop!" of alarm as the two of them were hurled towards each other. They hit, but not painfully, as they squished and squashed into each other. It was smooth and warm and creamy, but most importantly they Gave Way! Pulled through their partner, and then thrust out the other side.

Grace landed, moaning and groaning, though a little alarmed at how they seemed to have... taken Benji's dick with them. The pussy was still there, but so was the shaft, and the two were wobbling together in a way that demanded attention. They slid fingers inside with one hand, pulling on the dick with the other, both arms rubbing up against the breasts that remained. Their features were an odd combination of both the male and the female, contoured but not curved, sturdy but not flat. He swished back his ponytail of hair with a laugh of pleasure, and then was quite solid indeed. The placard landed, declaring the statue to be of BINARY - BUY ONE GET ONE FREE.

Benji rolled about on the floor, before picking... itself up. Their crotch was empty, fully empty, with only the tiniest of holes left behind. Nothing sexy, and easy to miss if you weren't looking properly. No breasts here, no nipples either. Body hair wasn't allowed, and neither was the belly button. Perfectly censored, perfectly nullified, the hair swished back in a slightly boyish cut that could really be anything when viewed from the back. Its face was slight, soft without being round or hard. The shoulders sloped, but only a little. The muscles were light and undefined, and the torso was straight on both sides. The butt was so flat, so smooth, and if you peered closely between the cheeks you could see the bare smooth crotch hiding between them. They giggled to themselves, before giving a gentle wave that was immortalized in stone. The placard landed, declaring the statue to be one of ACE - PRECIOUS NULL CHILDE.

...it was time to prepare for the MAGICAL BALL! Again. Grace kicked the pile of clothing off to the side, while Benji admired the new statues.

"I kinda like it. A pairing of opposites." "You just sit there though. No dick. Very boring." "Not everything has to be sexy."

"That doesn't mean you can't enjoy it."

Two more letters poofed out of the air, and they read:

Grace!

Everyone loves a bit of Mid-Transformation.

Not all clothing is meant to be worn.

"Really."

Benji!

Don't have a cow. Be one! Udders are funny.

"Well then."

Grace tossed aside the letter, but it didn't quite fly with the sort of force she was expecting. More of a flop and a flutter. She looked down at her hand, something was... wrong with it. The palm, opening up, the whole arm starting to ripple and wave. She stepped backwards, but her legs were already stone, caught in a wonderful posture of surprise. Her arm sleeve flapped as her chest opened up into a hoodie that was quite empty inside. She made to speak, but there was nothing inside her head to speak with! Her face, a print on a cat-ear hood, flapping back away from her mouth to fall backwards...

And never reach the back of the coat. The half-human, half-clothing mixture remained in a state of shock and concern, wonderfully folded and flapped halfway through the change. The placard landed, declaring the statue to be one of FASHION - READY MADE TO FIT.

Benji groaned, trying to hold in a mass that kept growing and pushing out at his stomach. It was pink, alarmingly so, and it filled up so much that four little nubs popped out, they had to. Bulging and filling, the whole thing started to slosh and push away from his abdomen in a way that would soon hang out entirely. He could feel his dick squished under the mass, but then it was absorbed, taken in as part of the whole, so that she could have more udder. She moaned, but it was a mooing cry as her brain twisted into one that NEEDED to be milked. She grabbed the teats, squeezing and squirting. It felt so good, so right... but then she froze mid-squeeze, and the milk coming out never made it to the ground. A human with udders, stone as could be, with an expression of utter relief. The placard landed, declaring the statue to be MILKBAR - THE UDDER DELIGHT.

...it was time to prepare for the MAGICAL BALL!

"No." "Yeah, I'm done." "This is as decorated as I get." "Honestly, it looks kinda tacky." "Witches love tacky." "I think it's more that each has their own aesthetic? And it clashes." "So of course we're stuck with the FOOLISH MORTAL aesthetic witch." "Eh, she's a good teacher. Win some lose some."

