The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Arianne hadn’t processed all the social consequences of scholarship volleyball going into it. Dad and Mom had just been very low-key happy about the money, considering Dad’s poor luck in recent markets, and Mom’s failure with the gift box subscription company. So while University of Minnesota Women’s Volleyball meant things they didn’t like: state school, mid-tier Olympic sport, and athletics, it also meant much less tuition.

Arianne, also, had just been initially excited to get to college, especially as an alarming transformative pandemic was starting to rage.

But she was the tallest girl in her dorm, which meant that, whatever else she wanted to be, whatever blend of literary attributes, and witty sayings, and unflappable attitude she wanted to be, she was the tall one who played volleyball. She was a jock. A girl jock.

And to make matters worse, her team was, also, jocks. She was the only one who wore a polo and owned necklaces. She was the only one who had ridden a horse. They, on the other hand, had needed scholarships because their parents were absent, or worked three jobs. She’d told the story of Dad realizing he was trading in the wrong currency and everyone had looked around at each other. Rich girl.

Arianne had walked out of that practice unaccountably upset. Arianne had never even thought about being the only one with a monogrammed gym bag. She broke into a jog, and then a trot, and then a run, through empty corridors of the U M campus. Empty pavilions typically crowded with students. Now she was really moving—the wind picked up, and she was galloping. Her hooves pounded against the concrete. She could go even faster—

Arianne woke up.

4:12 a.m., Day 2. Cabin 3B

It was pitch-black dark, and she had to draw her phone out to get the time. Four twelve. And no reception at all.

She patted down beneath her, one part at a time.

First of all, her boobs were bigger. It was this that Arianne had gotten the most upset about. Exactly why did she need extra-large boobs? To nurse little centaurs? Not that she wanted an udder, but it would be much more efficient to sling some teats under there. How was she supposed to run, at speed, with two ungainly mammaries wobbling around? She’d look ridiculous.

But generally it was easier to contemplate that then—the rest of her.

Arianne trailed her hand across the boundary between person and horse. Overnight she had apparently grown a new nervous system. Before, it had felt like her butt was in the wrong place, and she had almost no feeling in the appendages sprouting in underneath her. Now—she kicked them about—she had four legs. She was four-legged.

She was HUGE.

“Tall AND long,” she thought. Both height and width. Her career of traveling in cars was over with. Trailers and buses.

At least the floods of horribly embarrassing arousal were briefly slowed. Possibly because it was 4 in the morning, and no one could be that horny then.

Marissa, above her, was snoring.

The girl was strange. She looked and acted like a chubby nerd. She stammered. And yet... she was comforting. The best possible person to, for example, get stuck in an elevator. Her presence calmed. And as strange as it was, the fact that she had very noticeable B.O. was not so bad. It was good stuff. Cloves and coriander. Arianne could feel it calming her.

Not that it hadn’t been horribly, horribly humiliating to get immediately jacked off by the girl. Arianne had been completely out of control of her own body. At least during the Panty Removal Incident her front legs had clicked over from plantigrade to digitigrade. So that was over with.

There was no time to lie in bed, feeling sorry for herself. She was fiercely hungry and she also needed to pee. Her jaw should’ve ached, from the strain of nourishing it. The binder o’ monsters had been very frightening but, in exchange for being super upsetting, had at least told her that her insane caloric needs would slow down. Once her hooves were done.

The bedsprings clinked beneath her. She had to weigh—what? Two-fifty? Three hundred pounds? Arianne stood up. Her center of gravity was somewhere behind the small of her back. She stepped forwards, and both of her left legs moved. She was even taller than before, her head nearly level with the sleeping Marissa. It smelled like a candle store around her. Not in a bad way.

Another step. The body—HER body, Arianne reminded herself, knew how to move itself. She was out the door, closing it as quietly as she could, but it still slapped her big, bulky ass. There was already so much padding there. She craned her neck backwards to see, underneath the floodlights.

Her first real look at herself and—she was not nearly done changing.

It would’ve been nice, at least, to have it behind her, very literally. Instead she had a half-built body, with no fur on it, worm-like without the coat. No tail besides the start of a stub. Her feet were half-fused, at best, and gave warning aches on the cold dew-soaked ground. The back half, especially, was partially deflated.

She was a half-blown-up balloon of a horse girl.

Arianne went behind the building to have a good cry. At least, she’d consoled herself, centaur girls had a grace. Horses were cool looking. They were the epitome of nobility. Her crumpled rear end looked like a bad carnival mural.

And, she slowly realized, she’d just pissed casually on the grass.

“Get it TOGETHER,” she told herself. She was a human with extra legs. She was not going to start casually relieving herself on lawns. Or licking sugar cubes, or eating apples out of people’s hands. She’d get a job in construction or something.

At that point Arianne realized she was half-naked. She had on her thin pajama shirt and nothing else. Her asshole was displayed to the general public.

Demoralized, she padded over to the commissary, asshole and all. It was time to eat and eat.

All the big boys and big girls were there, eating dried protein-heavy kibble. It had a hopeful sign on it that read “granola” which, to Arianne, was a bad sign. It meant that the government thought nothing of lying to them. They had large styrofoam bowls to scoop it into.

“We have a porta-potty back there,” the MPV staffer said. He was unusually burly, and wore an apron over the black and blue uniform. WIth the usual face mask. “You can back into it and let fly. Don’t worry too much about accuracy.”

