Topic: Of Wives and Wyverns
Fiona Swan uses a potion that promises to temporarily transform her into the object of her husband Martin's sexual fantasies. Things do not go as planned.
I suppose the most appropriate place to start this story would be with the panic attack I had in my apartment’s parking space. It was my 30th birthday, and I had made a big mistake.
I am of the firm opinion that people should get their 30th birthday off of work. Better yet, they should be restrained so that they don’t bring harm to themselves or others, the same way we do with the criminally insane or werewolves on the full moon.
For those who have not yet had the pleasure, the big 3-0 is the day you realize you’re running out of runway for fuckups. It’s the day to assess the current state of your life and wonder how you ‘ended up’ this way. How did I end up less successful than all my friends? How did I end up coming home to this slum of an apartment complex? How did I end up trapped in a loving but utterly sexless marriage?
These were the exact questions that had been rattling around in my head all day, driving me mad. I had to do something to change my lot in life, and rash, impulsive decisions were made. Decisiveness had met impulsiveness, and I already regretted what I had done. Now it was time to march up to our apartment and break the news to my wife. Daydreams of my wife embracing me as the romance of our marriage was reignited gave way nightmares of her flipping out and holding me to task. After all, her thirtieth birthday had been just last week, and she hadn’t made any big, irresponsible decisions.
I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and made my way to our front door.
“Honey! I’m ho-- oh, hello.”
Fiona was waiting inside. She was wearing leggings and a sports bra. The way her athletic wear lifted her breasts and accentuated her curves made it, in my opinion, one of her sexiest outfits. But it was odd that she should be wearing it at this hour, and there wasn’t a drop of sweat on her.
“Welcome home, handsome!” she said cheerily, greeting me with a kiss on the lips. She handed me a glass of red wine, and before I could get a word out of my mouth, she lifted her own glass and made a toast.
“To Martin: my birthday boy and the love of my life.”
I clinked my glass against hers and took a polite sip. Fiona took a much larger one.
“Thanks, love, that was very sweet,” I said, nearly choking on my anxiety. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She nodded and took my hand. “Here, let’s sit together as you say it.”
Fiona led me to the couch and sat close beside me so her hips and leg pressed against my own. The end table had been cleared to make room for a trio of flickering tea candles.
“Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”
I swallowed. It was time to come out with it.
“I bought us a vacation to the island provinces.”
She furrowed her brow as she processed the information. “That’s where we were going to take our honeymoon.”
“The one we couldn’t afford? Yes.”
I braced myself for the coming storm, but it never came. Instead, Fiona raised her hand to her heart. “Martin! That’s so romantic.”
I shook my head. “We still can’t afford it. Even if I could find a few more weddings that needed a photographer this month, you would have to pick up another three or four Boober rides each day. . .”
“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”
This was not right. I knew my wife. We had always been open with each other about our worries. It was one of the great strengths of our partnership. At the very least she should have shown some hesitation, some anxiety, but there was not a hint of worry in her eyes.
Shee laid her arm around my shoulder such that her breasts pressed against my arm. “Let’s just focus on having a good time tonight.”
She silenced me with a kiss. This one was deep and intimate, and it caught me off-guard. We hadn’t kissed like that in months. I caught a whiff of the perfume she’d worn on our wedding day. She broke the kiss and gazed at me with half-lidded eyes decorated with eyeliner. She never wore perfume or makeup.
She was trying to seduce me.
This was odd. Our love life was on the rocks. We hadn’t been intimate in over a month, and neither one of us tried to initiate anymore. I would have thought it was a forced attempt at a birthday gift if not for the husk in her voice and the way she drew her breath through her lipsticked lips in rapid little gusts. She was genuinely horny. Somehow, that made her behavior even more unsettling. It was as if she’d been possessed by a succubus.
“Honey I’m not--” I started, but she interrupted me with another kiss. Her hand dropped to the crotch of my jeans and squeezed a pulse into my penis. The situation was ringing alarm bells in my mind, but I was still a man. I allowed my lips to mingle and return her romantic gesture. Soon our tongues began to play, and our hands slipped under each other’s clothes for a chance to feel the touch of skin. Before long, touching transitioned into groping and fondling. She pushed down the front of my jeans and wrapped her slender fingers around my stiffening penis. I slid my hand between her bra and her breast and cupped its supple flesh.
She broke the kiss and stared at me with a look of desire so intense it was frightening. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
“Yes,” I whispered, and she pulled me to my feet only to embrace me once again. We stumbled toward the bedroom, awkwardly kissing and undressing each other as we went, catching our balance against the walls of the hallway. She skipped pulling off my shirt and went straight for my zipper, freeing my cock and fondling it as we went.
When we arrived, she slipped out of her pants in record speed and laid face-down, with her shapely ass raised high in the air. Her plump ass cheeks and thighs made a gorgeous frame for the delicate frills of her pussy. She was very attractive.
For a human.
What would I turn her into tonight? I stroked my dick absently as I approached her, and my imagination kicked into gear. Something reptilian would be nice. Something powerful. I pictured a thick, substantial tail sprouting above her heart-shaped ass, twitching as it grew long enough to obscure her privates, then curling upward and flopping forward, revealing her altered genitals. Her pussy was gone, replaced with a scaled, horizontal cloaca. It twitched in anticipation as her tail wagged back and forth over her head. \n\tFiona had no idea the fantasies I conjured when we made love. I kept my obsession with transformed girls locked deep in the depths of my own imagination. It might sound silly, considering how commonplace alchemical transformations were becoming in certain parts of the empire, but it comes down to the way I was raised. Every time I pictured coming clean, I felt sick with terror. And if I did tell my wife, what would she hear? That I didn’t find her delicate, painstakingly maintained, wonderfully-proportioned human figure attractive? That I wanted her to change everything, her body, her lifestyle, her very role in society to satisfy my bizarre fetish?
