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A Bizarre Transformation Fetish Literotica Forum – join us at https://discord.gg/tqezsy8 for art, RP, and more
“Would you like to see the rest of the contract now?”
Casey blinked slowly, rolling her gaze back to the top of the page in front of her. “Er… ah, can I…” She looked up again to the man in the suit across from her as he folded his hands. “Sorry, still reading it.” “Take your time.” He said, snapping back with practiced coldness.
Forgetting to nod, she continued to parse the document, or what was apparently just its first page. Casey slid her thumb along the line of her cheekbone, pushing back her stringy shoulder-length blond hair that hung in uneven hay-colored strands. Her index finger flicked at the edge of her square glasses, knocking them slightly out of alignment so that she could take her other hands and right them over her nose. “I just don’t see how this has anything to do with working as an idol…”
The man broke his interlocking fingers to reach out and tap on a sentence towards the bottom of the page. “Here. You’ll be working for the gallery in an entertainment capacity.”
“Ok… why does that part make it sound more like I’ll be part of the gallery? As an exhibit...” She was as concerned with the language as she was genuinely confused by it. The pay was quite good, a lot more than what she expected for her first contract. Still, those rumors of newbie idols getting burned by bad agreements that came back to bite them kept rattling around in Casey’s head. The money was too good, and it said so little about what sort of work there would be on her end. “Sorry, again. I just want you to explain. I mean, a real explanation.”
“For tax purposes.”
“Huh?” She blinked twice and then a third time for good measure.
The man’s hand zipped to another passage. “By classifying some of our entertainment and employees as art exhibits, we bypass many costly labor regulations that would impose greater taxes, and restrictions, on the Stoveson Gallery.”
Casey pulled at the hem of her black turtleneck, the fabric scrunching up as it gripped over her chest. “Is that… legal?”
“The Stoveson Gallery is highly experimental. But yes, it is legal.” His finger moved again to a passage on the corner of the page that Casey had missed. “Provided that our employees undergo a level of artistic modification, they can also be classified as exhibits.”
“What sort of modification?”
The man smiled, folding his hands again. “Imagine a tattoo artist would like to display their work, but as a stipulation, it can only be viewed on live bodies. Pictures wouldn’t suffice. Do you understand?”
Casey softened her posture, scanning the page again without reading it this time. “Oh.” It was weird but made sense. The whole gallery was weird, so that at least felt on brand. “Ok, I get it. So, will I have to be naked?”
“Have to?” The man’s chin shifted. “No, you will be able to wear some clothes. This is regarding the dress regulations on the 3[super]rd[/super] paragraph?” Casey nodded. “Right, well you will be required to show some amount of skin too, whatever is necessary to display the artistry when required. So, no but also yes… in short, some amount of nudity will be expected. Is that a concern?”
Casey inhaled deeply to keep from spitting her words across the interview desk. “Uh, yeah it’s a concern! I’m not signing up be a stripper.”
“I see. Of course, well, you know we are very strict about our zero-photography policy or forbidding any touching of the exhibits here.” Her look of scarlet cheeked indignation held strong. “Have you ever posed for a nude portrait. It’s very similar. People look at you like a piece of art, searching for understanding and meaning.”
“Riggght…” One finger pushed the corner of the pager, nudging it across the table in the man’s direction.
“Would a 25% pay increase change your mind?” The page halted. “Our artist has been very particular about who he works with. After he saw your picture, he said he wouldn’t work with us unless I was able to get you to sign as an idol.”
“Really?” The red in Casey’s face shifted hues. “I mean, that sounds better. And while I work here, the gallery pays for my housing and everything?” “That’s correct, all comped on top of your salary.”
“Hmmmmmm.” Casey flipped the paper over, finding blank white. It still wasn’t her first choice of a job, but at least it was high paying and presumably high profile. The Stoveson Gallery as well known for leading the world in experimental art. At least that was what Casey had found from her Google searches, since she would never be able to afford the price of admission. Nothing had come up about them ever signing an idol though, so there would definitely be publicity. All she had to do was catapult that into a new contract with a more conventional idol group. “Do I sign on the bottom?”
The man pulled out another sheet that he swiftly flipped onto Casey’s hand. “On the line here please.” “Ok.” She took the pen by its neck, holding it over the paper. “Wait, uh…”
“Sorry, hmmm…” She felt like she was forgetting another question, signing her name as she considered it. “Right, my music! I retain all rights to my songs and all that, anything I produce while I’m here too?”
The man nodded while scrooping up the paperwork. “That won’t be a concern Ms. Thomas. The gallery has no interest in any musical component for the exhibit work you’ll be doing for us. Can you come this way with me now?”
Casey stood up to follow the man, her shoulders dipping. “Oh… so I was just being scouted for my appearance?” Flattering for sure, but still a little disappointing.
