The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

BERENICE

11:35 a.m., Day 2. Dining Commons

“I wish I had a different first name, at least,” Berenice said.

“Bunny Berenice,” Sydney agreed. “Children’s book name. Me, I’m good unless I’m a shark. And even then, cool. Shark girl.”

“Berenice the RABBIT,” Marissa said. “Or hare. Is it hare? How about buck? Oh. I guess that’s no better. And that’s a male bunny, right?”

“Careful with the boy bunny talk. It doesn’t take much to get her pregnant,” Laney said.

Berenice flushed and paled, at the same time. The lines at Table and Cabin 3B had been already drawn. Jenny, Laney, and Sydney were on team sarcasm, if not exactly Team Mean. Berenice had more than one sister who filtered the world that way, and she was sympathetic to the need to make cutting yet insightful remarks. But there’d been so, so many jokes about her squirting out—whatever a bundle of baby bunnies was called. She hadn’t looked. She wasn’t gonna look.

Sydney checked for her. The monster binder came out. “The fertility section is like half of this,” she said, holding it up. “It’s ridiculous. Little Miss Knock-Me-Up. Not even species-dependent, apparently. You can get pregnant from plants. You could get have spores for the father.”

“Put the binder down,” Jenny said, before Marissa could. The other two did, right away. Jenny’s voice had dropped an octave, right into a pit of sultry. “You two would be lucky to get Bunny. It’s practically human. Its just ears, teeth, nose, the cotton puff, and some fur.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Berenice said. The tail had popped in, first thing in the morning. It didn’t look very real. A playboy addition to her lower back. In fact, all of her changes were not so much animal as Lola Bunny. She’d even shrunk about an inch, to emphasize that she was going to be fluffy and cute. And fuckable.

And fertile. Very, very fertile.

Her boobs were bigger. That wasn’t very rabbit, either. Why would bunnies need big boobs?

“Cow girls have it worse,” Marissa said, still trying to be helpful. “Unless you like them big and meaty.”

“Berenice,I think your voice has changed,” Sydney said. “Say Pick a Pack of Popping Penises.”

“And why am I doing that?” Berenice said.

“It’s true,” Laney agreed. “You’re squeakier. But in like, a hot way. Oh, don’t get upset. I’m not going to eat you. My teeth haven’t come in yet. Eat another carrot.”

Berenice had always prided herself on having lots of friends.

She’d had a large family—not that she was going to let the Sydney/Laney/Jenny trio learn THAT fact—and everyone had been good at something. She’d been good about acquaintances and companions. She’d managed to keep a half-dozen girls pretty sure she was their best friend. And she was good at putting up with some teasing, jockeying, some social stratification. All part of the girl friend experience.

Except... she’d never been a prey animal, before.

She’d never felt so much like the sacrificial lamb. As a rabbit. They were all of them changing into various beasts, and, even so, there was a tinge of pity turned in her direction. She was the one who would get knocked up, first. Who would turn into a rutting beast, first. They didn’t have to worry until little Berenice with the plump bunny tits got herself bunny pregnant.

Berenice kept her smile on. No one was meeting her eyes. They were all trained on the heavy incisors that now stuck out over her front lip.

“See, the problem here,” Sydney said, outright pointing. “Is that she can’t suck dick. She’d chomp it in two. So really its all going down babymaker way.”

That was too much even for the others. Josie snorted, and her knees banged into the table. Rania was distracted, twirling a circle of what looked like snot, off her finger, and shook her head. Marissa gasped out loud.

“Looks like you’re turning into a FUCKING BITCH,” Berenice didn’t say. She was going to have to get along with these girls. It was what she was good at. That, and, apparently, getting teen pregnant.

12:40 p.m., Day 2. Near Athletic Fields

Going for a walk by herself felt like failure. She hadn’t just walked around, lonesome, in—Berenice wasn’t sure how long it had been.

She’d even gone jogging in groups. Immediately, when her friends in the dorm had started to get pudgy from excess beers, she’d started a running team. They’d bought hi-vis matching sweats, and headbands in 80s colors, and gasped through the campus in the deepest and darkest snow. Even on the day it had been in the negatives, too cold even for frozen bits of falling ice, Christine had come with, and Paisy had shadowed them in her car, sure they were both about to break their dumb legs.

That was gone. They’d all tried to comfort her from afar, over video chats and text messages, once she’d been diagnosed. She’d been immediately quarantined in her dorm room. All alone to cry in.

“Touch training in twenty minutes!” the PA blared.

At least she wasn’t alone at being alone. Transformation was a solitary experience. All around were people who also needed some privacy, to come to grips with the realization that they were sprouting feathers. Berenice passed a girl who was in the process of turning into a chicken. She had the red—the red—whatever it was called. Underneath her chin. And she was engulfed in a white cloud of developing molt.

Berenice noticed she had a new spring in her step. She fought down an urge to leap. It would draw attention that, for once, she didn’t want. Her tits jiggled even so. She wore a loose halter top and a simple jean skirt. Her butt was definitely bigger, creating a shelf for her cotton tail. She could wriggle it if she thought about it. Her nose was much more sensitive, and the stupid whiskers got longer every time she thought about them.

She knew how everyone felt, looking at her. They were thinking: really? Someone is in that ridiculously fuckable form? And the worst part was, it was really her, in this body. In that fertile and fat-thick body. She was really feeling her pussy with each jumpy step, feeling it pulse with a new urgency. It was really her, looking with hot interest at all the boys.