Grace ran a hand along Milkbar's udder, feeling the smooth stone that was already cooling down. A gallery of statues, and all it took was a few recursive transformations.

---

Plastic Pony Is Best Pony

[Pony, Toy, Nullification]

Paris sighed, letting the credits roll. He liked the colorful ponies, despite his parent's complaints to the contrary. There was a happiness, a joy and honesty in it all that really made him smile. Alas, back to the real world, the human world where friendship could not be weaponized as a laser beam and arguments often ended with "Well you're a buttface so there".

"I wish I could be a pony. That everyone could be ponies."

He sighed again, turning off the monitor. Something about the action felt... stiff and strange. Like he was doing it from a distance. He looked at his hand... and then did it again. There was something... shiny on it. Pink and glistening. What was that? He rubbed, and it felt so smooth and hard. And it was... spreading.

"That... is that?"

It certainly looked like a hoof, seemed to be trying to take the shape of a hoof. He gladly curled his fingers up and watched as they merged together into something solid and U shaped. Yes... yes! This was excellent! He'd wished so idly, so flippantly, but apparently it took!

Gleefully, expectantly, Paris put his hand on his hoof, and watched as the pink spread from one to another. He reached down, put the two on his feet, and they too partook of the pepto-bismol goodness. He blushed a little as a kinky thought entered his brain, and he... pulled down his pants. Placed one of the hooves on the little dick, would it... could it? It did. Spreading and coating and... covering. Solid and unyielding, like it had never been there at all. There was a smoothness and simplicity to it, a slight bend INWARD that shouldn't be there... but it was.

But when he pushed, it was still solid. Solid as the hooves, even on these tender bits. Why was this? Flesh should not be hard and ungiving... but plastic would be. He gasped, holding his hooves in front of his face, and noticing how... flat the bottoms were. Just like the ponies of his world, a plastic thing to be held and played with and admired. The room looked so much larger than before, and already he feared that soon he would be a small plastic toy and nothing more.

Fear? What was there to fear? Something was filling his innards, strange pink happiness that seemed to coat everything in joy. He was free like this, even in plastic, even solid as he was. No longer did he have to suffer as a human, and even the humans that came into contact with him would know the joy he felt. Paris fell to the ground, torso bent into straightness by the plastic shell, the plastic everything. His mane glistened and tussled, and he pushed himself out of the ever growing shirt even as he had no joints left other than the shoulders and hips. There. Nice and perfect.

His face pushed, his ears escaped, but they were only solid things like the rest. His mane remained(remaned?) but it was a stratified thing of purples and pinks. He felt it enter into him, and then escape through his butt, or perhaps the representation of a butt. Certainly a clean, nullified thing that could be whatever gender you wished.

The door to his room opened, a green faced thing that could almost resemble a parent had it not been afflicted with a spreading passionate plastic that seemed to fill her everything with wonder. She had reasons for coming in, something to do with a human, but there was no such thing. Only a small pink pony named Passion remained, and soon the mother would join the herd. Perhaps one day they would move, and play together in their own plastic world, but for now they rested. That was a toy's purview, after all, and they had little else to be.

---

And We All Float On Okay

An Endless Circle: [Innertube, Peaceful]

Fill This Out: [Anthro Pooltoy, Breast Growth]

Salute Your Shorts: [Swimming Trunks, Streaking]

It had been a long, long time since Owen had come to the waterpark, longer than he could remember. He was older now, not entirely Old, but enough that he was surrounded by dashing screaming children and could not be a part of them.

Still, he knew what he liked, even twenty years down the line, and he had honestly come here mostly for this. A little ways away from the themed area, when the park had grown large indeed, they built the Greatest of water coasters. Each was some sort of pun on the idea of being MASSIVE, but he cared little for those. They were stomach distending and strange things, tubes of plastic wrought with metal bolts. No, he came for the water surrounding them.

