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Nasty Brew

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When Ceren came of age, he had tried his paw at many professions. He did not have the strength to be a blacksmith, the delicate hands to be a potter, or the noble blood to be a knight. He showed skills with alchemy, however, even at a young age, and when he came of age, he set out to find a master.

This master took the form of a man named Takashi. At six feet in height, he was not the largest man in all the lands, in fact his human stature left him somewhat small compared to the bears or the bulls or the wolves. But Takashi had a certain presence about him that commanded respect, and those foolish enough to challenge his authority were taught their place. Takashi made his home deep in a forest, surrounded the many plants and herbs he used in his brews. It was a humble home, of no great dimensions or build, but it was home, and Ceren was happy to have it. Ceren was of average size for a red fox, with a few odd markings on his face, and a mane of silver hair running down his back. His days were spent helping Takashi with his recipes. He would venture out into the forest to fetch the herbs that he needed, or spend hours on end stirring a pot. And twice a month, a cut was formed in his wrist, and a cup was filled with his blood. It was a guarded secret of Takashi, but he was not completely human. Every few weeks, he required warm, fresh blood, which was one reason he had agreed to take Ceren as an apprentice at all.

Takashi traveled frequently, leaving his humble bungalow in the care of Ceren. He was out, and Ceren did not know when he would return, so of course this would be the day that Ceren woke up awfully sick. What could possibly be afflicting him, he hadn’t a clue. He was nauseated and dizzy, barely able to force himself out of bed in the morning. He could barely think straight, let alone go about his duties as an apprentice, and made the decision he simply had to create some sort of cure.

It was not easy to read the many recipes. For one, his vision was blurred and hazy, but on top of that, Takashi wrote all his recipes in a language Ceren was not fluent in. But he had seen Takashi brew an “Anything That Ails You Ale” more than a hundred times, and practically knew the recipe by heart.

“Blue frost,” he said, taking it off the shelf. “Uhm… Goldenrod root. Frog’s Breath. Was there Swamp Swap Root? Screw it, just throw it in. What’s the worst that could happen?”

A wave of nausea overtook Ceren, and only gripping his muzzle tight spared him puking. He swallowed his bile, and with the ingredients in hand, walked to the cauldron that was simmering in the center of the room. “Drop them all in, mix for thirty second, drink the final product.”

He followed the orders, and then fetched a mug from the kitchen. Scooping out some of the drink, he sipped it cautiously, and was immediately relieved of the nausea that plagued his belly. He gave a long sigh, rubbing his stomach gently, sifting his fingers into the fur under his shirt. He took another sip.

Ceren felt something odd on his chest, and sifted his fingers higher, over the fur on his pectorals. His nipples hurt, actually, and his delicate fingers he gave them a little rub. With a sigh, he pulled his hand back, and noticed a small amount of moisture resting on his fingertip pad. He rubbed it gently between his finger and his thumb, before looking down to his shirt, and seeing a spot of wetness. Two spots, actually, dotting the upper sides of the chest. “What the fuck?” he asked.

Very gently, he squeezed his pectorals from outside of his shirt. His chest hurt, and squeezing them dulled the pain, and the pressure made him feel just a bit flustered. With a hand each, he massaged and rubbed his growing pectorals, giggling dumbly at the tingles it sent through his spine, and the butterflies it stirred up in his belly. He walked to a large mirror against one of the walls, and stood before it, slowly tugging his shirt overhead. When it was off him, he threw it aside, and examined himself.

Protruding from his chest was an adorable pair of B-cups, a trickle of white clearly visible on the black teat. He dabbed at the white, taking some of the wetness onto his fingertip and brought it to his snout. He sniffed it gently, and then slipped out his tongue to taste. “Milk,” he decided.

He squeezed his breasts together, squishing them, and laughing softly at the delightful pressure. He kneaded and rolled the flesh together, the tenderness of his affection sending giggles through him, and a steady stream of white was oozing out the teats. He cupped his hands beneath the breasts and lifted them up, and was fascinated to see they had grown at least another cup size, growing into a pair of impressive C’s.

His pants were feeling a bit tight. He looked down, to see his hips were now pressing out of them. He undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, and his hips suddenly spilled out, widening several sizes. His rump cheeks, similarly, expanded and inflated several times, forming into a pair of large, squishy buttocks that were barely contained inside the seat of the pants. He let them drop, but was disturbed to see his penis had disappeared from between his legs, replaced by a small hole and a wide slit beneath him. Certainly, that should have frightened him to no end, but the gentle tingles on his chest were just distracting enough, he did not panic. And besides, having spent so many years as Takashi’s lab rat, he had grown accustomed to bizarre occurrences. This was actually preferable to the time he had grown scales.