Her body was telling her that Sydney was right. She was now housed in a sexy bunny bangable body. She was in a cartoon body and she was gonna do the cartoon bunny thing, which was to fall in love and pull apart her bunny haunches. Start an enormous furry family, with thirty or forty mouths to feed.

“You’ll never be lonely,” her body told her, encouraging these thoughts.

She rounded a tree and nearly ran into a boy masturbating.

It was not surprising—she’d been thinking about doing the same thing, herself. Something had to relieve the pressure pounding in her head, contemplating hot furry sex. Berenice could feel herself drip, drip into the new thatch of curly hair that had sprouted. She was now too hairy to drip.

“Oh, SHIT, oh FUCK!” the boy was growing antlers, and a lot of them. He was shirtless, so she nearly walked right into his taut, lengthy chest. His own fur was coming in mottled brown. He had both hands around his dick. “Oh CRAP you’re a bunny.”

“I’m not gonna...” Berenice trailed off. She felt both tired and horny. She watched him swivel his hips, ungainly in his new body. Even with her there, reminding himself that cum had consequences, he was starting to orgasm. All over his chosen tree. She watched it spurt, and also watched his horrified expression.

“I’m not gonna STEAL it,” she finished, lamely. And yet it did look really nice. It was creamy, white. It’d look good, matted on her fur.

“Did any of it get on you?” the boy said. He was hyperventilating, and it didn’t match well with a new muzzle. He looked about ready to pass out. “Or—or in you?”

“Not YET,” Berenice said. She wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not. It just came out of her. And also, she cocked her hips, and swiveled them at the boy.

He stumbled backwards, and fell. His tattered, ill-fitting pants were caught up around his ankles. An antler got lodged in the dirt.

1:40 p.m., Day 2. Outside Amphitheater

“You. Stay.” Dr. Frees said to Berenice. The shortstack had been waiting in the back.

Berenice couldn’t help herself. She’d already just watched the gazelle sedation and was in a state of poorly concealed panic. Fear suddenly raw, overwhelming, her growing feet twitching and twitching underneath the long wooden tables.

She jumped for it.

Jenny caught her. Grabbed her by the back, and held her around the waist. She’d jumped impossibly high, tearing through the remnants of her shoes in the process. New white pads peeked out from the broken Adidas. Berenice sagged. Caught and held, the fight went out of her. Classic prey move, she thought.

“Thank you, Jenny,” Dr. Frees said. “We going to hear anything else from Cabin 3B tonight? Any moaning?”

“No. We are not,” Jenny said. She deposited a trembling Berenice. “Is everything okay with her? I know she hasn’t gotten into any trouble.”

Berenice took short, panicked gasps. Everyone in the auditorium was watching her. They’d already connected the dots, in their own horned heads. She’d been a bad bunny already. She’d definitely gotten jizzed in before she could put her duffel down. It was a wonder a Doe girl had beaten her to it, the little harlot. They all thought she was such a SLUT.

“Oh, no,” Dr. Frees said. She had dark, auburn-colored hair. Despite her squat height and plump proportions she had somehow retained a clinical voice. “No, no. Not yet, anyway. But you’ve read the binder. Trouble brews.”

“Because she’s a bunny? I don’t know why you’d single her out,” Jenny said. Something about Jenny’s proximity was—calming. Calming down was getting harder, now that everyone was squirting panic musk all the time. Jenny fixed her with her trademark glare, and Berenice’s anxiety melted away. “She’s a person with floppy ears.”

“And a reproductive capacity that works geometrically,” Dr. Frees said. “I just want to have a chat with her. Woman to woman.”

Monster to monster, Berenice thought. “I’ll... it’s fine, Jenny. Thanks. I’m fine. And single and not even a BIT pregnant,” she said.

That earned her a smile with a lot of short, sharp teeth. Dr. Frees took her by the elbow and led her out of the old wooden building, out past the moldering dorms, and even past the imprint of what seemed to be a former archery range.

“I can smell cum on you,” she said, to break the ice.

“Ew!” Berenice said. “God! I’m...” what? What was she? “I haven’t had sex with anyone! I haven’t even gotten off! Today.”

That was true. Although she had put her hands behind her back, lowered her nose, and lapped up a little bit of sperm stuck to the tree. Just to see what it was like. Just to satisfy herself. “There’s cum everywhere, I don’t know if you noticed,” she said. “I’m not special.”

“Unfortunately, you are,” Dr. Frees said. “This is my third tour since the pandemic started. I have met five other bunny girls. They are all expectant mothers now. Do you know, stripped of our bones and bodies, we are all similar-looking brains with networks of nerves? And yet, stuck in these forms, we are compelled to do things, by hormones and other biological imperatives and... our cabinmates, in some cases. Such as, rut our way to impregnation.”

Berenice pulled her arm free. There was very little dignity in being a bunny girl, she was finding. Even walking around she could feel her powder-puff tail tracing a figure eight, her hefty new haunches swaying from side to side. “I thought you gave us the big speech on resisting our urges. The we’re-human-inside speech.”

“I read a powerpoint,” Dr. Frees said. “And I would like to believe it. I would certainly like my orc colleague to believe it. That is why I am giving you this.”

She passed it out of her lab coat. It was bright blue, and six inches long, and had a bulbous tip. A vibrator.

“With fresh batteries,” Dr. Frees said. “And these. They’re the only six in the entire Camp. Dispose of them afterwards.” She pressed them into Berenice’s palm. Six extra-large condoms.