No, I had accepted long ago that I couldn’t muddle my relationships with my depravity. I was content keeping these fantasies private, doing what I was doing at that very moment: mentally changing my partner’s body into something more thrilling, more taboo.
I uncapped the lube and drizzled a little onto my penis. Some transformees naturally produced thick, slimy fluids like that. Maybe she did too. I could see her scaled cloaca glistening with them in my mind’s eye.
Fiona had her kees planted on the edge of the bed, putting her ass in the perfect position for me to fuck standing up. What if she was standing on all fours? What if she was some creature with thickly muscled, reptilian legs? A wyvern would do. A wyvern that was submitting to little old human me, or better yet, demanding satisfaction from potential prey.
I pressed the head of my penis between her nether lips, and discovered that she was, in reality, wetter than I’d ever seen her before. The lube had been unnecessary, but the extreme slickness played right into my fantasy.
I closed my eyes-- like I always did when we made love-- and the hole I was fucking was no longer a pink human pussy, but a slick reptilian vent. Her opening milked my penis eagerly and effectively, considering I would have needed a horse’s cock between my legs to truly fill her depths. She was desperate enough that even my human length elicited churrs of pleasure.
I gripped those powerful draconic hips. Her scales were stiff and cool under my fingertips. I wasn’t able to see much past her tail, just a wide, scaled torso stretching forward, muscles rippling under the scaled skin. Her neck lengthened as I fucked her, stretching to and fro like she was trying to loosen up a pulled muscle. Now it was long enough for her to turn and look back at me as I thrust into her. She had a pleasured look on her ever-more reptilian face, fan ears twitching with each thrust. A crown of little horns gave her draconic head a regal embellishment. A long, forked tongue lolled from a cute bluted muzzle. Inside was a row of meat-ripping teeth that would seal my fate if I didn’t properly satisfy her.
The creature spoke.
“That’s right, love. I’m nothing but your fucktoy tonight. I’ll do anything you want.”
Fiona’s generous words melted through my fantasy. I was back to fucking my human wife, the extra pudge we’d both put on in the years since our wedding jiggling a little with each thrust. I would have to lay off the birthday cake.
“No more words, honey, please.”
She let loose a passionate groan of pleasure that turned bass and beastial as I rebuilt my dream. The winged forelegs she kept folded under her body would have been useless for pleasuring herself, so it was no wonder this wyvern was desperate enough to task her satisfaction to a mere human. Her cloaca gripped my shaft in a series of blissful spasms. It seemed I was performing my duty well.
This thought, and the very real climax my wife was experiencing, was enough to take me over the edge, and I came as well. The volume of my cum surprised me, but it had been a while since we were intimate.
We collapsed atop the covers and snuggled together in our afterglow. It was the best sex we’d had in years.
Fiona kissed me on the forehead. “Happy birthday,” she said. There was subtle disappointment in her voice.
“Is something wrong?”
She sighed. “This didn’t exactly go as I thought it would.”
I ran my fingers through her red curls. “What do you mean? I enjoyed myself.”
“Well, don’t be mad at me” she started, her body tensing, “but I kinda sorta found your porn collection on our computer.”
My eyes shot open. “You what!?”
We sat bolt upright to face each other. She looked as nervous as I was. “It wasn’t my fault! You left it open! I logged on, and there it was.”
“Oh no.” I buried my head in my hands. All these years without a single slip-up and now this. I could only guess what embarrassingly lewd transformee smut she’d seen.
She pulled me into a hug. “Don’t worry, big guy, I don’t mind. In fact, I kinda want to try it out myself.”
“You do?” I sniffed. My chest lifted with hope, then tightened again. She didn’t understand the weight of that offer. She was trying to make me feel better. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true!” she urged, pulling away so she could look into my eyes. “I was going to do it tonight, as a gift for you. Last week I emptied out my personal savings and bought a demon-cum potion from a traveling alchemist. I drank it before you got home.”
“You drank a potion you bought off the street!?” I grasped her shoulders and searched her eyes for some hint that she might have been joking, but there was none. “That’s crazy! You’re lucky you didn’t turn into my cock, or melt into a puddle of genitals!”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Calm down. It was supposed to be temporary, and it was clearly a dud anyway. The man told me it would make my body match whatever you were picturing in your head as you fucked me. So unless you weren’t fantasizing about anything at all. . .”
I looked down in unspoken shame.
“Well then, I guess I got scammed.” She collapsed back onto the bed.
I laid next to her. “A potion that did those things would have cost a fortune. And besides, honeysuckle,” I said, giving her cheek a kiss, “I love you just the way you are.”
“I know you do, honeybee,” she sighed. “I just want you to lust for me too.”
That was the last we spoke of my freshly revealed kinks and Fiona’s inadvisable trip to the potion-seller that evening. We had some cake, did the dishes, and watched TV. I was nervous about the followup conversations we would have to have, but for the moment, as we went to bed and drifted off to sleep, everything was as it had always been. Normalcy had been restored.
It did not last through the night.