“Well, yes. But I’m sure we can work out something that lets you display your vocal talents as well, it’s just not our main selling point at this time. I hope you understand.”
“Sure.” The man led her through the first floor, mostly a sterile white landscape of rectangular walls, empty frames, and large glass boxes in the middle of each room. “Umm, where is all the art?”
“We keep the art in storage and the exhibits are only on display during visiting hours.” He stopped to round a corner into a new room. “Wouldn’t want you to stand around without anyone watching.”
Another turn and they entered a similar room where the central glass display case was opened on one side. A person was leaned up against the glass wearing an olive color overcoat with puffy bandages that covered most of their face. Only the eyes shown through the gauze and wrapping, eyes with pale gray irises that stared straight at Casey, taking in her every motion.
“This is Alm, or you can call him the Artist.” A collapsible doctors table was positioned diagonal to the glass walls near the corner of the, beside it sat a chrome roller desk with dubious medical equipment. Casey gulped at the artist’s gaze methodically gliding over her from head to toe.
She grabbed onto her forearm, pushing up her sleeve nervously. “Is this for those modifications? Like, right now?” Her attention was divided between the concerning needle-like devices on the desk and the mysterious faceless figure.
“That’s right. So I’ll leave you two alone. Just do what the he asks of you.” The man left as Alm pushed themselves off the glass, stumbling at little with their first step towards Casey.
“Uh, hello.” Their hands were bandaged too, so Casey kept her own arms at her sides instead of offering a handshake. The way they moved was unnerving to say the least, a hobbling sort of walk like they were disabled and bearing the pain of standing without a crutch. She let them get within two feet of her before taking a sliding step back. “S-should I call you Alm?”
“You have a beautiful neck.” The words came suddenly, like the artist had been trying to force them through since the moment Casey entered through room, only for the sentence to get caught in their stomach.
“Thank you…” The artist was maybe as tall as Casey, but the way they hunched over made them seem a head shorter.
“Sorry, my manners. Alm is good. Artist, also good. I do not mind.” Alm held out one hand, pausing their fingertips in the air between them. “May I see?” Their voice was soft, almost in a pleading manner, haunting without being threatening.
Casey followed the invisible track of their frozen gesture to her neck. Her own fingers got there first, feeling the slippery fabric of the turtleneck. “Do you want me to take this off?”
“Yes, all off.” The artist motioned to the sweater and Casey’s skirt. “All?” Just how big was this tattoo going to be?
“All. You are the canvas, so I must see all. Then I decide.” Alm put their hand down again, turning to the side and shuffling towards the table. “My English is not the best, I will try. If not making sense, you tell me.”
“Uh, no I… I am understand fine...” Casey did a deep breath, pulling the sweater over her head, and then slipping out of her skirt. She followed Alm’s footsteps to the table, setting down the clothes at the foot end.
Alm looked at her from across the table. “All off.” They pointed to her black bra and underwear.
So there would be nudity involved after all. Casey pushed her lips together uncomfortably, reaching behind her back to unlatch the bra, and then stepping out of her panties. She always felt her cup size was slightly larger than average for a woman with her slender build, but nothing exceptional to look at.
A flat brown mole was almost symmetrically placed on the lower left side of each breast, covered by Casey’s arm as she hid her chest and cupped the other hand around her crotch. The artist didn’t seem to mind her attempts at modesty, still with a line of sight at her clavicles.
“May I touch?” He reached out again, Casey tilting her chin up so that the mitten-like hands could palpate on her neck. “Oh, it is very nice.” Alm’s motion was slightly shaky, but they pressed with gentle force on Casey’s bulging sternocleidomastoid muscles. The more she raised her head, the softer the artist’s fingers sprung on the bowstrings of her throat. “This… it is good when you lean up. I will… the word… yes, accentuate this…” The sensation was stiff but never painful, and then Alm’s hand retracted back to their side. It felt like the artist was talking to themself, moving away from Casey to weakly poke the head of the table. “Ok, you lay.”
“Face down?” Alm nodded and Casey took off her glasses to get onto the table, fitting her face through the opening at headrest. Without any clothes on, it was like laying on a cold vinyl bed, her ears acutely aware of any noise Alm made beside her.
“Relax. Calm. There is not needles for you. I only use hands.” Her spine was as tight as a metal rod, stiff and visible under the skin. She could hear something metal lifting off the desk and then set back, spiking her breaths at every unknown clatter. “And special lotion. That all, ok?”
Casey squirmed again at the sound of something squirting out of a tube. “Yeah. This won’t be permanent, right?” It was all so strange, everything about this gallery and this art that would be done on her. At this point she just wanted it over with, to close her eyes and wake from a bizarre dream.