They looked around. Dr. Glocken had relented enough to pass around a canvas bag full of various sports balls. They had patches and the stitching on the baseball was loose. The taller and lankier campers were playing volleyball, and the heftier ones were sweating around a basketball court. The volleyball net was a sagging string, and the basket had no net. But it didn’t matter—the few boys had a large and adoring audience of girls, watching specks of sweat fly off the guys.

Her body was responding to it. Was it her, or was it her body? She was shifting her hips, her blood was pumping, she was the one getting juicy for athletic guys. She could feel her tits swell up nice and ready, and her mouth hung open. Berenice was pretty sure she was the one horny for boys. She forced her eyes away, and focused on a tree. An unsexy tree. Could she even LOOK AROUND without prepping for sex?

“What’s the point?” Berenice said. But she took the condoms. What would happen if she walked into the crowd? General pregnancy panic? “You feel it, don’t you? You’re one of us, right?”

“I am not one of YOU,” Dr. Frees snapped. Her wobbly green tits, in a tube top, as well as the fact she was a four foot tall goblin, didn’t back her up.

“I haven’t had sex once, if you—” Dr. Frees stopped. An increasingly feline boy, sporting the first flare of a new mane, had dunked all over a hapless slow-moving rhino-influenced guy. The lion flexed for a crowd of cat girls. Berenice could practically smell it all from there.

“I need time,” Dr. Frees said. “I need time to convince my colleagues that there are solutions besides drugs and camps. I need time to let the CDC isolate antibodies. I am convinced you are still human, deep down, just as I am. Alright? Please, fuck with the condom on. Okay?”

“Do you even know my name?” Berenice said. “Or did you just see—” she checked her ears out. They had been surprisingly slow to come in. Everyone else had gotten big fluffy ears right away. They’d finally changed shape, and added the first felt softness. “See this. Me.”

“I stopped bothering with names awhile ago. Think unsexy thoughts.” Dr. Frees stalked off. Berenice watched her—she was watching the lion man strut, up and down the basketball court, the entire time.

4:41 p.m., Day 2. Cabin 3B

The cabin room was very dark in the late afternoon. Very quiet. Berenice could hear the feminine cheering for the guys, from nearby. The volleyball game was heating up as the boys got used to their new bodies. One guy was amphibian, possibly a frog, and had shot his tongue out to emphasize an incredible save. He’d looked abashed, after doing it, but it had gotten huge applause.

They’d stared at her, just as she’d known they would.

She wasn’t alone in the cabin. Josie was there, in the dark, filling it and her dorm room bed to overflowing. She was just lying there quietly, curled up on herself as much as she could.

“I’M TRYING to...” her voice had this resounding quality to it, unless she clearly fought it off. It sounded like there was a woodcutter inside of her, trying to get out. Josie tried again. “STOP GETTING BIGGER.” Again she tried to clear her throat. Finally a small girl emerged. “Stop getting bigger.”

“Good luck,” Berenice said. She patted her stomach. Goals.

Berenice retreated to the bathroom. Just as she’d expected, the girl in the mirror was pretty much the sexiest thing in the Camp. It wasn’t even a very horny thought. She looked stupid sexy, ridiculously dumb. And once her ears were done she’d been even more Playboy central casting.

“I’m Berenice and I’m a silly wittle bunny girl,” she said, to try it out. Berenice had been painfully aware, talking to Dr. Frees, that her voice had a dumb-girl lilt. A sing-song quality. She sounded like a quivering airhead. Her boobs were very, very big. Even shifting her weight was a production. Curves rolled this way and that.

She was a slutty silly bunny girl. And the moment she closed her eyes, she wanted to fuck.

Berenice groaned. The truth was, she’d been so good. So, so good. She had only touched herself the one time. She hadn’t even tackled the stag, and forced his cock into her snatch. She couldn’t even seem to fantasize about just one boy. There were always multiples, taking turns, emptying out deep inside of her.

Very deep.

“You’re a human named BERENICE,” Berenice said. Her voice made it just dumb to insist. Her fur was coming in silky white and was climbing up the sides of her throat. Her nose twinkled. Worst of all was her hips, which had stretched out her old skirt with additional width. She hiked the skirt down. Even her slit was furred over. Her babies would probably get her coloring. At least some of them.

She did have the one friend no one else had. Berenice pulled out the vibrator. Simple enough solution: whenever she was about to go have sex, she needed to just use it. She was not an animal. Or at least, not some erotic anthro parody.

The vibrator was very loud in the bathroom.

She’d never really stuck anything in herself before. Even her porn-watching had been in company—it had been a fun sleepover activity, daring each other to watch fucked up scenes on phones. She’d even watched general orgies, without a hint of sexual interest. Now it was immediate. A lot of guys needed to fuck her.

She pulled down her skirt and tentatively touched the vibrator to—not her pussy. Above it, easing into it.

It immediately became clear to Berenice that, whatever she said she wanted, she was actually going to spend the rest of her life on her back.

“Oh—oh goddddddddd,” she said, gasping. She fell backwards onto her bunny butt. Electricity raced through her, blasting away her last hopes of maintaining some sort of ongoing innocence. She needed to get fucked in the worst way. Raw lust unfolded, following the hot flashes of pure pleasure. She was a fuckable hare slut and in the worst way. Berenice barely had the energy to keep the vibrator on top of her clit. She could dimly feel her ears start to unfold, hair sprouting at a fast clip.

