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Winter's Tail
By Multibreast

A Tail of Two Titties

It was the best of times. It was the worst of.... Well, mostly it was just the worst of times, for me anyway. My name is Winter, and I do know that I was generally happy as a child, but that all changed when I became a teenager. The psychologists say that girls are more likely to fall into depression during their teenage years than boys are. I know all about it. I even saw a therapist. She gave me a bunch of pamphlets to read on the subject of depression in teenage girls. Some researchers seem to think the reason for the great occurrence of depression in women is medical, that girls' brains are more sensitive to whatever brain chemical causes the depression. Other researchers think the environment has more to do with why girls get the blues. They point to the fact that childhood depression is the same for boys and girls, and it is not until adolescence that girls' rate of depression sharply rises. They contend that the environment exposes teenage girls to a constant barrage of super-thin models, repressed sexuality, and the fact that girls will get the reputation of being a "slut" if they dare express any of their new sexual feelings openly.

I certainly couldn't express any of my sexual feelings, but it wasn't from a fear of being called a "slut." The psychiatrist I saw forced me to sit through countless therapy sessions, trying to find out why I was so depressed. I knew the reason, but I couldn't tell her. After I eventually became tired I fed her a line of bullshit about how rough puberty and school was. It didn't really matter. She just listened to my sob stories day after day, and eventually sent me on my not-so-merry way with a prescription for an anti-depressant drug in my hand.

The drugs didn't help. I told my poor, worried mother they did though. I told her how much better I was feeling and tried to act like the typical, happy American girl whenever she was around. It was quite an acting performance really, considering that I was torn up inside.

My sadness continued throughout my adolescent life and on into high school, and remained in full force the morning of that special day, the second to the last day of the holiday break before the start of my final semester of high school. I told myself that I shouldn't be so sad. I had a caring mother. I lived in a big and luxurious house, with all the modern appliances and amenities. Yes, I had about all a young woman could ever want, besides maybe a father. My dad had ran out on mom and me when I was just a little girl. I suppose that's why mom has always been so overprotective of me. She was especially willing to be protective of me when it came to boys. Mother had given me countless lectures on the evils that men do.

Mother never had much opportunity to protect me from any overzealous boyfriends. I rarely dated, not that I didn't get asked often mind you. Boys asked me out all the time, but I usually just politely declined. Boys weren't a priority of mine, nor were relationships in general for that matter. As for sex, it rarely ever crossed my mind, not in the traditional sense anyway. I was still a virgin at age 17, and planned to stay that way for quite some time, not because of any ethical significance attached to virginity, but because I just didn't want to have sex. It just plain didn't interest me. I heard what the boys at school all said about me: "gorgeous body, dull personality." Ostensibly, it was true. I kept pretty much to myself. I never talked much. People assumed that I was shy. I wasn't shy. I never had any trouble speaking in front of the class for example. Shyness wasn't the reason. The reason was that I couldn't discuss what I had on my mind, it was just too weird. I was ashamed of it.

My depression and disinterest in relationships stemmed not from growing up without a father, I could handle that. No, it came from my odd version of sexuality. To say that I wasn't interested in sex, isn't exactly true. I thought about sex all the time, just not in the usual sense. I knew very well what my sexual desires where. I had explored them many times, but unfortunately only in the secret confines of my own mind. I couldn't tell anyone else about them. I couldn't even tell the psychiatrist about them, and she had to keep anything I said in confidence.

My sexuality is centered on myself. I realized how conceited that sounded. I could just picture a conversation about my sexuality starting:

"So Winter, to what are you attracted?"

And I would reply, "Why, myself, of course!"

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest, and the most egotistical, of them all. Except, I didn't think that I was beautiful. I realized that most of the boys at school did. I had been complemented many times by guys hoping for a date, saying how beautiful my long, flowing brown hair is, how my green eyes sparkled brightly, how cute my petite face was, how long and sexy my legs were. I appreciated these complements, but it didn't do anything to change my view. It wasn't that I thought that I was ugly mind you. I thought that I was good-looking, but that something was missing, something that kept me from being absolutely gorgeous. It was quite apparent to me that the changes that I wanted couldn't be procured with a new color lipstick, a new shade of nail polish, or a new dress. No, the changes that I wanted were permanent. Yet, they weren't something that a plastic surgeon could give me either, at least not to the level of realism that I wanted.

