Topic: The Escapist!

Part 1: The Magicians

The first time it happened, it was at the mall of all places.

I was still in high school and was working part time selling expensive soaps at a storefront in the mall. It was boring, all perky hellos and can I help yous and gee, whiz this soap sure smells yummy. It was awful. But it was easy and it made sure I always had pocket money. It was also going to, if I was responsible, pay for a nice trip with my friends the summer after I graduated. So every weekend I was there, at the mall, suffering.

The incident took place during my lunch break one day. I was hungry and despite trying to save money, I was too lazy to actually pack a lunch of my parents’ free food. So it meant a trip to the food court for some horrible ten dollar combo of trash food washed down with soda. Throw in some sulky people watching and it was the highlight of my day. I was a bored little teen.

So I made my way to fried food central, but along the way I saw a commotion. In the main gallery of the mall, right next to the food court, was a stage. Which wasn’t exactly unusual: the mall was always trying to draw people in with children’s singers, or kid’s dance recitals, or maybe some kind of raffle. What was a surprise was the crowd; the usual dull mall performance was ignored by everyone who wasn’t young, old, or a proudly smiling parent. This performance, whatever it was, had gathered a mass of shoppers who stood with rapt attention. The crowd was so large it was forcing people to gawk from the second floor balconies. I thought, sure, whatever, this might be worth a quick look.

I have always been short, but back then I was slight and twiggy, still not yet a woman grown. I was able to slip through the press of people, wiggling my thin, almost boyish body with its small, high breasts and narrow hips and butt between people to get a better view. A little extra shove here and there and I was near the front, standing just behind the seated audience and able to see the stage. There I was able to get my first real glance at a transformation.

On the stage were two magicians dressed in stereotypical magician drag. They were walking in a high stepping circle around a nervous looking young woman in a tight dress and gesturing broadly. The magicians were, I was realizing, a pair of twins, a man and a woman with nearly identical features. Except... that wasn't quite right either. The man was handsome, broad chested, and dressed in a handsome tuxedo jacket. But below the waist his body was obviously female and dressed in heels, fishnet stockings, and tight black bikini bottoms. The woman was beautiful and busty and wearing a tight, scoop necked halter top, but from her waist down she was wearing tight men's trousers that showed the obvious bulge of a large cock. The magicians were like mixed gendered identical twins. Their marquis declared them The Insurmountable Ali and Ali!

"Ali," said the man in a rich baritone, cocking his wide feminine hips and thrusting out a shapely leg. "I think it is time we see if our volunteer is ready."

"Of course, Ali," agreed the woman brightly, striding purposefully over to the nervous woman. The lady magician was taller than the volunteer and so she used a finger to tilt her face up. She leaned in and kissed the volunteer passionately, pressing her large breasts against her and grinding her bulging crotch against her. The volunteer looked surprised, but soon clutched at the magician and returned the kiss.

The man magician sashayed across the stage, bent over a top hat on the floor, thrusting his shapely, womanly ass out at the audience, and drew out a narrow wand. "Dear Sister, if you are finished 'preparing' the volunteer, we have magic to perform."

"Of course, Dear Brother," replied the woman as she released the volunteer, adjusted her penis in her trousers and then reached down her cleavage and pulled out a matching wand.

The two magicians began to chant and orbited around the volunteer, waving their wands and gesturing. The lady volunteer mewled nervously and clutched her side with her hands. The twins made three revolutions of the woman before calling out in unison and stepping toward their volunteer. The man stood behind the volunteer and placed his hands on her shoulders. "How do you feel?" he asked the volunteer.

"Mmphfllffed!" said the volunteer.

"Ali, I fear our volunteer has something within her mouth."

"Then Dear Sister, perhaps you could help her?"

The female Ali stepped around the front of the woman and gently pried her lips open and pulled out an average sized disembodied cock from inside her mouth. "I have found a penis, Dear Brother."

"Is that all, Ali?"

The woman magician frowned and pulled the cock out further, revealing that it had a bright yellow silk handkerchief tied to it that trailed into the volunteer’s mouth. Ali pulled harder, showing the yellow handkerchief was tied to yet another green handkerchief that disappeared into the volunteer's mouth. The woman magician began to tug and tug and tug, pulling a long chain of brightly coloured silk cloth out of the volunteer's mouth. Twelve feet and a rainbow later, the female Ali stood holding a cock attached to the mouth of the volunteer by a chain of handkerchiefs. She gave one last tug and... nothing happened. "Dear Brother, I fear things are stuck."

"Hmm..." mused the male Ali, tapping one delicate foot on the floor. He stepped around the wide-eyed volunteer and examined her open mouth. "I see... Dear Sister, it seems the cloth is stuck on our fine volunteer's tongue."

"Perhaps you can help her, Ali?"

The brother tugged on the handkerchief still trailing into the volunteer's mouth. He gave it a solid pull and yanked the volunteers tongue out of her mouth and then gave it another pull and another, and soon the magician had pulled three feet of tongue out of the volunteer's mouth. He held up the tip of the elongated tongue and untied the last handkerchief from it. "There, that should solve the problem."

"Muh Tunge!" said the volunteer.

"It's untied." stated the magician man.

"Buh! Ooooohhhh," moaned the volunteer as the woman magician slipped the disembodied penis into her mouth and sucked on it delicately. "I cah feel duh cockh.." she breathed.

"Well, it's yours," replied the magician matter of factly as he wound up the woman's tongue and stuffed it awkwardly back into her mouth. The woman magician strode across the stage and presented the volunteer's apparently new and disembodied cock into her hands. "Have fun," the lady magician said brightly with a wink. "Pace yourself."

The magicians as one gently ushered the volunteer off the stage and demanded a round of applause.

I was stunned. What did I just see? A clever act of stage illusion? A transformation!? But those didn't just happen in mall atria, did they? And if it was a transformation, how did they do it? Were the twin magicians actually magical? Were they, I shivered, Avatars? They were strange with their mannerisms and mixed gender bodies, but maybe that was part of the show? They didn't seem like demons... Or maybe they were like, stage alchemists or something? Did they slip the volunteer some alchemy? But when? I hadn't seen anything... During the kiss? Or was the volunteer a plant, someone who already had an enlarged tongue and a secreted dildo?  I wasn't sure, but I wanted to find out.

I was excited and skeptical and nervous. They had my attention. I wasn't going anywhere.

Ali and Ali walked around the stage, surveying the crowd. The male Ali minced and skipped and shook his sexy ass for all it was worth. The female Ali sauntered and strutted to display her ample breasts to the crowd. The twin magicians pulled out juggling batons and each began to juggle with nearly perfect synchronicity.

"Ali," said the woman.

"Yes, Ali?" said the man.

"I think it is time we choose another volunteer."

"Ah, Dear Sister, you did not tell me you could read minds! For I was just thinking that same thing!"

"Oh Dear Brother," the woman magician sighed theatrically, rolling her eyes dramatically for the crowd.

Her brother winked. "Well beloved audience? Who here wishes to volunteer for our next trick!? Choose carefully, for once we have performed a spell on you there is no going back!"

All around me arms thrust into the air and people shouted, “Pick me! Pick me!” The twin magicians made a great show of surveying the crowd while juggling, letting the moment build. "What do you think Dear Sister?"

"I think, Ali," the woman said, now juggling her batons with only one hand and stroking her chin. "That we should choose that lady there!" The magician pointed at the crowd and a young woman squealed happily. "Come on up!" The woman beckoned with her empty hand, keeping the rhythm of the synchronized juggling with the other.

As the new volunteer scrambled to the stage, the twins turned to one another and began to toss the juggling batons to each other across the stage. It took a few moments but the woman made it to the stage and ascended the stairs. The man magician flung all of his batons to the woman, who easily juggled the entire set. The man picked up a rolled up black sheet and carried it to the centre of the stage. He unfurled it dramatically, revealing it was a thin circle of fabric and laid it on the centre of the stage, like a big black spot. He stroked his goatee thoughtfully and cocked his wide, wide hips. The volunteer stood and watched nervously.

The volunteer stood there on the stage looking lost. The woman magician called her over, breaking her juggling rhythm to beckon with one hand while tossing the batons to her brother with the other. The male twin easily caught each baton and set to juggling them. The volunteer shuffled over to the woman magician who smiled at her brightly.

"Thank you for volunteering," the woman said sweetly.

"Uh, you're welcome," the volunteer stammered.

The woman magician took the volunteers hands. "And what is your name?"

"Uh Kendra..."

"Well, Kendra, you'll have to be nude for this next trick. Allow me to help." The woman magician unfastened the volunteer’s bright shirt and tight jeans and helped her step out of her clothes. She did this with a practice flourish that had Kendra standing blushing, smiling, and naked in moments. "How about a big round of applause for Kendra, beloved audience."

The crowd clapped politely for Kendra who stood beaming on the stage. Kendra had light brown skin, brown freckles and kinky black hair. She was in her twenties and quite fit, with a toned body and small pointy breasts. I recognized the woman as one of the clerks from a designer jeans shop in the mall. She was basically someone just like me!

The twin magicians let Kendra have her moment of adulation before ushering her into the centre of the stage, standing right in the middle of the black circle of cloth on the floor. The magicians resumed juggling, tossing the batons across the stage between them and over Kendra and occasionally whipping them past her. "Are you ready Kendra?" Asked the man. Kendra nodded and flinched as a baton whizzed by her face. "Good!" Exclaimed the woman. "Now!" Both twins said in unison, quickly throwing all of their batons in the air in a steep arc that looked like they would crash right on top of Kendra. Kendra shrieked a little in surprise but before the batons struck her the black sheet on the stage exploded upward becoming a giant, upsidedown top hat hiding Kendra from view and creating a basket the batons fell right into.

"Excellent Ali!" said the woman.

"Indeed!" agreed the man.

The twins circled the stage, strutting and slinking and examining the enormous hat.

"That's a rather large hat, Ali." The male Ali decided.

"I fear we will need a very large wand, dear brother."

"Then we best get the extra large one out of storage."

The twins circled the stage again, walked to a pile of large travel trunks on wheels and, flashing their shapely ass and large breasts respectively, pushed two of the trunks to the front of the stage. Each trunk was four feet long and two feet wide, and when the twins spun them in place, the audience could see they were solid trunks. The twins then pushed the crates together, opened the lids and together hefted out an eight foot long wand as wide as a log. The twins carefully set the giant wand down on the stage, the male Ali sticking out his round ass and the female Ali showing her deep cleavage, before pushing the trunks apart and out of the way, showing again that they were apparently complete boxes.

The twin magicians then returned to the wand and lifted it together, carrying it over to the giant top hat. The magicians instructed the audience to count to three and then, teetering and straining, they hefted the huge wand and with a coordinated effort tapped the wand against the hat three times. On the third tap the wand released a tremendously loud bang and coloured smoke and the hat collapsed back into the round black sheet of fabric on the floor.  A transformed Kendra was standing in the centre of the stage!

Kendra was now a kind of four legged bunnygirl. Her black kinky hair was now a shock of white, fluffy, thick hair that cascaded down her back. Sticking out of the hair were two long, floppy rabbit ears that swivelled as the crowd cheered. She had a cute little pink nose and her top lip had become round and split like a bunny creating a space for her new whiskers and large buck teeth.  Her face, otherwise, was recognizably hers and her upper body was still broadly human, although she had grown a muff of fur around her throat and shoulders. On her chest she had grown more breasts, leaving her with eight smallish, pointy tits and her arms from mid shoulder to wrist where covered in luxurious fur. Below the waist Kendra had grown a second torso and set of legs, leaving her a humantaur. Her lower body was broadly human as well, with similar additions to her upper body: her horizontal torso had grown eight medium breasts that hung heavily below her, her lower legs and feet were coated in thick white fur, like shaggy boots, and she had grown a cute little bunny tail above her ass. Kendra was still female, but now she had two pussies, one between each pair of her legs. The bunny girl humantaur twitched her nose and wiggled her tail and smiled broadly at the audience.

"Ali," said the man, "it seems we have pulled a rabbit out of our hat!"

"And such a cute one!" agreed the female Ali happily. "Beautiful bunny, how do you feel?"

"I feel so hoppy!" Kendra said. "It's amazing, I can hare-dly believe it!"

The twin magicians smirked.

"Wait," Kendra said, "am I speaking in Rabbit buns?"

"If you mean puns..." said the man magician smiling.

"Then yes!" Beamed the woman.

Kendra frowned adorably and twitched her nose. "That's bunnyspected," she said philosophically. The audience laughed happily.

"Now off you go, beautiful bunny," said the female Ali and Kendra the bunnygirl humantaur skipped like a little girl, her new obligate motion, off of the stage to applause and cheers and laughter.

I was stunned. That certainly looked like a real transformation! I had seen that woman around the mall for months, Kendra wasn't a plant and there was no way to fake a transformation into a skipping, punning, four-legged bunny girl. People in the crowd were touching her and petting her, something Kendra seemed quite pleased with, providing more evidence that she had transformed. These magicians must actually be transforming people! Cool, I had thought.

I looked around the crowd and saw a couple more transformed people, probably past volunteers. There was a fit middle aged woman stripped to the waist with her perky breasts and a third eye on her forehead. And leaning over the rail above was a beautiful topless woman with iridescent pink hair, four arms, and sparkling butterfly wings. They were both so weird and beautiful, and so was, for that matter, the happy bunnygirl. To my young eyes a transformation seemed sexy and cool, a nice break to the monotony of selling soap at the mall. Maybe I should try to volunteer?

But then again the woman with the long tongue and mentally linked dildo didn't seems so glamorous. That change was kind of icky and looked like it would be inconvenient to live with. And what if there was some kind of accident? I'd heard stories of transformations going wildly, horribly out of control. Maybe I should just watch the rest of the show quietly.

Ali and Ali cleaned up the stage and turned smiling back to the audience. "We have one more trick!" The twins announced together. "And we of course, beloved audience, need another volunteer." Said the man. "Who wants to join us on stage!?" Sang the woman. The audience threw up hands and called for themselves to be chosen.

I couldn't help myself, I was swept up in the moment. I wanted to be part of the show, I wanted to be sexy and unusual and exciting. "Pick me!" I screamed and jumped and waved my hands.

"Dear Brother, I believe it is your turn to choose a victim, haha, volunteer."

"Hmm" the man said, at rocking his chin, "what about...." He surveyed the crowd and seemed to look straight at me. He lifted his finger, pointing, I swear right at me. "You there! Come on up to the stage!'

I gasped, too shocked to move. The magicians had chosen me! I was so excited! What had I done? I was terrified. I was rooted in place.

"YAH!" Screamed a female voice right behind me, and a young woman shoved me aside and ran for the stage.

Someone else was taking my spot, or maybe the magician had chosen the woman behind me. I was disappointed but also deeply relieved.

The woman climbed onto the stage. She was about my age, strawberry blonde, and very curvaceous with very large breasts, wide hips, and a small belly. I instantly recognized her as one of the clerks from the frozen yogurt stand. The bitch.

"Welcome," beamed the male Ali, "and what is your name."

Sarah. "Sarah," she said brightly.

"Well Sarah," said the woman, "like most of our tricks, you'll have to take off your clothes."

Sarah nodded and eagerly tugged off her Froyo Palace uniform baring her zaftig body to the audience. She paused as she tugged off her underwear and looked looked the magicians up and down. "I'm sorry, but uh, what's your deal?"

The woman smiled, "Oh, when Ali and I were studying to be magicians our teacher cut us both in half..."

"... But when he put us back together he mixed up whose legs was whose!" laughed the male Ali winking.

"You have to be careful about trusting magicians," grinned the woman magician playfully.

"Now stand right there," instructed the male magician. The two magicians began to circle Sarah slowly, scrutinizing her thoughtfully. While they were doing so, I noticed something: the magicians were always carefully watching each other from the corners of their eyes. And I realized, they had been doing so the entire time. Whenever one of the magicians was walking the other was paying some attention to them and if one of the magicians was busy doing something, the other was usually standing still. It was subtle and buried in their choreographed stage routine, but it was really like one of the twins was busy piloting the other one. I gasped; this probably meant that they controlled their original legs on their sibling’s body. Weird!

The two twins circled the stage once more and walked to trunks placed on either side of the stage. The magicians opened the trunks and pulled on lab coats and gloves and goggles. The man also pulled out flasks filled with colourful solutions and began to mix them. The woman addressed the audience: "For our last trick, Ali and I like to show our beloved audiences a transformation free of adornments or trickery. We want to prove to you that everything you saw today was real, to make you believe in magic. So for this trick we will be giving Sarah an alchemical concoction and letting you watch the results! How about a round of applause for Sarah!"

