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Justin's room was mostly as Michael remembered it.

There was a bed, a tv, an electronic console, a fan… and semi-naked posters of pig girls, human women, and females of other species being put on his walls.

Really, it wasn't that different from Michael's, except he'd never be so bold as to put softcore pornography on his walls.

He reserved that for his closet.

The bed covers with curvacious dog girls presenting their asses with the word “bitches" underscored beneath the images was new though.

“I want one of those," Michael said, mostly to himself.

“I know, right?" Justine laughed, “Saved up a bit for it, but it was worth it."

“Your mother doesn't complain?" Michael wondered.

“Ah, well, you know," Justine laughed again, more nervously this time, “So long as I do my laundry, Mom never brings up what I have in the room."

Michael pondered if his mother would either and, now that he thought about it, would probably just laugh it off.

But then, his mother wasn't very judgemental.

What would she do if she knew that I lusted after her?

Michael shook his head.

“So, father number four is gone?" Michael asked if only to change the subject.

“For 2 months now," Justine grunted, “And thank the gods for that."

“How did he take the news that your mother wasn't renewing the marriage contract?" Michael responded.

In truth, to call the Seven Piece Nation the gathering of many peoples was a vast understatement. Some providences had certain cultural motifs that were mostly shared by their people. Some providences had more of a certain species than others. And some providences were not exactly pleasant to live in, especially for a human. What they all had in common was how chaotic the cultural and legal framework of a species, and sometimes between species, could be from time to time.

For pigs, by way of example, marriage was a contract. A culmination of many things, sometimes even including love, that had a term limit. As most porcine things did.

Concurrent polyamorous contracts had once been the norm, but even the incredibly tolerant legal framework that developed from all species gathering together to make survival possible hadn't been able to keep up with THAT.

And so it was that most pig men and pig girls married a couple of people throughout their lives. If the marriage was going well, the contract would be extended as it needed to be. If it wasn't, well…

“Cried like a fucking pussy," his friend spat, “I don't know how he didn't see that coming, honestly: he didn't even manage to knock Mom up a single time!"

The question of why Justine felt that way about his ex-stepfather didn't even need to be asked. At the very least, Michael didn't want to sit around for another hour of him complaining about the vast amount of things the fella did or didn't do.

Again.

Although, given that Jonesey had never stayed married for more than the 5 years the most basic marriage stipulated, as far as Michael could gather, he wondered why this was a surprise to anyone.

But then, given that he had met the man, he wondered if maybe she was just attracted to awful guys? No one, not even Justine's father, had sounded like a good match.

“And it's not like mom didn't try," Justine grumbled, “But, you know, that's how it always goes, with her trying to make something work that just didn't have the chance…"

Michael's best friend sighed.

“So yeah, why did you have some blood on you?" Justine asked, “Dug for gold too hard?"

“That's a 'you' sort of thing, bud," Michael replied.

“Huh-uh," the pig boy responded, “Sorry to inform you, but it's just you humans with your weak noses that do that."

“Says the guy who made his nose bleed," Michael shot back.

“That was for a completely unrelated reason," Justine answered, “And you keep changing the subject. Dude, what's up?"

Michale hesitated for a second.

He wanted to tell Justine, he really did.

But just how much did he tell him?

What did he tell him?

Well, he would begin with a little bit of the truth.

“...I can do magic," Michael admitted.

Justine blinked at him.

“Magic?" He repeated.

“Yeah, magic," Michael confirmed.

“You mean the thing corporations and the government do with big expensive machines?" Justine asked for clarity.

“There are hobos and religious people that do it on their own," Michael replied, feeling a bit on the defensive.

“And they are all old as fuck!" Justine said, “AND they spend a lot of time outside of the shields."

“And-" Justine started to say, before hesitating, “-they are not human."

And wasn't that the biggest sticker?

Human beings, after all, could not use interdimensional energy. Could not have it course through their bodies so that they could shape it and give it form. It was one of the many ways in which they were inferior to everyone else, despite the fact that not everyone that was a nonhuman could either.

It was a rare talent for a reason.

An obsolete talent, but still rare.

And yet.