Unexpectedly she felt sorry for herself, at the same time. Sex felt too good. Even a small machine with a motor was enough to knock her flat. And she had a new, ultra-feminine stacked body, to boot. So the future was her chasing around men, in a tight red dress, and coaxing cum out of them. She’d been repurposed to reproduce. So much for late nights with the girls, drinking wine and daring each other to text. She’d be too busy humping.

“Can.. can I come in? I know you’re... I know you’re busy... but we have just one mirror...”

It was—her frazzled brain wouldn’t come up with the name—Rania, that was it. The serious Indian girl who kept blinking back sweat. She had come into the bathroom anyway, despite the fact that there was a bimbo bunny blasting out her remaining brains with a sex toy. Rania seemed to be crying, but, then, all of her was wet.

Eyes half-lidded, mouth open, Berenice watched as Rania faced the mirror and pushed her nose halfway into her face.

“I’m a slime,” Rania said, dully. She flicked her fingers at the mirror, and covered it with droplets of goo. “I’m goop.”

“That’s... that’s cool,” Berenice said. “I’m a bouncing baby machine!” she giggled, dazed. What was it that sexy goblin lady had asked her to do? Go out and get knocked up immediately? The vibrator pulsed against her. She really wanted a carrot.

“Oh god, I’m so WET,” Rania said. She held up her hands, which seemed to be in a constant state of melting. They had a tinge of purple to them. Her clothes were stuck on to her, sodden. Her ears were translucent. Berenice could see right through them.

It was easy to figure what to do, hard to stand up. Berenice still managed it, barely, her legs cramping from the effort. She nearly fell forward onto Rania, who tried to stiffen, and no longer could. Berenice’s boobs ground into Rania’s damp back. “I bet this will help,” she said, holding the vibrator up. “I was feeling suuuuper bad too, and then this made it better!”

“Berenice, I’m turning into jello, I don’t—” but she didn’t pull away, and that was all Berenice was currently looking for. Anyone who didn’t go anywhere. Rania was moist but warm. Berenice hung on her, for support, and then dipped the wand down towards the slime girl’s legs. “I don’t need to—the answer isn’t always to just GET OFF...” Rania tried.

“We don’t know that!” Berenice said. She pulled Rani’s pants down with one hand. Rania was already breathing shallowly—did slime girls even breathe?—and more so as the vibrator approached. Berenice touched it, feeling the skin give, and then make the most porn-y over the top wet noise the bunny had ever heard. SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK like she had stuck the vibrator into a wading pool.

Rania wobbled, and Berenice realized she was using, as support, a girl with all the structural integrity of whipped cream.

She had already tumbled backwards before, and did it again, more skillfully. With a melting puddle of goo between her arms. Her clothes were going to be a total loss. They were completely soaked with Rania.

Rania came quickly and true to type. In soft, gentle waves, ones that Berenice could feel. Ripples. She was still human enough to pull herself up, wipe her forehead, even if it didn’t do much good. Berenice laid there, juiced up.

“AHEM,” a voice said. It was trying to be very small. Josie loomed in the doorframe. She’d grown an alarming amount, and in every way, much more fiercely. Even her much bigger tits rode high, with a martial look. She was still trying to wear her pink girly pajamas. Her voice could command a brigade. “CAN YOU GET ME OFF TOO?”

“Anything for a friend,” Berenice said, and put her arms out.

They ended up getting Marissa and Arianne involved. Operation Strut was Berenice’s idea. She brought it up with considerable hesitation. She was sure that the others would say: Berenice, you are being a slutty bunny, and everyone glamming up for dinner is a bad idea.

But they were all into it, especially Marissa, who practically leapt onto the assignment. Her hair had grown out over the course of the day, and tumbled down her back. The elf was accompanied by her own—elvish—scent, a reassuring blend of spices that made them all relaxed and very very hot.

Arianne got every single cosmetic they had. She was in an excellent mood, and kept licking her fingers. The rest of them had little remaining need for makeup. While Berenice had her cheeks mostly clear of the encroaching fur, it seemed pointless to powder and blush. So their centaur got the benefit of their assembled pencils and powders, beaming as the girls did her up. Berenice didn’t bring up how much the girl smelled like spunk. As perfumes went, she liked it.

Absent makeup, they mostly worked with clothes. No one had a bra that fit anymore. They bonded over how stupid big their boobs were. Cabin 3B seemed especially, even extremely, top-heavy. No one could see their feet, including Arianne, who had something approaching hooves, and Berenice, who had oversized three-toed pads. Rania was still awfully anxious about showing her oozing skin, so they put her in the shiniest pair of black tights, lifted from Jenny’s bag. With that plus a jogging shirt she converted ooze to glisten, and even managed a trembling smile.

Josie was the biggest challenge. She kept insisting on feminine gear—ruffled skirts, pink shirts, and similarly demure items. None of them worked. She was adding muscle with each passing moment. Finally Marissa got in her face and insisted that their ever-growing girl wear an athletic skort, and a death metal t-shirt liberated from Laney’s belongings. It worked, so long as Berenice mentally added a nose ring to her.

“Hot,” Berenice told Marissa, last of all. They’d found a pink bow for Arianne’s stub of a tail. She actually seemed excited about it. “Sexy. Real sexy. See if anyone brought a dress.”

Someone had, and it was Sydney. A yellow sundress with orange trim. The pleats added a slight touch of class. Berenice was conscious that her entire coloration had changed. She had white fur. The dress didn’t fit, in the sexist possible way.

