Saw this today, and I don’t want to give too much away for this who haven’t seen it yet. There are several “tossed-off” transformations through the movie and one VERY satisfying transformation at the very end. You can have fun imagining what might happen to the transformed later on.
I work for the United States Postal Service, and I’ve noticed this magazine cover for a couple of weeks now. I finally got a copy of it for myself, knowing what I was going to title it on the blog. Here are some answers to the question:
“What’s what on my — Oh, my G — “
“I guess it’s time to tell you. Mommy comes from a place called Equestria, and — “
“This is going to be a special Hallowe’en this year! When I finish changing, you’re going to get to go trick-or-treating on the back of a unicorn!”
“This was just an innocent photo shoot of a little boy and his mom! What kind of sicko fantasizes about that?!”
Others? Feel free to add them!
I think everyone know that Geico has some of the wildest commercials, and you can never tell HOW they’re going to work in their message on how Geico can save you money. They also tend to have clever commercials for Hallowe’en every year. Well, THIS year, 2019, they have this one. Among other things, the behavior of the TF’ed person’s roommate at the end is what REALLY sells this! Enjoy!
Okay, going to try posting something I hope will be interactive for the followers of this blog.
What transformations have you seen depicted in literature, movies, TV, or any media over the years that, for some reason have stayed with you? Maybe they really terrified you, or turned you on, or you loved the story that came with them, but you haven’t been able to forget them.
My all time favorite TF on Bewitched was from a second season episode called “The Catnapper.” In it, a sensational-looking lady client of Darrin’s was turned into a cat by Endora, who thought the client was putting the moves on Darrin. (The client was quite cold, actually, wanting to only get down to business.) What did it for me was, when the woman was changed back, the cat was on Darrin, so the woman was sitting on Darrin’s lap and she was posed like a cat. One of the best examples of timing for a TF ever. (Timing will be a subject for this blog soon.)
The transformation that most freaked me out is in one of the scariest books ever written: The Bible. The story of Lot’s Wife, to be exact. The thought that, if I ever stepped out of line in God’s eyes, I might be turned into a pillar of salt really weirded me out. (And, God knows there are plenty of other scary things God might do, at least according to The Old Testament.)
A few years ago, I read that “turned to salt” was slang in Biblical times for becoming infertile. That helped me finally get over the idea.
But what about the rest of you? What’s a transformation you learned of some time ago that you can’t forget?
You never know what’s going to trigger the muse. In this case, it was the photo below that pushed several of my buttons. It came from a 1959 issue of Modern Man, one of many attempts at duplicating the success of Playboy. The first thing I thought of when I saw it was 50s housewife — what we’d now call a milf. Her total nudity on the porch of what looks to be a cabin made me immediately think she’d been something else moments before. What she had been turned into, why she was turned into it, and her being changed back all were questions this story answers.
I should mention my inspiration for one part of this story. Fifty years ago, there was very popular book published called Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* *But Were Afraid to Ask by a Dr. David Reuben. (Among other things, it was eventually made into a comedy by Woody Allen.) It was in that book that I read about another use for a bottle of Coca Cola besides quenching one’s thirst. That’s where the idea for Coke’s use in this story comes from.
Also, I decided to set this story in the late 1950s. Hence, most women wearing girdles, and a bottle of Coke costing ten cents.
Finally, be warned that our transformed housewife gets naughty with another of the species that she is turned into. If you think that sort of thing will offend you, please stop reading now.
Why am I here? Donna Anderson asked herself one more time. She knew the answer, she had known it all along. She was here because she was alone. The cancer had taken Henry, and Donna was now alone with the kids. Henry had been wealthy and Donna was not hurting for money. But the kids, Bobby and Billie, had no father figure. There was no one to take them to ball games, movies, to see their class plays, to assume duties with their scout troops. It was the latter that was the reason Donna was here. She was the leader of Billie’s brownie scout troop.
And that was why Donna was here in Camp Tecumseh, leading her daughter’s troop through adventures in nature.
Donna had studied up on the history of the camp, the flora and fauna of the region. and her household duties kept her in good shape for this nature hike. But, if she’d had her druthers, she’d druther be in the wilderness of her home.
“It was Mrs. Gunther O’Hare who we have to thank for these woods,” said Donna, almost by rote, to the troops. “She and her husband moved here and started their distillery. They loved the area, but missed the timber from their native lands. So, Mrs. O’hare brought Irish oaks, ash, other trees from her home, while her husband brought trees from no less than the Black Forest itself.”
One of the girls, Patty Clayton, raised her hand. “Mrs. Anderson?” she asked, “I’ve heard stories that some spirits, woodland folk, came here with the trees. Do you know anything about that?”
“Woodland folk? You mean elves, fairies, leprechauns? Those are nice stories, but there’s nothing to them. We know such things aren’t real.”
Not far away, in a clump of woods, a small voice, unheard by the troop, said “Did that lass, that wench, just insult us, sayin’ we don’t exist?!”