“Thanks,” Arianne said. It was easier to close her thoughts to everything but nutrition. Including the knowledge that her butthole was on display. Among other areas. The sun was still a long time from coming up, and they were underneath one of the many floodlights, making everyone look even uglier.

There were tall tables put up on bricks to let her eat standing up. They were even too tall—or was she supposed to just stick her mouth in? No. The staffer had made a big deal out of handing her an oversized spoon. People used utensils, even if it would be convenient to lower her mouth.

She had to ask. Arianne cantered in an awkward circle. “Should I be wearing some sort of pants?” she asked the big man. “Is that, like, legally required?

He cleared his throat. “We’re efforting on that issue,” he said. “We have some pre-cut tarps in the interim. We understand that... going to the bathroom can present issues.”

She was now too hungry to care. Arianne turned back around. Did his eyes flicker downwards? “They sure can,” she agreed.

There weren’t that many early diners, and they were mostly all very intent on fuel. The Big Monster Binder backed this up. Although many changed into fantastic shapes everyone was mostly trim and nubile. Hot anthros. Even the cowgirls were just pleasantly thick. The ultra-big were the centaurs, the orcs, the onis, and a few even rarer. So she was a freak of a freak.

Even so, one of her dormmates was already there. Josie. She had been the shortest of them all on arrival, and still had a long ways to go. So far she just seemed to be generally expanding. Her pajama top had turned into a croptop overnight, and her hoodie sleeves went halfway up her arms. She had been a very small asian girl. It wasn’t clear what color she was going to end up, but it was not a regular human shade. Possibly red, or purple.

She said nothing when Arianne took the nearest elevated table.

“You can take my clothes,” Arianne said. “I’m giving all my pants away this morning. I’m not sure why I even packed them. And skirts. I think a skirt that plays make-believe about a waist isn’t worth the effort.”

“TH-thank you, ma’am,” Josie said. Arianne had rarely heard her previous voice. It had had a shrilly pitched squeak to it. Already it had dropped a half-octave.

“Arianne. It’s Arianne.” Josie still hadn’t looked at her, which was fine. Arianne didn’t particularly want to be looked at. A thought struck her: she was only half done. Did that really mean that her boobs, which had doubled in size already, had more to go?

She forced herself to use the spoon. Although eventually she soaked the kibble in water, because it made it more efficient to pile down her throat.

They ate, somewhat together, until the sun first started to peak over the horizon. The first few boys walked by, thumping on tree-trunk new legs. They had big wide shoulders and very hairy chests. An enviable transformation—they just got horns and hairy chests. And dicks like baseball bats. They’d have to stand on a box behind her, wouldn’t they? At least access wouldn’t be a problem, since, as was very obvious, she didn’t wear clothes. Heck, panties would be even sluttier, strapped over her big horsey ass.

Arianne tried to shut down these thoughts, without much success.

“What do you think everyone else is turning into?” she said, to distract herself. She couldn’t even sit on her hands. It was too far down. “Berenice is definitely a bunny. I bet they serve big juicy carrots at dinner just to figure that out. Laney, some sort of cat. Sydney I have no clue, Rania I have no clue. Marissa and Jenny have got to be elves, right? They have those ears. And you’re...”

She looked sidelong.

“KLINGON,” Josie said. She cleared her throat again.

“I don’t—oh.” Josie had made a joke. “Ha. Whatever it is, enjoy having just two legs. I’ve got four now and if any of them break I get a glue factory... tour...”

She smelled him first. A sudden stench that made her still-growing hairs stand on end. Her nipples went full erect—her entire bigger body shivered, every new nerve restless and reacting. A new part of her sniffed eagerly, processing a welcome new stimuli. Blood flowed back and forth, heating her up.

He had shaved his hair down, and wore a Naruto t-shirt that was too big on his trim, muscular torso. He was much farther along than she was, all ready except for the flourish of a tail. That was still a bobbed stud. The rest of him was complete, and cloaked in short black hairs, with white markings around his forelegs. He trotted up to her, smiling apologetically.

Of course they had to talk. They were the only two centaurs around. She would’ve smelled any others. Her mouth hung open.

“Neigh,” he said, conversationally.

Arianne backed up, legs struggling to learn reverse, and bolted.

7:52 a.m., Day 2. Dining Commons

“You missed breakfast!” Marissa said. “I brought you some oats!”

She’d brought an entire bag. It was very thoughtful, and had to be very heavy. Marissa grunted as she put it down, then sat next to Arianne.

“Other than that you didn’t miss much. Oh, we’re pretty sure Laney is a house cat. She tried to have cheerios and was just like, disgusted by it. Of course she was disgusted by the fancy feast they’re giving the predators but she at least ate it. I think she wanted like, leopard or puma, but that’s life. So there’s that. And the goblin doctor girl praised all the cabins except ours for being good citizens. Do you want to talk about how you’re crying or no?”

“I mean, I keep doing it, I guess its just normal?” Arianne said. She’d flopped her body down and tried to forget him. It should’ve helped that she didn’t know his name.

“Josie said you saw a boy centaur and ran away. I think it’s cool you can gallop now.”

Marissa had kept her hoodie on, which didn’t do a good job of hiding her own expanding body. She wasn’t much taller, but her chest had plumped up just like Arianne’s had. And she had added a lot of flush to her cheeks, and her hair had more gloss. It was all like someone had taken a few passes with a filter on instagram.

“Its a centaur thing,” Arianne said. “Apparently.”

“Oh yeah, the binder talked about this. All you pack animals go wild around the dominant male. I think usually there’s more confusion about who gets to be that dominant male? But since there’s one centaur boy, ta da!”