“I can do it," Michael confirmed, “Or, I think it's magic? I've been doing something."

The headaches. The hypnosis. What were they if not examples of interdimensional energy usage?

“Fine." Justine allowed, “Assuming that I believe you, how did it happen?"

And here Michael paused for a bit.

“....I made some people do some things," Michael admitted.

“What things?" Justine asked, finally being curious.

“Some things I rather not speak of," Michael replied.

“Huh-uh," Justine replied.

Both boys looked at each other for a while, until Justine was convinced that Michael wasn't pulling a joke on him and until Michael was sure he wasn't just going to dismiss him.

“Alright," Justine said, “Show me."

“Like what?" Michael's eyebrows furrowed.

“I don't know, pull a rat out of a hat or some shit like that." Justine waved his hands around.

“Ok, that's a magician, and they don't use magic!" Michael growled, “They, you know, use tricks and not interdimensional manipulation!"

“Then elevate this pencil," the pig boy took the written implement from his bag and threw it on the floor, “That should be easy, right?"

Michael opened his mouth.

And then closed it.

Could he?

“Alright, let me try," Michael grumbled as he stared at the pencil.

“Don't let me stop you," Justine said with mild expectation.

Michael locked his eyes with the utensil. It was just a pencil, right? He could lift it up with a single finger, let alone his mind. Hell, just making it wobble would prove his claim.

And so, he made the image of a pencil in his mind. He ignored the house, the floor he was sitting on, and even his friend as he put every single iota of concentration in his brain on it.

He imagined the pencil levitating. He imagined how it would go.

And then, with the greatest mental exertion that he could muster, he tried to move it.

Up!

Michael WILLED the pencil to float. He flexed his mind as much as he could feel it does so. He stared at the pencil until his eyes hurt. He clenched with all the muscles in his head until his scalp hurt.

He even started sweating.

And, throughout it all, the pencil did not move one single centimeter.

After a while, Michael gasped as he got tired of clenching.

“Fuck, not even a bit," he murmured.

The feeling that he got when he had hypnotized people, that of something leaving him, was not here. Oh, he was feeling a headache coming in, but it was probably from the pressure of flexing all the muscles in his head and neck.

Why wasn't this working?

“So magic, huh?" Justine asked.

“I did it, I swear!" Michael almost yelled.

“Right, right," Justine put his hands up.

“Are you sure, you know, you weren't just around someone else doing some?" the pig boy asked.

The thought that someone else would make his aunt strip and allow him to touch her like he did earlier in the day was ludicrous.

But he couldn't exactly say that.

“I am sure," Michael confirmed.

“Right, right," Justine nodded as if he were humoring him. Which, honestly, at this point he was.

Michael could almost grind his teeth.

“Well bud, I don't know what to tell you." Justine shrugged, “Because if you can't at least pull a rat out of a hat-"

“-that's not magic-" Michael interrupted.

“-then I don't know what I can even help you with." Justine continued as if Michael hadn't, “Like, what did you do to make you think that you could do magic?"

What indeed.

So far, every time that it had happened it had been without Michael's will. Every time he did the thing where he stared people in the eye and felt something go from him to them, it was when he wanted something from them.

No, it was when he needed something from them.

He was scared of what he was going through. Of himself, if he was honest. But if this was the only way?

Michael locked eyes with his best friend.

He did not want to do this. But he needed him to believe him.

Justine locked eyes with him. He was clearly humoring him still.

Michael raised his chin and willed his friend to…be hypnotized?

“What are you doing?" Justine almost laughed.

“I NEED you to believe me," Michael grunted and...there!

Justine's facial muscles relaxed and Michael felt, ah, something flow out of him.

He wasn't imagining things!

His pig friend blandly stared at him as a headache, not as big as the one he had experienced with his aunt, but stronger than the one he had experienced with the desk dog, made him rub his head.

“Fuck, that's unpleasant," Michale murmured as he held his head.

Thankfully, by the time the pain subsided, his friend was still in that trance, “Justine?"

“I am here," Justine replied in monotone.

“Do you believe me now?" Michael asked.

“No," was Justine's response.

Michael stared at him.