He spent a long time massaging his breasts, working them, kneading the pudgy mounds like the finest dough. At first he attempted to massage both at once, but found that wasn’t as satisfying as massaging one at a time. His left breast was first. He sat down in a large arm chair that was usually reserved for Takashi, and now used both hands to knead the flesh. He squeezed the tit, and gave a giggle and gasp as a squirt of white shot out of the nipple. He squeezed again, and again, squirt after squirt of white oozing out of the nipple, and the lump of flesh gradually expanded in his hand.

He moved to his right breast, and carefully gripped it. He could feel the milk held just past the layer of fur and skin, and was steadily lactating out of the areola. Ceren lifted the breast and lowered his head, before giving it a gentle squeeze. A splash of white suddenly flooded his vision. He slipped out his tongue, happily licking over face, slurping up his own milky flavor.

Although he had not provided his ample hips with any affection, they had continued to grow, and he suddenly felt the arms of the chair pressing in on both sides. Bracing himself on the chair, he attempted to stand, but found his abundant posterior was squeezed quite tight by the arms. It was only after several wiggles and squirms that he was finally free, and stood shakily on his two feet. It was difficult to walk given his odd shape, but eventually he managed to get to the mirror and stand before it, bracing himself on the wall. What was it about the pair of adorable breasts, that protruded from his chest, that intrigued him so? And what about the wideness of his ever widening hips?

He was still Ceren, to be sure. He was still of average size for a vulpine, and leaning close to the mirror to inspect his face, he still had the two curved triangles under his eyes: an inconspicuous birthmark. He ran his fingers through his silver hair, curious, and found it had grown a bit longer, perhaps to better accent his new feminine physique. His fingers brushed down his body, and he felt the fur sift out of place. Somehow, he almost expected to not feel anything at all, which would confirm this body was no longer his.

His breasts had never stopped oozing the creamy, sweet milk. The fur around the areola had become saturated with a fine sheen of white, and the wetness was steadily expanding. He very carefully gripped both breasts together, and then pushed them tight, squishing them, and giggled childishly as a squirt of white lanced out of the nipple and soaked the mirror. Cupping his breasts instead of squeezing, he was delighted to find he was even larger than D-cups now!

And his hips. Truthfully, he had been neglecting his lower body, but now turned his back to the mirror and lifted his tail out of the way. Looking over his shoulder, he found his tail wagging at the impressive sight of his firm, shapely buttocks. He gripped them, groped them, and pulled them apart to reveal the eagerly flexing puckered anus between the two heavy, smothering glutes. When Takashi came back, he could reverse this transformation, of that, Ceren was sure. But in the meantime, he saw no reason not to make the most of it.

Nilesav Cream was used to moisturize skin, and one of Takashi’s best sellers. For that reason, there were plenty of jars in the shed in back of the house, where Takashi kept his inventory. Ceren picked up two, before walking back into the main house and opening one of the jars. After spreading a thick layer of the cream onto his fingers and hands, he bent back at an awkward angle, and slowly pressed his fingertips between his large cheeks. It took a moment, but he soon found the moist flesh of his pucker, and gave a light giggle and sigh. He was a virgin to pressure at his backside, but two of his fingers slipped inside without any real trouble. And the effect was electric. His breath hiked as he spread his fingers apart, fighting the sudden clench of his anus and tickling the virgin nerves that lined his rim. He gasped and pulled his hand back, before scooping out another handful of the cream. Applying it liberally to his hand, and then his already glistening anus, he again reached behind him and pressed his fingertips against his rim. He thought of bracing himself on the wall, but that would leave his hand occupied. Instead, he rested his shoulder against the wall and spread his legs a bit wider apart, parting his cheeks and opening the path to his anus.

He slipped two fingers inside himself, as before, but then pushed just a little harder. With a groan, he slipped all his fingers inside, up to the knuckle. His breasts squirted a milky release, and with his free hand, he gripped his left boob. Bending farther back, he pushed his hand farther inside him, while squeezing his breast tight in his paw.

The effect was incredible. His breast felt like it was filled with pins and needles. When he squeezed, there was an almost painful ripple of pleasure just above his heart, increasing his pulse and making him bounce from foot to foot. His hand slowly sunk deeper, until the glistening rim was clamped affectionately around his wrist, refusing to let him pull out even slightly, so he simply massaged and spread his fingers, rubbing against the silky inner walls of his bowels. He did wonder how much milk his breasts could possibly hold. He kept squeezing and massaging them, working the plump orbs with his finger tip, and again and again, spurts of white shot out. Even if he did not touch them, there was such a steady stream of white oozing out, his chest and belly was almost completely soaked.

His groin felt like it was on fire. If he still had a penis, it would be as hard as stone, but now, there was an almost unbearable pain between his legs. He needed a third hand, he decided, because he was reluctant to lose the weight in his bowels, or the pleasant squeezes on his breasts.

He looked about the room, and spied what might be able to help him. If he thought it was awkward to walk before, with his hips widened and his breasts plump, it was nearly impossible with one of his hands shoved between his buttocks. And yet, each time his glutes shifted, his bowels clenched, sending waves of pleasure through him. The fur on his thighs was moist, rolls of cream dribbling out of his swollen labia and drenching his legs.