“You were discussing this. At breakfast,” Arianne said.

Marissa tucked her hair behind her ears. They were definitely elven. Long, pointed, and graceful.

“I think its nice you met someone?” Marissa hazarded. “And his name is Darius. IF you were wondering.”

“Oh my god.” Darius. “My parents are going to blow up if I’m seeing a black guy. Horse. Black horse.”

“Yeahhhhh he came by and introduced himself. Said he was sorry he spooked you.”

“We’re known to be skittish. TOTAL horse thing,” Arianne said. She kicked all four legs. Darius. Darius in the tatty anime shirt. Dad especially was going to flip. Mom... actually, Mom would probably be fine so long as there were grandponies.

Grandponies.

“We’re supposed to be getting our energy out now,” Marissa said. “Officially it’s P.E. There’s a whole schedule.”

Which meant he was out there, waiting for her. They had to talk. And he was the only other centaur. And her body was insisting they at least TALK, with every muscle fiber, every nerve....

“Can you maybe... rig up some pants for me?” Arianne said.

9:18 a.m., Day 2. Cabin 3B

She was feeling randy again. It was starting to feel like a default setting, whenever Arianne wasn’t otherwise starving or humiliated or terrified. Lacking any other ideas, her body was horny.

“Do you care if you look dumb, or no?” Marissa said, eventually.

Arianne sighed. Her nipples pricked in the cool morning air. They had the bathroom to themselves. And, as usual, being in an enclosed space with Marissa was comforting. In a hot way. Like she was in a sauna, or getting a massage. She smelled like a bath bomb.

“Can you just get the skirt on?” Arianne said.

“Yeah, sort of, but... you were a size eight? Weren’t you like six feet tall even before all this? Alright. Fine. Congrats. Anyway, your butt is no longer a size eight. Is the issue.”

“Even the tennis skirt?” It was going to be mega-frustrating, not having access to her own backside.

She caught Marissa’s expression. The girl’s ears kept twitching, and she kept rubbing them.

“No tennis skirt,” she said.

At least the girl in the mirror was—her. It only showed her torso, but it was her torso. Her with a big time boob job. And it looked like her hair had gotten longer, as some sort of sympathetic mane thing. It was cute, in an amazon way, and Darius was going to love getting his hands on her ample new jugs. Even though he couldn’t mount her and rub them at the same time. But that was fine, he could take turns...

“Hello. Arianne. Come back to me.”

She was cupping her own tits, to the reflection. Imagining they were hard male centaur hands.

“Its just—like—is this it? Am I just gonna be—” she avoided the word “bred” with difficulty, her equine body pressing for it. “d-dating this guy? Because he’s IT? What if I decide to date an orc? Or NOBODY? Is nobody even still an option”

Even she couldn’t lie to herself that much. It had to be somebody. Among other things, she could no longer touch herself.

“That’s animal shit, where they just dump the male in your stall! Because he won the Kentucky Derby or something! And you’re supposed to just get hot for that! Who cares if you’re the next Seabiscuit, you don’t just get to put FOALS in me because of that!” She stamped her feet, all of them.

Arianne’s tirade was ruined, a little, by how her hands kept creeping back, to hoist her new boobs.

“I snapped your pleated skirt in half,” Marissa said. “Ripped it down the middle. Didn’t know I had it in me.”

“Elvish strength?”

“Yeah... yeah. My elvish ways. So if I do that, and I steal this bungie cord that was on Sydney’s backpack for some reason, I can sort of cover up your privates. Unless you move... at all.”

“Does it look good?” Arianne said. “I mean... cute? No. Just good. Say it looks good.”

“It looks like a horse butt with a skirt on,” Marissa said.

“So its at least like, feminine?” Arianne said. She inhaled. Alarm bells needed to be ringing inside of her head, at all times. Presenting a girlish, demure side to Darius was not a priority. She had to just sit on her ha—had to go for a run. Maybe take up archery.

“You’re the sexiest centaur I’ve ever met,” Marissa concluded. She gave Arianne a friendly slap on the ass. Startled, Arianne kicked backwards, catching her new friend right in the gut.

Marissa took two crab-walking steps backwards before falling to the floor.

“You.. owe me... a lot of rides,” she huffed.

10:12 a.m., Day 2. Archery

The camp was not shy about their utter lack of privacy. Two drones shivered overhead, loud and uncaring. An entire bus of security staff showed up after breakfast, what seemed to be mostly brand new hires. Their uniforms had a shine to them, and they stared at the developing girls. Burly MPV men walked in pairs, walkie-talkies crackling on their hips.

There was no camp schedule, which made some sense. Everyone was busy changing. Eating, generally. But most of the new campers were spread out underneath the trees, in singles, putting on new fur. A boy was filling in his ears as Arianne watched, pig flaps jutting out from underneath straw-blonde hair. He had his hands conscientiously underneath his butt, which was also in the process of adding a spring-loaded tail.

“Okay,” Arianne said. “Run.”

The anticipation of it flooded her, making her already hot and bothered body that much more excited. Her body wanted to run. It was made to run. She’d always liked to run, and now she was born to it. Her hooves were not close to done, but they had a fused-over, comfortably numb feeling. All four legs were facing the right way, and she could feel the burn to gallop in all of them.

Not running. She wasn’t going to run ever again. She was going to trot, or canter, or gallop.