“It is art. You make, and unmake. I do nothing I can not redo.” His unbandaged hands touched down on her back, making Casey shudder suddenly at the coldness of the lotion and the dryness of the artist’s palms whenever they pressed into her. “But you know, it is art. So always new, not like you go back in time…”
“Yeah…” Casey sighed as Alm scraped away the tension from her shoulder blades. “Nnhh!” A little whimper couldn’t help but slip out at every pass over her back, rolling her muscles like dough.
“That is good. Yes, being soft. And the noises, very good.” The artist traced her dorsal lines in the same way, eliciting the same whimper. “Tells me that what I do is right.” Their hands returned to her shoulder areas, cupping around Casey’s deltoids with rhythmic pulses. She closed her eyes, imaging that the artist had slid under her skin, tossing away anything that gave her soreness.
“Y-yeah, there…” Casey tired to touch on her back in the exact spot, but her arms felt too limp to lift. Alm found the sore spot anyway, griping and pulling at her sides. The tremor in their touch was gone, replaced by warm pressure like their hands were heated stone.
“I take your arms away now.” The artist squeezed Casey’s fingers together, holding the five digits and palm with tight pressure until her hand only felt like a stiff tube. “But it will feel good.” A murmur of agreement while Alm preformed petrissage up the length of her arm, feeding the flesh into the shoulder. The skin at her brachial plexus swelled with heavy fat before it absorbed her shoulder joint, and then her entire arm. Alm twisted the single sensitive finger into the center of the lump, giving it another pinch to press it into the shape of a nipple, then sculped the sides of fat sphere to form a sloped and shapely breast.
“Hhnn hnnn…” Casey was breathing heavily, her mouth hanging open as the boob in place of her right arm settled down on the table. She couldn’t move it except to stiffen the sensitive nipple fingertip, and Alm was already moving to her left side to repeat the process. It felt so good, the way the artist sculpted her bone into blubber, filling her cold knuckles with jiggling heat. “MMmm!” She practically squealed when Alm turned her fingers into a nipple and then affixed it to the breast at her left shoulder.
“You like that?” The artist cupped and stroked over the smooth breast surface where Casey’s deltoids had been, listening to her softly moan. Reaching under her body to where her chest was pressed against the table, Alm slid his palms over her bust and tested the yield of her tits, making sure they had replicated it perfectly. “It is good, I want to do more too.”
They moved one space lower and outwards, pinching Casey’s abdomen hard until the red sting became a squishy tingle. “Breath for me, in out.” She did as they asked, gasping for air when Alm’s fingers gently pulled forward, heavy breast flesh slowly embracing their fingers. With every inspiration, the new breasts swelled, and with every expiration Alm held firm to her nipples till they jutted out like pink mountain caps. When the new pair had reached the same size as the others, the artist seamlessly moved lower again and started once more.
Casey was in sheer delight with each swollen and sensitive addition to her chest, squirming as best she could to rub her developing assets against the table and Alm’s hands. Her torso was the complete with a single breast added to the circle of six, the artist the beginning anew along her sides. Two more pairs below her arm tits, followed by another pattern of seven on her polished backside. Each breast was settled on the slope of two others, a single jiggle cascading pleasure through Casey’s upper body.
Alm moved down to her legs, folding up her forelegs onto the back of her thighs. Casey hoped they would turn those floppy limbs into breasts too and leave her as a quivering boob sphere. The artist had other plans though, forcing her feet onto the surface of her bare buttock. After holding the lightly contorted position for long enough, she could feel the surface of another foot within her butt that Alm grabbed hold of and began to drag outwards.
“Gghnn…” The sculpting motions to form new bone and joints was not as soothing as when Alm had reduced her arms to immobile fat.
“Sorry, this is unpleasant, but with good cause for it.” When the third leg was fully formed, Alm bent it to the side and out of the way to draw out a fourth leg from Casey’s other asscheek. Their hands felt around the new thighs, twisting delicately so that each of Casey’s knees now bent in diagonal directions. “Between each legs there should be treasure.”
Alm brought two fingers to the lips of Casey’s vulva, tracing the fine oval of her labia, then testing the depth and breadth of her vaginal cannel as one would neatly dip a finger into cookie batter to measure its taste. It was not a motion that aimed to pleasure her, this was earnest exploration and appreciation of her anatomy. Her mouth hung open, wanting to say something but not wanting to interrupt whatever would come next.
Still holding two fingers inside her slit, the artist stuck the thumb of their other hand on the spot between Casey’s new backwards facing legs, rubbing circles in her skin. Pale cream turned to itching red, and then to glistening pink folds as Alm’s digit sunk into the opening. “Aaahh, ahhnn!” Casey’s eye’s fluttered, streaks of drool hitting the floor.