As the crowd applauded politely, the two Ali's walked to Sarah, gave her a hug and handed her the now glowing blue flask. They whispered instructions to her and then retreated to a safe distance. Sarah smiled, shouted "Bottoms up!" And quaffed the flask.

Sarah burped loudly and blushed for a moment before her face melted into her head, which then retracted into her shoulders. The now headless girl stumbled on the stage in confusion for a moment. Her nipples rippled and pealed open revealing new eyeballs set in aureola eyelids. Sarah's new eyes widened and blinked, wobbling around as her large breasts jiggled. "Ahhhhh," Sarah sighed in pleasure as her navel widened into a slash that became a lipless, toothless mouth. Her breasts and arms started to transform next. Her eye-tipped tits began to grow out from her body, lengthening but not getting bigger, becoming two long sausages of flesh. The elongated tits developed some sort of internal musculature and became prehensile, lifting out from Sarah's chest like eyestalks. Meanwhile, Sarah's arms became boneless and tubular while her hands clenched into fists which morphed into large cock glands. Her new cock-tentacle arms twisted in her shoulder sockets going now jutting straight up from her shoulders. Sarah suddenly yelped as her legs lot their shape and she fell over onto her strange torso face. While she laid on the floor her legs merged together, smoothly blending into her back on her new tail’s top and flaring our into a slug's foot on the bottom. The tip of the tail peeled open to reveal a penis glans. Sarah pulled herself up revealing that she was now a male slug creature with tit-eyestalks and cock antennae. She moaned loudly, her skin developing a shine as she sweat a slick goo. Sarah finally squealed and came from her three cock heads.

I recoiled in horror. Sarah's body was monstrous: the once pretty girl was now a cock-slug thing. She was disgusting. And it could have been me! The Ali's pointed right at me, and I wanted to rush onto that stage despite the consequences. Only Sarah's boisterous enthusiasm had stopped me from rushing to the stage myself. Rushing into becoming... that. I watched in mute horror as Sarah uncertainly inched her slimy way off the stage to the crowd’s applause, her breast eyes sweeping around the room. I shuddered and pushed my way free of the show, trying to get away from the now terrifying magicians.

Transformations were scary!

I returned to work and tried to put on a friendly face for the rest of my shift and resolved to never put myself in danger of a transformation again.

And that's how I escaped being transformed in a show by a jerk who took my place on stage.


Story and words by Indigocarmine

Key transformations were designed in collaboration with KSG

Editorial help by KSG

The Insurmountable Ali's were inspired by DarkDonny's Morben stories.


Re: The Escapist!


This is a super-fun story.  I loved the transformations, the setting, and the heroine's narrative. 

Can't wait to see what comes next.


Re: The Escapist!

I can't wait to see who else you collaborated with big_smile

4 (edited by darkdonny 2016-10-17 04:14)

Re: The Escapist!

I was thrilled to see what you would do with Morben (therefore bummed I couldn't provide any help to bring him through your pen) but even more thrilled to see you turn it into something new (and they are quite enjoyable!)


Re: The Escapist!

The part with Sarah is so fantastic and sexy, love willingly volunteers that undergoes great transformations like this.

6 (edited by finaro 2016-10-20 15:07)

Re: The Escapist!

Maybe the protagonist narrator can perhaps become something more greater like a Avatar or even a Demon while still maintaining her original 100% female human form after her escaping from transformative situations for so long which would attract attention from Avatars/Demons to 'award' her for something that doesn't often occur and achieving the impossible if I'm positive assuming this is still Beliali we're talking about here. I guess maybe she'll be even granted the power to not only 100% immunity (unless she makes physical changes on herself which she rather prefers not to) also even reverse transformations at any shape or form.

I think it would be something new and different to break the usual formula of Beliali stories.


Re: The Escapist!

compound37 wrote:

I can't wait to see who else you collaborated with big_smile

I helped on one of the chapters too.  Hope that's good news to you.  I know I look forward to seeing what leads up and follows the one I supplied minor ideas for.


Re: The Escapist!

@tsceri: thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. There is so much more to come.

@darkdonny: thanks. I think we need to have a magicians duel one day wink

@Phil and compound: wink

@Doktor: I'm a big fan of voluntary TFs too. Although a bit of a mix in this one because of the escape theme. Stay tuned!

@finaro:  sorry man, I really *like* the Belial formula so you're barking up the wrong author.


Re: The Escapist!

Looking forward to seeing how this plays out


Re: The Escapist!

Phil Ein Blank wrote:
compound37 wrote:

I can't wait to see who else you collaborated with big_smile

I helped on one of the chapters too.  Hope that's good news to you.  I know I look forward to seeing what leads up and follows the one I supplied minor ideas for.

I'm in on one of them too wink


Re: The Escapist!

Part 2: The Avatar

The second time was just after I graduated, deep in the mountains.

During my senior year of high school my best friends and I planned to take a grand trip together. Some sort of adventure to celebrate our newfound ‘adulthood’ and to have a final hurrah together before life inevitably drew us apart. We discussed travelling to distant lands, seeing new sights, drinking in exotic taverns, and meeting beautiful foreign boys. But of course, none of us had saved enough for that. We entertained visiting the Freyan Realms to witness the strange mysteries of transformation. This was nixed when our parents sternly forbade us. We talked about taking a discount party cruise, but one of us was prone to seasickness. And so we settled on a month long wilderness trek.

The plan, when we finally solidified it, was to walk The Mountain Trail, a long winding trail that cut along the top of a mountain ridge, linking numerous peaks. It was a popular hiking route, and between the number of people walking the trail and the presence of rentable overnight shelters, it was considered fairly safe. The entire trail would take months to hike and featured some pretty daunting terrain in parts, so we settled on doing a section of the trail that started in a popular outdoor resort town (since that would allow for a certain amount of debauchery before we set off), and ended up in a small mining town with good road access a month’s walk away. Along the way were smaller towns, villages, and hamlets with businesses that catered to hikers: offering a warm meal, a brief indoor sleep with a hot shower, and places to top up their supplies (as well as places to duck out early if things were going poorly). In many ways The Mountain Trail was the ideal trip for a bunch of relatively inexperienced hikers and goofy teenage girls: it was cheap enough we could afford it and safe enough our parents would permit us to go.

On this trip there was me and four other girls. Puberty had finally caught up with me, I was still short but I was finally starting to look like a woman. I had hacked my long blonde hair into a serviceable short bob, developed hips and a butt, and grown breasts big enough to need a bra but perky enough that I never bothered. With me were my best friends Kaigen and Raina. Kaigen was a serious girl with red-brown hair always squeezed back into a severe bun and was tall and very thin. She was the smartest person I knew and had plans to attend a prestigious university after the summer. Raina, on the other hand, was the most generous person in my acquaintance. She was short, shorter than me even, but with a heavy frame that already sported huge breasts, wide hips, a large round butt, and a small potbelly she tried to hide under loose clothing. Her skin was dark and black hair hung down to her shoulders. Our expedition was also joined by Brady and Sage, who weren’t my friends exactly, but were very close to Raina and were along as a compromise. Brady was a very athletic girl, a sports scholarship winner, with a loud, confident manner that I found a bit grating. She was average height, but heavily muscled for a teenage girl, and possessed of a short, curly shock of bright red hair. Sage was almost Brady’s opposite, an earthy, beautiful girl possessed with the sunny disposition of the very attractive. She was nearly as tall as Kaigen, but with her long, flowing sandy hair, an ideal figure, and effortless grace, there was no confusing them. We made for a happy fellowship of brightly chattering young women in sturdy boots and laden with overnight rucksacks.

The first two weeks of our trip went marvelously. The resort town was packed and raucous and we drank and danced and I’m proud to say that I lost my virginity to a handsomely rugged local. The other girls were scandalized, but I could tell they were all a little jealous too. The first section of the trail, the switchbacks from the resort town to the actual Mountain Trail, was pretty grueling, but once we got on the ridge it was lovely. There we were walking in pristine alpine beauty, chattering and laughing, surrounded by stubby pines and fields of wild flowers. At night we would stop below a dome of stars and roast things over an open fire and tell stories and play truth or dare like school children. The hike was turning out just like I had always wanted.

Things started to turn strange around the halfway mark. The trail descended into a forested valley with a small, creek-fed lake in the center. Around this lake was a small hamlet, a modest collection of wooden buildings along a gravel road. There was the usual general store that sold provisions to backpackers and a small café that offered a proper meal and showers to rent. But other than a couple hunting lodges, a few ramshackle houses, and a few small farms, there was nothing really there. We decided to head into town to top off our supply of marshmallows and chocolate at the store and visit the café for precious real coffee and pie if they had it.

Laying on the boardwalk adjacent to the café was a naked woman, beautiful and curvy, maybe in her twenties. She was laying bonelessly on the planks, eyes staring straight above, mouth hanging slack. Raina shrieked and Sage took a step back, hand to her mouth. Brady scowled around nervously, but Kaigen strode forward and knelt beside the fallen woman, touching her neck. “I feel a pulse,” she announced, “she must still be alive.”

“She looks catatonic,” I suggested, leaning forward and staring into her unseeing eyes.

“Why isn’t anyone helping her?” breathed Sage looking around.

“And why is she just lying here in the middle of the street?” grumbled Brady, grabbing Sage’s arm like she was getting ready to drag her somewhere.

“Oh shit!” squealed Raina. “Look out!”

I turned and gasped as I saw, unfolding from the catatonic woman’s vagina a knot of pink, labial looking tentacles. Two slender tentacles unfurled revealing two black, spherical eyes at their tip which blinked at us in surprise. And then came the rest of the tentacle mass, opening out of the woman’s vagina, like a creature climbing out from inside a shell. Soon there were a dozen, three foot tentacles writhing from the poor woman’s cunt, as well as a pink mass that scooted under her body like a mollusk’s tail and lifted it dangling slightly from the ground. “Pa!” warbled a panicked voice from inside the vacated cunt.

The door to the café tinkled open and out strode a grey haired man in a workshirt and coveralls. “Luanne, what is it?” He demanded. And then he saw us, “Ah, more hikers,” he smiled thinly, waving at us with his hand which we now saw had been replaced with pink, fleshy labia. “Sorry to startle ya, girls. This’s just my daughter Luanne, don’t let her appearance startle ya.”

“What happened?” Raina asked.

“There is something in them hills now girls, something that changes ya. My daughter was off with some fool boy and they were both changed by it. I found her like she is, but I never did find the boy.” The man held up his labial hands. “I got these whilst looking for ‘em. Best you keep your wits about you for unnatural creatures and if you see that the ground is slick, shiny, and blue, you best not touch it and you best get some distance from it.”

“Or just turn back!” warbled Luanne.

We stood, silent and gawking. Not sure what to do or say.

“Well, I’ll let you girls get on with your day,” the man said with a cunty wave. “Just be careful! And stop by the café, the pie is amazing.” He turned and started to walk. “C’mon Luanne.”

We all watched the pair move off, the man walking with one of his daughter’s tentacles inserted into his cunt hand, the daughter scuttling the sliding with her comatose human body behind her like a perverse hermit crab. No one moved or spoke until they were out of sight.

“I don’t want to be transformed,” Sage finally said quietly.

“I don’t think any of us do,” I suggested.

“Should we turn back?” asked Raina.

“Of course not,” snapped Kaigen. “Think of how many people hike The Mountain Trail in a year. We would have heard if there was a rash of transformations. That must have just been a one off, a freak occurrence.”

“You got the freak, right,” blustered Brady.

“Brady!” admonished Raina.

‘Well, I’m going to keep going,” Kaigen said, “Who’s with me?”

“I am,” I said, “as long as we stop for coffee and pie first.” Pure bravado.

In the end we all pressed on further along the trail, leaving the hamlet and the transformed man and his daughter behind. We all tried to put on a brave face, but you could see that everyone was nervous, looking for things in the trees and searching the ground for the blue, slick, whatever the man had warned us about. We marched silently, tensely, it was not a fun day and an even less fun night staring into darkness, taking turns keeping watch. This was somewhat less than what I was hoping for in a trip.

The strangeness continued the next day. In the morning when we set off, we came across a patch of shiny blue slickness on the trail. Warily we all stepped around it, intentionally not looking at each other, no one willing to give voice to our collective worry. When we stopped for lunch we saw odd little creatures hopping around in the brush. Raina squealed in surprise at the movement and again when she saw what they actually were: some sort of fusion between a penis and a bird. They had red feathered wings and tails, but glans instead of heads and on their breast they had large, hairy testicles. Sage shrieked and Brady stroked her back, but Kaigen simply shooed the creatures and hectored us about keeping it together. We laughed nervously and pressed on.

It wasn’t until the evening that it finally encountered us…

The Avatar.

It slithered out of the woods suddenly, quietly, without any real warning. She was huge and beautiful, and coming straight towards us. From the waist up she was a towering, tanned, golden goddess with a beautiful face, a curtain of platinum blonde hair, four huge breasts, and four supple arms. Below her waist she was a cross between a serpent, slug, and a vagina. She had a thirty foot long, sinuous tail like a snake, that was split all along its bottom with ragged folds of labia running from the long, drooping clit on her crotch to the tip of her tail. The fluids from her labia left a slick, shiny, blue trail along the ground that glistened in the soft sunlight. She smiled widely at us in greeting.

“An avatar.” Kaigen gasped.

“Fuck.” I whispered.

“What luck!” The Avatar sang. “Fresh players for my game!”

“Game?” asked Brady.

“Yes!” chirped the Avatar brightly. “I have in my possession magic dice!” She fondled her heavy breasts and sighed.

“Magic dice?” Raina asked nervously.

“Why yes! I have these two dice here.” She held out the dice, one in each lower hand, upper hands waving in excitement. “And you will all roll the dice to see how I shall change you! If you roll a twelve and win, I will craft you into a majestic creature of beauty, to shine among the humans. If you roll in the middle, sixes and sevens, I win, and will do with you according to whim.”

“What if we wish to remain unchanged?” I asked respectfully.

“Why you must lose, of course! Roll a snake eyes and you will be sadly spared any change at all,” pouted the Avatar.

“And all of the other numbers?” asked Kaigen.

“The other numbers will fall between the three extremes. A low number will be but a small, sad transformation. A large number will earn you a beautiful change, but one informed by my tastes. Do you understand the rules?” She pursed her lips. “It is vitally important that you understand the rules.”

“And if we were to just run away?” asked Brady, clearly thinking of her athletic prowess.

“Oh, that would be against the rules. I would have to hunt you down and do something…” a look of distaste clouded the Avatar's beautiful face, “punitive.”

“Maybe I can outrun you.” Brady suggested uncertainly.

“I wouldn’t take that bet.” The Avatar said darky. Suddenly she smiled brightly, as if she just remembered something, and tossed the dice in her hands. “Now! Who wants to play first?”

Raina looked at all of us, and with a look of courage stapled on her face, stepped forward. “Ms. Avatar, Ma’am, I will go first,” she squeaked.

“Excellent! Excellent! Step right up! Step right up!” The Avatar snapped a set of her fingers and Raina’s garments vanished. She squeaked in surprise. The Avatar smiled, touched Raina on the cheek and dropped the dice into her waiting hands. “Good luck, little one.”

Raina stood their naked and nervous, rolling the dice in her hands. The Avatar leered at her intently, expectation flashing on her beautiful face. Raina bent towards the ground, her soft belly and large breasts hanging below her. She blew one last time on the dice and rolled them, eyes squeezed shut tight.

The dice jumped along the ground, bouncing rolling, until they landed showing a 3 and 7.

“Ah…” sighed the Avatar happily. Raina peeked out her eyes. “A ten! Not a win for either of us, but an auspicious number none-the-less!”

Raina swallowed heavily, fear in her eyes.

The Avatar looked thoughtful; two hands perched on her hips, two touching her face. “What to do with you? What to do? What to do? Hmmm… Say? Do you like birds?”

“Birds?” Raina said.

“You do! Excellent!”  The Avatar’s eyes glowed blue and she gestured with her hands.