For while the coasters were set upon an island in the center, the surrounding donut was a never ending circle of flowing water. Around and around it went, and while you could bask on the beach for a break, many chose to simply float. Again and again, what's one more loop, or ten?

He grabbed an innertube, a strange word indeed, for the tube was on the outside. Bulky and inflated, yet full of ease and comfort. Off Owen set, into the deep. Twas not so deep, maybe 8 feet at the worst, with waves that would crest on the backside, and simple shallows on the front for those who had enough.

About the second trip around, he had gotten quite relaxed indeed. Very wonderful, very peaceful, even with all the other people about. This was his place, his little lagoon, and he could simply float on okay. His little legs dangled with their little hairs, his trunks jostled up and down in time with the waves, and his arms dangled from the tube as it carried him along.

A third trip, who was counting? He felt so light, so free. Like he was one of those children again, like he had no worries outside the circle. Nothing existed until it came into his circle, and such things were unlikely to do so anytime soon. The sun didn't seem so harsh anymore, and it was easy to just bob and crest along with the waves.

A fourth trip, or was it fourteen? The tube hardly seemed necessary anymore, and he pushed it off his head. Still he floated, still he bobbed. He could lie back, and float on the water just as easily as anyone else here, as anything else here. The lifeguard whistled angrily at him, tapping a sign that said NO TRANSFORMING IN THE POOL. Very peculiar thing, with images of werewolves crossed out in favor of happy unfluffed stick figures. Why did they even have that sort of thing? It didn't apply to him, not that he knew. And so he floated.

A fifth trip, and he felt like he was the circle now. One with the water, one with the motions, he could just... curl up a bit. Like a circle, like the lagoon. He touched his toes, and how peculiar such a shape felt did not seem to matter at all. His trunks slid off, but there was no shame. What was shame? Nothing to one who floated.

A twelfth trip, and he tried grabbing the feet again. They were shiny now, very shiny indeed, and he liked the way the water glistened as it ran over and across them. They were feeling mighty full, as was he, and he almost didn't mind that the legs seemed to just be one leg now. When had that happened? He forgot. It looked so round, so peaceful, and so he just continued to float on okay.

A nineteenth trip, and he could not let go of the feet. He didn't want to, he was nicely curled in ways that knees could not provide. Was it backwards or forwards? He didn't care. His nozzle had gently moved up top, so as to better take a rider on. It wasn't very scandalous anymore, certainly wouldn't be penetrating anything, and he felt a little tinge of fear at the thought of Anything penetrating his waterproofed rubber. His arms had merged onto the legs, and his bald, scaled head was already able to reach down upon them. The scales were for show, painted on like the rest of him, and for that he was glad. It was better to be smooth, and to float.

Trips no longer mattered, as long as he could make them. Sometimes he washed up on the beach sadly, but people admired the nice innertube indeed. Look at this one, fashioned like a snake eating itself. An ouroboros, an endless spiral, just like the lagoon. Let us take it, and float upon the waves, and lose all track of time.

Sandra scowled as she walked towards the lagoon. The school trip was nice, but did they have to go here? She didn't cut an imposing figure at the best of times, and now her status as president of the itty bitty titty committee was on full display. "Barely even needed a top to her swimsuit", she muttered, as she looked around for an innertube to just... float with. There, that snake one, that looked good. Different from the rest, but so was she.

She felt like a little stick figure, hanging on to the large tube, but there was something peaceful and relaxing about it all. Like the tube itself was relaxed, and was letting her in on a deep, serene secret that only they would know. A silly thought indeed, and she brushed it aside. She couldn't help but notice all the others around. Some were tiny children, and some were buxom wenches, and some were buff surfer lads, and she felt like she was trapped with the first.

A second trip, and she felt... oddly larger. Pushed out in spaces that had never known how to do so before. Like she was becoming curved and proper, like all those ladies and large girls and ladies who tried to be large girls again and large girls who tried to be ladies and all of them failed but her. She, a nice middle, a nice mixture of them all, floating along on the water. She rubbed against the tube, and squeaked a little, but that was alright.