I was half-asleep when I noticed something was amiss. Fiona slept on her side. I rolled over to spoon her, but I couldn’t get comfortable. It felt like her knee was jabbing me in the stomach, but that would have it pointing the wrong way. My groggy mind slowly figured it out. If her legs were both down there, and her arms were out in front of her, then that meant the lump above her ass was something else entirely.
I rocked her awake. “Fiona, something’s wrong.”
She yawned and tried to roll over. The motion bent her new appendage the wrong way, and she leapt to her feet with a yelp. Now I could see it clearly. Starting at the base of her spine and standing proudly above her butt crack was a thick, stubby tail. It was no more than twelve centimeters long, but it was fat enough that its base pushed the top of her ass cheeks apart with its girth. She reached down to feel it and gasped. It twitched anxiously in her hand.
“Don’t worry, Fiona,” I said, my voice shaking, “We’ll go to the doctor. They’ll figure out what to do!”
She turned to face me, but instead of looking horrified, she had an ecstatic grin plastered on her face. “It worked! Babe, it’s really happening! I have a tail!”
I watched, entranced, as she grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand and craned her back to take a video of the little wedge of her tail. “Hello, tail!” she said, waving her hand in the frame. Her tail wagged in a mock return greeting. She giggled furiously.
My mind flooded with an exotic cocktail of fear and arousal. Shock as well, if that’s what you call the blank indecisiveness that gripped me while my instincts to flee and fuck battled it out. I watched my wife run her hands up and down the length of her tail. Blood rushed to my groin, and for a moment it seemed that arousal would win out. Then she turned to me with an expectant look on her face, and the long-honed reflex of hiding this particular kink tied my stomach in a knot.
“We have to go to the hospital,” I said.
Fiona’s face dropped in disappointment. “The potion is temporary. You want to spend that time in the hospital?” She turned so her tail was pointing toward me like an accusing finger. “Don’t you want to touch it?“
I wanted to, but I had a feeling the situation was far more grave than Fiona understood. I tossed her a pair of panties. She frowned in annoyance but begrudgingly stepped into them. With her tail in the way, the panties barely hung to the curve of her hips. She turned around and leaned forward to give me a better view of her backside.
“How’s it look down there?” she asked, with a teasing glint.
The lacy waistband was wedged underneath my wife’s new tail, and something surprising was visible behind it: her asshole. The growth of her tail had drawn it up to the top of her crack in the same way a landslide might pull a geographic feature some distance down its destructive path yet leave it undisturbed. But now that I was looking, the dark pucker did seem different. Was it bigger?
I shook the thought out of my head and returned to the task at hand. Clearly, pants were out of the question, so I grabbed a dress and helped her Finoa pull it on. Her tail tented the rear like an exaggerated mockery of my own cock, which, despite the tense situation, refused to go flacid.
Thankfully, none of our neighbors were awake to see me ushering my transforming wife into our car. As soon as we were buckled, I sped off to the hospital.
Fiona shifted in her seat, trying to find a position that didn’t cramp her tail. “Why are you so anxious, honeybee? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“No!” I cried.
Her face fell. “You’re telling me you didn’t picture me growing a big thick tail last night?”
I swallowed, and my wife’s face split into a smug smile. “Hah! I knew it. You’re still keeping your secrets from me. That’s okay. Now at least I know you like tails. Big thick ones, from the feel of it.”
“I do not!” I wailed.
“Oh yeah?” Fiona’s hand shot out to my lap and gripped my erection through my pants. “You can lie with your mouth but not with your dick.”
She gave my penis a couple strokes, eliciting an erotic tingle that caused me to swerve within my lane.
“Honey, please! I’m driving.” I pulled her hand away from my crotch.
“Sorry, I’m just so damn horny. I haven’t felt like this since we. . .well since ever.”
Her fingers wandered under her dress and down her panties. I listened to the wet, slicking sounds of her self-pleasuring for the rest of the drive and resisted the urge to pull over and join in on her fun. The potion was clearly affecting her mind, and as the level-headed one, it was my duty to get us to the hospital.
I parked the car in front of the emergency room. When we stood, my wife left a dark wet spot on the seat’s upholstery. Her face flushed bright pink. She grabbed some paper napkins from the glove box and made a token effort to wipe up the slimy spot, but it was no use. We headed inside to get some answers.
Unfortunately, there were few to be had.
Doctor Tanaka was a short woman who wore her hair tied up in a bun. “Whatever you drank, the effects are almost certainly permanent,” she said as she measured my wife’s tail. “Fourteen centimeters.” The nurse jotted the number on her chart.
For the first time since we’d awoken, my wife’s giddy excitement disappeared. “Permanent? I’m going to be like this forever?”
She paused as the diagnosis sank in. Her mouth twisted into a nervous smile, but her eyes betrayed a mounting dread. “Guess I’ll have to cut tail holes in the back of all my pants when we get home.”
“That’s the spirit,” said the doctor, “though it’s anyone’s guess how long you’ll fit in them.”
I spoke up. “You mean growing a tail isn’t the end of it?”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Considering the shady source of the potion and the nature of demon cum, I’m surprised you two didn’t merge into something that looks like it belongs in Karma’s realm.”
It was as I feared. I laid a comforting hand on Fiona’s shoulder.
Her tail drooped. “A creature from Karma’s realm. . . something so twisted it can hardly do anything but shamble around and fuck anything that moves. Is that what I’m becoming?”