Raina squawked as she felt her flesh seethe and twist. She grew taller, and thinner, and prettier: her waist pulling in and her face growing angular and beautiful as her breasts and ass expanded slightly. She cooed in pleasure for a moment before bright, metallic green feathers began to peak out of her skin while her two large breasts were joined by five more, two then three then two, all stacked on her chest. Raina chirped happily and tried to fondle her breasts and was shocked to see her hands and arms had been subsumed by giant feathered wings, brilliant emerald, but with a fringe of shiny purple feathers along the edges. She flapped her new wings experimentally, throwing up wind and nearly lifting herself.  Raina squawked again and stumbled as her legs buckled and twisted, reversing and growing scales as they became huge avian legs and feet. She hopped like a bird to steady herself and fluttered her wings to find a balance. Raina’s black hair fell out in clumps leaving her head bald for a moment before a crest of iridescent scarlet feathers poked out and grew down her back to meet her new gorgeous scarlet tail feathers. She screeched in pleasure as she orgasmed, her purple stomach feathers rippling as her muscles writhed.

The Avatar was tapping her teeth with her fingernails. “A good start… but… it’s missing something.” She squinted. “You know, my favourite bird has always been the humming bird. Flying around tirelessly from plant genital to plant genital, drinking the sweetest nectar…. A fitting inspiration!” The Avatar waved a hand lazily.

Raina writhed and screeched again, until it was suddenly cut off as her face, her nose and mouth, merged into the gash of a large vertical pussy. Raina’s eyes lidded with silent pleasure as her new facial pussy spasmed and dribbled.

“Perfect!” declared the Avatar, clapping her four hands. Now you are perfectly made to sample the sweet nectar of man.” The Avatar waved her hands at the transformed Raina, “Now! Shoo! You have had your turn at the game! Fly away and find some nectar to slake your thirst you silly bird!”

Mute I watched the giant bird creature Raina had become hop a couple times, spread her wings and spring into the air. Her metallic feathers flashed green and purple and red in the sunlight and her new wings beat like a hummingbird, too fast to see, making a raucous hum. She hovered for a moment and looked at us all, her eyes shining with love and happiness, silently saying goodbye. And then she turned smoothly in the air and flew off into the sky in search of cocks.

The Avatar watched her go before turning back to us. “Now who is next?”

We all stood silently, looking at the avatar and each other. None of us wanted to volunteer. None of us were ready for this trial. The Avatar frowned. “Alright, I will pick the next player.” She pointed a finger at Sage, “You, there, it’s your turn!”

Sage blanched. Brady who was holding Sage’s hand took a half step forward. Sage put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. She pushed Brady backwards, leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “It’s alright. Better that we don’t make her angry.” She smiled at the other girl.

“Who could be angry!?” asked the Avatar. “We are playing the game!” She slithered to the dice on the ground, picked them up and handed them to Sage. The Avatar made Sage naked with gesture and then pulled back and wringed her hands. “Now roll! Roll! I cannot wait!”

Sage held the dice in her hand trembling. Her naked, nubile body, all long limbs and soft curves shuddered and her teeth chattered. She held the dice in one hand before her, took a breath, and dropped them to the ground. They bounced once and rocked to a stop.

The dice showed 1 and 2.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” cried the Avatar. “That is a very poor number, very poor. Only a three!” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I’m afraid I can only offer you this paltry consolation.” She looked away and gestured dismissively.

Sage grunted, an oddly deep guttural sound. She held up her hands and watched in shock as her slender, graceful fingers became wider and heavier. The change raced up her arms, which grew more muscular and sprouted a thin coat of hair. It reached her torso and her shoulders widened and her breasts, once ripe and full, dwindled and firmed into toned pectorals. Her soft, flat stomach grew a modest but definite washboard of abs. Her hips cracked and shrank while her soft butt deflated and grew firm and high. Her legs shed fat and took on muscle and sprouted her hair while her dainty feet grew longer and wider. Her face remained largely the same, beautiful and feminine, except for the growth of a thin mustache and beard along her jaw. Finally, her clit started to expand and her labia swell as they slowly morphed into a large, erect penis and testicles. Sage grunted again and experienced her, now his, first male ejaculation.

Sage stood stunned and blinked his still wide feminine eyes. “I’m a boy?” he asked in a rich, bass voice.

“More like a man,” replied the Avatar. “I know it isn’t much, but it’s the most I could do for you since you only rolled a three.” The Avatar sighed. “My role is quite difficult sometimes, but it wouldn’t be much of a game if there were no losers.”

Sage stepped back and Brady embraced him, hesitantly, uncertainly. Kaigen looked at her feet and frowned. “I’ll go next Avatar, if you’ll allow me.”

“Excellent!” The Avatar applauded. “I love an eager player!” She gathered up the dice and snapped a finger making Kaigen nude. The Avatar reared up and leaned forward, handing Kaigen the dice before licking her face. “I think you taste lucky,” she purred.

Kaigen frowned, “I don’t believe in luck.” She hefted the dice in her hand. “But thank you all the same.” Kaigen weighed the dice in her hand looking thoughtful. She twisted her naked body, all awkwardly long and thin limbs, bony ribs, and small, deflated looking bumps. She pinched the bridge of her nose and flung the dice down. They bounced and rolled a good distance but finally stopped.

They showed 6 and 6.

“Boxcars!” cried an ebullient Avatar. “We have a winner! You, I shall make comely before all eyes! A goddess!” She sprang forward suddenly, grabbing a shocked Kaigen with her four arms on her shoulders and head and kissed her passionately. Kaigen stood shocked still for a moment, but then began to kiss the Avatar back, touching her and stroking her. It was obvious she was changing in the Avatar’s embrace, her body growing taller and gaining fat and muscle. Her hair broke loose of it’s bun and cascaded down her back turning platinum white. A second set of arms grew from her shoulders and clutched at the huge Avatar in passion. Finally, Kaigen cried out in pleasure as she apparently orgasmed.

The Avatar released her and Kaigen stepped back, turning to face us, smiling coolly. Kaigen was gorgeous, truly a goddess. She had a perfect, beautiful face, identical to the Avatar’s and long platinum hair that hung to her waist. She had four huge breasts, and four arms which hung easily at her side. Her body was tall and curvaceous and toned, supple limbs and rounded hips and ass covered in beautifully tanned skin. On her crotch she still had a small pink vagina, but hanging in front of it she had a long, 11-inch cock that was somehow as powerfully feminine as the rest of her. She looked the spitting image of the Avatar but with legs. Kaigen licked her newly full lips and sighed happily. “Thank you mother,” she purred at the Avatar with her new voice.

The Avatar beamed proudly. “I do love it so when we have a winner!”

Kaigen looked thoughtful, a much prettier expression with her new face. “Thank you mother, but isn’t it time for the next player? The game cannot be denied!”

“That’s right my princess! The game! The game! You!” The avatar pointed at Brady who was once again holding Sage’s now masculine hand. “It is your turn to play!”

Brady’s eyes were wide, she was breathing hard. She looked around, staring at the man who was once, apparently, her girlfriend, at me, at the Avatar and her newly made child. “Fuck this!” she screamed, chose a direction at random sprinting off into the woods.

Brady crashed a few steps away, veered around a tree and slipped, falling heavily on a slick, shiny, blue trail on the ground. She rolled in it and climbed to her feet, looking down at herself in horror as her clothes started to dissolve off her body. Brady started screaming as her feet put out roots that slid into the ground, trapping her in place. Her muscular legs slowly fused together, becoming a skin covered stem, her pussy pushing forward and remaining in the triangular hollow where her hips were. Brady took a shuddering breath and moaned in pleasure, wrapping her arms around her torso, causing them to merge with her body, which reabsorbed them, leaving her armless. The mass from her arms shifted and split, becoming six more breasts, leaving the rooted Brady with eight breasts arranged in four pairs. Brady twisted her body around as much as she could and then groaned as her red hair fell out and her eyes melted into her face. The top of her head grew a darker shade of pink and rubbery, taking on the appearance of a cock with the dickslit running vertically from her nose. She gasped, and stood rigidly as her new cockhead expanded hugely, growing taller and wider until it’s radius was three times that of her head. She squealed and a geyser of semen shot out the top of her head, splattering herself and the ground around her, which promptly started to grow tiny, phallic mushrooms.

Brady had tried to run and ended up a cock-mushroom: rooted to the ground, with a stem and armless, multibreasted torso, a neck, her mouth, and a huge cock glans for a cap. Brady moaned. “Thesca, you have to help me,” she pleaded.

“A poor bet.” Muttered Kaigen.

“It’s a tragedy to throw away a chance to win like that,” offered the Avatar sadly. “But the game goes on!”

It seemed everything came down to me. There was no escape. I was conscious of panting and whimpering a little. I didn’t want to be transformed according to the bizarre whim of an Avatar. I had a whole life ahead of me. It wasn’t fair! I could feel tears starting in my eyes.

I looked around the clearing. Maybe I could run? Maybe I could avoid the corrupting slime trail of the Avatar? I stared at Brady, her helpless bizarre state and shook my head. Running wouldn’t be wise.

My only hope was to roll double ones, to ‘lose’ the game and go unchanged. But that was unlikely, wasn’t it? I didn’t have the mathematical skill of Kaigen, but I knew the probability of rolling snake eyes was slim. It seemed a paltry hope to count on. But, realistically, it’s all I had.

I stepped forward and held my hand out for the dice. The Avatar smiled and waved a hand at me, making me naked. The cool air caressed my naked body, making it prickle despite my panicked heat. The Avatar cupped my out stretched hand with two of her soft, wonderful hands, and placed the dice on my palm, and then gently closed my hand over the dice. She leaned in, smelling of fresh rain and meadows and kissed me gently on the forehead. “Thank you for playing the game with me,” she whispered.

I held the dice in my hand, strangely heavy. I needed to roll double ones, needed to. Or at least a low number, a minor change. I glanced at Sage’s male body as he stood near Brady watching me. Would I want that? Could I be happy as a man? And then I looked at Kaigen, smiling expectantly at me, four hands clasped eagerly in front of her. Odd behavior aside, she was beautiful and sexy and seemed quite pleased. Would ‘winning’ this game be so bad? And then I thought of Raina, hugely transformed into some sort of cocksucking bird monster, flown off to parts unknown. I shuddered at the thought, but also found myself intrigued by the strangeness and beauty of the form. Maybe I could make the most of this, no matter how it turned out. I took a deep, deep breath and tossed the dice.

I watched them bounce. I willed them to be snake eyes. Or maybe boxcars. Something small or maybe something large. The slowed. Double ones, please be double ones. They ground to a halt.

One and one.

I couldn’t believe it.

The Avatar released a cry of anguish. “No! She lost!” A look of utter tragedy broke on the Avatar’s face. “I’m so, so sorry! I cannot transform you at all! The rules demand it!” She looked heart broken. “I cannot offer you even a token of consolation. Not even a nipple! Only my most sincere apologies.” She clutched her hands to herself, “But if you seek me out in ten years, the rules allow us to play again… You may have better luck! Please find me, let me make it up to you!”

I was stunned and relieved, and oddly, maybe a little disappointed. To have come so close, been prepared for it, and then escape. It was miraculous. Sage laughed gruffly and gave me a warm hug, his strong arms and hard chest pressed against my naked body. Kaigen was weeping openly. Brady asked for someone to explain what was happening.

The Avatar collected her dice and and reared up tall. “Thank you all for playing the game.” She smiled fondly at Kaigen who strode to the Avatar and gave her a last, hungry parting kiss. The Avatar tussled her hair and then smiled sadly at Sage, Brady, and I, before slithering off into the forest seeking more players, leaving a blue transformative trail behind her.

Those of us who remained mobile talked about what to do. In the end we decided that we had best head back to the hamlet and seek help. Lacking clothes or backpacks (which also disappeared when the Avatar magically stripped us), we didn’t have much choice but to set out for the nearest settlement. We didn’t want to leave Brady alone, but we knew we didn’t have a choice. Sage quietly told Brady what was happening, stroking her glans cap soothingly to calm her. And then we set off, an unlikely, naked procession. Kaigen looked at me with pity the whole way.

Afterward life went on. Kaigen and I drifted apart, she became briefly a model and later a wildly successful game show host. Sage and I dated after, maybe out of common trauma, but it didn’t last and he has gone on to live a pretty normal life as a man. We were able to get help and transfer Brady to a pot. The cock-shroom attended college through a Regena program and now counsels those transformed in Avatar incidents. Raina turns up from time to time, stopping for visits between industriously seeking cocks to feed on. She seems happy with her new life. I went to college.

And that is how I escaped an Avatar by a lucky throw of the dice.


Story and words by Indigocarmine

Key transformations, the Avatar's form, and the TF sequence was made in collaboration with LamiaWoman

Additional editorial help by KSG

12 (edited by tsceri 2016-10-24 03:50)

Re: The Escapist!

I was wondering if this would follow the PoV character or the magicians. 

This was awesome.  I feel sorry for Brady (one always runs), but I loved all of the changes!  Can't wait to see what you create next!

I'd love to see Kagian's game show (assuming we haven't already; I don't remember the hosts of the earliest ones being gorgeous, gregarious herms).  The humming-bird TF was wonderfully done, but I have to admit that I just love the demeanor and appearance of the avatar.  This was a delight to read!


Re: The Escapist!

@tsceri haha thanks. I could see how "the escapist" could be a little confusing as a tittle. I'm working on a short follow up to the Ali's if anyone is excited for more of them.


Re: The Escapist!

I am totally excited!

I edited my first post before I saw your response, but one more thing I wanted to add... Escapist is the name of one my favorite songs, so whenever I read the title of this thread, a few verses of this go through my mind; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z_vEuA3IK8


Re: The Escapist!

Mmm, I just loved the 'hummingbird' change! (as I love birds so much anyway!) That's something I would so love myself!


Re: The Escapist!

I wish I was able to help out on one of these stories, it sounded fun to work on.


Re: The Escapist!

@Kariuki: thanks. Glad you enjoyed it, although the esteemed Lamiawoman deserves most of the credit.

@Tsceri: never say never, but I used most of my games how ideas on Belial Idol. It will be awhile at least before I revisit that.

@Esuna: sorry if you are feeling left out. I tried, as usual, to pick authors who have written stories about the scenarios I wanted to play with. Like, I adore Laniawoman's approach to writing Avatar stuff, so I asked her if she wanted to help with that chapter. (And didn't it turn out great?). That said, I did a post suggesting collabs contact me in the writer's corner, which was kind of people's chance to jump in. I'll try to keep you in mind in the future though!


Re: The Escapist!

indigocarmine wrote:

@Kariuki: thanks. Glad you enjoyed it, although the esteemed Lamiawoman deserves most of the credit.

Don't sell yourself short.  Even the best ideas fall flat when they aren't executed well, and you executed them well, indeed.  Always happy to help.


Re: The Escapist!

Part 3: The Accident

The third time happened in college during a classroom accident.

I was in college studying for a bachelor’s degree in Environmental Engineering. It was a choice that was largely inspired by my experience in the mountains with the Avatar: seeing how the creature left a wake of transformative contamination behind her and watching my friends get transformed against their preference really affected me. I found myself with a zeal to stop anyone else from being transformed against their will. While I was powerless to oppose a rogue avatar, I could at least save people from accidentally encountering dcum. With that goal in mind, I thought it made the most sense to learn about Environmental Engineering.

When the incident happened I was still in my second year of studies. I had finished my general year of study; basically repeating high school to ensure that freshmen were competent. Which meant that I was now into my first year of real studies. At this point it was mostly general engineering classes, mathematics classes, art electives, and a few ecology and chemistry classes. The one major exception to this standard curriculum was an intro to Alchemy lecture and an accompanying laboratory class.

I was taking this peculiar class because of a conversation I had with my program advisor. I had discussed my goal of becoming an alchemy cleanup specialist and they had strongly recommended that I consider a minor in Alchemy. They thought that would give me some knowledge of what goes into the discipline and some experience handling dcum. I was… dubious of the prospect. I was, I realize in hindsight, quite traumatized by what happened in the mountains and was very, very nervous to be around the dangers of dcum. I tried to defer, but the advisor encouraged me, reminding me that it was a beginners’ class and that the class was designed with safety in mind. The advisor pointed out that if I was serious about my goal, this was too good an educational oppourtunity to pass up. And so I enrolled in the intro to Alchemy laboratory class.