“That she did, mein freund,” came the answer.
The troop continued along their path, when another girl, Cindy Neal, cried out “Oh! Squirrels! But what are they doing?”
Donna looked at the rodents and saw they were happily engaged in sex. Donna did NOT want to have that conversation yet, especially not with Billie there. She thought quickly. “Remember when we learned the Heimlich maneuver a few weeks ago? The squirrel on the bottom got something stuck in its throat, and the other squirrel is helping the first to breathe.”
“Ooh!” came the first voice again. “Did’ja hear that lie! Bad enough she insists we’re just old wives’ tales, but now she’s deliberately misleadin’ these fine, innocent, young lasses! I don’t like it.”
“Nor do I,” came a third voice. The two folk felt a chill run down their spines. This new voice came from the forest itself, intertwined with the trees. They knew the entity and its power and gave it the greatest respect they could.
“Helping the other squirrel to breathe?” The squirrels ended their activity and the female ran into the woods. “Let’s have our fine squirrel here help this — woman — to breath.”
Donna was about to lead the troop further down the path, when she felt — something. All of her skin was tingling, itching — twitching? — as if something was trying to come out from under it. And there was a sudden pressure from her body against her girdle, something near the base of her spine, just over her butt.
Then, Donna began to dwindle in size. Her face changed, became more oval and her nose flattened. She felt the teeth in her mouth changing, especially her incisors, They were growing longer, sharper. And her ears were MOVING from the side to the top of her head.
The pressure against her girdle lessened. She realized it was because she was shrinking out of her clothes. And after the money she’d spent for her troop leader uniform!
“Mommy?” said Billie. “What’s happening to you?”
Donna tried to reply “I don’t know,” but a chittering is what came out of her mouth. She looked at her hands and saw that they weren’t hands anymore — they were a kind of — paw? She saw a huge, white strap and a voluminous cavern entrance by her body. She realized she was looking at her bra! She used her new appendages to feel her torso. Her breasts — were they breasts any more? She slid her paws down the front of her torso. There was something there, two, four, six — eight! They weren’t breasts, but there were eight of them!
Donna hopped out of her uniform and looked around her. All of the children, and the other troop leaders, towered over her. She wanted to bolt, to flee into the trees. And, as she looked around, she saw something beside her. Donna touched it, and realized it was attached to her butt! She had a tail!
She had turned into a squirrel.
She suddenly became VERY aware of a sensation in her loins, a burning but a pleasant burning. Was she in heat? Did squirrels go into heat?
She heard chittering again, but, this time it wasn’t from her. She looked to her left and, only a few feet away, was the same squirrel that had — she couldn’t say the word — with the other squirrel. And he (yes, “he,” she thought) was very interested in her! Part of her mind was definitely squirrel, aware of sounds and smells Donna the Woman couldn’t detect. And there was a very strong smell coming from her, one the male seemed attracted by.
“I Chitchat!” said the other squirrel. It didn’t actually speak, but Donna could understand it. “Make babies? Make babies in you?”
The part of her mind that was still Donna was not ready for this turn of events any more than she had been ready to explain it to the troop. She ran toward and then up a tree, surprised by how easy it was to do, especially on all fours! But she saw Chitchat was right behind her.
Donna ran out on a branch and saw it was coming to an end. A branch from another tree was nearby, but too far for her to jump to. Wasn’t it?
You can make the jump, came a voice. Donna had no idea where it came from, but she kept running and made the leap, grabbing the new branch and scampering onto the tree it was connected to.
Chitchat was still behind her.
The chase continued from branch to branch, tree to tree. Her squirrel brain was asking why she was fleeing. If she just stopped and let the other squirrel have its way with her, it would be natural. And she would enjoy it!
The human part of her brain was receding, giving way to the rodent. Finally, she reached the roof of a cabin and scampered down to its porch, where she stopped. She lifted her tail and, a second later, the other squirrel was on her. No. He was in her! She let the sensation flow from her haunches through her tiny body.
Donna became aware of herself as she had never been aware before. She could feel the tiny heart inside her pounding out she could not tell how many times a second. Counting, seconds, they weren’t even concepts in her head right now. She did think of how small Chitchat’s “squirrel-hood” was, how small he was. He shouldn’t be able to make her feel the way she did at that time. But, wasn’t she small herself? To her, Chitchat was HUGE! He had no trouble thrusting himself into her. And she enjoyed it. No, she LOVED it!
Have you any problem with nature anymore? asked the voice.
No, thought Donna the Squirrel. This is wonderful! Nature is wonderful! I will share it with my little girl, with the troop, with EVERYONE!
Then, Donna could think of nothing but her climax, hers and Chitchat’s. Donna let the feeling reverberate through her body. As it did, she didn’t notice her change at first. She was growing, her haunches turning into full human legs, her tiny teats turning back into breasts, her forepaws becoming hands. She was human again!