Why didn't he? Michael just hypnotized him!

But then, no one, not even his aunt, had realized that he had done it. So maybe…

“I just hypnotized you," Michael dared to say. Would that realization change anything?

“You did?" Justine asked, some surprise bleeding through the monotone.

“I did," Michael assured him and, to his amazement, his friend nodded.

So just like that?

“Justine?" Michael prodded him.

“I am here," Justine replied in the same monotone again.

“Do you believe me now?" Michael asked.

“Yes," Justine replied as if it weren't a big revelation. It just was.

“Ok, good," Michael muttered as his friend kept staring at him as if he weren't there.

…how long was this supposed to last anyway?

“Um, can you come out of it now?" Michael asked and his friend hesitated for a moment.

“Did I do it?" Justine asked in monotone.

“I don't think so?" Michael opined.

“Then no," the pig replied.

Fuck, was he supposed to wait until this hypnotism ran out every time he did it?

What was he supposed to do in the meantime?

But as he thought about it, Michael started realizing that, well, didn't people only do what he ordered them to do?

And so, staring his friend in the eye again, Michael opened his mouth and very deliberately said, “Come out of it now."

Justine blinked.

“Huh," the pig boy said as he touched his hands.

“Do you believe me?" Michael asked again.

“Yeah, yeah, the mind thing," Justine waved him off, as if it had been clear from the beginning, “I don't feel a thing though."

“You don't?" Michael frowned.

“I mean, you convinced me, but the more I think about it the less…I feel like you did something?" Justine said, “But since you said you hypnotized me, I believe you."

Then Justine paused again.

“Is that what you have been doing?" he asked, visibly restraining himself from gushing out.

“Something like that," Michael replied. He really, reeeally would rather not go into it.

“Holy shit, holy shit," Justine got up and began to pace, “Mind control? I mean, there is no machine that does that!"

“Like, the old tales, right? There aren't any records of any spell that can do that!" the pig boy said as his body trembled, “Do you know what this means, Michael?"

“That they are going to lock me up to keep me from causing havoc in society?" Michael drily asked.

“The pussy, man!" Justine ignored him, “Think of all the pussy you can have!"

Michael opened his mouth to refute the thought, but then he stopped.

Wasn't that what he had been doing?

“Think about it," Justine laughed, “You could have Mrs. Hedwig show you her puss and clear up if she has spikes down there once and for all."

He could, couldn't he?

He could reach across the student and teacher relationship that was between him and her. Across the gulf in species that lay between them. Ignore their age difference and make her his whore.

He could, he could…

He could ruin it all.

That thought, more than anything, brought a stop to his developing daydream.

No, no, before anything else, he had to make sure that he wouldn't be hurting those he cared about. Like his mom, who would get in trouble if it was known that he had this because of the medicine that she had brought from the lab. Or his aunt, who was covering up for him.

Before he ran roughshod with this, he had to make sure he wouldn't fuck things up.

“What are the limits of this?" his friend eagerly asked, snapping him out of his thoughts, “Like, you can't lift a pencil, but can you do anything besides hypnotizing people?"

“I don't know," Michael now sullenly replied.

“Hmm, maybe you should test things out?" Justine opined and Michael gave him a look.

“Hey, listen," the pig boy soothed, “It's cool if you don't want all the pussy, but don't you at least want some of the pussy?"

Well, that would be controlled, no?

“I mean…" Michael weakly said.

“It doesn't even have to be something bad," Justine said, “But, like, do you know what you can even do with it?"

“Like…could you have someone have sex with you?" he asked as if that weren't something bad.

Could he?

There had been some awkwardness with his aunt. But if he had worded things right, if he had set things up beforehand, could he have?

Although his aunt seemed to be snapping out of it the further he went. But maybe that was just the hypnotism running out?

Out of a sudden, he had so many questions.

“Maybe," Michael allowed.

“I am just saying man, you should test things," the pig boy said, “See how far this thing goes."

To be honest, when Michael had come here to talk to his friend, he hadn't expected to be encouraged to exploit all of this thing.

He also wanted to talk about his changed genitals but…maybe next time.

He needed time to think.

