Topic: Zoe's Exotica
“Don’t get me wrong, Suzy, I’m thankful for this new job. It’s just… different than what I expected.
I’m thankful, I really am. I know the job market is difficult right now. It’s a crying shame you’re cleaning houses with your degree, and I know Mabel is a secretary with Faustus and Sisters Law Partners. We’re all doing our best, and I thought I had gotten lucky with something at least in my field, even if I’m only an alchemist’s assistant and primarily just doing, like, shop work and customer service. I probably did get lucky, I mean, I’m getting exposure and learning stuff, but…
Zoe’s alchemy shop is just so strange. There’s a huge waiting list; people sign up for her transformations like three months in advance, and it costs more than I earn in a year. But sometimes she takes walk-in clients? Sometimes for free even! She has me help with some of the transformations, but mostly I’m just there to talk with customers when she’s occupied… or when she doesn’t feel like it. Or when she’s bored. It helps that I can actually talk to them, since, you know, Zoe has a pussy for a mouth and is entirely mute.
But the thing is… I get so many complaints!
Like, just the other day…
It’s a little past noon, and things are quiet in the boutique. I’d already fed the few sexpets we had in stock, since there are always a few on sale, people who get transformed on a whim and just wait for someone else to buy them, so for the moment there was nothing for me to do. I was kind of leaning on the front counter, flipping through one of the transformational-fetish magazines we keep for guests, and then, just like that, the door swings open and this really angry woman storms in and yells “Who is in charge here!”
So, I put on my best, uhg, customer service smile, hide the magazine, and chirp “Can I help you?”. The woman is middle-aged, mid-forties I’d guess, with short blonde hair in a tight bun, ice-blue eyes, and a severe blouse and skirt. Her whole look just sort of screamed ‘businesswoman using her lunch-break to run an errand that is pissing her off’.
And behind her, trotting on all fours, was a cat-girl.”
“I know, I know, you’ve seen a bunch of cat-girls around. It’s a popular transformation and a bunch of rich kids with more money than sense get some ears and a tail and maybe some extra boobs. Just a little lavish kitty accessorizing. But this one… she was walking on all fours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her arms and legs were about the same size, and they all ended in paws. Full paws, without fingers or thumbs, just four kitty feet to walk on or swipe curtains with. She also had eight full breasts along her underside. And I mean full. Bigger than mine. She seemed a little smaller than normal for a woman, so those boobs were crammed together, squishing against her legs as she walked on all fours.
She was covered in grey and white fur, darker towards her top, finer and whiter along her bottom, with a two foot long, really fluffy tail. Her face was partly feline, too; still human enough that you could tell she started out as a woman, but her mouth and nose extended into a muzzle, and her nose was this cute, triangular black thing. She even had triangular cat ears on top of her head.”
“Sometimes It’s the little things that really stick with you. Like, while I was looking at her ears, I noticed something really odd. A human head rests on top of the spinal column, right? So you can stand upright. But this cat-girl’s head was attached to her neck from the back. Her spine and head were comfortably horizontal, parallel to the ground. That’s when I realized that, not only was she comfortable on all fours, she couldn’t stand up on her hind legs at all. And… that clued me into the sort of mess this cat-girl was in. The cat-girl looked downright sheepish; her ears were lowered to the sides of her head, her tail was stooped low, her own cool blue eyes were cast downward at the floor… it was like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.
“What in the hells did you incompetent half-wits do to my daughter?!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, what seems to be the problem?” I asked. You know how when you get overwhelmed you kind of fall back onto stupid stuff? Yeah, that happened to me. I felt like an idiot.
“What’s the problem!? My daughter came to this establishment three weeks ago. You gave her a modest, cute transformation, and then she went on a cruise for spring break. When she comes back, she’s a fucking cat! The bloody cruise-line even asked if they could keep her onboard as a mouser!””
“Haha. Yeah, it was hard not to laugh at that last bit.
“Ma’am, could you, uhm, give me some details? What manner of change did your daughter request? Or, better yet, if you give me her name and the date of her changes, I could look her up in-”
“Cynthia Hawthorne! She came in two weeks and five days ago, and when she left she looked like this!”
Then Mrs. Hawthorne slammed her phone onto the counter. Well, she placed it forcefully. It was a weird gesture, but she kind of pulled it off? Like, she play-acted angrily putting down a phone to show something, without breaking the phone? It was weird. But, anyway, the phone displayed a picture of a young woman, college aged, smiling and posing in front of an upscale house. The family resemblance to the woman in front of me was unmistakable; she had the same demure nose, the same blue eyes, the same commanding figure, the works. But she was also a little cattish too. Her short hair had become the lustrous grey of her current fur, and was broken by a pair of cat ears. She had eight breasts which were visible underneath her t-shirt: the top pair were c-cups, and each lower pair were slightly smaller, until the ones by her navel were hardly noticeable. She was wearing a pair of panties, tugged down a little bit to let her foot-and-a-half floofy cat-tail out.”