The bottle he had selected was nothing special; an empty wine bottle that had held fine spirits, so he doubted Takashi would mind if he had a bit of fun with it. But he had to make the choice between losing the delightful grope of his chest, or the heavy weight between his buttocks. After a while, he chose the latter, and slowly pulled his hand back. If he thought going in was pleasant, it didn’t hold a candle to pulling his hand out. His anus had struggled against his hand as it pressed inside, but now it didn’t want to let the bulk leave. His bowels gripped and squeezed around his knuckles, the largest part of his hand, sucking his hand back in up to the wrist. He eased his hand back slowly, long whines escaping his lips, until at last, only his fingers were left inside the tight sphincter. His anus struggled and slurped the digits, trying to keep it inside, but at last he was free, his anus giving a protesting slurp.

Scooping the rest of the cream out of the jar, he slopped it onto the bottle or his flexing anus. Then, placing the bottle down on a short stool, he turned around and lifted his tail, before slowly lowering himself down. His hand had stretched his tight sphincter, and so the thin neck of the bottle sank between his large cheeks without protest. The larger middle of the bottle was more difficult, but slowly sank inside him, lighting all his nerve endings on fire. Every inch the bottle sank sent a wave of pleasure through him. Deeper and deeper his toy sank, his anus eager to pull it deeper inside him, slurped it up several feet a time, until at last his sphincter eagerly flexed around the bottle’s base. His rump cheeks rested against the stool, squeezing around the bottle and pulling it in just a few more inches.

Standing wasn’t easy, and he was afraid that the bottle, as heavily lubricated as it was, would slide past his loosened pucker. He kept his tail pressed between his buttocks, as he stumbled back to the mirror and examined himself. His breasts had grown past D-cups, but were in no way unsightly or unshapely. They remained plumped and full and filled with milk. And his ass and hips had grown larger; he guessed he could fit another entire bottle inside himself.

But for now, the pain in his crotch was almost unbearable. He could shove another bottle up his front, but the thought of his warm, slender fingers was much more appealing. He teased himself at first. Very gently, and very slowly, he brushed his nail over the lips of his vagina, feeling the tingle of warmth radiate out. His teeth clenched suddenly, and he bit his lip as he pushed his finger forward, into the moist cavern. He groaned loudly, pressing the finger in slowly and stroking his walls. It was such a different feeling than when he rubbed his penis. The sensation of having the pleasure inside him, instead of just dancing along his skin, was so new and strange and delightful. He tasted blood, and eased his jaws open, releasing the vice like grip on his lip.

Lifting his breast to his lip with his other hand, he rolled out his tongue and softly licked over the tit. Again, he took pleasure in the flavor of his milk, and fixing his muzzle over the erect teat, he began to suckle. His fingers strayed back between his legs, and he gently inserted them, once more biting his lips at the pins and needles that poked his inner walls. He stretched himself, arching his back and whining, wiggling his fingers side to side. He wiggled his hips, and felt the bottle shift pleasantly inside him, and suckled gently on his teat. He stroked his inner, clenching walls, spreading his fingers sometimes, but then closing them. There was a weight behind his pubic bone, similar to the weight in his large breasts. He wanted to release, and relieve himself of the pain in his groin, so he worked to stuff more fingers inside him. Like his anus before, his vagina was slurping and gulping at his entire hand. His breath hiked, a new pleasure rippling through him, as he worked himself wide and spread himself just a little more, fighting his body’s natural urge to clench.

He arched his back, and gave a very vixen whine, as he felt the dam that held his lust at bay break. He pulled his hand back slowly, and with it came a stream of white cream, oozing out of the enlarged nethers. The whiteness sifted through his fingers and onto the stool beneath him. He arched his back, groaning louder, and suddenly felt himself fall back, off of the stool and onto the ground. He landed with a hard thud, knocking the wind out of him. His hand lifted away from his nethers, and now without any hindrance, white cream spilled out of his lips in a great tide. His breasts, as well, continued to ooze white cream, and he could not help but squeeze them and massage them, hissing and whining softly.

He lay there, reveling in the sweet afterglow. His breasts continued to trickle, and the bottle in his ass was still oh so pleasant. He lay there, sighing and panting, unable to move or stand, even as his sharp vulpine ears heard the locks to the front door open. Bracing himself, he attempted to push himself up, but in doing so, the bottle shifted and he felt pleasance ripple run through him. He fell back down. Turning his head to the side, he saw Takashi’s heavy boots stomp into his vision. Rolling a little farther onto his back, he was able to look up and see Takashi’s face. A blush spread across his cheeks, as he forced himself to sit. He looked at the pool of white cream between his legs, at the ample breasts that dotted his front, at the open jar of Nilesav Cream.

“Uh… this isn’t what it looks like…”