“I think I need to go home," Michael replied as he rubbed his forehead.

“This soon?" Justine asked.

“Every time I do the hypnotism thing it hurts my head," Michael explained.

“Really? Man, there is no such a thing as a free lunch, huh." Justine sympathized with him.

“Yeah, I'll see you in school tomorrow," Michael said, feeling a bit tired.

“If you come, anyway," Justine ribbed him one last time before Michael clasped his hand and left his room.

He almost made it to the front door of his house, too, before being stopped.

“Oh honey, leaving so soon?" the curvaceous porcine mother of his best friend asked as he grabbed the door handle.

“Um, yeah, gotta get home," Michael said.

“But you just arrived!" Jonesey spread her hands.

“I'll be back some other time," Michael tried to assuage her but before he could exit he felt something grab his shirt

It was Jonesey pinching a bit of his sleeve.

“Honey, if you fought with my boy," the pig mother began, making Michael internally groan, “Know that you are always welcome here, anyway."

“Thanks, Miss Fanning, really," Michael insisted, “But it's not a fight. I really just have to go."

Jonesey let him go.

“Honey, don't let me keep you," she said and Michael nodded.

Then he began opening the door.

“But you know you can always talk to me if you need to, right?" the woman asked and Michael stopped again.

“I guess?" Michael dubiously allowed because, well, his patience was starting to be stressed.

“I don't want to be a bother honey," the pig woman sighed, “But I know how hard humans have it. And I know how hard you have it."

“I'll be fine," Michael insisted.

“Everyone is honey," Miss Fanning replied, “Until they are not."

Michael wanted to ask her what business of her that was, but the woman was sweet enough that he wasn't willing to do that.

Yet.

“Listen, how about you let me make you a cookie," the pig woman offered, “Just one. And then I'll let you go, no strings attached?"

“But I just ate!" Michael replied.

“It'll help your digestion," Jonesey said, “And it won't take me that long."

Good gods could his best friend's mother be pushy!

But she was so nice about it!

And she smelt fantastic! There was something deeply attractive about…her scent.

But he wanted to go home and, at the very least, have another lie down while he thought about stuff!

Getting multiple headaches on the same day wasn't doing him any favors…

“Come on, hon, just this once," Jonesey blinked her eyes at him and, as pretty as she did them, Michael internally groaned.

So, with his mind as tired as he was, he did something he otherwise wouldn't have. Or so he hoped.

He looked Jonesey Fanning in the eye and gestured at the door.

“Stop," he told her and, immediately, he felt some energy leave his head again.

This time, he tried to curtail it. Tried to not let it flow as it pleased.

And it sort of worked?

At the very least, he didn't need a few moments to recover from this headache. Augh.

“Ok," the meaty woman replied in monotone.

“I didn't fight with your son," Michael informed her.

“Ok," she tonelessly replied.

“I am not leaving because of some issue I might have," Michael told her. A lie, and perhaps an unnecessary one, but he could scarcely imagine what she would do if she thought that she had let him go while something was wrong with him.

“If you say so." there was some dubiousness bleeding through her voice, but she accepted it.

“And you are going to let me go without stopping me for anything else," Michael ordered her.

Miss Fanning's face scrounged, but, in the end, she nodded.

That, right there. Was that the hypnosis starting to run out, or was it that there was a limit to what he could ask people?

How would he even test that out?

Don't you at least want some of the pussy?

…well, this was certainly ONE way.

Looking around, and making sure that he was hearing Justine and his little brothers in their rooms, Michael faced the mother of his best friend again.

Perhaps there was another way to do it, but this one was so much more fulfilling.

“Jonesey," Michael said, and the pig woman flinched at hearing him speak her first name, “Give me your panties."

Unlike when Michael had ordered her to let him go or told him that there was nothing wrong with him, Jonesey smoothly obeyed.

The pig woman hitched her dress up to her waist, letting Michael see her thighs. She put her thumbs around her undergarments and smoothly pulled them down, her dress trailing behind her hands.

But in the moments that it took for her dress to fall down, Michael got a peek at her pubic hair.

It was curly and brown.