The artist’s worked her new entranceway like ceramic pottery, hollowing and widening the freshly formed pussy. With a firm pinch at the labial hood, Casey gave an emphatic whine when three finger rolled the tenderest fold into a marble-sized clit. “HHnnngnnnhnn…” All four of her legs twitched and tightened around the artist’s hand before they pulled away.
“I should stop now, but symmetry calls to me. Do you agree?” Their hands moved to the blank cleavage formed on either side of her waist by the new and old legs.
“Yes, nm y-yes!” Casey’s mind was awash in pleasure, her torso heavy and studded with sensitive breasts, now inviting two more cunts into her body without hesitation. Everything felt so good, as soon as Alm began to dig into the tissue at her hips, she’d knew she made the right choice. “YYyes!!” Both the artists fingertips swept rhythmic arcs inside of her, pushing deeper and harder than before. The practiced motion that carved out a perfect replica of her vagina repeated twice at once sent Casey into overdrive, her whole-body throbbing and bouncing on the table. A smear of precum leaked from her original cunt when Alm put the finishing touches onto Casey’s latest pair of clits.
Hands withdrawing from her waist, the artist reached through Casey’s clustered boobs to carefully raise her to a sitting position. Her head swung groggily at first, then straight up as she saw herself in the reflection of the glass display case. “W-what am I?” Her entire trunk was a grape-like bushel of tits that sat atop four evenly spaced legs with a glistening slit between each pair of thighs. She blushed at the indecency of the reflection, crossing her front pair of legs on the table for some modesty, though it only further exposed her other three genitals. The loss of her arms dawned on her when the only motion she could make on her torso was softly shaking her breasts together, unable to every hide even a single plucky nipple.
“An idol.” Alm shuffled back over to the desk, rebandaging their hands. “The primordial idol, image of fertility and abundance. Mother incarnate, glowing with four pregnant belly of child who will nurse on bounty of breasts above. The idol is… is like idea which should never be, but is still wanted, craved.”
They spun their hand in the air, spinning desperate thoughts together. “They look on you and say, ‘I want it, but I do not want it’. That is to be desired in the deepest mind, that curse. But you see now, you see in the eyes.”
Casey raised her chin and turned, wishing just a little she could touch her neck and see if it felt as slender and perfect as it looked in the glass. The artist’s words didn’t match her thoughts perfectly, but she understood. It was scary how strange she looked, and scarier how much she liked it, how much she had always wanted to be so exotic without knowing it. “It feels… I don’t even know, but… it’s just, I…” Words trailed off when she realized she neither wanted to acknowledge her oddity, nor deny her new beauty.
“Can you move?”
She looked down at her front legs and tried flexing her back legs to scuttle off the table. “I think so.” Alm clicked a little remote on the table and it mechanically lowered till Casey was able to plant her feet down together. She walked to the side like an awkward crab, fearful to keep more then one leg off the ground at a time, else her heavy topside might crash into the ground with no arms to break her fall.
The artist wheeled over black stool towards Casey, carefully reaching under her lowest ring of breasts to help her left up and sit balanced on the stool. “Better?”
“Yeah…” A central support was nice, letting her move around by pulling at the ground with her heel. It was a very lazy and decadent way to move. Casey thought how she would rather be pushed on the stool by servants, how the gallery goers would kneel in front of her, asking to touch her all over, begging to fill her with seed. Of course, they wouldn’t say those things with words, but like Alm said, she would see it in their eyes.
Casey twisted up one of her legs, leaning forward slightly to see if she could scratch her nose with her toes. It was barely reachable, mostly because the density of her breasts made it difficult to bend before they squished together uncomfortably.
“Here.” Alm unfolded four pairs of black stockings and slowly knelt to the ground, opening them up for Casey to slide her legs into.
“Thank you.” She spun on the stool in quarter turns so that Alm could fit each of her legs with the thigh high stockings. The silky fabric felt nice on the floor and more sanitary for touching herself with her feet. Casey looked down at Alm betting up slowly from between her legs. It was hard to see where the bone shaping force of their touch had come from, now seeing a figure so frail and hobbled. “I will be your perfect idol, my artist.”
The man was waiting for Alm outside, a lit cigarette in his fingers. Alm shook their head, stepping to the side of the doorway and inhaling the night air greedily. “Suit yourself.” Smoke dribbled out from the man’s lips. “She looks good. The payment has already been wired to your account.” The artist was unmoving under their bandages, even obscuring the slow rise and fall of their diaphragm. “You ok? We have accommodations nearby, if you need to rest...”
“I am good.” Alm stumbled forward, wrapping a hand around their waist. “You call me a car, that is all. If I need room, I find my own.”
The man shrugged; his one response all used up. “It’ll be here soon.” He pulled the smoke away to look towards Alm. “Was she as good as you’d hoped?”