Fortunately, the lab class I was taking was designed by the noted alchemist Professor Beverly Lipple. Dr. Lipple was a strong proponent of the idea that dcum and alchemy should be used for practical purposes. She felt that using the transformative power of alchemy for recreational, sexual transformation was a waste of amazing potential. Instead Dr. Lipple wanted to see alchemy tamed and put to use helping people: curing diseases, rebuilding gruesomely injured bodies, helping people with dysmorphia attain their desired bodies, and for doing all kinds of minor cosmetic treatments. And so she designed a laboratory alchemy class that emphasized safely and reliably producing a target compound. Which given my interest in safely disposing of alchemical byproducts, was fantastic training.

The current lab series was designed to produce an alchemical salve for curing skin blemishes. The experimental protocol had three lab periods worth of work to make the desired compound. The first lab period was mostly just chemistry: creating the correct buffers, reagents, and oil base to make the salve and substances for subsequent steps. The second period focused on the alchemical steps needed to create the right guiding environment for the dcum engine. These semi-magical steps were designed to drive the dcum to cause the desired transformation without also causing sexualized off target changes. This lab period, the final in the series, would see the dcum itself diluted and prepared and added to the salve to make the final compound. It was meticulous and time consuming work, but it was interesting and an approach to alchemy that I really enjoyed.

And so there I was, milling around in the lab waiting for the prelab lecture to start. I had my hair tied back, was wearing my cheap labcoat, dorky goggles, and thick rubber gloves like safety rules mandated.

"Hey, Thesca, did you notice that Queenie is late again?" Margot smirked at me.

Margot Pald was my "bench buddy", one of the people whose assigned lab space adjoined mine and the only one I actually liked. She was an Alchemy major who was bright, devious, and pleasantly catty. She had long dark hair (clipped up in a bun for lab class), warm dark eyes, and pale skin. She was of the tall slender mold, although with just large enough breasts, wide enough hips, and enough fashion sense that she made the dorky boys of her program nervous. A fact, she had once admitted with a toothy little smile, she relished. She was the classmate that I would joke with during long incubations and slow sections of lab, study with for the lecture, and occasionally grab a beer or coffee with outside of class. She was, I was realizing, quickly becoming one of my friends.

"What do you think?" Margot smiled her vicious little smile, "Walk of shame or amazing hangover?"

"In Queenie's case," I said, "why can't it be both?"

Queenie Paras was another of my 'bench buddies' and a notorious party-girl. She was another Alchemy major, a fact that many people found surprising. Queenie was not a stupid woman, if all a person saw was her transcript or test scores she would seem like a brainiac, but in person she was so airy and bubbly and careless that she often came off like a bimbo. This created an impression that was only enhanced by her appearance: Queenie did not have the prettiest face or most elegant body, but she had enormous boobies and would foist them around displayed for maximal effect. Add in her zest for drinking and genounine enthusiasm for casual sex and she was quite the popular carouser. Even on a campus as large as mine, her propensity to be the center of attention, overindulge, and create memorable spectacle was legendary. As was the wake of stunned, foolishly grinning boys she left behind as she stumbled home from their bedrooms.

Queenie was also notorious, at least between Margot and me, for always turning up late and bedraggled to lab class. The night before the lab was 'campus club night', the night which, by unspoken agreement, partygoers would descend on the shitty student union bar and tear it up. It was a fun night if you enjoyed binge drinking and sexy mistakes. As a first year student it had been a fixture of my week: living away from home and finally growing into a short but curvy adult had made for some fun and well, sexy mistakes. But like most second years, getting foolishly drunk and having a dozen boys ask my major was beneath me, and I had moved on to more grown up pursuits (or at least better bars). Queenie, though, still loved to party all night at the campus bar and would show up to lab almost every week hung over and often still wearing her bar clothes.

Margot chuckled. "She's a living legend!"

"Guys, you should focus on your prelab and lay off Queenie," wheedled Archie Prinz, the fourth student at our lab bench.

Archie Prinz was an almost comically stereotypical nerd. He was short, had a mop of red frizzy hair that stood out in all directions, wore thick glasses, and was rail skinny. He also had the worst skin I had ever seen. It was greasy and pale and covered with the most egregious case of acne in the world. It wasn't so much that he had pimples, it was more that he was covered by a scaley rash of waxey craters and scarlet bumps that bordered on ulcers. It was difficult to look at. His appearance, when combined with his dorky lack of social skills meant that he was still kind of a social outcast.

Fortunately, Archie was also very, very smart and motivated to succeed. Even then I could tell he was destined for the kind of accomplishments that would make him a household name. Which, I had hoped would let him emerge from this awkward phase and get him the social success he deserved, whether through money and fame or by having his repellent skin clear up. I was rooting for him.

For now though, Archie was awkward and weird around girls and eager to please everyone of the female sex. He also had an embassaingly desperate crush on Queenie. One I felt he had a very low chance of having reciprocated.

Margot shot Archie a calculating glance. "Maybe you should focus on your lab and let Queenie labour through this session independently, hmm?"

I jabbed Margot with my elbow and gave her a 'be nice' look. Margot was fun, but I hated when her bitchiness made her punch down.

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "I wish I could stumble drunk to class and have someone do my work for me..."

"You'd have to be much nicer to everyone," I pointed out.


The Teacher’s Assistant cleared her throat, getting the class’ attention and launching into the pre-lab lecture. She drew attention to some of the key steps in the day’s process, reagents that had to be mixed anaerobically, temperatures that had to be exact, and places where small deviations from procedure would spoil yield or purity. Bored looking students stared back at her. She sighed and licked the growth on her face. The TA then, sounding bored herself, ran through the safety concerns: the acids and bases and toxic materials and where to dispose of hazardous wastes for the day. She licked the growth again. “I of course don’t have to remind you that when working with dcum that you have to be extremely cautious,” she reminded the class for the hundredth time.

And it really was an unnecessary reminder; the TA and her altered face were a constant living warning. On the first day of class the Teacher’s Assistant had pulled a surgical mask off her face and shocked the entire lab, who had gasped and gawked dumbfounded. The TA had then launched into an anecdote from when she had been a student in a beginner’s alchemy lab and had two solutions boiling in a fume hood. Unsure of which contained dcum and a number of other compounds, one of which smelled of pine, the woman had raised the sash a little and wafted the fumes from one vessel and sniffed it. In doing so, the TA explained, she had carelessly inhaled a cloud of dcum vapours which began to burn at her nostrils. The young TA had watched her reflection in horror as her nose morphed slowly into a clitoris. And not just the part that peaks out, the entire mega-clitoral structure hanging from her face. Her nose, peaking out of a ridged hood of skin, became a large, almost penile glans clitoris. Below that, jutting from her top lip like a kind of waxed, pencil moustache stuck the long, skinny tines of the clitoral crura. Below that, hanging on either side of her mouth like some kind of fleshy handlebar moustache were the bulges of the clitoral bulbs. The foolish young TA had blinked stupidly at the purple/blue mass of flesh on her face, a permanent droopy, sensitive moustache and screamed. Which is why, the TA said, her clitoral moustache flapping on her face, it was extremely important to follow lab safety procedures especially when working with dcum.

Presently, the TA satisfied with her address, licked her clitoral moustache, and instructed the students to get on with it. I had noticed that running her tongue along her facial growth was a kind of tick with the woman, and that she frequently did it when public speaking. I sometimes wondered what that would feel like, like licking a lip or would it be a shock of pleasure? What would it be like to kiss someone with your entire clitoris hanging free on your face? What would it be like to suck a cock like that, or as I suspected of my TA, eat out a pussy? A part of me found the entire thing luridly fascinating, was curious about the exotic potential of a transformation. The rest of me shuddered at the revolting and embarrassing prospect of having a clit hanging from my face.

I made my way to my lab bench, organized my thoughts, took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and started the lab.

I had my lab notebook open to my transcribed protocol and was quietly assembling the glassware apparatus I’d need for the day. The protocol called for a round bottom flask which already contained the alchemical modifying reagents I had already prepared to be boiled under reflux while I gradually added a volatile dcum preparation. To do this I added a U-shaped adapter with a reflux column, a kind of water-jacketed condenser, in the vertical position and a seperating funnel, an inverted teardrop shaped container with a spigot on one end, in the other position. Because this was a dcum step the spout of the reflux tube also got a fume scavenger. The round bottom flask would be exposed to a heating element, it's contents boiled, and then a few drops at a time the dcum would be painstakingly introduced to the mixture. Since the dcum was so powerfully reactive, and it's dilution buffer so volatile, this was the only safe way to do this.

"Guys! Sorry I'm late! Did I miss anything?" Enter Queenie looking decidedly rough. Her long blonde hair was a wild tangle, her too pinched face was smeared with last nights makeup, and her eyes were sunken and bloodshot. She dropped her book bag and shook out her labcoat. Grimacing she pulled the labcoat on over her outfit: a deeply scoop necked sequened halter top, painted on jeans, and very high heeled ankle boots. Based on the mixed scents of perfume, rail vodka, and sex that wafted off her clothes she had been wearing these clothes the night before and hadn't managed to shower. Which meant that I was right: hangover and a walk of shame.

"Nice of you to join us!" Margot shouted brightly, making Queenie wince at the loud noise.

"Waugh," Queenie whined, rubbing her eyes.

"Don't worry!" Gushed Archie, "you aren't that far behind, and I can help you set up!"

Archie scrambled off to fetch Queenie the required glassware while Queenie rested her head on the lab bench and squinted miserably. Margot smirked with deep shaudenfreud at the situation before turning back to her chemistry. I just shook my head, feeling bad for Archie, before getting back to my own work.

It took a few minutes, since I was ever so cautious, but I eventually got my alchemical base boiling happily under reflux. Margot, working with clipped efficiency, had her own mixture simmering and had already fetched her dcum mixture and was cautiously adding it. Archie, despite being a pushover with women, was super competent in the lab, so he had gotten Queenie up to speed and was already adding dcum to his mixture. I was such a slowpoke.

I walked over to the fumehood to collect my own dcum sample. I had my separating funnel on hand to fill with the magic ingredient. The protocol called for the funnel to first be charged with a volatile dilution buffer. This was in a bottle with a pre-set volume pump: I simply placed the charging end of my funnel under the spout, lifted the pump handle, and pushed the correct volume into my funnel. Next I needed to add a very small amount of partially diluted dcum to my funnel. To do this I carefully, so carefully measured out the correct volume with a dedicated volumetric pipette. I breathed a sigh of relief and jammed the stopper of my separation flask home, sealing the container. Since the dilution buffer and dcum solution had different densities, they remained separate at first in the flask, with the dcum solution pooling in the bottom. The next step in the protocol was to gently swirl the funnel so that the dcum solution mixed in with the dilution buffer. This would ensure that I safely added the dcum in the correct dilute concentration to my reaction. I very carefully swirled the flask in the fumehood since I was a sissy.

While I was mixing my solutions I saw Queenie come to get her dcum sample. She squeezed out the dilution buffer according to protocol, but when she added her dcum she cavalierly dumped the dangerous solution into her funnel without measuring properly. To my aghast eyes she had to have taken at least twice the recommended amount! And then, to make matters worse, she didn't swirl the flask letting all of the dcum settle right at the bottom. Which meant that she had twice the amount of undiluted dcum stock right where the funnel would add it to the alchemical reaction. It was a recipe for disaster! I hope she would swirl her flask and fix it before proceeding.

I returned to my lab bench and carefully mated my charged separating funnel onto my reaction system. I made sure the seal was good and tight and mentally prepared myself for the addition of dcum. I was still very nervous about working with the substance and found I that taking a moment to calm myself down was very helpful. The protocol for this part of the experiment called for a very gradual addition of dcum to the boiling alchemical base. Since the alchemical effects of adding dcum mixture were dangerously energetic, the plan was to very briefly open the separation funnel to allow a tiny amount of dilute dcum to dribble into the reaction, then to close the funnel and wait until the reaction calmed down. A little bit at a time. I took one last deep breath and added the smallest amount of dcum into the reaction. I winced away from the reaction vessel, but when I opened my eyes, everything was fine. I snorted a laugh at myself and added the next dribble, watching the boiling base froth wildly for a moment and return to normal. This process was not so bad.

I glanced up and saw Queenie fiddling with her own separation funnel. To my dismay, she still hadn't mixed it properly, and was seating the funnel onto her reaction system dangerously full of undiluted dcum stock. Queenie, grimacing and rubbing her forehead, opened her funnel spiggot completely and slumped her head onto the lab bench. She was adding all the dcum at once! The entire excessive, undiluted amount!

Queenie's reaction grew violent!

Archie stepped over to help Queenie.

Margot reached after Archie to restrain him, cursing.

Queenie was oblivious.

And then BANG!

Queenie's reaction vessel ruptured and sprayed her dcum laden, incompletely prepared alchemy in a jet of fluid that splashed Queenie, Archie, and Margot and just barely missed splattering on me.

All three of my benchmates stared in stunned silence as their clothes evaporated and their bodies started to change.

Margot, who received the smallest dose of alchemy, stumbled backwards cursing. She had been splattered all along the right side of her body: her right arm, leg, torso, and the right side of her face were all coated in bubbling alchemy. Everywhere the fluid touched developed small red bumps like pimples that expanded into pert nipples. The skin around the bumps became rosy aureola flesh and created a scale pattern of nipples that covered nearly half Margot's body. The nipple scales covered her body totally: sealing over her right eye and ear, creeping over her scalp and leaving her bald on one side of her head. Next the layer of subcutaneous fat beneath her nippley skin began to swell, leaving half her body jiggly and soft with an a cup's worth of mammary fat under her scales. Her right hand and foot changed further, swelling into large breasts and her fingers and toes became long, prehensile nipples she could control. When her changes finished Margot looked like the survivor of a lab accident: normal, healthy tissue on one side, slightly swollen and covered in a burn of nipple scales all over the other side. She blinked her remaining eye and moaned, her many, many nipples stiffening in arousal.

Archie got a much larger blast of alchemy and so his changes were much more pronounced. After his clothes melted off his awful, rashy skin began to bubble and grow loose. His hair fell out in clumps and his skin cracked and split and peeled off, like a snake shedding. As the skin fell to the floor, a transformed Archie was being revealed. A new Archie with flawless, silky, perfect skin in a shade of lavender purple and bright, magenta eyes. He blinked his eyes and groaned in a newly soprano voice as his flawless skin began to plump out as he grew a new layer of subcutaneous body fat giving him a round feminine ass, soft thighs, and perfect, perky dcup breasts. He still had his cock, but it had grown smooth and naturally circumcised and his small scrotum became free of wrinkles and velvety smooth. The formerly scabby nerd was now a gorgeous, hairless purple shemale.

Queenie was absolutely blasted with alchemy and was soaking in the dcum laden solution as her clothes dissolved. She glanced around frantically as all of her body hair melted off and her already very pretty skin became absolutely flawless. So flawless that it started to crawl over every opening in it, sealing over her eyes, nostrils, mouth, and ears. Queenie's pussy and anus also sealed over as her nipples were absorbed back into her skin and her fingers and toes melded together into blunt, skin coated flippers. Queenie was now a very busty woman covered completely in unbroken, perfect skin. But her changes weren't finished yet, as her skin took on a plastic quality becoming like a living, flesh coloured latex. The latex grew shinier as it began to sweat a clear fluid that reeked of pussy. Queenie blindly rubbed her fingerless hands over her body and writhed in mute pleasure. Her blunt feed slid on the floor, lubricated by her slick sweat, and she fell to the ground, writhing in ecstasy and fondling her body. Queenie the partygirl was now completely sealed inside of a latex-skinned erogenous zone.

I just stood there mute and blinking, watching my bench buddies change and looking at the splatter pattern of alchemy on the floor and just how close I had come to transforming myself. If Margot hadn't stepped to grab Archie, she wouldn't have been in just the right place to screen me. I was very, very lucky.

The TA, her megaclitoris face quivering in anger screamed "FUCK!" and told everyone to "Stand exactly where they are!" and whined that "Lipple is going to throw a fucking fit!" and "Undergrads are fucking useless!" She called for the campus hazmat team and slowly and carefully the lab was evacuated and closed for decontamination. A process that took so long that the lab class was suspended and we were graded based on our previous work (fortunately the semester was nearly over). At the moment I was deeply relieved: I wasn't sure if I would ever take another alchemy lab class again. But I would eventually press on, more inspired than ever to make working with alchemy safer.