Doctor Tanaka pointed her pen toward me. “He has a better idea than any of us, I should think. That said, even if this potion had a mental aspect, there’s no telling how you’ll end up. Thought-guided alchemical transformations take years of intensive training to master. A single stray thought could manifest itself in drastic and unpredictable ways.”
“Oh,” my wife and I said in unison.
“The only thing you two can do is wait and see what happen--”
She was interrupted by a groan from Fiona’s stomach so loud it sounded like she’d swallowed a full-grown drake. When it was over, the doctor and I stared in silence, and she grinned sheepishly.
“Maybe it was something I drank?”
Fiona grunted, clutched her stomach, and pitched forward onto the floor. I moved to help, but Dr. Tanaka stopped me with a gloved hand. All I could do was watch as Fiona’s tail thrashed about inside her dress and began to grow. The sound was like peeling away a strip of heavy-duty tape mingled with the popping of stiff joints. The bulge of her tail snaked across the floor until the tip extended past the bottom of her dress. The growth stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving Fiona panting on the floor. At this point, the Doctor let me go to her. She was rattled but otherwise safe.
The doctor knelt and pulled her measuring tape down the length of Fiona’s tail. “Eighty-nine centimeters,” she announced. The nurse dutifully jotted the number down.
“Is there anything we can do?” I half-begged.
“You can start by exploring your options,” the doctor said, handing us a brochure. It as titled “So You’ve Transformed into a Hyper-sexed Monstrosity.” The front had a photo of a transformee that I recognized from a porno.
With that, Dr. Tanaka wished us the best of luck and ushered us out the door so she could see patients she had some hope of helping.
We got into the car and sat in silence, both of us trying to process what was happening. Fiona sat at the edge of her seat with her tail curled uncomfortably to the side. It laid over the center console, and each nervous twitch brushed against my arm. She was the one to break the silence.
“Wanna go get General Tang’s?”
That caught me off guard. After our outlandish morning, it was such a mundane suggestion. But it was past two, neither of us had eaten, and cheap comfort food was just what we needed.
“Sure,” I said with a hint of a smile. Her tail tip flicked with excitement.
We went through the drive through, parked, and ate in silence. General Tang’s portions were ridiculous. I was stuffed halfway through my order of sweet ‘n’ greasy chicken, but Fiona was still eating. She downed her sticky beef and started on our side of fried rice without missing a beat.
“So, honeysuckle, how’s it going?” I asked, tentatively.
Hearing this, she paused her feast for the first time. She looked at me with distress. “I’m freaking out. Can’t you tell?” she said around a mouth full of rice.
“It looked like you took the news pretty well. It certainly hasn’t hurt your appetite.”
Fiona swallowed her mouthful in a single gulp. “I thought eating would calm me down, but I’ve had so much and I’m still so hungry.” She lifted the box of rice and poured the remainder down her throat like she was finishing a drink. She reached for the box of steamed pork buns, then had a change of heart and threw them back into the bag.
“I shouldn’t eat any more, but I’m a bottomless pit! And even though I’m ravenous and terrified, I’m still hornier than ever! Demons, what’s happening to me!?” she wailed, tears forming in her eyes.
Guilt choked my insides like a noose. I had to help, but how? I took her hand in mine. “Fiona, honeysuckle, it’s going to be okay. I’m here for you. I love you.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Thanks, honeybee. I love you too. I just feel so conflicted.”
I pursed my lips in thought. “Once you drink a potion, you can’t fight it. People say it’s best to try to embrace the changes. Listen to your body, become what you’re going to become. If you’re hungry, you should eat.”
Fiona managed a weak smile. “You read a lot of transformee blogs don’t you?”
I broke eye contact. “A couple.”
“Embrace the changes?” she pondered, reaching for a pork bun. “I’ll try, but it’s scary. It’s like I’m caught in a river, and if I stop swimming against the current, who knows where I’ll end up? What I’ll become?”
Fiona snapped her head to the side and let loose a burp so loud it rattled the windows. She held her hand over her mouth bashfully.
I chuckled. “You’re excused.”
With that, she devoured the bun. It was surreal watching such a lithe woman put down that quantity of food, but I didn’t want to stare. I gazed out my window waiting for the smacking, slurping sounds of her eating to finish. After a couple minutes, I grew confused. There hadn’t been that much food left.
I turned to find her laying forward on the dash, tail curled up against the roof. Her hand was up her dress, rubbing furiously at her pussy.
“I’m sorry,” she said guiltily, though she didn’t stop. “I told you I was horny, didn’t I? It’s been like this all day. I’ve been so desperate for touch.”
I glanced around the parking lot. “I get it. Just try to be discreet. Someone might see you.”
“That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it?” she moaned, then blushed bright pink. Embarrassed as she was, her eyes stared at me with pure, unbridled desire. Her hand made a slow, deliberate motion under her dress, and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. How many fingers was she using now? Two? Three?
Another mighty belch escaped her gaping mouth. It rumbled forth for several seconds, and she didn’t stop her hand or change her gaze for the entire time.
“I’m still hungry, too.”
Once Fiona had summoned the willpower to withdraw her dripping hand and sit down in her seat, we went through the drive through again. This order was even larger, but it didn’t even last the drive home. When she finished, her stuffed belly pressed visibly against her dress like she was showing a second trimester pregnancy.