A third trip, and something was definitely strange. Not amiss, for that implied that the change was Bad. No, this was good, WONDERFUL even. Breasts, her breasts, not flat but round and perky indeed. Her swimsuit strained, both up top and down bottom, as her butt rose from a flat cocoon for the first time ever. She pushed herself up in the tube, gladly let herself be seen, look everyone it's Sandra. As she should be. As she must be.

A fourth trip, and she felt so full. She had moved to the outside of the tube, so that she could float on her own merits. Still she bobbed and crested, though she felt full in spots that weren't quite feminine. Her stomach seemed to hollow out, making way for a deep pressure from inside. The shape remained, but it would not bend or give, and when she pressed on it she only squeaked. Her top floated away, but the "breasts" underneath had no nipples, nothing at all to show. Indeed, while the curves were immaculate, they were also impossible and filled with the pressure. She made to ask what was going on, but only squeaked out happy pooltime noises.

A sixth trip, and she had to let go of the tube. Her hands were so puffy, they hardly had fingers anymore. Something about the ends were strange, like they were growing little claws. The lifeguard whistled angrily at her, but she did not care. It felt so GOOD. Whatever this oddness meant, it was worth enduring if only for the pleasure. Her legs popped to attention at the hips, seams running down the sides, and the bottom of the suit was pushed away by a strange protrusion. A tail, her tail, waggling just a little until it came to rest between the legs. She tried to touch, but it was so hard to bend her arms, and there was nothing naughty down there anyway. Why would there be? She forgot.

A ninth trip, and she had to lie back. Her snoot pushed up to the sky as her ears rested on the water. There was no hair, just a painting of hair, and for that she was glad. Hair could be pulled, and shed, and all sorts of horrible things. No, she wanted to be shiny, and full, and for someone to ride her. Her butt was round, her boobs were good, and she could almost feel little handles spreading from the hips. She couldn't look, for her neck was quite pleasantly full, but when the nice boy came up to grab her, he grabbed by a place that had not been there before, and it was good. Her belly button Poffed into a little nozzle, dense and discrete, and she relished as he climbed aboard.

Trips no longer mattered, so long as she could make them. Many came to her, little girls who wanted to be big girls, men(or perhaps boys) who laughed at the idea of a wolf pooltoy with boobs. The lifeguard eventually came over, picking her up and scoffing at the thing, but then throwing her back in the water anyway. It would be rude to get rid of her, after all. Come, take her handles, let us float upon the waves, and lose all track of time.

Billy was a scamp, a silly neerdowell, but as he was finally due to graduate from high school people had given up hope of ironing it out of him. He found a pooltoy he liked, a wolfess with round boobies, and he made sure to hold onto those as he set out into the lagoon. It was naughty, and lurid, and he enjoyed the thought immensely. Indeed, such a scamp was he that he took off his trunks, and allowed himself to float freely with the wolf. This was clearly bad, but he would put them back on later.

He felt scandalous and bold and brave hanging onto the wolf, but only one of these things was true. He cried a little when the wave pulled his trunks away, but that just meant he'd have to stay in here longer, wait for someone to find them or for him to find them or for something to crop up. The wolf didn't care, and neither did he.

A second trip, floating around the water. He felt strange, and loose, like there was something he was supposed to be doing. Perhaps being clothed, but that was silly. Clothing was for humans, and he pushed the thought out of his mind with astounding ease. The lifeguard was angry, but he blew a loud *phhhhbt* her direction. If she wasn't going to get in, then she wasn't worth dealing with.

A third trip, and it felt so hard to hold on to the wolf. His legs were flopping, floating about in the water as if they weighed nothing at all. As if he weighed nothing at all. He wondered aloud, but only the flapping of fabric came out of his lips. Very peculiar indeed.