"Chic," "foxy," "vixen," "bunny," and "bitch" are all words that are commonly applied to females. Those terms are used metaphorically of course, but I many times create a picture in my mind based on a literal meaning to those terms. Like, for instance, when I hear the word "bitch" I often picture the woman to whom the word was directed as having the legs and lower body of a large female dog, and the upper body of a woman, like some kind of bitchtaur. I suppose such an image would be funny to most people, To me however, it is totally erotic, especially if I pictured myself with those dog legs. It always made me chuckle to think that unlike most women, I'd love to be a bitch, or half a bitch rather.

Dogs specifically weren't really my preference, but animals were the key to my sexuality. It wasn't bestiality. Rather, it was becoming an animal, or rather partially animal. I had no interest in being a full animal, but the thought of me having animal parts was the sexiest thing in the world. I loved to read stories and watch movies about mermaids. It was more than just a fantasy story, it was more like porn to me, thinking of myself as the mermaid. Yet, fish weren't really my preference either.

No, for me, it was horses. I loved horses. They looked so noble and beautiful, majestically standing on four hooves, proudly swishing their tail behind them. Oh, the tail! How I so much wanted that. My very own tail, that I could brush lovingly, and control its motion with my own will. I wanted a horse tail of my own, attached to my on rear. It was one of my greatest wishes. I would have given anything to have it.

At the same time, I had reservations about these feelings. I mean, I couldn't even talk about wanting to have one. What made me think that I could handle actually having a real one? Yet, somehow I knew that I could. If I had it, people would have to deal with it. They couldn't just blow me off. With my words, they could just simply call me a pervert, walk away, and either avoid me, or make fun of me. Conversely, if I actually had a tail, they would have to deal with it. It wouldn't just be words of an impossible dream. It would be a true life tail. My sexuality was related to that also, to people having to deal with my strange yet beautiful appearance. I didn't mind being an oddity. In fact, the thought of people pointing at me and saying "look at that tailed woman" was actually very stimulating to me. No, being a physical oddity I didn't mind, and in fact would actually enjoy I think, but being a mental oddity, being considered some crazy pervert, that was the only problem.

I had hoped all though my early teen years that somehow, someday, I would truly be able to get the tail of my dreams. On that morning two days before my last semester started, I had come to a point in my life where I had pretty much given up any hope of it ever coming true. The events of that morning changed everything though.

I parked my car in the parking lot of the local department store. I needed to get some pantyhose for the formal dance to which my mother was making me go to next weekend. It was for her work, and she felt it was important to portray, as she put it, "a family appearance," which basically meant me in a formal and elegant dress, smiling, and looking like the perfect daughter. As I walked toward the door of the store, a man sprang out from a crouched position behind one of the other parked cars. He had been hiding, waiting for me to walk near him. He quickly reached out and tightly grabbed my arm, roughly pulling me towards him. My mind was suddenly filled with all the horrid thoughts planted in my mind by my mother's many warnings of dangerous men.

"Let go of me, you jerk!" I yelled as I tried to pull away, but I wasn't going anywhere. He had a firm grasp on me. The man was covered from head to toe in what can only be described as filth. It had the appearance of a mixture of dirt, grease, and sweat. He was missing several of his front teeth, and most of the rest of his teeth were just as brown as the filth which covered him. His breath stank and his clothes were ratty. He had the look of a stereotypical bum.

He looked straight at me with cold eyes. "I have what you need." He said in a deep and phlegmy voice.

"You can keep your dick to yourself, Asshole!" I yelled, still trying to break free. I was hoping that somebody would come to my aid, but we appeared to be the only ones in or around the parking lot.

"I wasn't referring to my penis, young lady, I was referring to your animalistic desires." He said with a mischievous little grin.

I suddenly stopped struggling. "What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly intrigued.