Back at our apartment complex, Fiona clutched the bannister as she hauled herself up the stairs. Her leg muscles strained to carry the combined weight of her incredible meal and the thick tail that nearly dragged on the ground behind her. Her panties were stretched hopelessly around her knees, pushed aside by her relentless new limb, but she was either too absorbed by the effort of climbing the stairs to notice or she simply didn’t care.
Once inside, Fiona immediately pulled her dress over her shoulders and tossed it into the corner. I rushed to draw the curtains.
“What a day,” she yawned, stretching her arms. “Let’s see what’s in this brochure the doctor gave us.” She took one of the pamphlets and collapsed belly-down on the couch. As she read, her tail swayed back and forth in the air.
Fiona’s changes were already far more extensive than I’d realized. The whole shape of her body had shifted to accommodate her hefty tail. The base was as thick around as one of her thighs, and it pushed apart not only her ass cheeks, but the very bones of her hips. They were inhumanly wide, and her rear had bulked up with muscle and fat, giving her a bottom-heavy look.
With her tail lifted in the air, I had a clear view of the changes to her privates. Her asshole had swollen into a muscular pucker at least double its original size. It had finished its migration to the underside of her tail, though it was getting difficult to tell exactly where her groin ended and her tail began. Her pussy was as human as ever, but it had gone completely bald and was practically dripping in feminine fluids.
“Enjoying the view back there?” Fiona cooed without looking up.
I busied myself by hanging up my keys. “View of what, honeysuckle?”
“I think you know.” Her asshole and vagina clenched in a vulgar mockery of a wink. My heartbeat raced to keep up with the demand for blood in my loins.
“Some of the transformees in this brochure are pretty sexy. Look how many tits this woman has! And this guy’s tongue got turned into a cock. Apparently, it sticks out past his lips whenever he gets horny. No wonder you like this stuff. I’m starting to see the appeal.”
She dipped her fingers between the delicate folds of her labia and began to stroke.
I swallowed. “I guess”.
“Come on, you love it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a fifty pound hunk of meat hanging off my ass, would I?”
Fiona flipped over onto her back and gazed at me with the same mindless lust that she had last night. She spread her pussy’s lips with her fingers and flagged her tail in a beckoning gesture.
“It’s just the two of us. Why don’t you come over and get to know the new me a little better?”
My erection strained against my pants, eager to take her up on the offer, but I shook my head.
“No. I can’t.”
Fiona froze with surprise. “What? Why not?”
I sighed. “You don’t want me to fuck you. It’s just the potion talking.”
“No, I do!” She cried. “I want you to come over here and fuck me until we both pass out in each other’s arms, just like you used to.”
I crossed my arms. “No. I’d be taking advantage of you. You’re not yourself.”
“Wasn’t that the point?” she asked with pleading eyes. “If this is the new me, then I’m a freaking nymphomaniac. I can’t stop thinking about that dick of yours, and I know you can’t stop thinking about me. So get over here and let’s fuck already!”
I broke into a cold sweat. This was everything I’d fantasized about, but I couldn’t handle it. It was all too sudden and far too terribly real. I searched for excuses but there were none.
“I just can’t, okay?!”
A flash of hurt crossed Fiona’s face, but it soon shifted to a devious sort of look. “Fine, play hard to get. I’ve been seducing you for six years, and the potion is only going to make it easier. I can feel it worming through my body, rearranging all my pieces to match whatever wonderfully lewd fantasy was swimming around that head of yours.”
I opened my mouth but didn’t have anything to say. Finally I sputtered, “I’m going to take a shower!” and turned to do just that.
“Think of me when you’re in there,” My wife called after me, her hand starting to work between her legs again. “I’ll be thinking of you!”
I shut the door, turned on the water, and wrapped my hand around my cock. She was right: I did think of her. Isolated behind the locked door of the bathroom, behind the shower curtain and the concealing wall of steam, all my unfocused social anxiety washed away. My “alone time” did a good job of untying some of my emotional knots, and the same seemed to be true for Fiona.
The rest of the evening was a lot more harmonious, though she did still run the tip of her tail up and down my thigh every chance she got. When she wasn’t teasing me, she was cooking and eating just about everything we had in the fridge.
“I wonder what kind of food they have in the island provinces,” she mused between bites.
I smacked my forehead. “Oh, demons! I forgot about our honeymoon!”
I started pacing like a madman. “How are we going to pay for it? You can’t drive for Boober if you can hardly sit in the car. You’re going to have to find a new job and buy new clothes. . .” I groaned. “And I forgot to call in to work today! So hopefully I don’t lose my job too. We’re going to have to cancel. Oh, all those non-refundable fees!”
On my next lap around the kitchen, Fiona caught me in her arms. “Calm down, honeybee. We’re going to take that vacation. I promise.”
“The brochure actually had some useful information in it. We should visit the Bureau for Transformed People tomorrow. We might be entitled to some money from the government.”
“I. . . I suppose that makes sense.” I said.
Fiona gave me a peck on the forehead. “Don’t worry, honeybee. We’ll get through this.”
That night we laid on our sides, Fiona hugging me from behind. She quickly slipped into a noisome, snoring, stomach-rumbling slumber, but I laid awake wondering exactly what my wife, and our lives, would become.
- 2 -
In retrospect, the feet were the first sign that something had gone wrong.
Fiona and I stood at the door, all ready to go to the bureau save our lack of shoes. I had already called in sick to my job -- which it turned out I still had, though my boss made it clear there was no more room for fuckups. We’d eaten breakfast, and my wife was wearing the only dress that fit her anymore (and even it was stretched near breaking around the incredible girth of her hips). Now she stood staring at the shoe rack with a puzzled look on her face.