Arianne got ten paces before nearly falling over, and twelve paces before she actually fell over. She spun out, monster truck style, back half freezing up at what she was asking it to do. The muscles there were getting ropey but were still, ultimately, human tendons. She threw up an enormous cloud of dust that attracted the attention of every single person in the Camp, as well as all the security officers, and the drones.

She ended up on her side. On her back wasn’t an option anymore, even if she bent her human half forwards.

“Happened to me too,” Darius said, as the dust settled. Her skirt was totally askew. But he at least cantered next to her, forelegs jaunty with their white furred socks. His hooves were nearly fully formed. They were imposing, and made her feel, briefly, a little more dainty.

“You gotta wait another day,” he said, offering an arm. She took it. After all her inflamed imagining of horse parts knocking together, it was a shock to have her hand in his. He’d bitten his nails down. “You’re not there yet. Right now your brain still thinks its a little bit biped, and the muscles aren’t right. Soon, trust me. I’m Darius.”

“I’m Arianne.” He knew that already, she could tell. “I guess we got the same monster virus.”

“Yeah... yeah,” Darius did not have the resoundingly deep voice she’d imagined. It was nervous, and punctuated with little laughs. “I had to look up a bunch of stuff about, you know, getting horsed up. Mythology. My guy Chiron. And I guess they’re all over Harry Potter, I never read those. All.. uh.. men. Though.”

They had started walking together. A horse thing, Arianne figured. Just like that, they were up against each other. She could feel so much of his hide. Warmth poured off her male counterpart. And he kept sneaking peaks at her tits. She had to hope he was thinking—can’t believe my luck.

“Watch,” he said, and took off.

He galloped off, Naruto shirt billowing behind him. All four legs kept perfect time, and Arianne’s own legs ached to join him. He didn’t really run like a horse would run, shoulders surging forward to eat up ground. His torso was bent forwards, fists balled, like he was willing his legs onwards. Barely concealed, her privates did another dance. There was so much power there, so much energy. Except—

His cock was out.

It was slung underneath him, and couldn’t be hidden, but it was also—out. He trotted up to her, proud of himself, stallion-scented, flecked with sweat and dripping with potent pheromones, and his dick was out. It looked warm, in the early morning chill, like it was about to steam. Arianne took a few steps backwards.

“It’s really fun. Really, really fun,” he concluded. The scent of lathered male tried to calm her down, tell her that the underslung cock was amazing. It would be the key to their eventual relationship. All the other girls would be jealous that she had that much dick at her beck and call. She wanted it. It was so nearby. Her body longed for it and was terrified and was needy and scared.

“You’re from, where, Near North?” She said. It escaped her in her panic—something her Mom would’ve said. Might as well say—‘so. poor? Right? Poor?”

That got his attention off her boobs. It flickered onto her face, her blonde hair. “No. What about you? Lowry Hill? So you already know horses, I bet.”

Close. Very close. She had to work out backpedaling in a body that could barely do forepedal. “Yeah. Well. A little. I was playing volleyball for Minnesota State until this week. I guess I’m on the equestrian team now. Little horse terminology there.”

“I know. Tough backing up, isn’t it?” He just looked puzzled. Where would she go? He was still breathing very hard.

It struck her—she was staying so hard to be upwind from him. Which meant that he was downwind of her. Arianne could see his nose flare and knew, with total certainty, that she was doing something to him. Changing him. He could smell her.

“Your dick is out, by the way” she said, desperate. “I can see your penis. It’s—it’s huge. It’s god damn enormous. You have this big horse dick and its erect. Balls, too.” She was hyperventilating. It was so much.

They both stopped. They were nearly to the picnic area, and dozens of altering people were watching them. The drones had altered position to buzz nearby. Men and women had stopped conversations to watch the horse people, by far the biggest changes in the entire camp, raise their voices at each other.

Darius scratched at his head. “I don’t have horse underpants.”

“It’s your DICK!” Arianne babbled. He was close again, and once again she could smell a man who could run. She needed space, to figure out how she was feeling. And obviously to fight what was chemical attraction, the work of pheromones and hormones. She would never have been unbearably attracted to Darius, otherwise. He would’ve been her checker at Target.

She lowered her eyes, humiliated at the thought. More Dad-thoughts. She wanted to rub his chest and run away. They were facing each other, up close, for the first time.

“You know I can, you know, see your whole deal, too” Darius said. HIs eyes were so side. Arianne risked a look back. Her entire juryrigged skirt was worthless. It had turned into a plaid belt, idiotic on her burgeoning butt. “I can see it—I can smell it—”

Arianne bolted. She was already getting better at running.

11:28 a.m., Day 2. Dining Commons

She had to eat, which meant everyone else got to voice opinions.

“Its romantic,” Bernice insisted. “CLASSIC romance. It’s Romeo and Juliet and Black Beauty at the same time. Meet, overcome obstacles, realize you’re made for each other. And so on.”

“Oh god. Romeo and Juliet,” Jenny murmured. She looked over at Marissa. “That fucking play. I got expelled over that—anyway.”

“Then he mounts you and slides a yard of cock in your guts,” Laney said. “What music plays, do you think? Original composition or something from Disney?”

Arianne concentrated on eating. The solution to all of this was simple. She’d eat and eat, and eat, until she was a fully-formed horse monster. Then she would flee for the open plains of Nebraska, and live a simple life.

“No one is having sex,” Jenny said. Her skin glowed with health. She’d added a few loose curls to her long, straight hair. “Least of all Arianne. You’d have to take sex-ed again. The physics of it alone.”