A fourth trip, and now he was concerned. His stiffy wasn't so stiff anymore, and when he looked down it almost looked... white. Stringlike. He grabbed it, and indeed the flesh parted in the middle into two identical pieces of string. He cried out the sound of angry swim trunks, but that was a very soft sound indeed and no one paid him any mind. He was not as important as he thought he was.

A fifth trip, and he couldn't hold on. Goodbye wolf, for he had other problems. His hands were stuck to his sides, being pulled in, and his torso felt so short. He felt so short, so shorts, and his empty legs flapped about in the water. The skin was turning a mottled orange pattern, hip and cool, but certainly not human or mobile. His face seemed to pull down towards the crotch, until it was below the string entirely! His fabric flapped, and he washed up near the shore.

Someone saw him, grabbed him. They thought it odd, that someone had lost their trunks in the pool, but they'd figure it out later. Maybe someone else needed some desperately, and would put him on. He would like that. Something about his face felt empty and flat, like it needed a good bulge underneath. Or, if they were very scandalous indeed, perhaps something smoother and feminine. The trunks wouldn't mind. They were meant to be worn, and as long as they could do that, they would be satisfied.

---

Welcome To The Museum, Part 3

[Statue, Cat, Fox, Willing]

"The museum is quite lovely." "Not quite what I'd expect, but it's all the better for it." "It's... missing something though." "Oh? What?" *teehee* "Us."

April and West wandered through the museum, taking in all the naughty anthro statues. Look, there's a fox with his weiner out, just starting to pop the knot. Here's a woman who isn't quite ready to transform into a catgirl. Don't worry, you got this! They could even imagine that the girl was thankful for the praise, even if it was a silly notion.

"You're already imagining." "Of course! Get some good pictures for reference, draw our fursonas. It'll be good." She set her camera on a nearby ledge, with the little clicker she used to have it take pictures at a distance. There we go, good. Snuggle in nice and close, and *click* there we go.

"I wouldn't mind it being the other way around." "Other way?" "Be here with the statues." "Pfft. You and your statues." "They're nice! Peaceful, elegant." "Nice tails. Nice bodies attached to the tails." "That too."

Another *click* and they snuggled. It was so easy to just stay here, just enjoy their company. It was almost like the museum was... asking them to stay. They clasped hands, gave another *click*, and she dropped the clicker. Ooops. They started to pull their hands apart, but she gasped.

"What... oh!"

The hands, the pads! They had little beans, little squishies that weren't there before. And as they put their hands back together, the tips of the nails started to thicken and elongate, turning into little claws before their eyes.

"This... this is..." "Awesome..." "Well? Should we stay for a bit?" "What do you think?"

The museum's feelings on the subject were palpable now, they could feel them clearly, so close as they were to the edge.

"The crowd seems to like it." "I think we can spend our vacation here, yes." Something tickled from behind, a loosening of garb as spines gave way to tails. There was fur, luscious fur, atop flesh and bone that curled and spiraled outwards. They swished, and swayed, and finally were long enough to... touch.

"Found it." "You sure did."

Their shirts were gone, their bodies quite naked, and even the gentle coating of fur along them could not quite cover it all. Her breasts against his pecs, their hips brought together, and their tails starting to snake along each other. He curled his feline strand into her vulpine bush, squishing the fur down to the base and allowing it to cascade back up. A loving intertwinement, and one that could not possibly be crafted by human hands. They giggled a bit, knowing that any who saw the statue would KNOW. This, this was not a thing of artifice, but two lovers frozen in time.

They kissed, and drew their heads back slowly. The lips remained touching as their faces grew out, and they giggled as the little snoots booped. Ears grew and pointed out, and they turned their heads for a closer locking of muzzles. Something about the whole scene seemed to shift, becoming slower and softer until it was too soft to move. There was no motion, no ability to motion, and fur became smooth marble at last.

The curator came by some time later, picking up the little clicker. Certainly you'd want something to remember this time by? Even if it's just for a short while, your adventure in stone needs a lasting imprint. Here, allow him.

*click*