“As a canvas, perfect, oh… a delight.” Alm blinked slowly. “In other ways… well, the viewer decides the rest. I am content.”
Headlights peaked in the distance, casting the man into shadows when Alm stepped closer to the road. The man squinted against the beams, a slight scowl over his brow that was visible to nobody in particular. A small, ‘wait’ eked out of his mouth, quickly rubbed away by the sound the car’s engine and its tires on the pavement.
Alm didn’t turn around, focused on fumbling with the door handle. “When she tires of that shape, you call me. I have many thoughts for her still.”
“Viewing hours are now over, I’m going to ask that everyone make their way to the entrance. Please don’t forget to retrieve any coats or valuables from the cloakroom attendant on your way out. Thank you.” The man spread a wide gesture with his hands, herding the shuffling crowd out of the exhibit hall. “We open again on the 22[super]nd[/super], last Thursday of the month. Have a good night!” When the final visitor had pulled their eyes away, he sealed the room with a velvet rope across the doorway.
After a quick smoke break, the man returned to the emptied exhibit hall, now alive with a different sort of life. The exhibits shifted as he passed by, pulling up towels and sheets to hide the nudity they displayed so openly during the day. ‘Why bother?’ he thought. Everyone already knew what they looked like from all angles.
In the center of one room, Casey was still perched on her stool, four legs planted in the cardinal directions with a chin raised proudly. Her eyes were closed, holding in the heat and want of all the visitor’s stares before she released them with a single exhale. The twenty breasts that embraced her limbless torso all shared a rippling shudder as she slowly began to focus motion into her legs. Pushing herself up off the stool and then back down again was like her little form of stretches after a long day of holding still. Casey nodded slightly to the security guard as he passed her, not needing her eyes to recognize the sound of his footsteps. “Philip.”
Philip frowned as he slipped around the glass cage to make his rounds, a shiver flicking up his back at the way she always knew when he was entering of leaving a room. “Casey.” The exchange would be mutual, refusing to call her by her exhibit name as she has asked, since she refused to address him as Mr. Stoveson. That title would always be exclusive to his late father, it appeared.
Casey tipped her neck back, throwing her voice behind her as the man moved away. “My artist will be here soon Philip, make sure they are not waiting at the door.”
“Tch.” Teeth clicked and Philp rolled his eyes. “He comes and goes as he pleases. You don’t get to decide when he shows up or not Casey.” They were like a ghost as far as Philip knew, sometimes waking in with the regular visitors, sometimes calling ahead in the dead of night. Hell, they would even pay admission on occasion, didn’t make a lick of sense.
“No, I know they’re close.” Casey set back onto her stool, lifting her back right leg and tilting backwards to scratch an itch on the underside of her eighth breasts. There were just a few places she couldn’t reach easily with her feet, namely her top ring of six breasts and around her face, so it was important to keep up on her stretches and train her flexibility. Her hair and makeup were another matter, usually getting a fellow exhibit to help her with those each morning. “Actually…” Philip kept moving with his rounds and out of the range of her calling.
“Mm!” Casey frowned slightly when she opened her eyes to watch Philip turn a corner. Always so rude to her like this and for no reason. Still, it was unbefitting of an idol to display anger, even after visiting hours when nobody was watching. She pushed her stool to the side with the pawing motion of her feet, then reached up with one leg to open the glass display chamber. Moving on her own was such a hassle, triangulating the careful balance with between her legs and top-heavy cluster of breasts. Philip would be passing through the galleries left wing now, so she moved to cut him off on the return pass.
There he was. “Actually, I’d like you to fetch me some new stockings.” Casey pronounced grandly, lifting up her left front leg to an outstretched perfect 180-degree angle. “The red ones. I must look my best for when my artist comes tonight.”
He sighed, mentally cursing the stuck-up woman. Just a few months ago she had stood as tall as him but could hardly look him in the eyes with her nervousness for her new job. Now she was a little four-legged pile of tits and acted like a princess who owned the place. Every exhibit the artist worked with always displayed the same attitude behind different bodies and faces. “I told you…” A distant knock on the galleries entrance made Philip look away from Casey’s legs. “Hey, visiting hours are over!”
Casey carefully dropped her heel, scooting out of the way. “Oh, that must be my artist. Never mind the stockings, there isn’t time.” Oh well, black looked best on her anyway, as much as she had been excited to show off a new color.
“Humph…” More likely just a creep who was trying to snap a picture at some boobs through the front window. Philip hurried over to the entranceway, spying a frail looking person wrapped in bandages patiently knocking on the edge of the door. “Shit.” They really did just show up whenever they wanted. Picking up his steps, Philip rushed over to let Alm, the artist, escape from the chilled night air. Strangest thing that they would only show up on the coldest days, almost like they wanted Philip to feel even worse about letting them wait. Or just another weird eccentricity, it felt like there was nothing he could explain about the artist.