The pig mother bent down as she pulled her panties down her calves and then stepped over the article of clothing.

“Here you go, hon," Jonesey said in monotone and Michael hesitated before reaching out and grabbing the undergarment.

“Thanks, Miss Fanning," Michael cleared his throat.

Shit, he was going to have to jack off later.

“Anything for a growing boy," the pig mother shrugged while her voice was still in monotone and…Michael just left.

He could have ended the hypnotism, he supposed, but REALLY didn't want to have to talk about the panties he had her give him.

Not right then.

But as he walked home, he stared at the panties he had collected.

They were white, with brief lace around the waistband.

Michael looked around and, upon seeing no one on the street, he pushed the panties against his face.

And took a deep breath.

He shuttered as the musk of a sow in heat hit him.

“Oh fuck," he muttered as his cock started to get up within his pants. He had wanked off earlier in the day, but that was to put off the blue balls that he was feeling from doing things to his aunt.

This at least he'd be able to masturbate to.

Fuck, why didn't he ask his aunt to give him her panties?

And that's when he heard the siren of a cop.

Michael had made it to the other side of the street across from his friend's house before the police had apparently seen him.

“Oh, what is this?" the husky voice of a woman called out as the siren was turned off.

And it was 'Taur in a police uniform coming to a stop before him.

A Wolftaur, by the look of her torso, but her lower half was of an equine. Like, the animal, not the horse people.

She was in police uniform, her helmet bearing the lights of her siren and saddle bags in her back holding the speakers.

There was a baton there too, as well as a gun. Off the side of her horse sides, were handcuffs and many other ways to secure whatever criminal she found.

All in all, she looked like the stereotypical 'Taur cop. The kind that could stand in for motorcycle police just with what they were born.

And she was smirking at him.

“Just walking home ma'am," Michael replied, stuffing the panties that he had been holding into his pocket.

The wolftaur's eyes followed the action, and she chuckled as she started walking around him.

“You sure?" the canid ears in her head twitched as she looked down at him, “Because it looked like you were loitering."

“...I was literally walking," Michael replied, frowning.

Public indecency he understood, but where was she going with this?

“Well, since you denied that, how about skipping school?" the wolf clopped around his back, “Truancy is illegal for humans, as useless as the education is for them."

“School ended like an hour ago," Michael said, the Wolftaur being close enough for him to feel the heat from her body.

“Some schools end later than others," the policewoman shrugged, her body circling to his front, “Whose to say you are not from one of those?"

“Mine is not," Michael replied.

“Oh, that's just a pity," the cop breathed out as her eyes looked him up and down, “All of those are crimes I would have just needed to call your parents for."

“Wouldn't they be misdemeanors?" Michael asked, trying not to flinch as the cop started to rub against his body with her side.

“Oh, but public indecency is not," the Wolftaur said with a clip, “And you are making it oh so hard to let you get away with something easy."

“Oh, so you are doing me a favor?" Michael asked crooning his head to watch her head.

“For such a young cutie, you sure have a smart mouth," the cop 'Taur replied, finally stepping away from him, “But I am sure someone as smart as you understands the situation you are in."

The Wolftaur smirked at him as she tapped her radio.

As if to say that she could take him in.

Freaking crap, it had been such a long day…

“Godsdamn it Victoria," the clop of another officer heading to them got closer, “You keep doing this shit…"

The Wolftaur rolled her eyes before giving Michael a wink.

“It's fine, I was just giving the boy a warning." the Taur cop shrugged before she started walking away.

“I should hope so," the new Taur, a proper Centaur this time, grunted.

“Oh don't get your tits twisted, the boy is on the joke, right?" the Wolftaur looked at Michael and gestured towards the pocket where he had Jonesey's panties.

“...right," Michael ground out.

“You'll be seeing more of me from now on cutie," The Wolftaur informed him, “Victoria Surefoot at your service."

And then she started trotting off.

The new arrival, the Centaur, watched her as she disappeared.

“Sorry about that kid," this new cop said, “Victoria's a complete hybrid and, well, you know how those taurs get."

Michael frowned at her.