Her brain was swirling. She became aware of something on her butt. There was something small hugging and pinching her cheeks. And there was something thrusting itself into her, and tiny drops squirting into her insides. She glanced behind herself and saw Chitchat holding onto her hindquarters and finishing up his intercourse with her.
“Chitchat?” she said, but in a human voice. Chitchat looked up any her in surprise, chattered something at her in squirrel, then dismounted and scampered up and into the trees.
Shakily, Donna stood up on her legs. Her mind was still full of the wonderfulness of her time with Chitchat. She was having a hard time thinking, not sure who she was, what she was, where she was.
“Mom?” came a familiar voice. She looked out and saw a group of cub scout faces, each one with mouths wide open. This was the first time, she thought, they’d probably ever seen a naked woman outside of a magazine before. The chase from Chitchat had brought her over to the cub scout section, the boy’s section, of the camp.
And her son, Bobby, was with them.
At first, Donna’s urge was to cover herself as best as she could with her arms. But then, the lesson of the voice, of the wonderfulness of nature, came back into her head. She stood up, put her hands on her hips, and let the boys (and THEIR troop leaders) take in her body. She smiled.
“It’s okay, Bobby,” she said, noticing her son’s dismay. “It’s natural that your friends are enjoying this. I don’t mind if they look.”
After five minutes of being on view, Donna started back to the brownie side of the camp. She smiled as she put a little extra “swing” into her hips as she walked away from the boys,
As she took the path that led from the cub scout camp to that of the brownies, Donna luxuriated in what she was feeling. The sense of being one with nature was still with her, and she LOVED it! The slightest, gentle breeze, the scents of the woods, the horniness of the creatures in the area, be they mammals, reptile, bird, whatever!
Her reverie was broken by a sudden succession of loud bursts, one right after the other. She looked to her side and saw some brownies and cub scouts gathered together. They were watching a string of firecrackers someone had set off. One of the boys looked up and gasped as he noticed noticed Donna in her naked glory. “Mrs. Anderson?” he said.
Donna blushed as they stared at her. Then, she noticed more firecrackers nearby.
“Be careful with those things!” she said. “Keep your distance when you’re setting them off!”
“We will,” said a girl. “Howcum you’re naked?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell it around the campfire tonight.”
Donna continued on, well aware that the campers were following her closely with their eyes. She reached the spot where she had hopped out of her clothes when she became a squirrel. She knew the first thing she had to do and reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple of dimes. She was about to pick up her clothes and cover herself when she heard a click.
There was another troop leader, Hazel Hopkins.
With her Polaroid camera.
“Hazel,” said Donna. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” said Hazel, smiling the nasty smile only she could smile.
Donna and Hazel had been rivals ever since elementary school. They had competed for baton twirler, for boys, for Henry. Hazel had never forgiven Donna’s marrying Henry. She later married Ted, but acted like he was a consolation prize. The same went for her daughter by Ted, Millie. Millie and Billie were good friends, but Hazel tried to interfere even with that!
“I’ve been telling everyone for years that you weren’t fit to be a mother. And now, I have proof! Parading your goods around in front of children!”
“I have an explanation for this,” said Donna. “And both Millie and Billie can back me up!”
“Like anyone will listen to them after they see this! Oh, and look, there are campers behind you, gaping at your bare behind! I’ll see that you’re thrown out of this camp, and then work to have your kids taken away from you! They’ll be in an orphanage, wondering how Mommy could let this happen!”
“Hazel, you’ve always been a stinker, but this tops anything you’ve done before!”
“I’m not the one who made you walk around stark naked! But, yes, I am a stinker! The biggest, natural born stinker there is!”
Maybe not right now, said the voice, which Donna could hear. But taking children from their mother! This one WILL be a stinker, right now!
Suddenly, Hazel collapsed to the ground, with just enough control to set the camera down softly. Hazel began to contract in size, as the other campers looked on, including Millie. Another breeze wafted by Donna, and she caught the whiff of the suddenly VERY pungent odor coming from Hazel’s clothes. Something was moving under them. And a skunk poked its head out from the neck of Hazel’s uniform.
“Mommy?” whimpered Millie. As bad a mother as hazel was, her daughter still cared about her. Hazel the skunk scampered about the ground while Millie tried to catch her. She found herself behind her mother when another string of firecrackers went off.
And the sudden noise made Hazel spray her daughter.
A huge wail came from Millie’s mouth. Susie Lawrence, one of the older girl scouts, quickly ran up to Millie and crouched next to her.
“Millie,” she said. “Are you okay? None of that got into your mouth or eyes, did it?”
Donna had never even thought what it might be like to be sprayed by a skunk. To her relief, Millie shook her head to Suzie’s question.
“Do you need help?” asked Donna.
Suzie shook her head. “We’ve got kits in the shed to take care of this.”
“You’d better get one for Mrs. Hopkins, too. I think she’s going to need it.”