Her legs had changed overnight, and not in the way I expected. Instead of growing into the powerful, draconic hind legs I’d pictured in my fantasy, they’d been compressed. I say ‘compressed’ because for each of the twenty or so centimeters they’d lost, they’d gained an equal share of muscle and fat. Now they easily bore the weight of my wife’s extraordinarily wide hips and growing belly. It was clear that not all of the food she had been guzzling was turning into new muscle and bone. Her stomach was downright rotund, but she looked more pregnant than fat. Her belly still formed a smooth curve between her splayed legs to join her tail.
Fiona wobbled as she tried to shove her foot into a flip-flop. Her shortened legs were much worse for balance, but she stabilized herself using her tail, which now dragged on the ground behind her. With my help, she managed to maneuver the thong of the flip-flop between two of her three remaining toes. They’d fused in the night, leaving a trio of swollen, padded digits. Each one was tipped with a powerful talon that caught on the carpet with every step. The overall configuration of her enlarged feet were still human: she still walked on their flats, not on their balls like a true wyvern.
She stood up on the sandal only to have her massive feet spill over the edges.
“Ugh. It’s way too small,” she said, kicking the shoe away. “I’ll have to go barefoot.”
I nodded. “Maybe we can buy you some larger shoes when we’re finished at the bureau.” This morning’s changes had hit Fiona fairly hard. She had me take photos and videos of her body soon after we woke up. She thumbed through them with a sober, almost somber look on her face that made me feel even more guilty about the erection I was trying to ignore.
We made our way over the hot asphalt and crumbling cement sidewalk. I grimaced thinking of how it’d all feel on Fiona’s bare feet, but when I looked over, she was grinning.
“This doesn’t hurt a bit! The bottoms of my feet are very tough. In fact, going barefoot is kinda liberating.” She looked at me with that familiar devious spark. “So I’m turning into some sort of reptile-woman, then? Is that what you were picturing, love? thick legs, thick tails, and smooth scaly skin? What’s next, a big forked tongue I can use to tickle your hard-to-reach places?”
“I told you, I hardly remember what I was thinking that night,” I said. Yesterday it was an excuse, but today I was beginning to believe it. I didn’t dare tell her that her legs were the side effect of some unknown stray thought and not the focus of my fantasy.
Intended or not, my wife’s hips and tail were too massive to squeeze into our car. The public bus was our only option, and it felt very public indeed. Passengers waited patiently as I helped Fiona take wobbling steps up the stairs. We stood in the back under a blue placard depicting a person in a wheelchair and a bipedal penis.
A group of children near the front of the bus watched us and whispered jokes to each other. I had done the same when I was their age, making jokes about “monster-lover” men and speculating about what sorts of odd positions they would need to use to fuck their transformed wives. I felt terribly exposed, and Fiona probably had it worse. She tugged her dress down to cover as much of her legs as possible, but it did little to hide her alterations.
The Bureau for Transformed People was headquartered in a large brutalist spire that looked suspiciously phallic. Inside, the walls and floors were smooth tile, and there were no carpets or upholstered seats anywhere to be seen. A glance at the other people waiting in the room made the reason for all the waterproof surfaces obvious. One woman sat naked, reading a magazine as the forearm-sized penis between her legs dripped a steady stream of precum onto the floor. Another man sitting close to me had a large brass ring pierced through his nose, and his blushing face had swollen into the start a bovine muzzle. He was clothed, but it did little to help his modesty. His unseasonal sweater couldn’t conceal the large, wobbling breasts on his chest, and his pants were unbuttoned to accommodate the taught, veiny udder resting between his legs. Each time he shifted, his teats leaked small streams of milk onto the ground, eliciting little gasps of pleasure.
That was our number. We were directed to a small booth for our consultation. The woman sitting on the other side of the desk had an absolutely giant pair of breasts squeezed into her blouse, but it was difficult to tell whether she was a transformee or simply fat. Her name tag read “Bess.”
Bess barraged us with questions and recorded our answers without looking up from her papers. Her every word dripped with impatient boredom.
“Well Mr. and Mrs. Swan,” she said, peering at us over the rims of her glasses for the first time since we sat, “the matter of financial aid will take a while to settle, but I should be able to get you into some temporary transformee housing starting tomorrow.”
“Oh, that sounds excellent,” beamed Fiona, “I’ve been having a hard time fitting through doors and using the toilet in our apartment.”
“I’m sure,” Bess continued in her bored drone. “Now you put here that you’re still in the process of transforming. To figure out where to put you, I’m going to need to know what you’re turning into.”
“Oh, I don’t have any idea.” Fiona looked at me, and that devilish glint reappeared in her eye. “But he does.”
A ball formed in my throat, and I tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow it.
“I see.” She crossed her arms over her generous bust. “You wanna leave while we discuss it?”
“Oh, no. I think I’ll stay.”
Bess raised her eyebrows, closed her eyes, and shook her head as it to say “some people. . .” She picked up her pen and turned to me. “So what’s your wife gunna be when she’s done?”
I scratched my forearm. “Well. . . I’d rather not say. It’s kind of personal, you see.”
She heaved a sigh and looked down at her forms. “Is she going to be mobile?”
“How about an udder? Any lactation?”
“Is she gunna grow a dick or need any male masturbation aids?”