No one talked about wearing underpants.

“Do you think you’re gonna get those red eyes?” Arianne said. She smelled increasingly horsey. Not in a bad way, but it was very barnyard around her and her enormous boobs. “Big bunny red eyes?”

“Uh,” Berenice paused. She’d been nerving herself to strut out there, tits and ass and sexy rabbit pride, and Arianne had thrown her totally off. “Maybe?”

“That means no iris color at all,” Marissa chimed in, unable to help herself. “It’s the blood vessels reflecting. Kinda neat. Did you ever read Bunnicula?”

“No” Berenice said. “No Bunnicula.”

“Vampire bunny,” Arianne chimed in. “Yeah. Pretty great. Drained vegetables white. Hey, we’re vegetarian buddies, Berenice! We’re carrot friends!”

That cheered Berenice up just enough. “Lets go shake our tails, carrot friends.”

5:51 p.m., Day 2. Dining Commons

Berenice had to do all the strutting. Arianne did her best, but it was more of a prance. Rania seemed to ooze along, which was only fair, and Josie stamped forwards, back straight. Marissa didn’t come with, making an excuse about “super needing to poop”. It wasn’t worth investigating.

Their procession didn’t last long—the centaur girl had to eat in a bad way, and the other two went straight to the rolled eyes and pursed lips of Table 3B. But it gave Berenice the confidence she needed to keep going. And besides, she was in heat in the worst way.

Her ass had filled out at just the right time, and Berenice shook it mercilessly. She could tell, without looking, that the boys were following every twirl of her powder-puff tail. It seemed like she was likely to keep her hair—not a sure thing, per the binder—and it trickled behind her back in blonde-white glory. Berenice could feel herself spraying sexuality all over the nearby tables, injuring transforming necks as they craned to watch her. The bunny girl. It was really her, she kept thinking. And they all wanted her so bad.

It wasn’t just the camper boys. The staff and guards followed her slow, deliberate progress with red cheeks and averted eyes. But the camper men felt free to stare. She stared right back. At one table a newly-scaled boy with hooded eyes matched glares with her, still hot-blooded, for the moment. They were largely predators, the boys—lots of new fangs and plenty of meaty muscles. Their open, obvious hunger washed over her, and made her legs twitch, and her pussy juice.

She’d gone full playboy. It hadn’t exactly been planned that way, but they’d found fishnet stockings in Laney’s bag. To top it off Marissa had handmade a bunny ear headband. She’d cut two strips of fabric from Berenice’s own underpants and wired them standing up with wire from Berenice’s old bra. The smell of Marissa still wafted down. It was funny how it kinda made her horny.

After making all the guys jizz their pants Berenice decided on a disdainful look at Sydney and the others. She decided that they looked abashed. Well, Jenny didn’t—Jenny wrinkled her nose as soon as she made eye contact, as hard as she could. But it was enough.

She took her place in the dinner line, inserting her tits and ass between two boys. A deliberate choice—one was the jerking-off stag from earlier, his antlers even more finely developed, a chandelier around his head. And his buddy, a rowdy looking mouse man, pants low to let his pink tail free. Mouse boy got a long look down her cleavage. Stag got treated to a deliberate brush with her rear end. Berenice idly wondered what kind of pheromones she was putting out.

“It was nice of you to water the trees,” Berenice said. She had to be quick about this. Everyone’s eyes were on her. She let her paw rest on top of his brown-furred hand-hoof. The condom was nestled in there. His eyes widened. “You should keep it up. After bedtime, even.”

Boys were notoriously stupid, especially when coping with the erection-inducing musk of horny bunny girls. But stag boy nodded, slowly.

Satisfied, Berenice turned away. There was still a lot of fear in various eyes. And, new development, plenty of desire. She could work with that. She was good at making friends.

11:49 p.m., Day 2. Cabin 3B

Berenice had thought she was super cool and fun to execute a late night escape, and then everyone in Cabin 3B did it. First Laney, nearly as soon as lights-out was called, and then Marissa, and then Jenny after Marissa, and Sydney made her soggy way out the door.

Arianne was sound asleep immediately, and snoring, and had let loose a few slumbering horse farts into the cabin.

“Josie?” she called down, eventually.

“YES?” Her voice got more husky every time she spoke.

“I’m gonna go have sex.”

“YEAH,” Josie said. She paused. “CAN I HAVE YOUR VIBRATOR?”

Berenice pictured a pair of very muscular thighs wrapped around a delicate piece of humming electronics. And squeezing.

“Of course,” she said. “Anything for a friend.”

She tip-toed out, and found herself hopping. Not with both legs together, more like a sing-song skip. But there was a new and permanent spring to her step. Perhaps because her leg muscles were now all fast-twitch fibers, perhaps because she was on her way to have sex. Or maybe because of Josie’s sincere “THANK YOU BERENICE” when she slipped the vibe into a big palm.

There were floodlights up. But not enough, just enough to cast every blade of grass in sharp night-time shadow. It seemed counterproductive, now that they all had animal talents with at least some ability to sneak. Berenice hopped herself from shroud to shroud. The thrill of getting caught just added to the throb between her legs. She’d brought all the condoms. It was impossible to think any farther than getting fucked. Her bunny brain was fixated on it, on the need to have someone, anyone, throbbing between her thighs.

She felt like an animal. She was barely thinking. Instinct was more than enough. It was a joy to give into. It didn’t feel wrong, unnatural, unlike her. She was a naturally giving and friendly person. It was time to give up her virginity.