"I think you know what I mean. For example, why is your hair so long? It comes all the way down to your waist. It must be difficult to manage all that hair, so why have it that long?" He stated while lightly brushing the back of his hand against my long hair, while keeping his other hand firmly wrapped around my arm.

"I just like it long is all. There is no other reason than that." I responded.

The strange man shook his head and laughed. "That is not true, and you know it. You like it long and flowing because it reminds you of a mane, a horse's mane. I must say, your hair is very lovely, but you could have so much more."

Now, I grew much more interested. "How did you know... about the mane I mean? I never told anybody about that."

"That is not important," he continued. "What is important is that I can give you that precious tail you want so badly." He then reached his free hand into his pocket and produced a small, clear, glass bottle about the same width and height as his thumb, with a screw-on plastic cap on top. Inside the bottle, was a large green pill. The man shook the bottle, making the pill rattle inside of the bottle. "This pill will cure your depression like those anti-depressant pills never could."

All of my mother's many warnings came rushing back into my mind. "What is in that pill? Poison?" I asked.

"I can assure you that it is not poison. I can't tell you what is in it, because I don't know. I'm only a delivery boy. I would tell you to get it analyzed, if I didn't already know that any test as to the contents of this pill will be inconclusive." He stated as he held the bottle out for me to take.

"Delivery boy for whom?" I asked.

"I don't have time for all these questions!" He yelled impatiently. "There are other young ladies with other desires. I can't waste my time on you! All I an tell you is that you merely have to take the pill and then picture the change you want to happen in your mind, and picture it as a change you really want and really want to be permanent. You will change. To be sure, it will be permanent. No desire to remove it will make it disappear. This pill only adds, not subtracts. In addition, no surgery will remove whatever change you make either. Any removal will simply just grow back. So, the trick is, to be very sure of yourself."

"You are a lair." I said spitefully. Yet, I couldn't help wonder how he knew about my desires. I had never told a soul.

"Fine, whatever, no one is holding a gun to your head." He said as he palmed the bottle and released me from his grasp. He started to walk away from me. "If you don't want it, that is fine with me."

"Wait!" I yelled. I couldn't deny it. I did want it. I wanted it more than anything. I tried to ask the man more questions, but he was impatient and threatened to leave with the bottle if I didn't take it right then. I did accept the bottle, and immediately thereafter, the man ran off. I ran after him, but he was much too fast for me.

I proceeded to go into the store and buy my pantyhose. The whole drive back home, I thought of nothing but that strange pill. When I got home, I wondered to myself if it was truly possible. It all seemed ridiculous. Nevertheless, I desperately wanted to swallow the pill and give it a try. Even though the urge to swallow the pill immediately was great, I decided to just lick the pill and to wait an hour. I figured that if it was poison, then the whole pill would probably kill me, whereas a lick might just make me sick.

I gave the pill a lick. It had no real flavor, other than the stale taste of a vitamin pill, which is probably what it was. I waited an hour, and nothing unusual happened. I grabbed the pill and with a great degree of nervousness swallowed it with a drink of water. I immediately closed my eyes and pictured myself with a long, flowing horse's tail, extending down almost to my ankles. I thought to myself, I want this tail more than anything. I opened my eyes back up and looked back at my butt. I noticed no change. I placed my hand against the base of my spine, and felt for any changes. I felt nothing new. I told myself that perhaps the medicine needed time to absorb into my system. I waited an hour, two hours, three hours, the whole time picturing myself with a horse tail. The change never occurred. I'm so stupid to have thought that it would work I told myself. The pill had no negative effect on me. It had no effect whatsoever. I went to sleep that night even more depressed than usual.

That night however, was the last night of my long struggle with depression. I woke up the next morning, and dreary walked to the bathroom. Once I turned the bathroom light on, I immediately noticed that the back bottom part of my bedshirt was sticking out a bid and that hair was hanging down from under the back of the bedshirt. It was the same brown color as my hair, except the hair was a bit more coarse, like...like.... a horse's tail! My heart starting racing in excitement. I pulled off my bedshirt, leaving me naked except for my panties, panties which were riding low because a tail now occupied the space at the top of my butt, at the base of my spine!