Bess looked at me, lowered her glasses, and frowned a frown so utterly venomous, I was genuinely frightened. “Are we gunna have to sit here playing twenty questions all day, or are you gunna tell me what she’s turning into so I can fill out the damn forms?”
My wife stared with her. Under their combined glare, the mass in my throat had grown so large I could hardly speak.
“Fine!” I finally choked. “She’s turning into a wyvern, a big scaly dragon with wings instead of forelegs, a cloaca instead of a pussy, and no breasts or anything!”
Fiona squeezed my hand lovingly.
“I know what a wyvern is.” Bess said, replacing her glasses and starting on the forms. “How big are we talking here?”
“Big. As big as a horse, maybe,” I said. The mass of anxiety in my chest was gone. I gazed into Fiona’s eyes. The deviousness in her smile had been replaced by tender pride. “I like to imagine she’s big enough to force me to do whatever she wants. I’m afraid, but she’s in heat. She’s needy. My life is on the line, but it’s easy to perform because the situation is just--”
“Okay, that’s more than enough, Mr. Swan. I’ll ask the questions.”
Fiona wrapped her tail around my waist and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, honeybee?”
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, and the ball in my throat disappeared. “No,” I admitted, “It really wasn’t.”
We spoke little on the bus ride home, but all the same it felt like a barrier between us had been lifted. The bus was crowded, and I squeezed close against Fiona’s flank. Standing so close to her stomach, I was the first person to hear it growl. It started as a near-silent groan but quickly grew to a cartoonish rumbling. This time, everyone on the bus really did turn to look.
My wife grimaced and clutched her stomach. I gave her room, and she would need it. Despite her dress, the changes were obvious. She rocked side to side on her shortened legs, widening her stance, and her pelvis broadened with a muffled creaking. Her thighs swelled under her dress, lifting it from her ankles to her knees. Hollow popping signaled a lengthening of her back, and she regained the inches that had been stolen from her legs. Finally, her midsection, which was already a tad rotund, swelled like a water balloon. The floral pattern on her dress distorted as the fabric stretched far beyond its limits.
Fiona’s expansion halted, and for a moment it seemed the dress would hold. Then there was a loud ripping, and it gave way. It didn’t just tear along a seam, either; it practically disintegrated. She yelped in surprise, and shot her arms out to cover herself. Despite her expansion, she still wasn’t fat or flabby. “Rotund” would be a better word, like a dragon from a childrens’ cartoon. One arm moved to cover her crotch, but, with her elongated torso, she had to bend to reach. The other arm slapped over her chest. My wife had always been well-endowed, but now her arm easily covered her breasts. Were they smaller, or had her chest simply broadened?
The passengers reacted viscerally. An older woman gasped and covered her mouth. A father turned away and told his children not to stare even as he caught a couple glances himself. A teenage boy furtively pointed his phone’s camera in our direction and began to film.
I dropped to the floor and scrambled to gather the shreds of Fiona’s dress, but she placed a hand on my back to stop me.
“It’s okay, sweety.”
I looked up to see that she’d relaxed her other arm, revealing her nudity.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, and I stood up. True, it was perfectly legal, even normal, for transformed individuals to go nude, but I hadn’t considered that Fiona might someday do the same, let alone that it would happen so suddenly or so soon.
Her face was calm, but her cheeks burned pink. In fact, her whole belly seemed to be blushing. The skin on her lower body had changed since the last time I saw it. Everything up to her navel was completely smooth and hairless, and the skin between her legs had split into a carpet of bright pink, pebble-like scales. The scales around her pussy glistened with moisture, bringing further attention to her privates.
We waited patiently for our stop. At one point, Fiona bent over, acting like she was gathering the few remaining threads of her dress, but I was in a position to see her grinding her rampantly wet vent against an unused armrest. The musky, exotic scent of her arousal filled our section, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who smelled it.
Fiona’s body had none of the graceful strength I’d pictured in my fantasy, but there was power behind her movements nonetheless. At this point, she could have beaten me in a wrestling match. The thought sent a flutter in my stomach.
Fiona’s hips got caught in the doorway to our apartment. I placed my hands on her ass cheeks, pushed, and she came loose with a jolt.
She sighed. “Thanks. To think, after all these years of watching my figure, I’m going to turn into a fat wyvern.” Fiona turned and embraced me, her bulk pressing me against the door.
“Thank you for coming clean today, Martin. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m glad I did,” I said, honestly.
She caressed my cheek and guided my face into a deep, romantic kiss. Despite the shortness of her legs, she was now as tall as me.
“So, if I’m turning into a wyvern, I guess I’m going to lose my hands.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” I said, reaching my hand down my pants to readjust my dick. “The doctor said anything could happen.”
Her hand slid sensually down my cheek. “Well if my arms do transform into wings, I’m going to need a human to help me out with all sorts of tasks that require a more delicate touch.”
I shrugged and started to squeeze past her. “Well I suppose--”
She braced her arm against the door right in front of my face, blocking my escape. “Suppose? What if I insisted? I already outweigh you, and I’m only going to get bigger. Would you rather see me angry, or pleased?”
That fiendish, playful smile was back. The window’s light glinted off teeth that had reshaped into little pointed cones. It sent a chill down my spine and into my groin, causing my penis to flex between us.
“Pleased?” I peeped.
“That’s a good boy,” she cooed, dragging her hand down to my belt. “If you’re really good, maybe I’ll let you use this.” She punctuated the sentence by flicking button of my pants open and gasping my cock.