Berenice had just kept on the cute dress, excepting the headband. Her ears were coming in nicely, anyway. The night sounds came in new and distinct. There weren’t any guards about, despite the new harsh lighting. Perhaps afraid of getting infected. They looked very young. They were scared of her, most likely.

Her stag was waiting underneath the tree, and already beating himself off. He’d kept his thumbs. And he was uncircumcised again. His dick emerged from a furry sheath.

Berenice bounded up noiselessly. She felt so—right. Her tits bouncing, her body protected from the night chill with a new layer of fat and fur. And the way he looked at her—

“Sorry!” he gasped. “I—sorry. I—I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come.”

“Oh, I’m gonna cum,” Berenice said. She grabbed hold of his dick,. Her human side scrabbled to get up, assert herself. She didn’t even know his name. And then his precum slid between her furry fingers, sticky and hot, and that was enough. Her humanity could be useful and come up with sexy things to say. “I’m Berenice.”

“Oh, like, Bunny Berenice,” Stag Boy said. He earned himself a warning squeeze. “No! No.. see, I’m Steven. I’m Steve the Stag. Yeah. I guess it’s good I’m not a skunk.”

Berenice giggled, relieved. She pulled a condom out. She’d kept them trapped against her butt, underneath the dress. “You’re not afraid to bang a bunny?”

Steven backed up against the tree. They both had short adorable tails, his a flicker of a thing, with a white understripe. Although not even in the same phylum as deer it made Berenice hot to see how big his antlers had gotten. They were a magnificent cage atop his head. It was very manly.

“I’m scared as hell,” Steve said, while Berenice sympathetically rubbed on his dick. “But... I just.. you smell so damn good, Berenice.”

“Mmmmmm-hmmmmmmm,” Berenice said. She was getting real distracted by the cock in front of her. It was hard to believe, personally, that she was a virgin. She felt like she’d already fucked a hundred different cocks. She hoped Steven wasn’t a stickler on monogamy. It was going to be fun to see what every single man in the Camp felt like.

“I just want to...” Stag Steve took an enormous, unashamed sniff. She could feel him surge in her hand. “You’re... spicy...” he said, eyes wild.

“Then why’re you so scared of lil ’ol me?” Berenice got the condom out, and found she was reluctant. For this, at least, she could override her bunny brain. No need to be knocked up. Although—immediately her mind supplied her with pleasant maternal images, her abdomen pushed out with a number of—of whatever bunny babies were called. Kits or something. She was promised so many warm pregnancy hormones, practically an ongoing orgasm just from incubating.

Berenice pulled the condom on before it could get any worse. As a compromise with her pregnancy-happy body, her hands were already kinda cummy. Oh well.

“Its—I’m—” Berenice bent over. Her longer legs were perfectly proportioned for it. She had been rebuilt to be casually fucked, without the need for a bed. Everything was lined up to let a train of cocks in her. “Oh, man. I gotta fuck you so bad, Berenice.” He pulled her dress up.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Lets just not forget to be friends.” Berenice guided him in. A sheath of rubber was all that was protecting her. Her pussy was equally excited and annoyed by it. It wanted a big boy gush. Steven dug his partial hands into her still-thin fur, where it was climbing up the sides of her butt. She had only gone full furry on her ass, and the lower parts of her legs. The matted fur prickled as he thrust into her.

He had a big dick, these days, and it still barely filled her. She’d have to make even more friends. One for her mouth, five more to wait in line. The spotlights made it fun and illicit—where were the guards, the promised repression? After Steven she could walk over to the boy’s cabin and go bed to bed. Learn all their names.

Her pussy was working hard to milk Steven. And with her new, stronger legs even his increasingly wild thrusts were not a big deal. She could and would fuck much more urgent dicks. “Harder,” she told him. Every bit of him ached in her, ready to explode. “Harder!”

“You have... such an ass,” Steven groaned. He had a black nose, now, and his jaw gritted as he pushed. His antlers seemed like they were growing, even then, as he claimed a female. He took rough handfuls of fur at her waist. Berenice’s tits kept bouncing.

There was a strange sensation inside of her. Something giving way. The condom broke/

It wasn’t made for strange stag dicks, for determined bunny girl pussies. She had to say something. She had to, but her tongue wasn’t doing anything, and she was just moaning.

She realized she was giving him another squeeze.

He spurted in her. Did he realize? He must’ve, but made no effort to pull out, bottoming inside of her to fill her more thoroughly. Hot cum flooded her, all of her, every fertile inch. They both stopped moving, letting it do its work. Her mind was grateful, and sent her way over the edge, to an amazing, brain-shattering cum. She was briefly knocked out while knocked up.

When Berenice came to it was against the tree. She’d been propped up against it. She looked down, expecting to see cum dribbling out of her. Steven had definitely dumped a liter inside of her. It was even more alarming that it wasn’t. She was so greedy for sperm, it looked like.

Steven briefly appeared to be—gone. Until he reappeared, from around the tree. He’d just been keeping lookout, then. His eyes were tight with anxiety.

Berenice gave him the warmest, most apologetic smile she could. She’d think of the consequences later. No one would blame her. She was just the sluttiest animal in the kingdom. “I have an idea,” she said. “So you don’t have to be the only possible father. Do you have any friends still awake? I love meeting new people!”