While the brownies left to help Millie, Donna put dimes in the pop machine and pulled out two bottles of Coke. She used the machine’s bottle opener to pop the caps off. Then she walked to the lake and waded into the water. She stayed by the dock and, when the water was near the top of her thighs, she set one bottle down on the dock, and put her thumb over the opening of the other bottle,
She shook the bottle vigorously, keeping her thumb over the opening TIGHT! Then, she moved the bottle between her legs, took her thumb off of the top, and jammed the bottle into her vagina. She wondered if anyone at the Coca-Cola company knew about this use of their product. A lot of the women there probably did. She wasn’t sure if her romp with Chitchat could produce anything, but she didn’t want to take the change. The Coke was quick, simple, cheap, and convenient, and should flush out Chitchat’s sperm as good as any douche. Just to make sure, she repeated the procedure with the second bottle. Then, she waded further into the lake until the water was up to her neck. She let herself float, her legs as far apart as they would go, shaking them to get water inside her to wash any remaining Coke and squirrel jism out of her. then, she swam for a little while to try and relax herself. Donna was still feeling afterglow from her time with Chitchat.
Donna thought she should probably get another pair of Cokes for Hazel for when she changed back.
If she changed back.
And were there any male skunks nearby?
Donna glanced at where Hazel’s clothes lay on the ground. The camera Hazel had taken photos with were lying on the ground by the clothing. And there, also on the ground, was the picture Hazel had taken of Donna. Donna picked up the photo and stared at it, when she heard a voice behind her.
A movement near the edge of the woods caught her eye. There was Hazel the Skunk, crouched in the weeds. Another skunk, a male, Donna was sure, was scampering away. Hazel began to change again, her fur and tail and general skunk-ness went away. Soon, Hazel the woman was laying naked in the weeds.
Hazel, with a contrite expression on her face, looked at Donna. “Go ahead and tear the photo up. I’m sorry now that I took it.”
Hazel held her arms away from her body, as if something very distasteful had happened. When Hazel was close enough, Donna could smell what had happened, Hazel reeked worse than Millie had.
“Did I just go through what you went through?” asked Hazel. “Is that why you ended up naked?”
“Yes,” said Donna. “But with me, it was a squirrel, not a skunk. I think this camp is situated in woods where Mother Nature is VERY much in charge.”
“That’s the voice I heard! Mother Nature!”
“I think so, yes. Anyway, the girls are treating Millie for when you sprayed her. They should be able to ‘de-skunk’ you.”
“I sprayed Millie! ? Oh, no! I’ve been so mean to my poor little girl!”
“You couldn’t help it. You were a skunk and there were firecrackers.”
“Not just that! I’ve been so neglectful! The voice made me realize that! I’m going to be a better mother, a better person from now on!”
“I’d hug you right now,” said Donna. “But I think it can wait until after you’re de-skunked!”
That night, in her cabin, Donna thought about the day. Her transformation, her time with Chitchat, Hazel’s reformation, everything. Hazel confessed that, whenever she thought about her scent as a skunk, the thought made her horny. (At Donna’s suggestion, Hazel had also treated herself with Coca Cola.) And they both agreed that, around the campfire soon, they’d explain the facts of life to the girls.
Donna was finding it hard to sleep. She kept thinking of Chitchat. It wasn’t love, but there was a definite arousal with the thought. She stripped off her pajamas and began to finger herself. But it wasn’t the same, something was missing. Suddenly, she felt the same sensation she had felt before when she had shrunk out of her clothes. Quickly, she got up, strode to the cabin door, opened it, and stepped outside. A moment later, a squirrel scampered into the woods, calling for Chitchat.
WARNING: There is art in this posting that may very well offend some of my followers. In fact, the subject of this post may offend some people. I’m putting this up to find out if I should or shouldn’t post such things, and would like feedback offering opinions on the subject.
The two pieces of art in this posting are pages I displayed in my deviantART gallery for one weekend. I then took them down for fear that I might have violated some rules that could get me kicked OFF of deviantART.
I’ve seen some stories and art over the years where people transform themselves or HAVE themselves transformed to enjoy some not-quite interspecies sex. Sometimes, their transformation isn’t voluntary, but they decide to enjoy themselves in their new form.
(The short-lived Penthouse Comix of about 25 years ago had a story called “Witch Bitch,” about a witch who turned herself into a pit bull to kill a man. But animal control was there with a muzzle. And this also prevented her from making the three barks which would’ve changed her back into a woman. But she was also apparently in heat, and decided to enjoy the “benefits” of her new form as a “saucy bitch.”)
The idea of a transformed man or woman engaging in intercourse with the species of their new form had never occurred to me until I saw a page-long strip in the September 1972 issue of Ace! a men’s magazine of the time. And, I’m a little ashamed to say that I liked it.
My feeling is, in most cases, this isn’t bestiality, because the transformed is, physically, the same species he or she is mingling with. I like to think that, in their brain, there’s enough of the human to appreciate the wildness, the naturalness, of what they’re doing. I like to think, when they change back, that the woman immediately reaches for the douche to make sure nothing comes of the session. (In Greek and Roman mythology, Zeus or Jupiter would often assume bestial forms while seducing maidens, and this sometimes resulted in creatures such as The Minotaur.)