I excitedly pointed my butt in the direction of the mirror, so I could get a better look at it. It was long and flowing, and absolutely beautiful! I reached back and gave the tail a good tug to see if it was really attached to me. It was! Now, the real test, my brain directed the appendage to wag. My new tail complied. It swished elegantly behind me, brushing up against my legs.

My excitement was temporarily interrupted. I suddenly grew troubled. How was I ever going to explain this to Mother?? Just as my mind tried to come up with some possible but delicate way to bring it up to her. I heard a scream from behind me. It was the unmistakable sound of my mother's voice. I didn't have to guess what she just saw. I turned around and saw my mother standing just outside the open bathroom door. Her eyes were wide, and panic and horror plainly showed on her face.

She looked directly at my tail as tried to speak. "What the... how the? What in the world? My... My god, what has happened to my beautiful baby?"

I went to mother and comfortingly grasped her shoulders. I looked her straight in the eyes and said. "Your baby has grow up and realized her greatest wish." I said with a smile, and a swish of the tail for good measure.

My mother was flabbergasted. "You... you mean to say that you somehow did this on purpose." She pointed at my tail like it was some disgusting piece of trash.

I nodded my head. "Yes mother, it may sound silly to you, but it has always been my greatest wish to have a tail like this one."

My mother grabbed my tail and gave it a painful yank! "Ouch!" I yelled with a grimace. "Please don't do that, Mother!"

My mother started to shake. "I... I can't believe it. It's real! You have a real, live horse tail growing from you!" My mother put her hands up to her face and started sobbing loudly. "My poor baby." She managed to say through the tears.

I managed to eventually calm my mother. At which point, she immediately drove me to the hospital emergency room. The doctor was quite shocked to find a woman who suddenly had a horse tail growing from her. Against my strong objections, my mother demanded that the doctor surgically remove my tail.

The doctor shook his head. "You see, your daughter is 17 years old, and the age of majority in this state is 17. Since she is legally an adult, I need more than just a parent's consent to operate. I need your daughter's consent too."

My mother pleaded with me to consent to the operation. I refused. I tried to explain to her that even if I did remove it, that it would only grow back. She didn't seem to believe me. She even threatened to punish me if I refused to sign a consent form. I held fast, and refused to go through with an operation.

I wanted to cut holes in the back of all my jeans and skirts, to allow my tail to hang free. I nonetheless promised my mother that I would keep the tail hid inside my pants in public, even though it hurt the nub of my tail to be stuffed inside a pair of pants. I stuffed the hair of my tail down one of the pant legs. My mother even managed to get me a doctor's note which got me out of physical education class. My mother didn't want me to have an embarrassing moment in the locker room. It was fine by me, I didn't much care for physical education class anyway.

I would have been happier if I could have shown off my tail that first week of class my last semester, but I respected my mother's wishes to keep it hidden. I was nevertheless happier that week than I had ever been in my life. All the old depression was gone, and I was in love with my tail. I couldn't wait to get home after school to brush it and to let it swish freely. My mother continued to ask me to reconsider the surgery. I kept refusing. I didn't want to get rid of my tail. In fact, the opposite was true. I was very happy that first week with my tail, but, I was in a state of turmoil too. Now that I had my precious tail, I couldn't help thinking the other interesting modifications that I could make to my otherwise normal body. I had to be careful though. If I could get a tail, then I might get anything else, and it would be permanent. Every time I thought of interesting modifications, I made an effort not to tell myself that it was a change that I truly wanted.

The inevitable happened on that Friday after school though. I came home from school and started what had quickly become the ritual of brushing my tail hair, when I thought briefly and without much consideration that it was unfortunate that I had promised to keep my tail secret and hidden. I really wanted to show it off. Without even considering the implications of it, I thought to myself that if I had four legs, then I wouldn't be able to wear pants to cover up my tail. Yes, I thought, I would really like to have four legs. Soon, I forgot I even had those thoughts. I climbed in bed that night, tail and all, and went to sleep like I always did.

