The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When she’d tested positive she’d stolen her stepmom’s car.

It was practically her car anyway—it had come into the marriage, part of stepmom’s dowry, a 2008 Hyundai. But Laney had treated it like grand theft auto anyway, learning how to hotwire the machine on the sly. Her stepmom had made clear that, even though Laney was driving it, and its broken A/C, and its noisy interior, to her many different jobs, it was not her car. She had to ask for the car key every morning.

MPV had gone through the warehouse she worked at. Despite all the assurances that this was a disease of twenty year olds they tested everyone there.

There’d been a standoff with management. Management wanted half the staff still filling boxes and running conveyors. The government had insisted on one, long, nervous row. They’d actually turned off the robots and drones so they could test the humans.

Calvin, nearby, who wanted to unionize, had whispered not very loudly that this was a classic example of their own power. Despite all the shiny and well-marked machines all around, despite how very small they felt in the vast depths of the warehouse, they were still needed. If they worked together. Heck, Calvin had said, so what if they had MPV? They could use some strong minotaur arms in the eventual union.

Laney had rolled her eyes at him. And then, after the red welt had appeared, she had immediately left the floor, gone to her step-mom’s car, and run for it.

She’d done some prior preparation for running away. Laney kept a half-decent bug-out bag in the back. Nothing full prepper, but a few changes of clothes. Sanitizer and wipes. She had toilet paper in there and her ID was always on her. The only problem was she didn’t have all one thousand eight dollars in her savings.

Also that her car was not hers. The police had her within the hour. They just took her car key and waited for the MPV men to arrive. The cop held his breath around her. Laney, hands cold on the wheel, had thought about wiring the ignition. Really go for it. Just run free.

She hadn’t done it.

The MPV hadn’t been particularly cruel. She got the sense there were too many changing twenty-year-olds to get exercised about any one. She sensed an anxiety—they had to hurry, to get the next one. There were more and more next ones. Anxiety rolled off them, in waves.

But they’d taken her back to her house. The house she lived in. And since Dad was on a trip per-usual it was just stepmom, who stood outside, and double-masked. She’d opened all the doors and windows to air out the house.

“Enjoy having the house to yourself,” Laney had told the woman.

2:01 p.m., Day 2, Athletic Field

“You gonna go over there?” Sydney said.

“And say what?” Laney said. There were a lot of cat girls. Seven or eight of them, it was hard to say. They were hanging out all-together over by the basketball court, and seemed to be bonding.

“I don’t know. Cat girl stuff. Shitting in a tiny box. Toxoplasmosis.”

“Yeah, just meow at them,” Laney said. She looked sidelong. Sydney had been the easiest person to hang out with. She was picking at her arms, which were now clearly developing some sort of feathers. Sydney wasn’t very far along, so “bird” was about as much as they could say. Her feet were, however, cramping up into something far more talon-ish.

“Cats love hanging out with other cats. Thats what being a cat is all about,” Sydney said.

“No, actually, cats are loners? Notoriously loners?”

“What about when there’s a lion?” Sydney said. She nodded, respectful, at Oscar, who was tearing up the basketball court. His teammates were turning into some sort of snake, or half-snake, and a spider, respectfully. Oscar was scoring effortlessly, and working on his roar.

The roar was keeping Laney very, very wet.

It wasn’t even easy to keep her expression neutral.

“What’s the score?” Sydney asked. “Not that you’re paying attention.”

“Sixteen to ten,” Laney answered, before seeing the trap. Lion basketball dunks were very distracting. “I mean, I made that up.”

“I think you should get in the Fuck-Oscar line. There’s a line for the lion,” Sydney said.

“It’s not a line. It’s a fucking HAREM,” Laney said. She clenched a newly-furry first. “All those girls just grew a little fur and were immediately like, oh okay we’ve gotta have a male-dominated HAREM. Immediately! You know how these things work? The girls do all the cooking and cleaning and have all the babies and even do all the hunting, so the lion will maybe breed them.”

“I get to lay eggs. I don’t know,” Sydney said. “Getting the sense you’re being a....”

She paused before saying it, so it would sting more. “Scaredy-cat.”

Laney stood up. “Fine. Fine, I’ll check in. Bitch.”

“Whoa!” Sydney put her hands up. She frowned, and rubbed at her hands. Something new had shifted in there. “No offense!”