Arianne, however, was completely sure she knew how to get fucked.

Table 3B was ignoring the Morning Activity, which was calisthenics, taught by Dr. Hunt. He was some sort of plant thing, and had himself positioned to catch every ounce of the spring sun. Until Arianne and her romance issues had shown up, they were discussing whether his warm-up sweats and Adidas apparel did anything when you were now sap and tree rings. A lot of campers had joined anyway. There were a lot of new joints that needed to be popped out.

“If your knees are in the process of flipping grades, do NOT do this exercise!” he called out. “Continue doing upper-body work!”

“I’m skipping leg day,” Sydney said. Of all of them, her transformation was the least advanced. Josie was getting big. Rania was going either wet or plant, and they had two sexy elf babes. Sydney just looked pissed off. “Arianne, my advice is, stay clear of this centaur guy. Way, way clear.”

Arianne looked up, with a mouthful of kibble. Already she felt better always on her feet. It hadn’t even occurred to her to try and sit. And she hadn’t even looked at the sandwiches, when there was a nice bag of oats ready for her. “You think so?”

Sydney leaned forwards. “You gotta look at it from his perspective. You see all the other guys? All these other guys we’ve got around? You know what I bet they’re doing? Jerking off.”

“Sorry, what?” Marissa said. She kept itching at her headband. Her and Jenny’s hair were competing to be the shiniest and curliest, and both had that same hi-gloss to their smooth skin. “Umm?”

“Yeah, like, constantly. You know men. You know how you girls couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves, last night? Imagine how the men feel! They have to be horned up beyond belief! They’d tear even Josie to shreds, if they could?”

Josie hadn’t said anything. She was another big eater. Her nose had started to flatten out, and she’d put on another inch. “What?” she managed.

Sydney flapped her arms. “They are hyper-horny! They were like that pre-virus! Which means there’s only one, count him, one boy who isn’t constantly rubbing himself off, and that’s because he CAN’T.”

“Oh my god,” Arianne said. Sydney nodded, delighted.

“It’s your horse boy. The only relief he’s ever gonna get is bouncing around in your back half. You had better get good with those legs, because he is gonna catch you otherwise.”

1:00 p.m., Day 2. Amphitheater

“Urges,” the orc said. He had tusks hooking out from the underside of his mouth, and was colored a puke-green. He had shoulders that could carry a fridge. “Urges are how you know the virus is at work. Like all virii it seeks to propagate. Your new self is a carnival of spit, blood, semen, and mucus. It will use all of them to spread. ESPECIALLY semen.”

They had heard all this the previous night, just not growled at them, menacingly. Marissa passed around a note on a scrap of paper. It was the seven of them, in stick figure form, dancing around in a rain made out of cum. She’d written CUM on the page with an arrow, to the drops, just in case it wasn’t clear. Arianne looked at her stick figure self, somehow jumping for joy in a sperm bath, with four line legs.

“Today we are going to start giving you NORMAL TOOLS. You will recognize the four signs of estrus! You will learn that cold showers is not just a saying! Self-control is—”

The orc stopped. He’d introduced himself as Dr. Glocken. He wore a white labcoat, and, again, seemed far too old to have gone through MPV.

“Okay, bring them up,” he said.

This was new.

A contingent of MPV staff appeared at the back. Everyone looked around, uneasy.

Arianne felt her legs tremble. They had gotten stronger, and even taller, even after breakfast. She had even risked a brief trot.

There was a girl with a very long neck in the middle of the staffers. It was easy enough to tell that she was going herd animal—her eyes were spreading, losing binocular vision, to end up on two sides of an eventual snout. Even with added height she looked very thin, very frail, in the center of a squad of grim humans. Right behind her was the dog boy Arianne had seen earlier.

“These two were engaging in coitus,” Dr. Glocken said. He sounded genuinely outraged. “Behind a TREE. They’ve known each other for all of five hours, and she had her fertile heinie offered up. We cannot allow this. The health of the public is at stake. And god knows what she’ll BIRTH.”

This inspired Marissa, clearly, who was already drawing furiously.

Jenny had gotten hold of the first drawing. She had erased the word CUM and written in SIMPLE RAINDROPS.

“We have been lenient with auto-erotica self-stimulation, even where our staffers are forced to disinfect benches, walls, and even ceilings. But sex—we are not allowing sex. Unfortunately we have not yet found a working contraceptive for your—our—kind.”

The new couple was led up to the stage. They’d obviously been dressed under threat of force. The gazelle-girl had been wrapped in what looked like a beige shawl, repurposed for her hips. And the boy had what looked like an extra-large pair of MPV-issued pants on. He was still covered in patches of fur, tanned human skin peeking out from in between.

Dr. Glocken produced a kit, and pulled out a paired set of needles.

“We do have some excellent sedatives, however,” he said.

He jabbed the girl in front of all of them. She had no time for fight-or-flight, and, besides, was completely hemmed in with MPV goons. They’d put on simple breathing masks, this close to her.

Marissa gasped. Her scent flooded around her, the standard blend of exotic herbs. Arianne breathed it in, and in. It burned her nose, interacting oddly with the panic and flight it found there.

The girl’s new boyfriend had to reach between a mass of dark uniforms, and maneuver himself backwards. But even so he managed to grab ahold of her hoove-like hand.

Dr. Glocken filled him with drugs right afterwards.

The twosome didn’t fall over. They just looked scared, trying to run human expressions through increasingly new faces. The girl did have to be held up, and roughly, grabbing right where the shot went in.