My three transformed bench buddies all had their lives radically changed by the lab accident. Margot, understandably, was put off from continuing her studies as an alchemist. The nipple scaled woman dropped out of college and spent the next couple years travelling the world, eventually ending up as a ski bum at a far off mountain resort. Apparently she had to start wearing compression clothing to still the wobbly breast-flesh coated part of her body and using copious amounts of glove warming pads to keep her many nipples warm. Queenie, now deaf, blind, and mute found a new life as a work of living art, pleasuring herself and writhing forever in a glass enclosure in the student art gallery. Archie, now Prinzy, continued his, now her, studies, eventually graduating as the valedictorian of the Alchemy program. Prinzy also became quite the lavender party girl, becoming notorious for drinking hard, wrecking boys in the bedroom, and stumbling to classes hungover and disheveled.  She had become the beautiful, smart, bubbly, and fun girl she had always wanted before her change. I like to think that each of my bench buddies were happy in their new lives.

And that's how I escaped my first alchemy lab by not rushing to help the laboratory lush.



Words and story by Indigocarmine

Key transformations were developed in collaboration with Phil Ein Blank

Additional editorial assistance provided by KSG


Re: The Escapist!

Ok this is just entertaining.  Well done.  You have a knack for setting up circumstances and situations.  The characters have character, and the end results are awesome.

Keep rolling.


Re: The Escapist!

LamiaWoman wrote:

Ok this is just entertaining.  Well done.  You have a knack for setting up circumstances and situations.  The characters have character, and the end results are awesome.

Keep rolling.

I concur. I never feel the urge to blast through your setup. You're quickly becoming my favorite author here.


Re: The Escapist!

Part 4: The Volunteer

The fourth time happened during my college internship in a strange town called Jizza.

I had just about finished my degree and was in my final year of studies. For a few extra credits and a line on my resume, I decided to take an internship in the alchemy lab of the prestigious Professor Lipple. My interview with the Prof, where I discussed my interest in dealing with environmental dcum spills, was my only real interaction with the busy woman. She had looked impressed by that ambition though, expounding that it was high time that the academic world started to treat dcum as a practical substance instead of a magic elixir and novelty. She offered me an unpaid position and paired me with one of her most promising young alchemical graduate students, one who had a practical research project that would suit my interests. Job interview over, mission accomplished.

I recall feeling quite puffed up in the moment, delighted that such an important and smart woman saw the value of my ideas. Which lasted until I met Umi, my sardonic graduate student, who sighed “Ugh, another wetnose to watch” and suggested that I could “go help the other one label vials”. I was deflated, realizing I had just been brushed off by the professor and dumped on someone who didn’t have a choice in the matter and wasn’t exactly thrilled. I was thoroughly put back in my place.

For the next few weeks I spent my time in the lab doing unpaid drudgery. I cleaned glassware, labeled sample tubes, and “watched this a minute” while Umi grabbed lunch or “held this a second” while Umi flurried around with her apparatus. (If ever a woman should undergo a treatment to grow extra arms it is Umi.) Mostly though, I got to know Avola Unteer, the other ‘wetnose’ that Umi was saddled with. Avola was a dusky skinned girl with long, curly black hair and shockingly plain features. She had a textbook average height, a forgettable face, modest breasts and figure, and a level of fitness that was completely unremarkable. Avola was completely unassuming. Which was such a smokescreen for her personality: Avola Unteer was brilliant and completely mad. Of all the people I had met in college, she was the smartest, most impulsive, and least prone to give a fuck about consequences. She was a lot of fun to be around and she absolutely terrified me.

Unlike me, who was working in Professor Lipple’s lab to learn how to safely dispose of alchemy, Avola was there purely to get alchemical experience. She wanted to be a full fledge alchemist, to harness the power of demons and live as a rogue wizardess. “Or,” she smirked, “at least make lots and lots of money.” Unlike me, who Umi rightly guessed was too inexperienced, Avola probably could have actually done some alchemy had Umi not been afraid of her.

And so we performed menial tasks in the lab everyday until Professor Lipple made one of her extremely brief appearances. She saw Avola and I wearing arm-length rubber gloves, elbow deep in the sink, washing dishware. Dr. Lipple called out to Umi, “Are you making the undergraduates into janitors again?”

Umi blanched at the sight of her supervisor, “Dr. Lipple, you know I’d love to allow them to do more but, I’m not sure they are ready.”

Prof. Lipple looked skeptical. “Umi, I cannot have directed studies students used as slaves. They need to do actual research… we have been over this.”

“But…” Umi pointed at Avola, “Unteer is a complete maniac” and she pointed at me “and Piste here doesn’t know which end of the pipette is supposed to go in her mouth.” (Which was a bit much since I knew that a pipette should *never* go in ones mouth.) “Neither of them should be allowed within a mile of dcum!”

“Well.” Prof. Lipple pursed her severe lips for a moment. “What about using them on your Jizza project? I am not altogether happy with your progress and it seems you could use the help.”

Umi blanched more. “I’m not exactly keen to visit the town…” she said quietly.

Professor Lipple smiled smoothly. “Perhaps your undergraduate students could be persuaded to collect samples for you. Perform some field research.”

A look of dawning realization broke over Umi. “Oooh. That’s why you saddled me with two students at once.”

Professor Lipple smiled tightly, tapped the tip of her nose, and walked out of the lab.


The next day Umi had us meet her in a small meeting room. She sat across from Avola and me and looked at us intently. She had brought coffee and pastries to share, which I knew was a worrisome development.

Umi was an intimidating young woman. While she was a disorganized flurry of motion in the lab, fearsomely messy, and an intense thinker, she was also shockingly pretty. She had a dainty heart shaped face, carefully tossled brown hair, and wore cunningly applied makeup. She was always dressed in a smart dress or a sharp blouse and skirt combination under her labcoat and wore fantastic shoes. Between her competence and beauty, she was a force to be reckoned with, a kind of junior Professor Lipple.

She poured us each a cup of coffee, giving us a second to take a sip before starting her pitch.

She smoothly outlined the problem: there was a small town in Jizza that was becoming notorious for transformations. Unlike other historic spikes in transformation, the Jizza phenomenon couldn’t be explained by a rogue Demon or Avatar or some sort of obvious dcum spill or contamination. In Jizza, Umi explained, the transformations were all voluntary and happening at statistically abnormal levels. Inexplicably, the phenomenon also showed a gender bias, with women being the overwhelming majority of volunteers. The Jizza effect also had a noted pattern of behavior where women almost always became entirely male in body and frequently took on male gender identities. It was a real puzzler she said.

The current theory, Umi continued, was that there had to be something about the town, something environmental that was affecting the populace. Maybe there was a mind altering drug in the water or soil or leaking into the waterworks or something. So far every study conducted had come up empty handed, but Professor Lipple as a foremost expert in alchemy, wanted to take a run at the problem. Which meant that Umi, as a grad student subject to the whims of her boss, now had to run a variety of samples from Jizza through a rigorous chemical and alchemical analysis to isolate the cause of the Jizza effect. Except Umi really didn’t want to travel to Jizza… which meant that it had fallen to me and Avola to go to the town to collect samples.

Umi handed us both a pastry. “Look at it this way,” she said smiling sweetly. “You have a chance to help solve a great scientific mystery and potentially help a whole townfull of people! Or, at the very least, you have a chance to share authorship on a really high impact paper which will be great for your careers!” Umi shrugged, “And if it doesn’t work out, hey, you get a trip paid for by the lab. Anyway you come out ahead.”

“Why don’t you want to go to Jizza?” I asked.

“I’m busy” Umi replied, waving a hand casually “and because I don’t want to end up looking like Lane!” she said loudly, referring to my erstwhile TA with the clitoral moustache.

“I heard that!” Lane called from her office down the hall. “Fuck you!” she shouted playfully.

“You wish!” hollered back Umi, smiling.

Avola looked at me and rolled her eyes. Grad students.

“Look kiddos,” Umi said seriously, “I’m not going to lie to you. There is something going on in that town that’s making people behave strangely. We don’t entirely know what it is, so be mindful of your surroundings, what you touch, what you ingest, etcetera. Just be careful.”

“Careful? What’s that?” asked Avola innocently.


And just like that we were sent to Jizza. Or rather the next town over from Jizza, since Professor Lipple decided we should limit our exposure to the Jizza effect. We spent a very fun night eating pizza and watching bad movies and gossiping about mutual acquaintances. In the morning we set off for Jizza, to go into the field and collect samples.

A cab drove us to the center of Jizza and deposited us on a street that really could have been anywhere. A small fountain burbled in the middle of a little plaza, surrounded by flowers and trees. Brightly painted two story brick and timber buildings ran along streets lined with quaint storefronts, cute restaurants, and busy cafes. The sidewalks were gaily cluttered with chalkboard signs announcing sales and specials, outdoor tables and chairs, and displays of books or flowers or produce. Birds chirped, dogs barked, children laughed. It was a little slice of idealistic urban normalcy. At least until you looked at the citizens.

Against this tableau of tranquility was the strangest collection of people I had ever seen. There was a family walking down the street: a young boy holding hands with a man and a huge ogre with fat heavy breasts, surging muscles, and the bulge of a huge cock straining a tiny pair of briefs. The ogre saw us gaping and nodded a greeting, the huge nose that had overtaken its mouth wagging. Across the street from them was a man walking his dog on a leash; except it wasn’t a dog, it was a woman crawling on all fours with a canine head, a pelt of shaggy grey fur, and six small breasts hanging from her chest. She sniffed the ground, wagged her tail, and lifted her leg and pissed, showing off her pink doggy penis. A pair of Freyan cockwomen browsed the outdoor shelves of a bookstore, apparently finding something they liked. Using their telekenisis they levitated a book and, as they turned to walk into the store, I saw that instead of the usual vagina, they had normal, human scale cocks between their smooth, feminine legs. I was stunned and nervous. I knew that I should have expected to see the transformed here, but the scale of it was astonishing.

“Excuse me!” farted a squeaky voice. We looked down and saw a short creature standing on the sidewalk looking at us. It had a small round body, about the size of a large sportsball, that was mostly just a globular ass suspended from the ground by eight, long arachnid like legs. Each of the eight legs were tipped with cocks that dribbled precum on the sidewalk. From the centre of the creature grew a single vertical stalk capped with a shiny, black dodecahedron sphere of compound eyes. “Can you please get out of my way,” the transformee pleaded. Stunned we shuffled aside and the small creature went past us, dragging a little wagon loaded with groceries behind her. “Bloody tourists”, it farted in disgust.

“This is amazing!” gushed Avola.

“It certainly is something…” I managed.

We watched another of the local transformed citizens lumber up the sidewalk towards us. This person had become a large, solidly built quadruped. The woman, probably, had transformed themselves so that they walked on four solid legs, two which were once their arms. The person had a wide, broad body like some manner of cattle or grazing animal, with sides rounded with fat and a huge, rippling ass. Their face was stretched into a long, expressive muzzle with wide lips painted a bright red and an elongated and flattened nose. They had bright, intelligent blue eyes and a shortly cropped mane of dirty blonde hair. From the top of their muzzle they had grown a single erect cock, like a horn on a rhinoceros. As the person grew closer it was obvious they also had a huge, human looking cock and balls hanging between their hind legs. On their back they wore a double riding saddle.

“Hello travelers!” the creature rumbled, smiling. “I’m Jeanie, and I’ll be guiding you around the town today.”

“Hi,” I said uncertainly.

“A pleasure!” enthused Avola.

“On behalf of the Jizza Chamber of Commerce welcome to town!” Jeanie tossed her head happily. “Just so you know, my body may be male but I still consider myself a woman. At least for now,” she added wistfully, “have to give my poor husband some time to get used to things.” She winked. “Anyway, many of the transformed citizens have altered their gender, so you should never assume pronouns, okay? It’s considered quite rude. It shouldn’t be a problem, since most of us know to inform strangers of our preferences. Especially pretty young women from out of town.”

Avola nodded happily. “Better informed than ignorant and rude. I’m Avola and this is Thesca,” she said introducing us.

“Excellent,” rumbled our guide. “So I understand you are here to collect samples to try and solve the Jizza mystery once and for all. I’m told you have a shopping list of targets?”

I nodded, “Umi…”

“Our taskmaster”, Avola chirped.

“…wants to get as many samples as possible, from as many places in the water supply as we can. So she wants us to get ground water from some wells, some samples from the town reservoir, and water from some taps around town. Preferably some water samples would be from common public sources: drinking fountains, eateries, cafes.”

“I think we can manage that,” Jeanie said, “I own a coffee shop just up the street a little, would that be a suitable place to begin?”

I nodded. Jeanie smiled broadly and offered us a ride on her saddled back. Avola eagerly climbed into the front seat and glared at me until I reluctantly swung myself into the rear seat.

And so we set off, riding a transformed woman with a cock-horn on her face into town.

As we walked Avola eagerly looked around, clearly delighted by the town. I was considerably less so. I found that after the run in with the avatar in the mountains and the accident in the alchemy lab that I was a bit nervous around the transformed. They reminded me too much of my altered friends and the fates I had narrowly dodged. I decided to try and make conversation to settle myself down, Jeanie seemed like a lovely person and it wasn’t her fault I was uncomfortable. “Jeanie, why are you helping Professor Lipple solve the Jizza problem?”

“Oh,” she rumbled, “I guess I’d like to know why we all changed. I am very happy with how I am now, complete in a way I never knew I could be. I would never want to go back, even if I could. But, I’m curious. And I think it would be good for the town to know.” She tossed her head and snorted. “I personally think the transformations have been good for Jizza. It’s brought the community together and put us on the map.” She chuckled, “No such thing as bad publicity. But I tend to agree with some in the Chamber who think that Jizza’s reputation may be preventing the more cautious from visiting. So I think it would be good for tourism if we could discover whatever makes women here want to change. That way we can suggest precautions to travelers and maybe get some more visitors.”

“That’s a very insightful viewpoint,” I replied, impressed.

“I am nothing if not a thoughtful beast.” Jeanie hitched up out front of a coffee shop with “Jeanie’s” written in beautiful hand-painted script on the window. A pair of bearded men sat outside at a little table drinking lattes. One looked normal, but the other looked roundly pregnant and had long phallic tentacles instead of arms. The normal man waved and the pregnant looking man wished Jeanie a good morning in a soft, womanly voice. “This is us,” Jeanie said brightly and we climbed out of the saddle on her back. “Welcome to Jeanie’s Beanery” she said proudly as we followed her inside.

Inside was a cute little shop with a pair of baristas manning a wide counter, an espresso machine, and a display of baked goods. One of them was a teenage boy with a stupid looking ponytail who smiled brightly at the sight of his boss. The other was a normal looking young woman with a cute tomboyish haircut. “Lisa,” Jeannie rumbled, “could you take Thesca here to the kitchen? She is here to take a water sample.”

I followed the girl into the back, marveling at how strange it was that she was the first woman I had seen in Jizza. She led me to a sink in the back and got it running. I pulled on thick, rubber alchemist’s gloves and held the first sample bottle under the running water.

“You’re the first human woman I’ve seen,” I said, unable to stop myself.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered.

I sealed the first bottle and started on the second. “Do you want to get transformed?”

“Oh yes,” the Lisa sighed, “More than anything. But… good alchemy costs so much money and my mother thinks I should pay for it myself. He tells me it will be character building.”

“I see,” I said as I capped the second bottle and placed the third under the tap.

“It’s why I’m working here on weekends” she said, “I’m saving up!” She smiled widely, “I’m more than halfway, too.”

I tried not to shudder as I sealed the third bottle and labeled the location and time of collection. I slipped the rack of samples into my canvas bag and then carefully removed my protective gloves. I nodded that I was finished and she grinned and led me back into the main room of the coffee shop where I saw Avola chatting with Jeannie and enjoying a big, steaming cup of coffee.

“Avola!” I choked.

“What?” she asked brightly.

“You’re having a coffee?” my voice disbelieving and reproachful.

“And a muffin. You should try one, it’s very tasty!”

Jeanie rumbled happily, “I only use the freshest, most local ingredients.”

“Avola,” I said trying to be polite, “remember what Umi said about being mindful about what we eat until we find the source of the Jizza effect.” I smiled an apology at Jeanie who nodded that she wasn’t offended.

“Thesca,” smirked Avola, “I highly doubt one coffee and a muffin is going to do anything. No one has found any agent in the water, and for something to affect my mind in a single small dose it must surely be detectable. I’m willing to bet that the Jizza phenomenon is caused by longterm exposure, a cumulative effect.” Avola smiled at Jeanie, “No offense.”

“None taken, this is quite fascinating.”