MARISSA 3

8:43 p.m., Day Two, Showers

She’d been watching the showers all day, waiting for the coroner to show up. In a long black hearse. He’d emerge in a solemn manner, look directly at Marissa, wherever she was, and he’d shake his head at her, very sadly. Because she’d definitely killed a dude by giving him a blowjob.

Marissa had consulted her monster binder. The entry on succubi was uninformative. All of the entries had a randy tinge to them, dwelling on the impossible development of colossal tits, the immediate and overpowering new urges. “Urges” was used a dozen times on every page. But for succubi, in particular, the writer had gone all in on an artistic portrayal of the perfect fuck monster. Their exotic scent, their irresistible ways, the coy curves of their plush bodies...

“Did a succubus WRITE this?” Marissa said, into her pillow. It wasn’t easy to concentrate. Berenice’s new vibrator had added practically a new roommate. She had to be in the horniest cabin in a horny camp.

Although...

She was very, very strongly considering that this was because of her.

Marissa hadn’t made any firm conclusions until she thought to check on her male counterpart. Incubi. Where she was confronted with a goat-legged boy with a swagger, even on camera, as well as goat legs framing his oversized dick. But the writing was less horned up.

“Catalyzes the virus in an unknown way, but generally excites and intensifies it. Pheromones of incredible strength. Both women and men around him become intensely aroused. Feeds in some unknown way on...”

Feeds.

Marissa closed the binder.

Berenice had her sixteenth orgasm, or something close to it. Rania, voice thick and wet as always, asked for her turn. Everyone in the Cabin had big, big tits, even for the Camp.

Was... she...?

...Feeding..?

Cum had tasted really good, and scratched a real itch. Was she turning into some sort of sperm vampire? That sounded... hot if Marissa was being honest. It wasn’t like she’d been just lying there, checking out the binder. Her other hand had kept busy between her legs, trying to burn off some energy.

And checking how long her tail had gotten. The first short length had pulled out of her back. The classic arrowhead was still just a hard nub, wrapped in on itself. But it would unfurl.

Marissa licked her fingers again. There wasn’t even a hint of cum still on them. But she could imagine it.

Jenny, after they’d left the shower, and its unconscious MPV man, had held her face and said to it sternly. “Be. Marissa. You are not some ridiculous creature of sex and magic. You do not harvest boys for their yummy fluids. You are Marissa, you cry at almost every movie, even the comedies, you like your sex off-screen at most. You dressed up as a Hufflepuff student for Halloween every year from 2012-2018.”

Immediately seducing and then knocking out a big scary MPV agent was a defense mechanism. And also, being Marissa meant checking on the man’s wellbeing. In case she’d killed him.

And if he was alive, no more than one load. Down her throat.

The problem was, everyone in the Camp was out and about, after dark. The earlier demonstration hadn’t made an impression on anyone, except that they were trying to sneak. Everyone’s half-formed tails were all about, wagging furiously in the floodlights.

And two girls were making their way inside the abandoned showers.

“Oh, fuck,” Marissa whispered. “Fuck!” She tip-toe ran over, peeking inside. The girls had brought flashlights, generally trained on each other. Both were unusually exotic, one with a fringe of blue-black fur, matching her long, trailing hair, but also very long and very human legs. The other had to be in Marissa’s genus, to the extent demon girls had a typology. Hers was dark, a goth type of yokai, with the first buds of black wings on her back.

They were looking down at her MPV man, right where she had left him.

“Lets just go, Abby,” the goth demon’s voice still had her original self in it. It was shaky, nervous. “I think our goal here should be to stay out of trouble, and this is trouble. It smells like trouble.”

“It smells like a lot of things,” Abby said. “Like... I don’t know. Someone dumped all their pantry spices into the toilet. And... something else. Mara, slap his cheek.”

“Which?” Mara said.

“I don’t—wait a second. Check this out. Look at his hair.”

The flashlight beams converged on the man.

“What the hell, Abby. I think this guy is changing. Look at his hair. I think he’s going.. mer- something. Scaly..”

Marissa meeped.

Two flashlight beams converged on her. She threw her hand up just in time. “W-what are you doing here?” she managed, unconvincing. “It’s after lights-out! This is illegal camp behavior! Also can you turn those lights out! I’m turning into something that is... uh... sensitive to lights!”

The lights barely dipped. “I’m... Clarissa!” Marissa added. She walked in. Even now, a day later, she could still smell her past presence. “I saw you two and—”

“Walk out, little elf,” Abby said. “You don’t want this trouble.”

“No, this is good. I don’t want anyone think we did this. We’re Mara and Abby, in 6A. And THIS—” Mara flicked her flashlight over to the man. His eyes were open. Dazed, confused, and open. “Oh shit he’s awake. Oh fuck.”

“Oh FUCK,” Marissa agreed. The two girls were disconcerted, and part of Marissa was, too. Another part felt—good. Her male was awake. This she could work with.

“Muh?” the man said. Marissa got her first look at his face. He was certainly, definitely infected. A black trail of—scale?—ran up his throat. Had—she infected him? Was that a succubus thing? That wasn’t in the binder.

“Buh?” the man added.

“Mara, come on. We gotta tell camp staff, ASAP. They might’ve already seen us come in.”

Marissa couldn’t have that.

“Is he really infected?” Marissa said. She yanked down the man’s uniform pants before the girls had any chance to respond.

The man had dark, damp thighs, and his legs were starting to fuse together. All of which made Marissa’s knees go watery. Had she really infected a man? But, more importantly for the girls, his cock popped right up, happy to see her again. It had the start of a sheath. Her spit was probably still all over it.