“We don’t like having to do this,” Dr. Glocken told the completely silent crowd. Changing even while he lectured them, the attendees shifted in their seats to let their tails come in.

Arianne looked for Darius. Smelled for him, for a wisp of that hot scent she already had memorized. Was briefly frantic, at his absence. He should’ve been a warm presence at her side, their two bodies pressed up against each other. Clothes were for animals who didn’t have a herd.

He was out there—alone, without his filly. Her. Without her. Alone and yearning for her—Arianne was sure of it, he needed her. He’d make poor decisions without her around. Men were worthless without their girl there to check their worst impulses. He was doubtlessly horny, galloping around, getting into trouble. She had to fight down the urge to bolt, to find him. She had to soothe him, and he could soothe her. They’d change into something new together, and it would be, if not a beautiful happy ending, at least appropriate.

Marissa’s scent enveloped her, encouraging her. Her nipples pricked up, her body was loose, wet, hot with panic and heat. Images ran through her—sex was about intimacy, yes, but sometimes it was just comfort. Security. A three hundred pound horse man, his arms around her, was very secure.

At the very least she really needed to jerk her man off.

“We will apply individual corrections until it becomes a population-level issue,” Dr. Glocken said. “Then we’ll drug the food and the water. I hope this has made clear that we take this all very seriously.”

2:02 p.m., Day 2. Far Field

Arianne ran around. It didn’t seem like an enormous male centaur could hide. But Darius had not been at the horrible show.

She imagined him on his side on a steel gurney, outside of the Camp. It was just visible beyond the trees and around a bend, a collection of prefabricated buildings. No effort had been made, there, to play pretend summer camp. It was all plastic modular, and a cluster of antenna through the treeline. They’d been playing nice until the big buses with the extra men arrived, with the extra uniforms, and the additional needles.

Arianne barely noticed her legs moving in time. The precise timing of four-legged movement. Humans had studied horse gait for centuries, and it had helped inspire early motion pictures. At age twenty, previously on two legs, Arianne converted panic for her sole stablemate into inspiration. Her hooves, still blackened foot-like pucks, beat a real tempo.

He was asleep.

There was a far meadow, near the high fence that marked the edge of the camp. It was rusted over, but the line of concertina wire had been recently replaced, and the spikes were very shiny. Darius slept the only way a centaur could—on his side, legs splayed out. His head was propped at an uncomfortable angle.

He’d added heft and volume to his tail. Darius was very close to being complete. She examined his undercarriage, face still red, while she could. Two big black balls.

She needed to hurry. The drones were busy with the masses of upset campers. Possibly there were cameras in the undergrowth, but the entire camp still seemed slapdash. They had a moment of privacy. Arianne knelt, and reached out to grab his dick.

“Oh. Uh. Hey there,” Darius said. He propped his head up. “Down there.”

“Hi,” Arianne said.

“Hi. You wanna... talk?” Darius said. Her hand was outstretched, right next to his dick. Despite his nonchalance it was starting to slide out, enormous and sticky. “I can’t really see what you’re up to but does it have something to do with my penis?”

“Yeah... no.... yes. We kind of have to hurry. I thought you might need... relief. You know? Since you can’t touch it?” Arianne said. “I thought... I thought that sounded really, really terrible.”

“Oh, I just slide a rolled up t-shirt down there,” Darius said. “If you really want to know. It’s a lot of friction. Yeah, like I’m sawing down an oak, I guess.” He couldn’t really see what she was up to, but he hadn’t moved.

“Oh.” Right, of course. Men could always find a way to jack off. They were incredibly ingenious in that respect. “And... also... I mean, great... but.. I didn’t want to seem like some snobby stuck-up horse girl. Like before. Because you’re stuck with me and.. what if you were disappointed? In the only one you got?”

It was more than she was planning to say, or had even thought of before. When had she decided, that she couldn’t lose him? In the presentation? Beforehand? Was it written in the stars? She waited for him to snort his disdain. His underbelly was showing. She wondered if that was a show of vulnerability, with centaur men. It would definitely be one with her.

“I’m sorry you got some poor Near North kid wearing an anime shirt as the only horse guy,” Darius said. “I don’t wear shoes anymore but they were trash, the ones I had. You would’ve thought, shit. Walmart.”

“No!” Arianne said. She blinked back her first centaur tears. “Look, I- I—I don’t know if it’s a horse thing, or I just feel guilty, so its a human thing, or if I’m going into heat or if I just like you or what it is, okay? I- I just want to start by rubbing your dick. Lets just start there, okay? Please? And we gotta hurry or we’re gonna get drugged.”

She paused, fingers twitching.

“I mean, I’m not saying no,” Darius said.

Arianne grabbed at it.

It was very dark and very long. But it was also an enormous, physical relief to get her hands on it. To turn it from some intimidating phallus to something—hers. Something she could stroke, and get familiar with. Darius’ dick, yes, but also partly her property. If this monster was going to get on top of her, in Stallion Missionary, it was important to feel connected.

Her body was twitching from the proximity. Some part of Darius was pumping raw horsey pheromones into the air, and she could smell all of them. Despite her steed’s determination to stay cool she could smell his desperation. It smelled a lot like her own. Animals mated because they had to.

“How is it? How different is it?” Arianne said, both hands rubbing. It was another relief when normal precum spurted out. Even with her body’s eager insistence, there was only so much she felt she could tolerate.