“Yeah, totally the standard cat-girl transformation package. Far from the girl on all fours in front of me.
“And you’re certain this wasn’t the result of additional transformations?” I asked the mother, lamely.
“Of course not! She left for a cruise the next day, and I have a dozen people who will swear she didn’t come in contact with anything even remotely transformative that whole time! Including two of her friends, who, I might add, got similar transformations themselves before the cruise and are still walking upright. They had the changes done by other alchemists, but I insisted that only the best would do for my girl. Those two are still normal, but Cynthia is a fucking housecat now!”
Now, this is where things get strange. See… I’d had to read through a giant orientation booklet when I got the job, and there was an entire chapter in it covering, well… things exactly like this. I tried to remember it on the spot and work my way through, like, a check-list or flow chart or something. The first bit? Talk to the transformee.
“And how is Cynthia handling the changes?” I asked, walking around the counter and crouching down towards the cat-girl’s level.
“Mrrreeeow…” she meowed.
“She can’t even talk! All she does is make cat sounds!”
“Mrrrrrrrow,” Cynthia meowed in agreement.
“Okay… so she’s non-verbal now…” I muttered, mentally going down that flow-chart from the orientation manual. Absently, I sort of petted Cynthia, running my hand over her head, neck, and back. She was so soft, and when I stroked her, she started purring. It was so fucking adorable… and, kinda hot, if I’m honest.
“How is she supposed to return to university like that!” her mother demanded while giving me the stink eye. She wasn’t a fan of me petting her daughter.
“Well… she can’t speak. Looking at these paws, she can’t hold a pencil, use a computer, or meaningfully interface with fine objects or machinery…”
“That’s the fucking problem!” Mrs. Hawthorne all but yelled at me. Like, everything was there except the volume. It was like being yelled at in a professionally appropriate way. She was super-pissed, but I just sort of continued down the protocol since I didn’t know what else to do.
“Yeah… so she meets all the requirements for petdom. I have some of the forms over here? We can do this with a pawprint from her or a signature from her legal guardian. It’ll reclassify her as a pet, renounce her human rights and legal personhood. Then you can claim her as a fully dependent pet, unenroll her from human obligations, and even give her away or even sell her, if you’d like.”
“Yeah, that was probably the wrong thing to say.
“You want to turn my daughter into someone’s fuck-pet! She’s set to graduate magna cum-laude! She’s the head of two community outreach projects, captain of the fencing team, and contributing research for two separate doctrinal studies!”
Cynthia looked down at the floor again and did an adorable sort of shuffle. I kind of got the impression a lot of that wasn’t exactly true, but maybe this woman had been too busy to give her daughter’s claims any more than a cursory glance.
I looked at the phone. It was a newer model, kinda trendy, and I wondered if it might have been Cynthia’s and not her mother’s. On a whim I started swiping through the picture gallery. The first bunch were of a perky, bipedal cat-girl Cynthia, showing off on the cruise. A few more and I came across a picture of Cynthia, looking worried, taking a selfie with her shirt pulled up. Her eight breasts were getting bigger, and grey fur was beginning to appear on her hands. There were a few more where Cynthia seemed distressed, recording additional changes, like the growth of fur along her back, her muzzle forming from her mouth and nose, and her feet elongating as her legs became… you know, that sort and back-and-forward, walking on their toes sorta thing cats have?”
Well… the worried selfies didn’t last much longer. The very next one after the foot pic had Cynthia and her two friends, each with their own fuzzy cat ears, and they had Cynthia on her back. She was holding up her phone and taking a picture while her friends were sucking at some of her lower tits, each one grown to the size of her originals by that point. The next several pictures continued that trend; Cynthia licking out a friend’s pussy with her enlarged cat-tongue, Cynthia being pet by her friends with a contented expression on her face, Cynthia dancing topless with her eight full breasts on display. Cynthia on all fours, her mouth around someone’s cock, another male guest thrusting into her from the rear, her tail lashing the air. Cynthia proudly posing next to a dispatched rat...
Mrs. Hawthorne snatched away the phone, her face red with anger. I have to admit, I was blushing too. The whole sequence just seemed… kinda sexy, if I’m being honest.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mrs. Hawthorne. But sometimes alchemy can have unexpected side effects that manifest over the following weeks. It appears the potion rather agreed with your daughter. I’m afraid these things can happen… in fact, I’m pretty sure there’s a clause about it in your daughter’s signed transformation agreement…”
“Don’t give me that fucking nonsense! Just tell me what you’re going to do to fix it!”