“Sorry about that. What are you here for tonight?”
“It is fine.” The artist tucked their bandaged hand into the pocket of their olive-green button up coat to warm it and secure the newspaper wrapped present he was protecting from the weather. “Making changes. Set up my table in blue room.” Philip looked slightly unsure. “You know, blue… it is room…room with good light.” They gestured towards the ceiling.
“Oh, yes, next to the Sapphire wing. Sure thing.” That was the room with the large sunroof window, though Philip had no way of understanding how Alm referred to the different gallery halls. He ran off to go get all the artist’s equipment, thankfully in a different direction then Casey.
The artist moved on ahead, their new walking stick clutching the floor in their path. Every exhibit that passed by would take a moment to undo anything they had covering themselves, giving the artist another glimpse of their work, sometimes trading a few words.
Casey was waiting for Alm beside her display case, sliding closer when the artist was in view. She could feel that they were not merely passing by, but seeking her out on this visit. Every exhibit had that instinct and this was the first time Casey had felt it in her core.
“A tiredness that feels like the worst cold ever, but you are not sick” is what the other exhibits had told her. They said that each time an exhibit felt this way, the artist would soon come to see them, and this visit would change them, heal them. Casey asked what this meant and some exhibits said it was a physical change, reshaping their bodies. Others said it was a gift or object which completed them, some said there was simply a conversation with the artist. Some even whispered about those who were not seen from again after their visit, though each exhibit agreed that this just meant leaving the gallery.
Casey for her part knew that she was not ready to leave the gallery and hoped most of all that the artist
was here to change her body. “My artist… “ She whispered the words under her breath, then spoke
them again aloud to make them real. “My artist… are you here for me?”
“Yes.” Alm drifted over to bench that visitor sat on, taking a rest from walking. “You are beautiful.”
Casey blushed the brightest red, warmth gathering in her cheeks until she was sure that steam would start coming out her ears any second. “My artist, you made me this beautiful. Can I show you?” She eagerly tipped one leg back to the glass door to crawl inside her display case and showcase all the poses she could make.
The artist just waved a hand above their knees. “No, it ok. I come some days and see. It is very good, you capture it. Perfect.” Still delighted with wide eyed smile, Casey turned back to the artist to set herself across from them. “Tell me… tell me your day. What you do, feelings… you know, how it is. That is important.”
“Yes my artist. Well, every day, when the gallery is open, I do my job here… but it is more than work, it’s is being work, your work.” She brought one leg up to cup over her lowest breasts like a normal woman would have cupped a hand over her chest when speaking from the soul. “Just like you said. They stare at me and I claim it, I give them your vision and they want it. My job is to be an idol, to be wanted.” Her foot moved closer, pacing around the pink folds of her frontward pussy with the hard skin of her heel. “And to want myself.”
“You understand it.” The artist nodded. “Perfect, like I say.”
“I’ve been saving myself…” Casey licked her lower lip, carefully using her Achilles’ tendon to stroke along her vulva. “I never go farther then this.” The artist was looking at her and Casey felt like she was the brightest light in the world, far to brilliant to be touched at all except by one pair of hands.
“Ahh…” Alm laughed weakly, squinting their silver eyes to avoid being blinded even further. “But I am no good for that. Nice to think so, but I cannot.”
She let her gaze fall, continuing to touch herself but now only in a superficial way. “Is it true what the other exhibits say, that you get worse every time you change us?”
They touched their fingertips together, feeling a chill spreading from one hand to another. “Yes. It is bad for me…”
“Then why do you do it?” It was terrible to know that she was the cause of their pain, at the same time having a sense that there was no regret in her creator at all and it was no wish of hers to stop them.
“How do you say… if it could, then it would?” Their hands clapped together. “I can, so I must. Simple. Do not feel bad.”
“I don’t… I just wanted to know.” She knew so much about them, and yet also so little, not even their native language, or if they had one at all. “What do you want me to do now?” “I want to change you.”
Casey’s heart skipped more than a few beats, forgetting how to breath briefly in her excitement. “Whateveryuude...” Ok, too excited, she had to catch her lips and annunciate. “Whatever form you desire my artist! I want to be your vision again, please!”
“Ah, ha… ha. You will, it is ok. I know you are very good for this, the best.”
She smiled slyly, slowly lifting her chin to display the part of her body she knew the artist loved the most. “Don’t you tell that to every exhibit, my artist?” They did talk amongst each other, so it came up often, though hardly in a competitive manner. Every exhibit displayed something different, so they accepted their differences. If only one could be the best, the artist would have made them all into mirror images.