“It’s better,” Darius hissed. “Twice as good. Like my.. ahhh... like my entire body is dick. There’s so... MUCH of it.”

“Yeah,” Arianne said, nodding in earnest. “It’s sooooo big.” Long pause. “I like it.”

“Okay, filly,” Darius said.

Filly. Mare. Was she HIS filly? Was this sex talk? There was a lot to figure out, and they didn’t have long. This was all illicit sexual activity. She had to hope that masturbation would give them the time to put it all together. But they weren’t horses, and they weren’t humans, either. They were a combination, even if the reproductive part veered horsey. It would be so much better to figure it out together.

“I’m gonna cum,” Darius grunted. He was a beat too slow. He was already spurting a lot of cum. Arianne caught it in her hand, just to see what it was like. Sticky and hot, no surprises. Her horse body screamed at her for its own release. She fought it down, and, instead, patted her mustang’s side.

“I really needed that,” he admitted, struggling to his feet. “T... thanks. Do you... do you want me to....”

“Yes, and hurry,” Arianne said. She turned her naked backside to Darius, and tossed a wink over her shoulder.

MARISSA 2

3:11 p.m., Day 2. Showers.

“Come on,” Marissa said. “I need an enclosed space.”

“Someone is going to be jerking off a bullboy in here,” Jenny said. “Possibly you.”

“I don’t think so. It’s just—too unsanitary,” Marissa said. She kept checking the fluff of her cascading brown hair. It was the only thing keeping her incipient demonhood quiet. The tough chitinous bumps on her forehead were already starting to poke through.

The previous owners of the Camp had plunked a set of showers down, and then apparently thought better of communal bathing in a facility for the young. The doors were off, and the windows were gone. Nonetheless it retained a lot of dank, the stalls scum-stained and mushroom-rich. It smelled like years of accumulated teen scum.

“I don’t know what sanitary has to do with any of this,” Jenny said. She was increasingly blonde and effortlessly ethereal. Her ears had finished their metamorphosis, and were long and arrogant. Her nose could’ve belonged to roman emperors.

“Okay,” Marissa said. She thrown herself into other people’s problems, to avoid her own. But the drugging display had shaken her up. “Do you smell that?”

“Mushrooms and popped zits,” Jenny reported.

“Do you smell... me?” Marissa said.

She was in the center of a cloud of spices. They swirled and changed, Marissa suspected, based on her mood. When she was nervous there was a definite pepper in the air. When she was horny—and she was very, very turned on—it was a cinnamon-sugar blend. But at all times there were traces of coriander, cumin, billowing around her. And if she could smell it...

“Of course I can,” Jenny said. “We all can. And, before you ask, yes. It is getting stronger.”

“Is it really? Oh no,” Marissa said, half-pleading. It was already overpowering—she figured from the must of the ancient showers. Natural humidity. She grabbed Jenny’s hand, and placed it on top of her protruding upper forehead. Jenny’s expression didn’t even change.

“We’re not gonna be Lord of the Rings elves together,” Marissa said. “I’m gonna be a sex devil. A demon lady. It’s—Jenny. It’s bad. It’s so bad. Already I can—like I don’t think Arianne is THAT hot and horny but around ME...”

“Succubus. You’re a succubus,” Jenny said. She tapped the incoming horns. They were sharp, and just about to break through the surface. “What else?”

“I’ve.. I’ve got a tail stub, but it could be any tail, so far. No... no forked anything,” Marissa said. She flipped up her sweater, and endured more prodding. “Ummm... and I think this probably goes without saying... but I’ve been experiencing considerable... sustained... even extreme... physical and mental arousal. At all times. And I think its affecting the other girls in our cabin. Jenny, what am I gonna DO?”

Her friend sniffed, and rubbed at her perfect aquiline nose. “Can you just keep your hands to yourself? And wear a headband?”

“Ummm... I’m trying REALLY hard but... you know all those guys out there?” Marissa waved vaguely.

“You want to fuck them all.”

“Yes. Maybe at the same time. It’s a succubus thing. Apparently. I don’t even know.” Marissa felt a hot rush of tears, and wiped her runny nose on her sleeve. “Jenny, you know me. I’m a super-duper virgin. I can’t be trotting around with my butt in the air, having all sorts of sex. You’ve gotta help me!”

“Take a cold shower. It’s right there.” Jenny pointed to the dripping, mucus-heavy stall.

“It’s—Jenny. I’m...” Marissa couldn’t hide it. She had to say it. “I’m.... hungry.”

“Eat some kibble.”

“No. I don’t know how it works but I’m starving, I’m so, so hungry. I need it, you know? Like how Arianne needs her oats.”

“Need what?” Jenny said, quietly. “What do you need?”

“Dick,” Marissa said, with a new voice. One unashamed to want a cock in her. One that needed it really badly.

“Dick,” Jenny thought about this. The scent swirled around them both. It didn’t seem to take, on Jenny. Some sort of elvish immunity, apparently. Jenny looked right in her eyes. “And what about pussy?”

“That’d be yummy too,” Marissa purred.

Jenny bit at her lip, and appeared ready to say at least something, when the little light in the broken-down room was blocked. Grey and blue uniform stood in its way. Tall enough that he had to duck, and with a big black baton already held at his side.

“Hey, hey. Outside,” the man said. His voice started out at threatening, and had no give. “No fraternization.”

“We’re GIRLS,” Jenny said. “There’s no sign, no—”

The MPV man took two steps forward, and raised his backhand.

When Jenny flinched, he smiled.