“That’s quite the risk,” I said.

Avola smiled wildly, “You worry too much.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Let’s call it an experiment then: I’ve had a single cup of coffee made with fresh, delicious Jizza water, and you haven’t yet. So I can be the treatment group and you, my cautious friend, can be the control.” Avola smiled at me playfully, “Now you just have to make sure you don’t ingest anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.”


We spent the day riding Jeanie around town, sampling water from the fountain in the square, a drinking fountain in the park, and water from a few restaurants and eateries. Next we headed to the reservoir, where a local utilities worker, a humanoid amphibian creature with a pair of strange, translucent looking inhuman cocks, helpfully took three samples straight from the main water supply. Jeanie’s husband gave us a ride to the outskirts of town where we were able to get samples from three separate wells and a natural spring that he showed us. And then it came time to survey as many households as we could. We decided to split up to cover more ground.

I picked a neighbourhood at random and started going door to door. Because it was the middle of the day not many people answered, either out at work or opting to ignore the strange woman with the heavy canvas bag. I wasn’t discouraged though, an unanswered door meant one less transformee for me to be uncomfortably alone with. I sighed, I knew it was a shitty attitude to hold, but Jizza was starting to give me the creeps.

Eventually my luck ran out and a door was answered by a pair of nearly identical transformees. Their faces were long cones with no eyes or features except for a slit of a mouth and a huge, star-shaped, flat nose like on a mole. The fair skin of their pointy faces slid smoothly into a wide neck and narrow shoulders that ended in short arms with rodent like paw-hands. Below their small rib cages their bodies ballooned out into a wide abdomen and hindquarters that sprouted short digitigrade legs with another set of rodent hand-paws. They had long flexible tails that rested on the ground and, as I was coming to expect, bright little pink cocks. Overall they looked a bit like hairless rodents standing on their hind legs, the only difference between them was that one was a few inches larger and taller than the other.

“Hi,” I said gamely, “my name is Thesca Piste, and I’m in Jizza collecting water samples for a study. I’m hoping to collect some of these samples from residential sources. Would it be alright if I came in and sampled your tap water?”

The two creatures sniffed me, their huge noses waggling. “I don’t see why not,” chirped the smaller of the pair. “Come in, come in,” squeaked the larger. I stepped inside and followed the almost-rodents to their kitchen and started putting on my gloves.

“I’m Maude,” said the bigger transformee in her high voice, “and this is my daughter Cidny.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I said trying to ignore the reek of sex and semen in the home.

Perhaps catching a note of reproach in my voice Maude brushed her paws in the air, “Don’t let my daughter’s smaller stature fool you, she is a grown woman, miss. She is only visiting from college so that we could get another treatment.”

“Another treatment?” I asked as I turned on their kitchen sink and put the first bottle into the stream.

“Why yes,” chirped Cidny. “We had a family meeting and decided that we wanted to retain a certain family resemblance. So we decided to get identical transformations.”

“The alchemist we contacted thought the best approach would to break everything down into smaller changes, a bit here and there, so it would be more predictable.”

“And, to ensure uniformity or results, he suggested that he make double amounts of every mixture and give us each transformation simultaneously from the same batch.”

“Very time consuming and expensive.”

“But he sure did deliver on the results.”

I was already filling the second sample bottle. Trying to make conversation: “Sounds exciting. What change did you get this time?”

Cidny capered around and lifted her leg letting me get a good look at her penis. It was short, only three or four inches, but bright pink and possessed of a canine looking knot. It looked a great deal like an extended dog penis, but I couldn’t see any sheath or evidence that it could retract. Suddenly a long tongue flicked out from behind Cidny’s balls and licked all over her pink cock, moistening it. “We just got our second tongues. For lubricating our cocks.”

“I see,” I said trying not to gag.

“Our cocks used to get so dry and cracked,” explained the mother, “they are very delicate.”

“I told you we should have gotten the tongues before the cock.” Cidny said with exasperation, sounding very much the daughter. “It could have been a fun goodbye to our cunts.” She peeped a sigh. “But you just couldn’t wait to have a penis.”

Maude chittered. “Please, don’t pretend you didn’t love the change! That having a wondrous new cock isn’t so much nicer than that old pussy of yours, that it was completely worth the discomfort.”

The daughter nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It was a wonderful new experience!”

I had sealed the second bottle and was filling the third, desperate to be away from these strange people. “What’s next?” I asked, worried to hear the answer.

Cidny squeaked, “Well, I’m for getting our fur installed, a sleek and shiny shorthaired black coat, before it gets too cold out.”

Maud shrugged, “And I am dead set on having our genitals expanded. These little peckers just won’t do.”

Cidny chittered a laugh, “That’s mom for you, absolutely cock crazy!”

I snapped the cap on the last sample container, recorded the relevant info, thanked the two transformees profusely and beat a hasty retreat. Maud and Cidny stood in their doorway and waved, biding me good luck and telling me to stop by when I finally changed so they could meet the new me. I shuddered and put several blocks between me and them before trying the next door.

At the next house where someone answered the door, I was greeted by a normal looking man. I told him my reason for being there and he graciously let me inside. He told me I was lucky to catch him, since he was just popping by to check on his husband. He led into the house and I saw him, a most extreme transformee. The former-woman of the house was rooted through the floor to the ground. His body had become a big round, fleshy trunk with a single cyclopean eye on it like a wood knot looking around. The husband’s cylindrical body touched the roof and split into branches or maybe vines which grew all across the ceiling, along the walls, and into other rooms. At the tip of each of these projections was a penis glans. The man gently stroked his husband’s cylindrical body and the eye lidded with pleasure. All of the cock vines twitched and leaked a bead of fragrant precum. I hustled to the kitchen, threw on the tap, and filled my three samples as quickly as I could. The man stayed with his husband and, when I tried to make my way out, I was graced with the vision of the man, dick sticking out of his fly, peeing on the roots of his spouse. “Just need to give him a good watering before we go,” the man called to my back as I got the fuck out of there.

Jizza was too strange for me, too filled with bizarre transformees and alchemical danger. I walked as fast as I could, almost fleeing. But, I couldn’t just give up, could I? I needed at least one more set of samples to bring back so I wouldn’t look a complete coward. I resolved myself to one more stop, swerved through a gate in a picket fence and walked to one more door. I pounded on it, it opened, and I was greeted by a pretty, completely normal looking woman.

“Hello!” she greeted. “I’m Birdie.”

I was hugely relieved. “Hi Birdie,” I gushed, “I’m Thesca Piste and I’m here to check the tap water in Jizza. Could I please sample your tap water.”

“Of course,” she said, “Welcome to my home.”

I swept into a beautifully appointed home filled with charm, tasteful decorations, and soft pastel colours. I took a look at Birdie, a tall pretty woman with a sleek bob haircut, sleeveless blouse, and poodle skirt. The entire scene was like my parent’s idea of domestic bliss. I smiled, this felt familiar and safe. “Could you direct me to your kitchen?” I asked.

“Right this way,” Birdie smiled.

As I went about filling my sample containers I complimented Birdie on her home and, despite myself, admitted how happy I was to see a normal woman here. “It’s nice to know that someone can live here and not want to change.”

“Who said that?” asked Birdie. “Of course I want to change! Have you not seen all the beautiful, handsome, and remarkable people who live here?” Her voice grew dreamy. “How can you not sometimes fantasize about joining them?”

“What?” I said. “You have the… urge.”

“Of course I have the urge, darling. Doesn’t everyone?”

A small part of me thought she might have a point. “But you resist it, don’t you?”

“Oh yes. Out of fear mostly. Fear of what my husband will think, what my family will say, how my boss and coworkers will feel about me. But I want to, every day I want to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just a coward.”

I swallowed heavily, disappointed at the turn the conversation had taken. I worked at filling the sample tubes as quickly as I could. I would label them after I left. I swept them into my canvas bag and turned to leave.

And Birdie was standing nude, her soft but still attractive body blocking the way out. She was panting and holding a vial in her hand. “But I won’t be a coward any longer!” she loudly announced and splashed herself with the alchemy.

I backed away and watched in horror as Birdie started to whimper in arousal. First I saw the skin of her belly swell weirdly, as if she might be growing an udder. But instead of becoming a bag of hanging mammary tissue, this new pouch seemed to flow upward, becoming a taught wrinkly bag covering her abdomen from her belly button to her crotch. The bag continued to swell and developed two round contents, a pair of gigantic, head sized testicles. Birdie moaned happily and fondled her new kangaroo pouch like ballsack. Next her clit swelled and filled her whole vagina, her labia becoming a wrinkled sheath around it. Her huge clit became a penis glans and oozed, and then seemed to swivel down under her to point backwards. Birdie started to whimper again and her anus merged with her cock sheath leaving her a single opening filled with cock. Birdie’s new cock started to expand outward, clearly becoming a penis like tail. It was as wide as Birdie’s leg and just about as long when it developed articulation, growing musculature and bones and bending upward at a new joint. The penis grew longer and longer, and developed more joints, until it was nearly twelve feet long and curved up over her head like a scorpion tail with a fist sized penis glans for a stinger. Birdie screamed in orgasm and sprayed semen at the wall, just missing me. Next her chest started to swell and become firmer, her large, saggy breasts becoming muscular and developing into an ass on her chest. The pucker of an anus opened on her chest to replace her lost one. Birdie cooed happily and then stared at her hands as her fingers merged together and became a pair of skin covered crab, or maybe scorpion pincers, with fingernail material along their edges. Birdie was panting and smiling and running her smooth claws along her changed body.

“Oooooh,” she wailed happily. “I’ve finally done it! I’ve finally given into my truth.” Tears shone in her eyes, “After all the lies and time, I finally feel free!” She clacked her claws happily.

I backed away slowly, making my way to the door. I slipped outside and ran. “Live true to yourself!” Birdie shouted after me, penis-stinger flailing behind her, claws cracking loudly.

I didn’t stop running until I managed to hail a cab and got out of Jizza.


I arrived back at the hotel long before Avola. I placed my racks of labeled samples, both the common source ones Umi wanted and my own residential samples, on the table. And then I sat and waited for Avola and worried.

Avola sauntered in more than an hour later. She dropped her canvas bag on the floor and sat across from me, an odd expression on her face.

“Where are your samples?” I asked.

“I didn’t collect any.” Avola replied smirking oddly.

“So what the hell were you doing all day?”

“Getting something better!” Avola said triumphantly, brandishing a glowing vial.

I scooted my chair back, trying to get away from her. “Avola!? What the fuck are you doing!?”

“Something exciting!” she breathed, “Something I desperately want, no… need to do!”


“No! You don’t understand! You don’t know what it’s like to feel trapped! To feel like your whole body is wrong! To know in your heart that you could be so much more!” Avola was panting, her face red. “And here I have the means to finally fix it! To be who I really am!”

“I didn’t realize you felt that way,” I said cautiously.

“I didn’t either,” she admitted, “until today.”

“When we visited Jizza. When you drank the water and ate the food.”

Avola paused, thinking intensely. “I’ve… got whatever all of those Jizza women have, don’t I?”

I nodded.

Avola bit her lip. “I guess that experiment proved its point,” she said, voice small. “Even a little exposure will get you.”

“Yeah…” I said, “In light of your new… urges being… artificial maybe we can… reassess the situation?”

“Why?” Avola asked. “I don’t see how it changes anything.” And with that she popped the cork and drank the alchemical potion.

I sucked in a breath, eyes rounded with horror. It was happening again! Someone else I cared about was transforming before me! I bit my lip to stop from whimpering.

Avola just smiled, breathing deeply, clearly aroused. She calmly stripped off her clothing, baring her agreeably average body: her well sized breasts, her smooth but not skinny stomach, her present but unremarkable hips and ass and legs. “Oh.” She said, “I can feel it start to work.” She sighed. “It tingles!”

And then Avola squealed as her body began to rapidly lose its body fat, her breasts shrinking to tiny little A cup things, her soft stomach becoming toned, her arms and legs becoming lithe and muscular. She moaned and her bones crackled as her hips narrowed a little, her shoulders grew a bit wider and her jaw became a touch more square. She grew the patchy start of a beard. Avola panted, looking much more androgynous than a moment ago. And then she made a strange trumpeting sound and her nose and top lip merged together and pushed out into a five foot long tentacle, that waved for a moment until it became an obvious penis with a large glans and prehensile, mobile foreskin. Avola had grown a cock trunk. She trumpeted again and ejaculated, soaking me with her cum. Avola panted and shifted her body as her legs lengthened a little and her feet became wide and blunt and her fingers merged, leaving her with three-fingered hands. She panted happily for a moment.

“Is it over?” I asked, wet and dripping with semen.

“I don’t think so,” Avola whined before moaning deeply. I watched as her pussy sealed shut, her clit growing bigger and her labia inflating into testicles. Her new penis grew larger, becoming modest and then average and then very well hung with balls to match. Avola made that trumpeting sound again and her cock writhed, glans becoming blunt and triangular, cock swelling as wide and long as a forearm, balls swelling as big as fists. Her cock, now elephantine, began to jump wildly in rooting behavior as pulses of blood caused it to dance wildly. Avola stumbled with the weight and force of it, turning and letting me see the small orifice that had opened on her tailbone just above her anus. This orifice bubbled a stream of glistening precum that slid down between her buttcheeks and lubricated her asshole before dripping to the ground. Avola screamed and trumpeted and her elephant cock thrashed as it spat a torrent of cum while her tailbone orifice shot a little jet of semen behind her. Avola stumbled forward panting, sweat glistening on her altered body.

“Are you okay?” I asked, worry in my voice.

“Yeah… yes…” Avola said hesitantly.

“Oh Avola,” I said, “what have you done to yourself?”

Avola looked her self over, staring at her hands, her large flexible cock, and her long penis-trunk. She shifted her lean, male body around and chewed her bottom lip. “I think..” she finally said, “I’m finally who I was always meant to be.” She looked at me with wonder in her eyes.

I breathed a sigh of relief, “I’m happy for you.” I meant it.

“And to think,” Avola continued in awe, “if you had just had a cup of coffee with me, you might have found out who you really are too.”

I shivered, realizing just how close I had come to volunteering to change.


We returned to the college the next day. Avola didn’t want to face Professor Lipple so I took the samples to the lab while she had herself checked out at a Regina clinic. Umi looked guilty when I told her what had happened, but smiled a little when I told her how happy Avola seemed. Umi studied the samples over the next month, but ultimately her tests came back like every other one: inconclusive. We utterly failed to solve the Jizza phenomenon.

And that’s how I escaped Jizza by deciding to pass on a cup of coffee.



Story, words, and transformations by Indigocarmine

Editorial help by KSG and Demon-Man


Re: The Escapist!

This is one of your best stories, my friend. It keeps getting better.


Re: The Escapist!

darkdonny wrote:

This is one of your best stories, my friend. It keeps getting better.

Yeah, i fully agree!


Re: The Escapist!

Thanks everyone for your kind words. I'm pretty pleased with how this one is turning out.


Re: The Escapist!

Your writing style, especially character interactions and personalities, are improving with each iteration of the story.

Keep refining your techniques!


Re: The Escapist!

Looking forward to the next one!


Re: The Escapist!

Part 5: The Convention

The fifth time happened when I tried to launch my business at the Annual Alchemists Convention.

In my final year of college, following the Jizza incident, Avola and I became best friends, although the road to getting there was fraught and challenging for both of us.

Avola’s struggles mostly had to do with her transformation. While she was very satisfied with her remade body, she found aspects of it challenging at first. She loved her new penis trunk, finding it to be an agile and excellent new genital during sex and, with its prehensile foreskin, a useful extra grasping limb the rest of the time. However, she also found that swinging it around in close quarters or among polite company caused a lot of mishaps and misunderstandings. It took some practice, but Avola eventually found that she could comfortably wrap her five-foot trunk around her shoulders like a scarf when she was say, sitting in lecture hall or in a crowded café.

The bigger challenge was sex with her elephantine penis. Avola’s cock would invariably thrash around in pachyderm rooting behavior as soon as it slipped from its sheath. This meant that Avola had trouble using it for penetrative sex with anyone but the staunchest size queen or someone transformed to have an enlarged and durable cunt. Fortunately, Avola discovered that her tailbone orifice kept her anus very well lubricated and that her new, elephantine prostate was so sensitive that she *really* enjoyed being fucked in the ass. Her sex life, then, became centered around finding a well hung guy, shemale, or transformee to ram her ass while her elephantine cock thrashed and wiggled and heaved below her. There was a learning curve, but in the end Avola was very satisfied.