Alm puffed out another little laugh like someone caught in the act of pilfering a cookie. “Well, I work with only best, so I do not lie.”
That made Casey smile even wider. “You are so true my artist, we know you love everyone you touch.
But I don’t want to be the best, I want to be your best.”
“You will, you will.” Not the first time they had heard an exhibit tell him that either, but Alm would let her have it. “You will be new design, first for gallery.”
She leaned closer, tilting her clustered body towards him as much as she could to catch every word. “Tell me everything.” The artist pointed to an adjoining wing and Casey shifted to move in that direction with Alm hobbling beside her. Both of them moved slowly, out of care for their precarious position and fragile physique.
“You are full of the want. Now I make you free, no more want.”
Casey understood exactly what the artist meant. “I will be like an island, completely my own.” Yet words meant nothing until she was sculpted with them in her flesh. “They will look at me and say, ‘she does not need me, she does not want me’… oh but this is such a wicked thing, my artist.” The two of them shared a giddy cackle.
“It is, it is. It is to be jealous, and ah… eh yes, despised! The eyes make all, so art that is ‘I no need you eyes, you look away, I am still me’ oh noo, it is evil.”
“I won’t be an idol anymore, I will be idolatry. Hedonism.” She couldn’t wait to see how it would feel, living as a being of pure pleasure and greed. The artist rarely changed an exhibit’s meaning so fully, she knew it meant that her canvas was beyond compare. The other exhibits would be so jealous to see how she was evolving, and that would be part of her as well.
They reached the table and stand holding the artist’s instruments. This was a room that held exhibits who had no desire to leave the gallery, even when visiting hours were over. The sunroof gave them all the natural light during the day and other exhibits would come to feed them at night.
Only two exhibits kept here were currently Elgia and Kiomie. Elgia was a large German woman whose body resembled a throne room chair, her skin reupholstered with azure fabric; also one of the few exhibits guests were allowed to interact with and sit on. She snored soundly asleep, while Casey waved with her foot at Kiomie, a smaller pink haired Vietnamese girl with a chest-like body encased in porcelain and a keyhole shaped vulva between her breasts.
“Oh, is Casey joining us?” Kiomie shifted her neck as much as her compact form allowed.
The artist nodded, stepping closer to where Philip set up their table next to the room’s open mantle place. Casey was silently thankful she was being placed in another room with only female exhibits, both roommates she was interested to learn more about in the time they would spend together. Her excitement peeked when she saw the vacant mantle place that would be her new display site.
She pulled her eyes back to the table at the artist’s voice calling her. “Can you lay on back?”
“I think so.” Climbing up onto the table turned out to not be as difficult as she thought, even if it was scary to abandon the stool which had been her form of locomotion for so long. When she had two pairs of legs on each side of the table, she slowly lowered her raspberry breasted body down on the table head. It was impossible to lay flat with all the tits on her back, but Alm seemed satisfied with her positioning and began preparing the tools on the drawer beside them.
“What if I miss this body?” It was a leading question. She was not worried about her form, simply wanting to hear what the artist would say.
“You miss first body too?” The artist looked over at her from their desk, meeting their bandaged smile with Casey’s thrilled grin.
“No. I want you to keep changing me forever.” What a selfish thing to say, knowing that the changes would hurt her precious artist. But she was a selfish and lustful thing now, already practicing the lines for her new role.
“Is sad. Pretty girl, now very pretty art.” The artist said in mock mourning. Moving towards the table, they silenced their canvas with gentle strokes over the breasts on Casey’s back that filled her throat with heavy sighs. “One day, I turn you back normal, and you say ‘oh, this new shape, so nice, what is this?’”
Both shared a giggle as the artists fingertips pushed in deeper into the warm orbs of fat, inverting Casey’s nipples as their fingers punctured her shape. Like deflating balloons, each breast gave a finally slight surge before sinking back into untouched skin.
The artist was able to work much faster then before, Casey’s flesh already knowing the stroke of their brush. Soon Alm had smoothed away everything above the hips, save for her original pair of tits, leaving only bare shoulder blades and a flat stomach. They moved to her legs, taking each foot and working the heel into itself to feed her thighs back into Casey’s butt. “HHnnghhnnnnnn, NNUGH!” Casey moaned and squealed on the table with the helpless body of a quadruple amputee as the artist tucked his thumb and fingers on the base of her four vaginal openings. Pinching her perineum inwards, the four cunts merged back into one, still four times as sensitive and large as before.