In the pages here, which I commissioned from an artist on eBay, our rookie Mountie is more dismayed by her uniform disappearing than her eventual transformation. (Her horse probably never understood why his rider, who he does have strong feelings for, covered herself up as she did, though he does obviously like her hat.) And, when her change is complete, she experiences one more sensation that makes her more receptive to her finding new meaning to the term “mounted policewoman.” The horse would not assume the position unless and until she was ready for it.
I was told by a comment on this art before I removed it from my gallery that deviantART would not have punished me for posting it, as it did not actually show penetration. That is something I won’t do. I prefer to write and display erotica, not porn.
Anyway, there it is. I’d like to know, should I post stuff like this in the blog occasionally. Or would you prefer I stay away from it. Depending on the reaction, I will or will not keep this posting on the blog.
One last warning: You’ve probably figured out what the second and final page of art is going to portray. If that’s something you don’t want to look at, then don’t scroll to it.
Chances are you are not familiar with this book. But you may be familiar with at least one of the FOUR movies this book has inspired, three of them theatrical, one of them made-for-television. Three of the four all have the same title: The Shaggy Dog. (The author of the book, Felix Salten, has done all right by Disney. He was also the writer who gave the world Bambi.)
The book is very different from the movies. (Not surprising, given the Disney Studios’ track record over the years with adaptations.) Set in Renaissance Florence, Italy, it follows an aspiring young artist named Lucas Grassi. There are no Borgias, no In Canis Corpora Transmuto, no ring.
Actually, I take that last back. In the book, Lucas observes a procession which includes an Archduke and his dog. And Lucas says “I even envy that dog!” As he watches through a window, he bangs his fist on the windowsill and says “If I were allowed to be myself every other day , only every other day, I wouldn’t mind a bit … I shouldn’t mind being that dog if I could go with them on their journey.
“Whereupon in the twinkling of an eye he found he was a dog running along by the side of the Archduke’s coach.”
What happened was “When he struck the windowsill with his fist,Lucas had not noticed that there was a ruddy-looking metal ring sunk into the dirty old wood work. Indeed, in his excitement, he was quite unconscious of the violent movements of his hand. How was he to know that the thin yellow loop which cut a circle in the wood, was of pure gold? How was he to guess that the spot where it was imbedded possessed the virtue of fulfilling for anyone a wish expressed while his hand lay on the magic circle?”
And so, Lucas spends one day as a man, the next as a dog, a hound named Cambyses, and so on, back and forth, as the days go by.
The book is a bit of a slog, with Salten deciding it his duty to do a travelogue of Renaissance Florence. And the book is brutal in places, with Cambyses being kicked and beaten in several scenes for disobeying his master or his master’s servants, not the least of which is the dog’s disappearing every other day. Many characters are carrying daggers, which you sense will not end happily for Cambyses.
There is no warning or sensation for the transformation. One moment, Lucas is a man walking on two legs, learning from the hands of one of the great artists of the time, the next he is a dog on all fours. The book is a little confusing in that Lucas, when he turns canine, is once again with the Archduke, where he was when he changed.
Instead of Annette, Lucas and Cambyses meet up with Claudia, a courtesan with many admirers, some of whom she treats as good friends and lovers, others to whom she is, yes, a bitch. (I’ll admit, I would have loved to have seen Lucas’ transformations suddenly transferred to Claudia. Alas, it doesn’t happen.) It is while Lucas is with Claudia that one of the darker scenes of the book, the murder of a rival by a man spurned by Claudia, takes place, leading to many of the victim’s friends looking for his killer.
I’m lucky enough to have an edition of this book from 1930, when it had illustrations by an artist named Kurt Wiese. Modern editions of this book, at least the one I got for the cover art at this review’s beginning, do not have the illustration.
The original German-language edition of this story, I’ve heard, has a much darker ending than the English translations. The latter leave Lucas/Cambyses’ fate more up in the air.
It isn’t the greatest book, even for transformation lovers. But you might want to give it a look. And, for now, you can wonder: Why doesn’t Disney do a female version of this book? And maybe they could’ve done it after the original version came out? It might’ve been fun to see Annette transforming.
I am reposting this story, but this time with this illustration. The story and illustration were inspired by a therapist I saw on a regular basis decades ago. (I know, me in therapy. Inconceivable, right?) I recently found a lookalike for her in a magazine. This is not a statement of my opinion of her skills as a psychologist. I liked her and she was very good at her job. It’s just one of many fantasies I’ve had about her over the years. There is an explanation near the end of the story for why the tongue and why she’s naked. This is another piece of art by Lady Kraken, who has done several pieces for my dART gallery, including humanized little ponies. She does great work. If you want wonderful art at reasonable prices, she’s your artist. Her dART page is here: www.deviantart.com/ladykraken
I’m expecting more than a few amateur psychologists analyzing me on THIS one!