The biggest complication from Avola’s transformation was that of gender presentation. Like most Jizza transformees, Avola was functionally male, having replaced her female genitals with exclusively male ones. However, unlike many longterm Jizza residents who knew that they were male, Avola wasn’t sure what she was. She had two huge phalluses on her body, but she still had very small breasts and her body was otherwise quite androgynous looking. At first Avola shaved off her beard and tried to carry on as before, to keep wearing the unisex t-shirts and sloppy jeans that had always been her uniform. Except now that meant many people just assumed she was male. So Avola steered into that and tried out being a man, growing a thick beard, taking to plaid workwear and gruff manners. When that wasn’t quite right, she shaved her face again and took a turn at being butch. Avola found that she missed being girly, despite her male anatomy, and eventually settled on presenting as extremely femme. She took to styling her black hair in luxurious ringlets, dressed in brightly coloured, patterned dresses, and started wearing makeup for the first time in her life. She also cultivated a long beautifully styled mane, meticulously shaving her face but allowing the hair along her jawline and neck to grow out, an affectation that made her look like an exotic crossdressing lion. It was like seeing Avola transform a second time, suddenly becoming vibrant and confident and sexy. Avola still wasn’t sure what she was, whether she was a woman or a kind of roundabout transwoman, but since she was happy she didn’t really care.

The challenge for me was getting over my discomfort and prejudice of the transformed. If the Jizza incident taught me anything, besides don’t drink the coffee in Jizza, it’s that I was actually afraid and distrustful of transformees in a way that was deeply problematic. I tried my best to suck it up and be there for my friend while she rediscovered herself, but my issues stuck like a thorn between us. Her new body made me uncomfortable and I couldn’t respect her choice to transform. Avola, still butch and having a miserable day, finally called me on my shit and asked what the fuck was wrong with me, her cock-trunk gesturing wildly. I broke into tears and told her about my past, about my run in with the Avatar in the mountains, my transformed friends, and the lab accident I had narrowly avoided. Avola, showing her intelligence and more compassion than I deserved, was patient with me, slowly teaching me that she was still the same person; that as a transformee she was nothing be afraid of. Then she introduced me to the small handful of other transformed people she knew on campus, letting me see them as people instead of things or victims. There was nothing like first hand knowledge to break down ignorance. It took a while, but I eventually learned to accept Avola’s new body and to be comfortable and accepting of other transformees.

With both of our baggage out of the way Avola and I became much closer. Out of some combination of the shared Jizza experience, the work we did to understand each other afterward, and the shared misery of classwork, or maybe just because we genuinely got along, we became nearly inseparable. We studied together, ate together, went out together, and then became roommates. We took a ski trip during winter break and a raucous beach vacation during the spring reading week. When my cousin got married I dragged Avola along as my friend-date, which was hilariously fun because my extended family had never met a transformee before. We both danced and got spectacularly drunk, and Avola even managed to seduce and get butt-fucked by the best man. It feels weird saying it, but in many ways my friendship to Avola was the most important thing in my life then.

Since we were so close, it was no surprise that Avola invited me to her Alchemical Senior Thesis presentation. Attending this demonstration was… a big step for me, since to get an Alchemical degree at our college you had to actually perform a transformation on someone and I wasn’t sure how I felt about being around live alchemy. Avola of course didn’t ask me to be her test subject, and instead shocked everyone by transforming herself. I sat in the demonstration hall, near the back of the room clutching my seat in terror as Avola carefully applied drops of her concoction to her temples with her cock-trunk. The flesh there bubbled and elongated and grew into short, blunt antennae which gradually waved around the room. Avola had smiled afterward and gushed that it worked, and then explained to the room that she had given herself new organs which could sense manna and dcum. A transformation she hoped would aid her career as an alchemist. From what I understand that was a very difficult transformation to devise, and so Avola graduated as an alchemist with top marks.

My own academic career ended a bit more humbly: I got my degree in environmental engineering with a minor in alchemy without any particular distinction. I did manage to con, plead, or wheedle my way into several safety certification programs though. So despite my fairly modest academic record, I was actually licensed to work with and dispose of a surprising amount of hazardous material. I could realistically live my dream of helping prevent transformation accidents by cleaning up alchemical spills and wild dcum.

I just needed to get a business up and running.

So I sat down and put together a business plan and applied for loans. Unsurprisingly, the banks, which found the whole transformation business dubious and my lack of collateral unacceptable, declined to fund my business. Surprisingly, I did get a modest grant from an alchemical venture capitalist, the Rycroft Fund, who received a letter from my business partner… a Ms. Avola Unteer. I was shocked! Avola wanted to work on my cleanup business? She wanted to be an alchemist, had all kinds of opportunities to continue her studies or take an apprenticeship, why would she ever want to work with me? She had never given me any sign. When I confronted her about it, she had just shrugged and said that she thought my business sounded like a good idea, and would be fun to try for a while. Besides, she said, there was no one she would rather work with than me. And so we became partners, incorporated our company, and bought our first supplies. Piste-Unteer Belial Environmental Services was open for business.

Now we just had to find a client base.

“I know the perfect way to market a dcum cleanup service,” Avola said brightly fussing with the hair of her mane. “We should buy a booth at the Annual Alchemists Convention!”

I shuddered. “Ugh. You just want to go to the convention.”

“Well yes.” Avola smiled, “But look, it’s the perfect way to get our name out there! The people who are most going to need alchemical cleanup services are going to alchemists. And for our environmental remediation products, well, when ordinary people encounter dcum in the wild, they are going to contact their local alchemist first, right? So going to the convention and making ourselves known to the local alchemists is going to be really helpful.”

I chewed on my lip. I really couldn’t fault her logic: the convention really was the best place to show off our new business and a great way to market our services. I groaned.

Avola looked me in the eyes. “Look Thesca, I know you don’t like being around transformations or alchemists… but if you are serious about going into this business, you are going to have to get over it. Cleaning up alchemy and dcum is going to mean a life spent around this stuff. So… maybe it’ll be good for you to go and confront your fear. See that it’s less scary than you think it is.”

“Okay,” I sighed, “We might as well do it and get it over with.”

“Ah!” Avola grinned, slapping me on the back with her trunk, “I’m so excited! I didn’t think you’d actually agree to it!”


“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” I muttered to Avola as she painted my mostly naked boy with another layer of white rubberized paint.

“What?” she asked innocently, “the paint or the convention?”

“Both!” I glowered. “And I still don’t see why are we are using this body paint!”

“Because it’s a show! People don’t come to the Alchemist Convention to see stuffy presentations by cool professionals, they come here to see transformations and pretty nude girls and get free stuff and maybe witness a small explosion! We have to do something that stands out and grabs attention, while still being on brand.”

“And white rubberized body paint?”

“T and A, Thesca darling, T and A. You are a sexy young woman, and I am an even sexier… whatever I am.” Avola thrust out the bulge in her white speedo and gestured at her white painted body. “We should use our wiles to our advantage, get some attention, and then leverage that attention into selling our company and product.”

“And how is sexy naked painted chicks ‘on brand’”

“Well, white is a very clean, sciencey colour and rubber paint seems sterile and kind of alchemical-ly. Think of it like a sexy hazmat suit that shows off your lovely tits.” Avola swatted my breasts with the paint brush making them jiggle a little.

“You’re mad!”

“That’s what they tell me!”

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have just worn labcoats and fishnet stockings…” I muttered.


Our booth wasn’t much, just a square space of plain white walls, a plywood floor we had covered in cheap white industrial tiles, and a stainless steel work table we had borrowed from a friend’s kitchen. Tacked to the back wall were white posterboards covered in Avola’s shockingly neat and legible trunk-writing explaining who we were and what services we provided. (Avola’s handwriting was messy scribbles, so I always found it shocking that she could write so well with her penis-trunk.) On top of the workbench and placed thoughtfully around our little stage were examples of the medical and chemical cleanup tools and technology we would be using to handle alchemical and dcum spills. (And by examples, I mean literally every single thing we could afford to buy for our nascent company.) It wasn’t much, but by sheer white austerity it managed to stand out amongst the more professional kiosks.

Avola and I stood around trying to look professional and eager to help. When that failed to attract a crowd, Avola started to strut around a little, to gesture with her penis trunk and stick out her slender hips. She posed on a corner of the stage, feet spread and leaning forward, jutting out her bottom lip. It was a pose that didn’t do much for her tiny, painted breasts but did draw a lot of attention to the bulge of her huge elephant cock in its tight speedo. “You know,” she looked said glancing at me, “you could try to work it a little too… you are the one of us who still has a rack.”

I rolled my eyes, hands on my painted hips, inadvertently striking a bit of a sexy pose. “I think,” I said, frowning at her, “that it’s a bit early in the day to resort to theatrics.” I looked around at the morning convention goers, mostly other exhibitors or professionals just getting the lay of the land. “I’m sure it will pick up.”

“We both don’t need to stand here all day,” Avola said, arranging her cock-trunk around her shoulder. “Why don’t you go explore a little, see what’s around before it gets busier.”

I looked around, clearly nervous and showing it.

“Consider it networking,” Avola said, “If people don’t want to stop by the booth yet, you should go to them! The more people we can introduce ourselves to, give them a face to think about, the more likely you are to find some clients.” She waved her three fingered hands, “Go on! I’ll man the table now and you go convince the world of the importance dcum remediation.”

“Okay…” I said uncertainly, climbing off our stage.

“Or at the very least,” Avola said smiling playfully, waggling her antenna at me, “you could go and get a cup of coffee!”

I startled and flustered when I got the barb of her joke. I glared at her. “You are the worst person.”

“You love me,” she smirked as she turned, unfurling her trunk and bending over to flirt with an abbreviated woman whose head and neck grew straight from her hips. “Hello beautiful, have you ever had a problem with an alchemical spill or…”

And so I hit the floor of the Annual Alchemists Convention.

Despite how early in the day it was, the convention hall was already crowded with people. Well dressed alchemists hurried to their stalls and smaller groups of business casual ones chatted and strolled. Nude volunteer girls circulated, chattering with excitement and everywhere there were transformees, easily the most I had seen together since Jizza. I saw a boothgirl adjust her three breasts, smile, and approach a knot of alchemists, her tight bathingsuit doing nothing to hide her straining erection. A pair of Freyan dickgirl models breezed glamorously by, their high heels clicking on the floor, their long legs jostling their huge balls. A freshly conjoined pair of volunteer girls, now two heads perched on a single naked body, argued about where to go next and what transformations to add to their body. An anthro horseman handed out coffees to a multi-breasted catgirl and a disembodied head with a cock and insectile legs. The head gushed thanks and drank her coffee through a straw while the catgirl held her cup for her. A very tall armless woman with a torso covered in breasts spun her head in a perfect circle, surveying the crowd. Smiling in recognition, she started to scuttle towards someone on her four radially spaced, bent legs. A crowd of people mobbed a kind of brontosaur woman with a long penis neck and face and a matching tail that was wrapped with a kind of condom-cunt-woman. They were signing autographs and I realized they were contestants from that Belial Idol program. I shook my head, amazed.

I started to explore a little, gawking at the various booths and kiosks. Even after visiting Jizza, the Alchemists Convention was a mad spectacle. There were all manner of alchemists showing off their inventions and elixirs, trying to woo groups of naked women volunteers to be transformed and show off their wares. Squeezed between these were merchants trying to sell services to alchemists, safety equipment and glassware, or financial products and liability insurance. There were even booths specializing in goods for transformed people, clearly trying to impress alchemists into advertising to their customers.

I stopped by one of these kiosks, ‘Footfetish’, a shop that made custom footwear for the transformed. Standing on their little stage was a three-breasted, three-legged woman who was gushing about how this company made the only shoe that would fit her symmetrical, two-big toed middle foot. Next to her stood a short, highly muscular lizard woman wearing thigh-high boots that somehow fit her massive feet. Another woman with arms for legs was modeling a kind of glove-shoe that flexibly fit her hand-feet. A kind of humantaur woman with three horizontal torsos and eight legs walked through the crowd handing out pamphlets. I noticed that her four pairs of matching slingback heels were very stylish. She caught me looking, clicked over to me, and handed me a pamphlet. “We make shoes in single pairs,” she said happily, “bespoke footwear is for normal people too.”

Next to the shoe specialists were a row of alchemists. A tall shaggy creature covered in so much curly hair that I couldn’t distinguish its gender gestured at their ‘Folliculizer’, a device made to ‘put hair on your chest, breasts, or wherever else!” Next to the merkin-person was the ‘Amazing Multiplexir’, a body part duplication method sold by a pitch-person with two heads, four breasts, six arms, four legs, five cocks, and two cunts. She, it seemed, had a running banter between her two heads that she was using to draw in crowds, her six eyes roving for a nude volunteer test subject. The next alchemist was a dour looking man standing next to a clear glass chamber containing a freshly conjoined couple, a pair of girls forever joined face-to-face, locked in a kiss. I rolled my eyes and strolled along.

Another alchemist, ‘The Lady’s Breast Friend’, was showing off his patented breast expansion technology with the help of a giggling volunteer. The naked girl had needles inserted into her nipples, held in place with fresh piercings, which were connected to surgical tubes running to a large storage tank. The alchemist was pumping some form of solution into the squealing girl’s tits making them go from modest, to large, to huge. The young woman already had breasts the size of beachballs and was crying “bigger, bigger!” The alchemist was looking dubious but kept the flow of alchemy into her breasts. She shrieked happily and fell forward onto her humongous tits, now swollen to the size of household appliances. The young volunteer was now laying on top of her giant titflesh, body and legs held off the floor. “More! More!” she tittered, “I want to be bigger!” The alchemist cleared his throat to protest but the girl shouted over him “I want to have the biggest tits in the world!!!” People were crazy.

Across the aisle from the spectacle of the girl with now automobile sized boobies was a stall devoted to Cleanly Farms, a local dairy that was rebranding itself with transformed women. A man in coveralls and a straw hat was drawling about the benefits of milk from the transformed while a chubby cowgirl with four large breasts and an enormous udder sat on the edge of the stage. She idly kicked her hooved feet in the air, flicking her tail and ears as she chewed cud and mooed. In front of the kiosk stood another cowgirl, a large quadrupedal one with a muzzle face, cow fur, and two udders hanging between her front and back legs. She stood placidly on her four hooves while another cowgirl, this one being mostly human with two huge, four-nippled tits and a tail, milked one udder and mooed at passersby to try milking the other. Also in front of the Cleanly Farm’s stall was a cardboard cutout of a headless cows body where convention goers could pose behind and look like a cowtaur. An arrow shaped sign next to it said “This could be moo!” and a shemale bullgirl with huge horns stood a few steps away snapping pictures of ‘cowtaurs’ with an instant camera. It seemed Cleanly Farms was recruiting. A strange Freyan Dickgirl with cowspots, hooved feet, udder-testicles, a slightly bovine-penis shaft body and a ropey tail was strutting around with a tray of milk samples. The dickgirl clopped over to me and mooed. I smiled and said no thank you and moved on.

I was so eager to avoid any kind of beverage that I blundered right into a wall of muscle. I looked up at a pair of hugely muscular headless shoulders with a narrow little pussy where a neck usually was and then looked down to the hulking creature’s crotch were a strong, twitchy feminine face was glaring up at me. “Welcome to the ‘Muscle Maximizer!’” shouted the face loudly. I took a startled step back, seeing that the cuntboy in front of me was an absolutely ripped mountain of muscle with four huge arms and a crotch face. He made his pectoral muscles dance and growled, “Sister! Protein powder might be the best thing science can do for a bodybuilder since a raw egg! But for real! Instant! Results! You can now harness the amazing power of alchemy!!!” The cuntboy drew in a huge breath and flexed, “MUSCLE MAXIMIZER!” he screamed at me.

“Sorry,” I muttered, “Not really into weight lifting…” backing away.

“Don’t be a pussy!” roared the cuntboy from his crotch face.

I just kept backing away, resisting the temptation to point out how poor a slogan that was for a cuntboy whose face was between their thighs.  The cuntboy spotted another convention goer to harass and began to shout at them. It seems I had made my escape.