Taurs generally resulted when two different species bred and both sides of their ancestry tried to strongly express themselves. Being that they were born that way, they weren't considered Chimeras but, well, it was a near thing. At the very least, when they did go Chimera it was hard to spot in time due to their bodies being a mix to begin with.

In a way, it was a visible reminder that, despite how much society tried to keep different species from banging each other, it was generally going to be happening somewhere anyway.

Which, ironically, didn't usually happen between most taurs and most anyone else.

Generally, it was hard to tell when a taur would go Chimera just like it was with any other Hybrid. But unlike any other hybrid, any children that a taur might have with anyone were all but guaranteed to undergo that horrible transformation. The certainty kept most from subjecting any children they might have to that fate.

That is, except with humans.

When a taur bred with a human, the result, a Centaur, would have a single Deviation index and, as such, would only be subject to Aurochization. And you could tell who was one by the fact that they had a human torso. They were in a word “safe".

The officer he was speaking to was a horse centaur, for example.

Still, Michael frowned: the image of taurs being barely constrained rapists of humans by sheer necessity was one he had never appreciated. If only because he thought they were beautiful all on their own.

And here was one trying to live up to that infamy.

“There is no way all Taurs are like that," Michael replied.

“They are not," the centaur replied, “But I dare say most of those already have a human around."

Michael stared at the cop.

“Oh, um, don't worry about Victoria though," The cop was quick to say, “She's a big flirt, but she won't ever force things."

“Right," Michael dubiously said.

“I tell you what, kid," Centaur's hand went into a saddle bag, “If you are that worried about it, why don't you give me a call?"

She pulled out a pen and a card and wrote her information on its back.

“Cynthia Roughshod?" Michael asked.

“The one and only," the Centaur smiled at him and Michael found himself smiling back.

She was nice.

“What's your name, kid?" The Centaur cop asked.

“Michael Yokebreaker," He said as he put the card away.

“Once again, sorry about that." the cop apologized and then started walking away.

“It's fine," Michael lied.

“In any case, you'll be seeing me around," Cynthia replied and Michael frowned at that.

The way she said that.

“What do you mean?" Michael asked.

“Oh, me and Victoria are the new patrols around this area sweetheart," the cop told him, “But don't worry, we don't bite!"

Michael was now less sure about the card that he had in his pocket.

And later on, once again he went to sleep before he could talk to his mother.

It was now two nights when he didn't have dinner with her.

He felt her enter the house late at night, but he really didn't want to worry her with…his problem. Not when she was so stressed out by her job. But then, she had claimed that it was just a temporary thing, right?

Maybe, when this stage of the project was through, he could…talk to her a little bit about what was happening to him?

The alternative, that of replaying the scene that had happened in his aunt's motel room, but in his mother's bedroom, occurred to him.

He pressed Jonesey's panties against his face as he masturbated at night. And, while it was good, the simple idea, the simple thought, of seeing his mother naked and touching her as he had done his aunt…

Well, it made the panties superfluous.

His horse cock proved to be sensitive in a way that his human dick never had been, now having the erogenous zones of three different species in his cock. It made the experience feel much better and, for the moment that it took him to empty his nuts, he started thinking that, maybe, all of this hadn't been as bad.

This change.

And this power.

Then his nuts emptied and he recoiled from his own thoughts.

What was wrong with him?

He had always been attracted to his mother and aunt. Always been attracted by any nonhuman woman, really, but who he really wanted was his family. But never, not in a hundred years, had he ever thought about just ignoring their free will and taking them for himself.

And yet he was now so sorely tempted!

The most screwed up thing was that he tried to feel bad about it but, no matter how much he recriminated himself…he could not.

In the end, did he just feel bad about not feeling bad? Had he always been like this?

He wished he could say that he was troubled in his sleep but even that would be a lie.

He woke up the next morning, having had a good night of rest. The only thing ruining that morning was something he didn't even think about.

Because, as he was taking a shower, a noticed that he had some difficulty moving around. As if his balls were now on the way.

And looking down, he discovered that they were.

Another change.

He didn't freak out like he did last time. But he did groan with frustration as he observed his new bowling ball-sized, black leather-like, equine ballsack.