Oh. Having just reread this story, I should warn that it’s a little raunchier than what I normally write, maybe closer to porn than erotic. If anyone is offended, my apologies.
Also, though I’ve also posted this on deviant art, this blog entry’s illustration is a higher resolution.
After she finished up her coffee, Gene put away her files on the last patient and got ready for the next one. This would be Jim. She liked listening to Jim. He was always telling her about dreams he’d had about her. She knew his dreams weren’t actual dreams, but fantasies he made up about her. He had this strange fetish about women turning into animals. And, in his “dreams,” she changed a lot. She was almost always naked at some point in them as her clothes did not survive the changes. She’d been a dog, a mouse, little, enormous breasts, a frog, a monkey. (The kind with a tail, he’d specified, not an ape.) She was a baby once and her receptionist had breast-fed her. It was getting hard to think of something that she had NOT been.
She opened the door to her office. There was Jim, seated next to the aquarium in the office. She called his name, he followed her inside, and she closed the door behind them.
As soon as they were both seated, and Gene had placed the legal pad on her lap, with a pen in her hand ready to take notes, they began with the usual small talk, eventually with Gene saying “How was your week?”
“It was great. I got this!” Jim held up his left hand and wriggled his fingers to display a gold ring with a large, oval-shaped jade stone set in it.
“Who gave you that?” asked Gene.
“An old lady,” said Jim. “She walked off the bus, forgetting her purse. I grabbed it, caught up with her, and returned the purse to her. And she gave me the ring as a reward.”
“Well, that was generous!”
“More than you know! This is a magic ring! It grants wishes!”
Gene said nothing, but snickered a little.
“I’ll prove it!” said Jim. “I know just what wish I want to make in here with you!” Jim closed his eyes, rubbed the stone in the ring, and whispered something. When he opened his eyes, they went wide, staring at her.
“Did your wish come true?” asked Gene.
“It sure did! Since I started seeing you, I’ve always wanted to see you like this!”
“What do you — ” Gene started to say, when she looked down at herself. She was completely naked! Her mini-skirt was gone, her pantyhose, her underwear, her jewelry, even her wedding ring! The only things she still had on were her shoes. She gasped and looked at her patient, a noticeable bulge in his crotch. “How did you do this?” she softly wailed.
“Like I said, this ring grants wishes!”
“I hope it does! I hope it can grant a wish to keep you from being locked up for a long time for doing this to me!” Gene covered her bottom half by crossing her legs and covered her breasts with one arm, while picking up the phone with the other, quickly pressing a button as she did so. “Hello, Gwen? Cawthpoeeth!”
That wasn’t what she wanted to tell Gwen. Gene wasn’t sure what it was! She tried again, with even less success. As she sat, she noticed something moving, wriggling on and beyond her legs. She stood up, trying to better see what it was. As she did, Gwen came in.
“Gene?” said Gwen. “Is something — ” Gwen could say no more. She stared at Gene, not believing what she saw. Was she surprised to find her boss stark naked? Jean wondered. Then, she noticed Jim had his eyes closed and was whispering to the ring again.
The next second, all of the walls in Gene’s tiny office were covered in mirrors, like a gaudy strip bar. But Gene wouldn’t have minded if she were doing a strip tease, even starting over fully clothed. For there, in the mirrors, she was still completely nude. But the thing that boggled her mind beyond what she thought it could handle was her tongue. It was hanging from her mouth, several FEET of it! The tip came to rest just an inch or two below her knees!
“What happened to you?” asked Gwen. Gene pointed a finger at Jim. “Don’t worry, boss! I’ll call the cops!”
Gwen took one step toward the office door, then stopped. She shot down in size, her clothes enveloping her. They came to rest on the floor and something was wriggling inside them. Jim kneeled down, reached into the clothes, and pulled out a small goldfish, struggling helplessly to breathe. Gene screamed as best she could over her tongue, terrified for Gwen. But Jim walked out of Gene’s office and up to the aquarium where he tossed Gwen into the water. Gwen the receptionist, now Gwen the goldfish, at first darted around the tank, and then relaxed and began to swim — like a fish, Gene realized.
“Iv thee okie?” Gene tried to ask.
“She’s fine,” said Jim. “And she’s got enough of her mind to enjoy being a fish.”
Gene buckled slightly at her knees, overcome by everything that had just happened. As she did, her tongue began to wriggle around. It was almost probing, she thought, like a lizard’s tongue, feeling and tasting the desk, the chair, and, most of all, herself. It licked her arm, her right nipple, her shoulder. And, then, it started licking her thighs, which made her gasp. Was she controlling it? Was Jim controlling it? Did she care? That was a good question as the tongue began to lick jean BETWEEN her thighs, finally entering her vagina.
I’m tasting myself! she thought. She liked the taste! And she liked the feeling! And Jim was enjoying the sight, she thought. He grabbed some tissues from the box on her desk, and then, holding them in his hand, he reached down in his pants and began to masturbate.