It could be over it again.

“Holy smokes,” Abby whispered. “Mara, lets GO!”

No, no. They couldn’t leave. And the soldier couldn’t wake all the way up. Marissa reached into her pajama pants, under the guise of leaning forwards, and checked herself out. Nice and juicy, just like she felt. DId succubi get even wetter under stressful conditions? The important thing was, she was feeling nice and pheromone-y. Marissa dipped her fingers in herself, and then rubbed them over the man’s unresisting face. He grunted, nose flaring. His cock got even harder.

“Why did you—rub his face?” Mara said. The flashlight beam blared towards her. But Marissa could already feel herself getting—confident. A relaxed ease that was wholly alien and completely natural.

“Shhhh,” Marissa said, squatting. She could feel herself dripping freely, getting her panties soaked. Cardamom and coriander swirled around the room. The girls’ flashlights sagged towards the floor. “You okay, big guy?”

“Uhhh—” the man was half-awake at best. He looked down. “Am I... umm... I had a dream about... fish?”

“Uh huh,” Marissa said, sympathetic. She reached out to jack on the man’s cock. As potent as she was becoming, it was even better mixed with the scent of semen.

Marissa reminded herself—she was doing all this because she was desperate. Not because it’d be fun with two other girls.

“What’re—you doing?” Mara said. But she sounded befuddled. They were both swaying—Marissa could see it in the meander of their flashlight beams. Abby abruptly dropped hers, which gave Marissa a perfect excuse.

“Oh, I’m just keeping him calm,” she said, and picked up the flashlight. When Abby bent forwards, it was easy to run her pussy-drenched fingers across the girl’s scared face. And just like that, Marissa could tell, the girl was hers. What did that mean, she wanted to ask her new self, the part calmly directing a four-way orgy. Hers... how?

“Here, take over,” Marissa told Abby. She held the girl’s hand over the man’s cock. It had already changed slightly, the tip losing its bulbous head, becoming more streamlined. But it was busy dripping lots of precum, and spattered the girl’s blue-black fur.

“Abby, don’t,” Mara said, illuminating the hesitant handjob with her beam. “This is—the whole thing is a mess. Don’t you—you smell that? Something—something too good? We gotta—look, I don’t know this girl, this guy, we gotta tell the Camp...”

She fell quiet. The man sat up. He looked at the three of them, puzzled, and then down at the oddly-furred fox-like girl stroking his dick. Then he gently took her head and lowered it onto his cock.

“ABBY!” Mara said, too loudly. She was going to get them all caught, Marissa rationalized. Or did she? It was getting hard to figure why she was doing anything, outside of filling a pounding new need deep inside herself. Which was why she clapped her hand over Mara’s mouth. One she’d filled with a big scoop of soldier-boy jizz.

Mara, to her credit, or perhaps with some sort of demon-girl resistance, did pull away. And coughed. But her nose and mouth were full up with potent succubus juice, mixed with fresh cum, and she could hardly do anything when Marissa went in for a kiss.

It was her first time really tasting herself. She could detect a dozen different notes, each of them worth spending a lifetime yearning for, searching the world for another whiff. It was also her first girl kiss, and, if Marissa was being honest, her first actual kiss of any kind. Mara didn’t seem to mind, after the first few startled gasps. Then she stuck her tongue back in Marissa’s mouth.

After that the succubus in her pretty much took over the entire show.

Marissa felt herself—herself, her real self, the self that liked playing Settlers of Catan—surfacing from time to time. Ultimately a little detached. She had a feeling that her deeper, sensual self wanted her awake, to see it, to revel in the debauchery. Like settling the gasping, quivering Mara onto Fish-boy’s eager cock. Watching the newly aquatic man start to thrust into her, while Abby settled onto her haunches nearby, eyes glazed over.

After that she found out how Abby’s kisses tasted. Good, especially with a cummy glaze. And there was something else in them, too, something delicious that filled Marissa in a new place she hadn’t had before. Even if it made Abby stumble and shiver and cum herself too hard.

She recalled coming around with Fish-boy’s dick actually inside of her. He was being ridden, not riding. Marissa’s pussy had him in a vice, and squeezed with perfect skill. The man was just capable of low grunts. And yet that wasn’t what got Marissa’s attention—it was Mara and Abby, growling and whimpering, frantically kissing while their hands explored each other. The air was a whirling melange of demon girl. Both girls looked so much more—sensual. Their tits were definitely bigger. Their lips seemed fuller, and were definitely glossier. Abby’s arms were covered already in a brand new layer of fur.

“Hurry up and cum,” Marissa told the man, irritated. She needed a fresh batch. Already his nose had flattened out, little flaps rising on the side of his neck.

She was unclear on how much time had passed. And probably could’ve gone all night, sucking and sucking, leaving behind three fully transformed and emptied out sexual partners, except that Abby had Mara sucking on her increasingly big tits just while Fish-boy ground into her pussy. She came in a huge howl.

Marissa startled. Some sort of—normalcy—fuzzed in.

In front of her, still going at it, were two heavily transformed girls, rubbing each other’s tits. Their breasts were wonderfully big, and they’d acquired new cheekbones, to boot. Their hair fell in glossy waves. Fucking them with eager, animal abandon was a half-made merman, his eyes a fish-like black.

An alarm sounded.

Marissa stood. Her tail swung freely behind her, and she could feel the horns pricking out of her skin. She ran out, into the night, trying to outrun her own scent.