Two hard nipples sprouted under the artist’s hands where her legs had been, swelling larger with sustained attention of Alm’s fingers till the breast legs could sufficiently hold Casey’s enlarged pussy in place. Satisfied with her jiggling truncated rump, Alm returned to the head of the table and Casey’s missing arms. The formation of new bone was the least pleasant part of the process, and Casey had already clenched her mouth closed when the artist painfully extracted a new finger from the tip of her clavicle. “Hnn, shhhhit…”
The artist kept going with developing Casey’s hand, and then bicep, through her small spurts of anguish at the lengthy process. Alm cupped around Casey’s cheek with a free hand, sliding his palm against her chin. “Ah, no crying. It hurt, I know. Ignore it, focus here.” They dipped their index finger into Casey’s mouth which she hungrily latched onto the digit like a mother’s teat to distract herself from the stinging rebirth of her arms.
“MMmooooNnmmmh…” Casey hummed with the artist’s hand moving deeper into her mouth. Once her lips had locked over four fingers, she felt them thinning and yet turning all the more sensitive as the artist rotated her mouth along with their hand. Her teeth sunk back into tender gums while the artist stroked a thumb over the bridge of her nose and slowly pushed into it the widening oral slit of Casey’s face. Her mouth was on its way to becoming a new cunt, crowned by the twisting divot left by the tip of her nose settling into shape as a new clit that stuck out right between her eyes.
“MMmHmhOMMhmm!” Casey slobbered vaginal fluids over the artist’s hand as they kept fingering deeper into her face, till she could feel a cervix forming against her brain and overwhelming her
thoughts. She couldn’t smell or taste, and she defiantly couldn’t gag, each instinct being stripped away to make room for more carnal desire. The artist withdrew their hand just as Casey was getting close to christening her new mouth pussy with ejaculate. “MMmHhgnnnN!” She would finish it herself, finding the forgotten muscles of her arms to reach into her mouth. She had four limbs now, the back two sprouting from her scapula’s, each one with a hand that made its way to her lubricated vulva lips.
Her eyes rolled backwards, rubbing her red nasal clit with delight until her back spasmed off the table, a thick pump of hot ejaculate trickling over her chin and cheeks. “NnHHmMMOoMHnn!” Casey gargled, unable to either choak or speak properly, though all she had to say was cries of pleasure.
“I will not leave you mute.” The artist drew their hands over Casey’s chest, sticking a finger inside each of her nipples where the motion pressed outwards with sculpting circles inside her breasts. Casey leaned up to watch her areole turn an even deeper pink, ringed and puffy like overkissed lips. “Taking is too nice to lose.” Alm pinched into a wiggling tentacle within Casey’s boobs, dragging forth new tongues within each mammary like writhing squids.
“HhNng aahh, AhhhNn I’m… ahhahhh!” Both new lip nipples were too eager to speak, talking over each other in a reverberation of confusion and extasy. Casey’s right lipple licked around it’s cheek space to explore its home, letting her left breast mouth gasp again and try to reach coherence. “AHhhnn, this is so fucking good, finger me again, I want to cum even more.” It was more vulgar than Casey had meant to say, though the thoughts were still her own. She reached down over her body with all four arms to explore the changes, squeezing the boob stumps of her legs and rimming along both of her mouth nipples, while one hand remained fixated on stroking her mouth pussy.
The artist had stepped to the side and removed the package they were keeping wrapped in their coat. A huge ceramic dildo carved with detailed veins and bottomed by a thick metal base. “You set on this.” They placed it onto the mantle place, between two striped vases. “Never stopping.”
“Y-yes my artist.” Casey nodded groggily, flipping onto her front and using the four arms to climb up the mantelpiece like a spider. Her two far hands each took to one of the vases, while her back arms steadied herself against the wall, before dropping her hungry cunt onto the shaft that would be her permanent home.
“YYyYEEEESsss!” Casey’s left mouth cried, lust taking over her entire body as she began her eternal dance of thrusts on the perfectly fitted stone cock. “OOhh, yessss I’m g-going to fuucck myself forever!” The strength and support of her four arms would let her live in continuous penetration and climax. Every visitor would watch in disgusted awe while she fucked herself in front of them, knowing that they could go home and Casey would still be fucking herself, still cumming even when they had long taken their eyes off her. She wouldn’t need a single thing except this cock inside her, bouncing up and down as sure as the sun would rise and set. Shame was already dead to her, next she would erase her dignity to become the ultimate testament to want as the artist envisioned.
Alm stepped back to bask in Casey’s glory and catch their breath. The strength left their hands, reaching out franticly for the assistance of their cane to keep from collapsing. They hobbled over to Elgia and fell into the chairwoman’s lap to keep watching. “You are… perfect. Beautiful…”
Phillip passed by the hallway a few hours later, wincing at the rhythmic slopping noise of Casey’s body embracing her phallic pedestal. Alm was fast asleep, though the hidden leers from the three women in the room would keep him from entering any further and wake the artist from their enviable slow decay.
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