“Well… as your daughter was made fully aware before signing her contract, transformative effects from Zoe’s Exotica are entirely… err… irreversible. But! But, uhm, I can offer you a discount? We have a variety of fashionable collars, as well as a suite of grooming tools and dietary supplements…”
Now, here’s the thing about Zoe… she is like, thirty feet long. She is a naga with dozens of boobs, and she is big. But she’s also quiet. I swear to the heavens, I had no idea she’d emerged from the backrooms, her laboratory, until I heard the ‘clink’ of a saucer touch the tiled floor. Startled, I turn from Mrs. Hawethorne, and there’s my boss, the alchemist Zoe, delicately adjusting the saucer of cream she’d placed on the floor. Cynthia hesitantly padded over towards it, her tail ducking downward, and then she lowered her head and began to lap up the milk with her somewhat less-than-human tongue.
“...s-supplements like SexyPet brand Lascivious Creame, a special combination of natural and alchemic ingredients guaranteed to keep your daughter’s coat shiny, and improve her… libido…””
“Yeah, it was a weird thing to say, but I was kind of running on auto-pilot.
Anyway, Zoe stroked Cynthia with one of her six arms and then casually slithered over to us. She had the most serene look on her face, like this was all perfectly natural. Well… the look was mostly in her eyes; she has a vertical pussy instead of a mouth or nose, and a long forked snake tongue flicks out of it every few seconds. She’s just so big, and she has a hell of a presence. Her head is on top of this long neck, kind of arced like a looming snake, with a cobra hood running from her temples down over her neck and to her shoulder blades. With the way she holds her body she has like two feet of height over me, and her tail stretches and winds such a long way behind her. She looks sexy and haughty in photos, but you don’t realize just how big she is until she’s right there next to you.
Well, she approached us and I handed her a clip-board. A big part of my job is just anticipating her needs, and a big part of that is giving her stuff to write with. She’s almost always naked, and she communicates almost entirely in writing, so I grabbed a handy clipboard and a pen from the counter and presented it to her. She picked it up with two of her left arms and began writing without even looking at it.
“Your daughter is a fine feline. I’m certain she’ll make her owner very happy. Now, how can I help you today?”
Zoe’s handwriting is super-fancy. And she does it super-fast, without even looking. I mean, like, she writes in calligraphy, with all these flourishes and fanciful strokes. If she’s feeling flowery, it can be sort of hard to read. I kinda suspect she does that on purpose.
Zoe’s presence sort of took the wind out of Mrs. Hawthorne. I guess it’s one thing to be angry at a twenty-something clerk, and something else to yell at a thirty-foot-long, six-armed, naga-alchemist?
Zoe picked up another clipboard and pen from the counter, this time with two of her right hands. She began simultaneously writing on both clipboards, while one of her free hands casually drifted over some of her tits, running her delicate fingers over her a row of her nipples.
She showed off the first message to the angry customer, “Why don’t you come into my office, Mrs. Hawthorne. I’m certain you’ll find my agreement with your daughter in good form. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I believe we can find a reasonable recompense for this unforeseeable development.”
And, at the same time, she showed me her other note; “You’ve done well. Why don’t you take care of our darling little pussy-cat while I talk with her mother? And prepare the forms.”
She took Mrs. Hawthorne by one hand and sort of tugged her off into her office.
So… after getting yelled at for ten minutes, I was left alone with Cynthia, who was finishing up her milky treat.
And… uh… she was just so super cute and sexy. I remember laughing when she licked off of a bit of milk from her nose. I helped her try on some new collars, petted her, and got out our ‘voluntary relinquishment of personhood status’ form. I filled it out while talking to her, and she meowed and purred happily. The form allows an opportunity to rename the pet, and I may have filled out Cynthia’s new name as Pussy. It’s a common pet name, but it just seemed to suit her. We even have some collars with it preprinted, one of which I’d fixed to her neck.
Well, Mrs. Hawthorne came out from Zoe’s office nearly forty minutes later. She looked flush, but… well, not so much angry flush and more… sexy flush. I didn’t get a good look, but I’d swear her breasts had grown a couple cup-sizes, and her blouse seemed kind of ruffled, and she was walking a little funny. She picked up the pet form, signed it for her daughter, bought about a thousand dollars in pet supplies, and walked out with Pussy in tow.
Pussy seemed happy. When she came in she was nervous, her body language all small and hesitant. When she left she had a spring in her paws, her tail was standing up, her sex was wet and on display for all to see. It was like she was proud to be such a sexy kitty!
Zoe didn’t mention it, and I haven’t seen either of them since… although I looked up Cynthia’s old Face-Portal page. It hasn’t been updated since she became Pussy, but her photos from the cruise are still up and so fucking hot.”
“So… yeah. The job isn’t quite what I expected.
But here’s the weirdest thing… that script I fell back to when Mrs. Hawthorne confronted me? Like, all of that was in my employee manual. This happens so much that Zoe has it written into my orientation. I’ve only been working with her for a week and I’ve had to deal with three clients who’d come in for minor changes and ended up filing for legal pethood. Or being filed for…
It’s probably nothing. I mean, all alchemists have… unexpected side-effects, from time to time, right?”
“Yeah, I guess Pussy did seem happy with what happened, in the end...”