The pill was as I feared it might be, not just effective for one occasion, but continual, and apparently only effective during sleep. When I woke up that Saturday morning, I felt a unfamiliar weight. At first, I thought someone had crawled in bed next to me. I grabbed hold of the blanket and swiftly pulled back the covers. To my shock, I saw that the extra weight was my own. It was my own legs, my extra legs! I had four of them! My butt was no longer three feet directly below my head, but now three feet down, and about four feet back, just above my rear legs. I stumbled out of bed, and managed to regain my balance. I found the sensation of standing on four human legs to be quite strange, and yet quite sexy as well. I still had my horse tail, but it was now far behind me, above my rear legs. I made my way to the bathroom, finding it difficult to walk. I looked at myself in the large mirror. I had the look of a centaur, but, except for the tail, I was all human. I just happened to be a human with four legs! I was a humantaur. The song "Legs" by ZZ Top suddenly came to mind, the song that was covered on all those L'eggs pantyhose commercials so long ago. "She's got legs, and she knows how to use them!" Well, I thought, I've certainly got the legs, I don't really know how to use them yet though.

Illustration by Access

"It's going to be hard to hide this." I said to no one but the empty bathroom. "Mom is going to freak out about this one."

I waited, trying to gather my thoughts, and finally slowly made my way to the stairs. Descending the stairs was incredibly difficult that first time. I slowly made my way to the kitchen where my mother was cooking some bacon for herself. I used to love bacon, but since getting the tail, I had become a vegetarian. Somehow I just couldn't bring myself to eat animals anymore. It just didn't seem right somehow, now that I was a tailed creature too. I suppose there are plenty of predators out there in the animal kingdom that feed on the flesh of other animals, but for some reason, I felt that I could no longer eat meat.

I stalled right before entering the kitchen. I lifted my bedshirt an quickly grazed my hand over my front crotch. I still had a vagina there, but I could also clearly feel the presence of a second vagina between my rear legs. The bottom of the bedshirt was covering my front vagina, while my back vagina was exposed, although not visible except from the underneath. I wasn't shy about having it exposed at all though. I suddenly thought of how good I would be in a threesome now. That thought made me laugh. My mother heard me and looked up at me standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

My mother let out a scream similar to the one she released when she first saw my tail a week ago, except it was louder this time. In what could have been a scene right out of Victorian England, my Mother's eyes started to flutter and she fainted dead away. I managed to waken my mother after a few minutes. She had bumped her head when she fell, but it looked as though she would be fine.

My mother looked down at my extra legs, and then into my eyes. She struggled for words, but could only manage: "Why?" I had told her the whole story about the strange man with the pill, and she was smart enough to deduce that the only reason I now had extra legs was because I wanted them. I didn't answer my mother. I only hugged her lovingly. I would save the explanation for later.

I became adept at walking on my four legs in a matter of hours. I found having four legs to be quite comfortable. I didn't become nearly as tired on my feet as I used to. I had no difficulty reaching my back legs or my tail. My lower back, that extension of my back which connected my front and rear legs, was very flexible. I could still sit in a normal chair with the curve of my back at the spot where my butt used to be fitting into the seat of the chair. The only difference was that I had four legs in front of me when I sat down rather than just two. I found it quite enjoyable to paint my toenails. I brushed on the red paint onto each of my 20 toenails.