My God, she thought. We’ve synchronized our masturbation! She wanted to smile, but only succeeded in lightly biting her tongue. She closed her eyes and began thinking of what she could do with this tongue. She would be a freak, yes, but there were worse things to be. She noticed much of her tongue was getting dry. Was Jim going to leave her like this? Would she have to carry a bucket of water with her from now on? Would she need to make more trips to the bathroom and run her tongue under the faucets? If he did leave her like this, could a surgeon cut the tongue down to size?
Suddenly, everything else receded to the back of her mind. She was still standing, slightly bent at the knees, as her tongue began a performance that would put an anteater to shame! Her tongue was sliding rapidly between her legs. As it did so, she managed a lengthwise rotation on and over her clit. Her juices were flowing now, and they were delicious! She grabbed her tongue with her hands and pressed it harder into her box, rubbing it in all the right places until, finally, she climaxed, giving the best moan she could through her teeth. She opened her eyes and saw that Jim had also finished. She would hear his juices hitting the tissues hard.
As they both relaxed, she saw Jim was whispering to the ring again. And then she felt it. Her tongue was sliding back into her mouth, regaining it’s normal size. She was soon herself again. She was still buck-naked, but everything was normal.
She stared wearily at Jim for a few seconds. Then, her eyes went wide. “Gwen!” she cried. Not caring that she was naked (and no one else was in the office anyway), Gene stumbled into the waiting room and looked at the aquarium. Jim was behind her. She looked beseechingly at him and said “Please.”
Jim whispered to the ring. They both looked at the aquarium and one of the fish began to change. Instead of back fins, it had small, but shapely, human legs. It began to grow, to sprout human arms. Soon, Gwen was standing in the tank. She was soaked. And the tank was overflowing with water and fish. As best she could, she climbed out and she and Gene began to gather up the fish that had spilled out of the tank and put them back in the water.
“I was a fish!” gasped Gwen. “I was swimming around, breathing water! I think I even ate some fish food! I WAS A FISH!”
“You should’ve seen me!” said Gene. “He made my tongue grow to maybe four feet long! I was tasting myself! I licked my own vagina! You wouldn’t believe it!”
“I don’t think I believe any of this!”
“Well, then,” said Jim. “Why don’t I do this?”
“Wait, no,” said Gene. “Don’t — “
But it was too late! She felt her tongue sliding out between her teeth again. And, when she looked at Gwen, she saw Gwen’s tongue elongating, too! Soon, both women had tongues nearly four feet long. Gene suddenly felt the urge to lie on her back, and Gwen was kneeling over her. Gwen’s head — and tongue — were over Gene’s privates and Gene’s were over Gwen’s. Each woman began to probe the other one, licking, poking, even lightly slapping each other’s cheeks (both kinds) with their tongues. Gene felt herself starting to climax, and it was going to be magnificent. She felt the surge of pleasure growing stronger, stronger, STRONGER —
And, suddenly, Gene opened her eyes. She was in her bed, next to her sleeping husband. She had definitely cum, but it was apparently a dream cum. She rested face up, staring at the ceiling, trying to regain her breath. She couldn’t believe that Jim’s dreams, real or not, had started to affect her. Now THAT was empathizing with a patient!
She rolled onto her side and was soon fast asleep again.
Jim got up, stretched, and looked around the room. It had been a while since he had used Jean for one of his fantasies. He did feel a little guilty about using a married woman, but not THAT guilty. But he knew he HAD to use her tonight! And, whenever he did use a married woman, it was to watch and to masturbate. He NEVER actually had sex with her. And he cast a deep sleep spell on the spouse.
This fantasy was relatively new. He had enjoyed giving women frogs’ tongues, big dogs’ tongues to hang out of their mouths, forked reptilian tongues. But they were all part of larger transformations, and, sometimes, small parts at that.
But making a tongue the center of a transformation — THAT was new! He had never even considered what a woman with an elongated tongue could do with it, the experiments and experiences. Too bad he didn’t want to get physical himself with a married woman. A LONG tongue that could wrap itself around a dick! That would be truly something else. And he remembered a Phil Foglio story in Xxxenophile years ago where a young woman woke up to find her exact double in bed with her. She soon had the answer to what she tasted like to others!
This power he had come by, to make any woman he wanted to materialize in his special room (which could look like anything HE wanted it to look like), and let her think it was just a dream. It was all he could do to keep himself from sharing that others.
He started thinking again of the tongue. What if, someday, tentacles? What if, someday, he also gave a woman tentacles?
He began planning his next fantasy.
I was walking through the kids’ section of a bookstore way back in 1987 when I spotted this book. I snapped it up immediately, and then learned it was the second of what would be four-book series about a girl named Samantha Slade. The series is about a 12 – 13 year-old girl who, essentially, becomes babysitter to Addams Family-ish kids. The kids (and their mother) are weird, but they like their sitter. It was a cute series and I would’ve liked to have seen more.