I gasped. “Oh, I-- I’d like that.”
Fiona scoffed, pulling her hand away. “That wasn’t a free offer. You have to earn it.” She took two steps back and crossed her arms. “First, take off all those silly human clothes.”
I nodded eagerly and pulled my pants down, freeing my erection to stand proudly in the air. I hadn’t been this hard in years. Fiona licked her lips. I pulled my shirt over my head, kicked off my socks, and stood naked and exposed. My hand started idly stroking my penis.
“Ah! No touching yourself until I say.” Fiona ordered. I immediately stopped. “Good. Now stay put and don’t move a muscle. I’ll know it if you do.”
She turned and sauntered over to the couch. After puzzling a moment how exactly to use it, she turned and let herself fall backwards into the cushions. By curling her back, lifting her legs in the air, and gripping the edges for support, she was able to “sit” facing forward. Her tail extended between her legs and rested on the floor below, leaving her underbelly and crotch exposed. She shifted to get comfortable, and the wooden frame of the couch groaned a complaint but held.
“There,” she said. “Now come here.”
I approached obediently.
I did so. Her exposed crotch was within arms reach, and the scent of her sex once again filled my nose. Her asshole was now a plump, horizontal slit that pursed and shifted with each twitch of her tail. The opening was covered in thousands of delicate scales that had a darker, reddish color than the others. Just above, her pussy was nothing more than a subtle crease in the scales between her legs, only noticeable as the source of the clear fluid that ran in little rivulets down her tail onto the couch cushions below.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” she rumbled impatiently. “Pleasure me!”
I reached a trembling hand to her pussy, but the tip of her tail slapped it away with startling quickness.
“I still have hands of my own. This time, I want you to use your mouth.”
And so I did. I straddled her tail, lowered my face to her dripping-wet vent and went to town. The taste was different than when she was a human. It was the flavor of roasted mushrooms, sweat, and raw sugar. My tongue flicked between her smooth, scaly folds, and Fiona let loose a sigh that sounded very much like a pleasured hiss. I kept my hands off my desperate erection but stole a sliver of relief by humping her tail. If she noticed, she didn’t mind.
“Do you want to fuck me?” she asked between gasps.
“Oh yess,” I moaned, only lifting my face enough to form the words.
“Then beg, little human.”
The look in her eyes was one of diabolical bliss, and I could no longer tell whether she was acting dominant for my benefit, or if the days of intense lust had finally cracked her. This made the situation even sexier.
“Please, Mistress,” I begged between licks. “Please let me fuck you.”
“Yess. . . Do it! Do it now!” she barked impatiently.
I stood, maneuvered the tip of my cock into position, and penetrated her. She was so slick, I hilted myself inside of her on the first thrust. To my surprise, despite her increased size, her pussy was tighter than ever before. It clenched and pursed powerfully around my cock.
“Harder!” she moaned, “faster!”
I obeyed as well as I could, shifting my stance so that I could really plow her. My balls brushed against her swollen asshole with each thrust, and each time it pursed as if to kiss them in thanks.
We were in such ecstasy that it’s difficult to remember how long our lovemaking lasted. It couldn’t have been more than a minute. Fiona’s climax was intense. Her tail lifted between my legs and pressed against my back, forcing me close. She threw her head back, mouth and eyes fixed open in shock. Her passage clenched around the base of my cock with such strength that I’m not sure I would have been able to pull myself free even if I wanted to.
My climax started halfway through her own, and, to this very day, I believe it was the best orgasm I ever had.
We remained intertwined, slack-muscled and panting, for a few moments before sliding onto the carpet below. There we laid together, steeping in the hot wash of our afterglow, letting our emotions wordlessly intermingle. The tender, caring touch was back in Fiona’s face, and I was relieved to see it.
“You’re really good at playing the ‘big, dominant dragon,’” I said.
“It helps to have such an excellent costume,” she giggled. “And besides, you’re not the only one who dabbles in a sexy fantasy from time to time.”
I propped myself up on an elbow and looked at her. “Is that so? You fantasize about dominating me?”
“Oh no,” Fiona’s eyes bashfully dodged mine. “I just had a good idea about what you wanted because it’s similar to what I’d want.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I know, I know,” She sighed. “I like to imagine being a pet.”
“Yeah. You know, just lazing around the house all day, waiting for my master to get home, throwing myself at his feet when he finally arrives. He takes care of me, and in return I do anything he wants.” She bit her lower lip and looked me in the eyes. “Anything.”
She buried her face in my shoulder. “It’s silly, I know.”
I kissed her neck. “Oh, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t mind having a pet wyvern from time to time.”
She looked into my eyes with immense relief. “You’re serious? Oh, thank you so much, Martin.” she gushed, wrapping her tail around me and hugging tight. “You’d make a good master. It’s going to be a lot easier to embrace these changes knowing you’ll be there for me, wherever they lead.”
“I’ll always be here for you.”
We sat in silence for a moment, then a smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe you could have me on a leash for my change party?”
At this I bolted up. “Change party? You didn’t say anything about a change party!”
“I am now. Come on, we can have it in the park. It won’t cost us a dime.”
I felt sick to my stomach. “When?”
“Soon. The day after tomorrow? I don’t want to be too. . . far gone when it happens.”
I begrudgingly agreed. The thought of having a change party filled me with profound dread, but I pushed the worries aside. After this evening’s excellent sex, I was confident the worst was over. No matter what happened in the coming days, we would endure it easily.
I was wrong.