My mother started working on clothing for me after recovering from her initial shock. She did not speak to me. She only occasionally gave me a disappointed look. Her once beautiful daughter was now a freak to her. I could see that she was ashamed of me and the decisions I had made. I tried to explain that the extra legs weren't exactly planned. She didn't respond to me. She could tell that even though I didn't specifically plan on having extra legs, I still wanted them, and now liked having them. My mom made some dresses for me. Well, actually, they were tablecloths with a hole cut out for my torso to fit through. It wasn't exactly high fashion, but it looked ok, and would work until I could have something better designed. It made it look better when I put on some garters and stockings. I had to stretch the garter straps to their maximum being that one belt went around my front belly, just below my belly button, and the other one went around my back belly just in front of my back vagina. The pantyhose that I had bought the day all these changes started weren't really on option anymore. I slipped my feet into the black nylon of the stockings, slowly pulling the sheer fabric up my long, slender legs. Each of my legs was now completely hairless. It seems my imagination was wise enough to give me hairless legs. I would hate to think of the time it would take to shave four legs. After getting all four of my stockings on, I went to my Mother's closet. Luckily, mom had a pair of dress shoes exactly like a pair of mine, giving me four of the same style shoe. Mom's shoes were slightly tight on my back feet, but it was tolerable. I would definitely have to go shopping for new shoes soon. I would have to buy them two pair at a time from now on.

I was actually looking forward to the dance which I had been dreading only a couple days before. I was looking forward to dancing in my new form, and checking out all the shocked reactions from the people on the dance floor as they saw me, four legs, horse tail, and all. I was thus a little disappointed to hear that my mother planned on going alone tomorrow night. It wasn't too hard to figure out that the "family appearance" she had so wanted did not include a four-legged, horse-tailed daughter. The idea that mother found this form that I so loved to be a source of embarrassment, was troubling to me. Nevertheless, it wasn't going to stop me from going to that dance. I would have my invitation, my stockings and garters, my make up, my two pairs of matching shoes, and my tablecloth.... er dress, and I would be ready to dazzle them. Yet, something was missing. I wanted something else, but what? Something I had thought about before, but had since forgot.

What was it......? Bigger boobs, of course! I had considered such a change a few days back, but had since forgotten. My B-cups were quite the appropriate size for my slender frame, but hell, I had always wanted to be busty. I had always thought big boobs were so darn attractive. I thought of myself filling out a D-cup, and told myself that I really wanted bigger breasts like that. I didn't stop there though. The mind can be a dangerous thing, especially in my situation. I began thinking of how handy, no pun intended, it would be to have an extra pair of arms and hands too. Of course, it only made sense if I was going to have four arms, that I should have four breasts too. I don't know if that makes any sense at all, but it sure made sense to me. I imagined myself with four arms, and an extra pair of D-cup breasts, and told myself that I really wanted them.

Sure enough, the next morning, I was a sight to behold. Four legs, horse tail, four arms, and four breasts. My new hands worked well. They were just as dexterous as my original hands. I found the new breasts to be quite attractive, more so than I ever imagined. I had two pair of breasts on my chest, one pair directly below the originals. I caressed each of my breasts. Cupping one in each of my four hands. When my mother saw the new me, she didn't scream. She just shook her head and gave me a disappointed look. It seemed that she had given up on trying to persuade me to look normal, or to even try to make sense of the changes that I found beautiful, and she found repulsive.

Illustration by Bongo

I raided mom's bra drawer, knowing that she was a natural D-cup. Why I didn't inherit her lovely breasts was beyond me, not that it really mattered now. I grabbed a regular soft-cup bra and a strapless one. I slipped my original, but now bigger, breasts into mother's bra. I loved the way my new, heavier breasts filled the large space of my mother's bra cup. I also loved the feeling of having a second set of breasts below the originals, and slipping them into the cups of the strapless bra. I put a blouse on over them. The fact that I had four large breasts was evident on the somewhat snug-fitting shirt.

Illustration by Access

I continued to get ready for the dance. I found that putting on my makeup went much faster now that I had four hands. By the time I was finished preparing. I discovered that mother had already left. I walked outside in my now adept four-legged walk. It was the first time I had been out of the house in my strange new form. One of my neighbors was out watering his garden. Both his water hose and his mouth dropped open as soon as he got a look at me. I opened my car door, pushed he seat as far back as it would go, and squeezed into the driver seat. I used to think that this car had a lot of foot space, but that wasn't the case anymore.

I managed to drive to the dance hall with some difficulty. I parked my car, stepped out, and marched proudly to the front door. When people in the room noticed my presence, everything came to a stop. I was the center of attention, and that, was exactly how I wanted it. I had never been happier than I was at that moment. It was truly the best of times.