“I know you’re having all sorts of animal urges, but you can potty in the regular bathroom, I’m sure of it. What’re you two turning into? Christ. Elves. Ridiculous. At least the cow girls have no choice but to be milked.”

“We’re REALLY sorry, sir!” Marissa breathed.

Both Jenny and the MPV soldier looked at her, surprised.

Marissa felt—confident.

She knew exactly how to handle this man. This close to him, especially, she felt a very sudden grace. An almost casual ability to manage the situation. After all, she could smell every bit of him. The ugly arrogance oozing out of his pores, the obvious interest in his shorts. He’d followed them in there to fuck with them, squeeze and fondle what he could get away with. Male lust was the most obvious thing in the world, on the wind. Very easy to manage.

Very enjoyable, she thought. It trickled around her mind, down into her thighs, and back up. Purged all the breathless bouncy girl, and brought forward a developing new slut.

A hungry one. She was getting really hungry.

“We’re just dumb and horny, and I thought maybe we could lick each other’s pussies in the shower!” Marissa purred.

It wasn’t the best thing to direct him to. There was mold crawling up all sides of the stalls. “But that’s okay!” Marissa said. She reached out and touched at his canvas jacket, as seductively as she could manage. She just had to wait, she knew, until her scent crawled up his nose. And then she could do whatever she wanted with him.

She could suck him completely dry.

“It is nice to find something vaguely human. You girls are lucky,” the man said. He didn’t resist Marissa pulling off a glove, kissing each of his fingers. She caught Jenny’s eye. Her friend looked—vulnerable, unsure of herself, despite her new regal posture. His hands tasted sweaty, but not too bad.

“Getting luckier all the time, SIR!” Marissa said. She looked up at just the right moment. There it was—the chemical compounds interlaced throughout her body, pouring out in her scent, binding all men to her aura.

They coaxed their way inside the man’s libido, and he was hers. His eyes went both blank and wild.

“Maybe a little cocksucking to start?” Marissa suggested. The man had trouble even nodding. The baton dropped out of his hands. She pulled down his pants. The man had already soaked his government-issue underpants in jizz, just from the effect of her scent. The monster binder had only hinted at it, at the aphrodisiacs laced in her spit, her smell, her everything. And said nothing at all about what a succubus could do to their partner.

Jenny looked disapproving when she took his dick into her mouth. It was a moment of surprise for Marissa, as well. It was an exceptionally big cock. And she’d never sucked on one before. It would’ve been—more Marissa—for at least some trepidation about putting every inch down her mouth, even in a life-or-get-beat situation. But the big, trembling length of it, the knowledge that it was all hers, that she could feed and feed and finally get what she needed... Marissa urged it down her throat.

“Oh, god,” Jenny said. She rubbed at her face, at her ears. It smelled impossibly strong, drowning out even a decade’s worth of uninterrupted rot. “I’ll.. keep lookout. You.. slut.”

“Mm-HM!” Marissa said. She had most of his cock down her throat. Transfixed, the man was just about able to stand. That was a little disappointing—she felt ready, already, for some throat fucking, for him to grab her hair. Maybe even to be called a stupid demon slut. Her forehead pounded, both horns making their first split through the skin. She was changing, even as she sucked her first dick.

“Hurry up!” Jenny said, her new hourglass figure in the doorframe. Not so very different from Marissa’s, increasingly butt and boobs. Jenny scratched at her own back, keeping watch.

It was very hard to hurry up. Having a dick in her throat felt immediately natural. And to think, it wasn’t even sex. She could ride him, leisurely, milking every last drop until—what? She could edge him, Marissa realized, and it would be very fun. Keep him from cumming, until the buildup drove the blood from his brain. Until he was just a dick and balls.

“God damn it, Marissa, hurry the fuck up!” Jenny said, half-whispered. Was her friend trying hard not to jam her hand down her pants? Marissa lost the rhythm, for a half-second, and the MPV man came down her throat.

For all her sudden confidence it was too much, too soon. The soldier was about to fall over, eyes blank, and did. His head narrowly avoided cracking against the concrete. Cum ran out of her mouth, despite Marissa’s best efforts. It was delicious, it was food, and she needed it. The man kept trying to thrust, rewarding her anxious tongue with less and less delicious, necessary jism.

he slurped the last little bit in, pleased.

“Did you kill him?” Jenny said, all business.

It suddenly occurred to Marissa that she was a college freshman, and that she weighed about one hundred fifty pounds, and she’d never even given a handjob before.

“Oh my god,” she said, with a sticky mouth. “He’s dead. I succubus’d him. Oh—oh god, Jenny. I sucked him to death.”

“He’s definitely unconscious,” Jenny said. She raised her hand back, considered it, and then slapped the soldier. He was wholly unresponsive. “Good god.”

“Jenny, I really am a—” panic mixed with delight, her brain processing the gift of semen. It was too much. She sat back on the concrete, confused, and covered her eyes. “I’m a dangerous sexual beast.”

“You keep lookout,” Jenny said. “I’m dumping him in the far shower.”

“What happens when he wakes up?”

“If. If he wakes up.”

Marissa trailed over to the patch of sunlight. One day in to succubus-hood and she’d knocked a guy completely out. Although the good news was, he wasn’t completely dead. “You’ll just have to keep transforming, so he can’t identify you. I think you can do that.”

Worried, looking outside, Marissa missed Jenny leaning down to the man, putting her mouth to his ear, and murmuring:

“Lucky you.”