In this book, Samantha runs for class president and Drake, the boy she sits for, gives her a potion to make her great. What happens, however, is that, whenever she tries to be great, she turns into a frog.
The book handles her frog-ness well. It elaborates on what kind of frog she turns into, a green tree frog. This is a frog with sticky pads on its fingers, which allows Samantha to stick to most things. She retains her human mind, and voice, with a few frog instincts thrown in as well. Can’t have a girl become a frog without her eating a few bugs, after all.
Samantha changes into a frog and then back into a human several times throughout the book. Contrary to what the cover above shows, Samantha’s clothes do not change with her. But she usually has changes of clothes nearby for when she regains her humanity. (I’d be willing to bet that, somewhere out there, are boys and girls who read this who were sent down the path of metamorphilia by this book.)
The book goes back and forth between Samantha’s human life (especially her campaign for class president) and her amphibian state. But she can’t help the latter interfering with the former. And, at the book’s climax, when she has to give her major campaign speech while stuck as a frog, there’s a definite tension the reader feels for her.
There is a resolution to her transformations, though it is one that can be undone. This never happens in the two subsequent books in the series, which is one reason I would’ve liked to have seen the series continue.
Still, whether you’re a fan of frog transformations or transformations in general, this book is for you. It’s still available through Amazon and/or eBay. (Later editions do not have the cover illustration, so if that’s one thing selling you on this book, be careful.)
If you’re a parent,( aunt, uncle, whatever), I recommend this book, or, if you can find it, the entire series. (And, for TG fans, Ms. Smith also wrote Changing Places, the story of a body-swap between girlfriend and boyfriend. You can find it here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0590447238/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i5 )
The uppermost of these two pieces of art got me suspended from DeviantArt for a week. The art itself was removed. The objection was apparently that the art depicted full-frontal nudity of an underage character. I tried to explain that underage nudes are not automatically pornographic. If they were, every parent who had ever taken photos of their kids taking baths or toddling around the house in their birthday suits would be in trouble.
I’m of the age where I, and others, saw a LOT of age regression art and stories. From at least the mid-1950s to a decade later, I don’t think there was a year where, at some point, Superman or one of his friends were turned into babies. Superman underwent the change a lot. Lois Lane did it at least three times. Jimmy Olsen and Perry White, and even Batman, all were regressed at least once. (The first Supergirl story I ever read, had HER being turned into a baby.)
Years ago, I was on a message board (remember them?) devoted to giantesses. I posted one message where I mentioned my interest in all transformations, including age regression. I got a response saying I was only interested in women being regressed “so you can fuck them!” And that, in a nutshell, is why so many people object to age regression art and stories.
There may be people who fantasize about age regression for that reason. I’m not one of them. For me, the interest is in seeing how the regressed deals with the regression. It’s why I went to see the movie Little earlier this year. And it’s why I wrote my novel Skye Sparkler, tossing in with it the added complication of the regressed character also being the strongest person on the planet.
Then, there’s age progression. The art above (done by artist Steve Sullivan) deals with that concept, taking the strip “Mary Jane and Sniffles” that was a back-up feature in the Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies comic book from years ago. This strip took Sniffles, the annoying little kid mouse from the Warner Brothers cartoons, and teamed him with a little girl named Mary Jane. Mary Jane could make herself Sniffles-sized, originally by sprinkling magic sand on herself and reciting the words in the caption above. Later (probably after complaints from parents about their kids sprinkling salt on themselves while playing Mary Jane and Sniffles), the size change came about by Mary Jane saying
Now I close my eyes real tight, and then I wish with all my might, magic words of poof, poof, piffles, make me just as small as Sniffles!
I remember one story where Mary Jane made herself even smaller by adding the words
And make Sniffles as small as a bug!
Proving the fetish was with me back then, I can remember finding it interesting that Mary Jane would shrink herself in every story, and then go on adventures with Sniffles.
About 20 years ago, I was reminded of that strip and immediately again became enamored of Mary Jane. But I came up with this twist on the subject to do an age progression which Mary Jane’s dress did not survive. That’s as far as it went, imagining an adult, nude Mary Jane. (And, I’m sure that right now, there are people reading this imagining comics’ more famous Mary Jane, MJ Watson, shrinking herself.)
Age progression transformations have been popular over the years with things like 13 Going on 30 and the movie and stage musical Big. It’s never appealed to me that much because AP happens for real, naturally, to all of us. Sometimes a good AP story comes along, however. One of the best AP and AR stories that I know of was “It’s a Gas,” which you can read here: http://www.ararchive.com/gallery3/Comics/It-s-A-Gas
I have gone through an entire night of being unable to sleep, but am now feeling tired and hope to be able to go to bed. So, once again, I must utter those words “I know there’s a lot more to be written on this subject, and I hope to do so someday.” But for now, I’ve got to go to bed.
As always, I welcome all thoughts and comments on this subject.