I grinned. The Annual Alchemist Convention wasn’t terrifying. Despite the press of transformed bodies and the scores of bizarre transformations happening all around me, I felt safe. There was a measured quality to the transformations, professional alchemists using well made and understood apparatus to affect desired transformations. There was order here. There was also a sense of fun: all the fresh transformees here were happy volunteers and not unfortunate victims. This was a carnival of transformation and not the terror of a mad avatar’s whims or whatever insidious madness was happening in Jizza. The convention was, despite its grand scale, a kind of transformation I could relax around, maybe even enjoy.

Even if I was spending the day basically naked except for a thick coating of white rubber body paint.

With that spirit in mind I joined a crowd of people gathered around a kiosk for the “Cuddle Factory” a furniture themed alchemist who had talked two nude volunteer girls into joining him on stage. The mustachioed man smiled and waved, straightened his smart green blazer and bowler hat, and asked his audience for just a moment. He turned to his volunteers and began conferring quietly with the two girls, I hoped negotiating the terms and caveats of their upcoming change.

While the boilerplate was being settled, I took in the outrageous sight of the alchemist’s booth and the two transformed women… or perhaps display models he had on stage with him. A young human woman wearing a frilly maid costume stumbled around the stage, posing saucily and dusting the living furniture.

One of the transformed women was a huge four poster bed made out of some combination of flesh and wood carving. The frame, headboard, baseboards and posts were all seemingly made from some dark wood and covered in carvings. At the center of the headboard was the beautiful face of a woman perched in an idyllic forest scene surrounded by smaller figures of satyr and nymphs dancing and fucking. Each of the corner posts ended with a woman’s dainty limbs, hands on either side of the headboard, and delicate feet on the baseboard. The posts themselves were chased with ivy and more frolicking, copulating satyr and nymphs. The baseboard continued the motif, but in its center, instead of a face, was an elaborate vagina, a flesh and blood one with huge labia like the petals of a flower. The bed itself seemed to be made of flesh, the sheetless mattress a wide expanse of pale, freckled skin with soft pillows made of large breasts or a wide ass for those that prefer firmer support. The blankets of the bed seemed, and probably were, woven from threads of red-gold hair and seemed to grow from the baseboard. It was a majestic piece of furniture, but an odd choice of body.

I began to notice that while the bed was broadly immobile, it wasn’t quite inert. The mattress and ‘pillows’ rose and fell with breath, the blanket rippled and fussed a little on its own, and the wooden carvings moved a little, the nymphs and satyrs actually dancing and fucking a little. The hands at the end of the bedposts gestured, and the carving of a beautiful woman’s face on the headboard smiled. The bed-woman said, “You’ll have to excuse my husband, he does so love talking to pretty, young, naked women.” The crowd chuckled agreeably.

The other transformed furniture-woman on stage was the alchemist’s lighting. This woman had apparently become an entire set of matching lamps. On the front corner of the stage was a pair of tall standing lamps, with bordello-skirt lampshades and a single, shapely leg sticking out to act as a stand. The legs were flesh and blood, but immobile, dressed in fishnets and squeezed into tall stiletto heels. On the back wall of the kiosk was a pair of smaller wall lamps. These had matching lampshades, but with stands that were the woman’s arms, the hands of which were gripping handles on the wall to clamp the lights in place. Finally, on a false mantelpiece at the back of the stage stood the lamp-woman’s head. Superficially she resembled a bust, a heavy stone base with the sculpture of a neck and face resting on it, except the face was flesh and blood and smiling winningly at the crowd. Upon the head of this living bust grew an elaborate candelabra of lights, looking like a showgirls crown or inverted chandelier.

The lights began to dim a little. “Luxia, dear? Some more light?” barked the alchemist.

“Saul,” she whined, “I’m only as bright as I am aroused.” She bit her lip and purred, “You’ll have to turn me back on.”

Saul sighed and walked back to the head of his lighting and whispered in her ear. Luxia giggled merrily, blushed, and squealed. “Saul! That is absolutely filthy!!” The many light bulbs of her body grew blindingly bright.

“Now that’s out of the way,” Saul said clapping his hands for attention, “we can finally get started!” Saul the alchemist herded the two nude volunteer girls into the centre of his little stage. “How about a round of applause for our brave volunteers!” The crowd, still growing, clapped politely and one of the young women waved self-consciously. “Amy and Cass here,” Saul said, indicating which was which, “have agreed to become barstools to demonstrate the Cuddle Factory approach to furniture production.” The audience shifted a little, maybe uncomfortable with the idea of such a drastic change. Saul, sensing he was losing the crowd, went on the offensive. “Now, good folks, when we discussed what change these young ladies might like Amy here jumped at the chance of being a public house stool.”

Amy blushed a deep crimson, colour shading her face and the tops of her breasts. “Yes.”

Saul beckoned with a do go on motion, “and why would you do that?”

“Oh! Well, you see, I finished college a few years ago and I’m having the hardest time finding work that matches my degree. And, well, I have truly massive student debts so I’ve been working three menial jobs and barely covering the interest. I work constantly at jobs I hate and have no fun…” Amy took a deep breath, “And I’ve always thought transformation was pretty sexy. So I thought I would come here and volunteer and try to become some sort of sexpet or possession where I would be taken care of and not have to worry about money and just have lots of sex!” Amy blushed even redder. “And being a living barstool must be fun. Always at the party, meeting lots of new people…”

Saul cut her off. “Perfect! And Cass, why are you choosing to become a chair?”

“Well, Amy is my best friend. Gotta stick by her through thick and thin. Ho’s before bros, y’know?”

Amy giggled, “Don’t you mean ‘stools before fools’!?”

Saul chuckled, “that’s the spirit!”

The alchemist tugged at his jacket and clapped his hands and the girl dressed in a maid’s outfit tromped onto stage carrying a tray of open beakers containing coloured fluids. Her shoes were outrageous platform heels and she tottered horribly on the stage, very unsteady on her feet. She stumbled, arms steadying the tray instead of herself, and nearly fell right off the side. Saul reached over and grabbed his assistant by her upper arm, saving her balance. “Thank you dear,” he said smoothly. He picked his way across the tray of alchemy, and lifted up a beaker full of a lime green solution. “Can either of you two do a headstand?” Cass nodded that she could and flopped into a headstand. “Perfect.” Saul walked behind the two women, took a careful step back, and then dribbled half the contents of the beaker onto Amy’s head and the other half onto Cass’s upraised butt. “Folks! Pay careful attention now! Watch as these two lovely volunteers are turned into even more gorgeous living furniture!”

Both women immediately started to moan as the alchemy went to work.

Amy warbled as her shapely young body began to abbreviate, her arms and legs sinking into her body. Soon she was left as a shocked head and torso resting on a hugely expanded ass, which pooled around her, supplying support. Amy moaned and arched her back, thrusting out her expanding breasts, which grew larger and larger. Amy’s back kept arching, now impossibly bent so that her huge breasts rested on the top of her, becoming the seat cushion of her stool body. Amy cried out in orgasm and her head and neck began to melt into her body, retracting into the space between her cleavage.  When Amy’s head finished its migration all that was left was her chin and upside down mouth sticking out of her tit-cushion, optimally positioned to lick a pussy or suck the balls of someone sitting on her. Finally, her smooth, toned abdomen elongated, stretching so that distance between her ass-base and tit-cushion was about four feet. Her mouth squealed, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

While this was happening Cass was also changing, but in reverse. Like Amy her arms and legs flowed into her torso. Unlike Amy, Cass’s head was also absorbed and she grew four more breasts in a ring around her limbless, headless torso which all expanded hugely to form the base of her pedestal. Cass’s ass then expanded massively and became the cushion on the top her stool, with her anus and pussy sticking out between her ass cheeks invitingly. Finally, her abdomen elongated, identical but inverted to Amy’s, turning her into a four foot tall stool.

Both women-turned-stools sat like that for a moment, Amy’s mouth moaning loudly and Cass’s pussy dribbling wet. Saul stoked his chin thoughtfully and drew a slender vial from inside his blazer pocket and poured a drop more alchemy onto both of his volunteer stools. For a breathless second nothing seemed to happen, and then the something poked out of the belly buttons of both stool-girls. The somethings slowly wiggled out like worms, but expanded as they lengthened, becoming neck width tentacles. When the tentacles eventually grew six feet long their tips became wide and blunt and gradually developed the facial features of the two volunteers. Cass soon had her original, smiling face at the end of her belly button tentacle. Amy had grown a face on the end of her new tentacle as well, but in place of her mouth, she grew a duplicate of her lost or buried pussy.

“Awesome,” breathed Cass happily.

“Totally!” gushed Amy from her mouth on her breast cushion.

Saul clapped “Another very satisfied set of furniture!” The happy audience applauded and the stools smiled at each other happily. “If you’d like to start a life as a unique, priceless piece of living furniture, come see me after this demonstration is over, and I’ll happily take your contact information. If you want to own a beautiful, custom, loving piece of living furniture, I have cards for you so that we can start the vetting, sales, and design process.” Saul smiled at the gathered onlookers, and beamed at the crowd as people started to shift and walk on to the next attraction. “That went well,” Saul said and slapped his French maid assistants back, she yelped, stumbled and pitched right off the edge of the stage, her tray of alchemy splashing on her and in an arc in front of her, splattering on a man and woman standing right next to me!

The poor assistant, soaked with an orange solution, stumbled right into the man who had been splashed with something yellow. She went head first into his crotch and… stuck there, conjoining to him face to crotch. The man grunted sexually as his and the assistant’s clothes melted off their joined bodies and as their skin became supple, beautiful oxblood leather. The woman’s naked leather legs scrabbled backward as her body lost its arms and breasts and stretched, becoming wider and longer and flat from the man’s hips to her shapely ass. The man grunted again as his arms and head melted into his torso, which became wide and flat, and tilted backwards so that it met the woman’s body at a 45 degree angle. It was obvious now that the man and woman were becoming a leather chaise lounge, a reclining couch like in a psychiatrist’s office, but one with legs: a feminine ass, legs, and cunt on the foot end, and a masculine ass, legs, and cock below the backrest. The legs stumbled uncertainly, as the woman’s feet grew chunky, wooden heels, boosting her to her toes and making the two ends of the chaise perfectly level. “Ohhhhhhhh!” moaned male and female voices from the assholes on either end of the reclining couch as they orgasmed and ejaculated in pleasure.

The woman who was sprayed was coated in teal and blue fluid and was looking stunned. She was holding a plastic bag full of odd, phallic fish with penis bodies and round, testicle shaped tail fins. She blinked her eyes rapidly and burbled oddly as her clothes began to disintegrate off of her body. When she was naked, three things gradually happened simultaneously: her stomach started to swell as if she were pregnant, her head and legs began to look wooden, and her torso became glassy looking and translucent. Her wooden face moved like she was moaning, but didn’t make a sound.

The woman’s legs, now seemingly made of polished mahogany, began to warp and flow, becoming tubular and boneless and stretching across the floor as a third matching limb wiggled out of her buttcrack like a tail and grew out behind her. She wobbled for a moment, but was soon resting solidly on a tripod of five foot long wooden legs, each developing a carving pattern of scales and, at their ends, wide fishtail flukes. Between each one the woman’s new tripod legs, a circle of human flesh remained, inset in the wood like decorative crotches. One ‘crotch’ featured the pucker of her anus, another sported the pink gash of her cunt, and the third had a feminine pair of lips which began to pant and throatily moan. All three orifices clenched, and the lips squealed, and the woman’s wooden face pinched in a look of orgasmic bliss… and froze that way becoming an immobile mahogany sculpture, her wooden hair rearranging itself into a spikey crown of fins.

Meanwhile the transforming woman’s translucent torso continued to swell, becoming massively, roundly pregnant with matching, huge heavy breasts. The tissue or fluid inside was completely clear now, and her skin was obviously a layer of thick, crystal glass. Her arms, also made of glass and still clutching her bag of penis fish flowed right into her swelling belly leaving her armless and her torso populated by the obscene fish. It was obvious now that the woman was turning into a fishtank.

Her outward changes seemed to stop, while inside her tank body she was developing terrain for her school of the brightly coloured penis fish. A layer of bone coloured white sand covered the bottom of her tank which sprouted breast shaped stones, a phallic castle, a cunt shaped coral, and pink seaweed that looked like delicate labial fronds suspended in water. The bottoms of her hollow glass breasts, looking like fishbowls projecting from the front of the main tank, also gathered sand in their bottom and grew fronds of labia plants. The school of cockfish happily swam around and started exploring, one pushing it’s cock-body into the cunt-coral and others rubbing themselves along the labial plants. The fishtank-woman’s mouth gasped at the sensation.

I was simply agog, the woman who had been standing right next to me was now a cross between a three-tailed, pregnant mermaid statue and a fishtank. I moaned a little in surprise and shock and more than a little relief that I seemed to have been spared.

“What happened?” asked the fishtank

“You transformed,” I said dumbly.

“Ah… into what? I can’t seem to see or move my body.”

“You’re a kind of… glass mermaid statue filled with water and fish.”

“A fishtank?” she asked incredulously.

“A very beautiful one,” I managed lamely.

The fishtank sighed. “I guess that’s something.”

“What about me?” asked the female ass of the conjoined chaise.

“You conjoined with that man you bumped into and became a sort of therapists couch thing with legs and genitals.” I said.

“How appropriate!” chuckled the man-ass side of the chaise. “I’m a psychiatrist!”

“No!” squealed the woman-ass. “I’m taking psychology classes right now! I want to be a sex therapist!”

“A sex therapist?” asked the man ass.

“Why yes! I want to help people get over the inhibitions and learn to enjoy intimacy better.”

“But why?”

“Well I needed to choose a major…”

“No, no, start at the beginning. Tell me about our childhood.”

The chaise started to walk away, psychoanalyzing itself. I took a shuddering breath, amazed that I hadn’t been splashed by the furniture-man’s elixirs. I was standing right next to the fishtank, it was miraculous that I escaped. And then I saw that I hadn’t, really, that I had droplets of purple fluid all down my painted arm and side. I had been splashed! I whimpered in fear, and started to panic.

Except, I was still human. Unlike the others I hadn’t been transformed. I looked at the beaded droplets on my painted skin more closely. It seemed the alchemical compound hadn’t been able to touch me, that the layers of rubber body paint had made an impermeable barrier. I burped a slightly unhinged giggle. I had been saved from being turned into living furniture by Avola’s ridiculous marketing ploy! I laughed harder, what a ridiculous turn of events, I couldn’t believe it! I had tears in my eyes I was laughing so hard. I reached up with my hand to brush them away and then caught myself. I was still covered in alchemy! I swallowed and hastily headed to the bathroom to wash the offending fluids off.

After using paper towels to dry off most of the alchemy in a restroom, I hurried over to Avola, carefully bringing all of the soiled paper with me. I told her what happened and she chuckled and brightly told me that this would be a perfect demonstration. So she gathered a crowd of onlookers, pointed out that I had been spilled on. Using her roving antenna to sense alchemy, Avola meticulously decontaminated me, cleaning my body paint thoroughly and then carefully pealing it off before disposing of every contaminated article in a safety receptacle. I stood naked in front of a crowd of clapping convention goers deeply grateful to still be human.


In the days that followed we started to get our first calls. It seemed that between our presence at the convention and our demonstration we had managed to get the attention of the alchemical community. I was relieved because it meant we were at last in business and Avola was hugely smug because she had been right.

I also followed up with The Cuddle Factory to see what had happened to the victims of the accident. Saul’s wife, the bed, who along with being a floor model was the stores receptionist, was happy to help. The fishtank woman apparently ran a pet shop with her husband and since her transformation had been installed in their store. The conjoined psychiatrist’s chaise had decided to remain in the therapy business, now working as a team of conventional and sex counselors. Apparently the chaise-duo now made housecalls, walking into their clients homes to have their patients lay on them and discuss their issues or fuck them to get past their insecurities. The bedwoman was also happy to tell me that the barstool girls had already sold and had been adopted by The Serpents Hood, a popular bar in the transformee community. I told Saul’s wife that sounded like a good place for them and was happy everything had more or less worked out.

And that is how I escaped the alchemist’s convention because of a layer of ridiculous body paint.



Words and story by Indigocarmine

Key transformations and the Cuddle Factory were developed with Redstar

Additional editorial help by KSG


Re: The Escapist!

Another trip to the Alechemist's Convention, and it was well worth the wait. My concern is with all these near misses, will eventually she yearn for a transformation. In just this one story alone she goes from hatred to amusement over transformations.


Re: The Escapist!

I'm a bit confused because I can't tell if they were marketing the paint in the first place? Great story nonetheless.