“You don’t know me if you think that,” Laney said. She wasn’t that offended. The truth was, Oscar kept shooting smug, manly looks at his feline cheering section, and Laney suddenly wanted very much to be in that line of fire. Even if she was a loner.

Laney had not been pleased, exactly, to contract Kitty. She hadn’t even owned a cat, growing up. Or a dog, for that matter. But in a bubbling college-aged sea of weird and fantastic changes it was quickly obvious that “Cat Girl” was relatively sedate. One of the other girls at the next table over was apparently a Selkie, for example, and moaning about her swiftly developing blubber.

“Cat”, by contrast, was intriguingly sleek and aloof. She just had to add a layer of fur—no major deal. When her eyes changed over Laney even liked it. The vertical slits were very cool, and she was suddenly aces in the dark. Her tail was slower to come in, still a stubby doberman-like nub, but it’d be neat to have lashing behind her. All that and surprisingly, even impressively big boobs. It seemed a bargain until her fur coloration started to show.

Laney realized she was, of all things, a god damn Calico.

The patchy downy fur on her upper chest was a prissy white, just the same as Berenice. But an orange and black patch had appeared over her right eye, just to make clear that she was a doofy domestic. A house cat. No sleek tiger stripes, or leopard spots, or any of the many colorations that would’ve been cool. She was a cat from memes. With a name like Ms. Whiskers. That kind of cat. Even a persian would’ve had its moments, with long, silky fur. She was going to be a domestic shorthair.

Angered, she’d broken a plate, only for a sniggering Sydney to tell her what a cat-ass thing that was to do.

“Hey Kitty,” Laney twirled. Her hair was, lately, standing on edge at almost any sudden noise.

Another girl cat. They were all there, eyes torn away from the ongoing Oscar heroics. Already sporting much cooler fur then she had. The girl who’d spoken up had a network of classic spots all the way down her side. She wore a tight red tanktop, and her smile had teeth.

“Meow,” Laney said.

“Very nice to meet you,” a classic lioness offered. She had long, blonde hair. Laney still had her close-cropped brown hair, although she suspected it was going to go white. “Welcome to our little Pride.”

“Proud of what?” Laney said. She knew she should’ve just nodded, and stood towards the back. Just on the off chance that Oscar liked his girls tri-color, with surprisingly big tits.

“Did you not see Lion King?” said Spots.

“I’m fucking living it,” Laney said.

“And now you’re here,” said the lioness. She’d gotten big meat-eater teeth right away. Laney was still waiting on hers. Or perhaps her teeth just needed to dig in to Fancy Feast. “Welcome!”

“Welcome to WHAT?” Laney said. Now they were all looking at her, even despite Oscar flushing a monster dunk. He checked on his girls for their approval, and looked surprised not to get it. “The cat harem? When did you even organize this?”

“Oh ho. Look at your COLORS,” a male voice said. It cracked on ‘colors’ but it was clear where the voice box was going. Rich and thick. A voice with a roar waiting in it. Laney turned. He didn’t have a mane yet, and previously had black hair. It was turning a reddish-orange as fast as it could, the straggly lengths working to cover a glorious halo behind him. He was still holding the basketball, and too-tight compression shorts.

Laney met her lion.

“Uh—” He had snuck up behind her, she vaguely recognized. He’d expected her flustered, confused reaction. He’d already grown accustomed to it, to her reaction to cringe, kneel, and worship. It was terribly strong, and immediately intimate. His toothy smile got broader and broader as she struggled, weak in the knees. With each breath she took he was climbing inside of her.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Calico,” Laney said. “I’m a calico.” He was so sweaty. She wasn’t sure how that worked—was he human, or animal? Humans sweat, animals pant. Of course it didn’t matter, he was in front of her, and hot, and looking at her. She and Sydney had joked about all the business with pheromones, when Arianne had come around looking poleaxed. “Breathe through your MOUTH!” Sydney had told her. It was simple. But her new, twitchy nose wouldn’t listen to her.

Oscar laughed. “Calico, huh? Ladies, what’s the count? Three domestics, now?” He gestured, holding the basketball with a single paw-hand. “Puma, leopard, lioness, jaguar... bobcat? Clarice, pretty sure you’re a bobcat? And then my domestics.” Laney managed to flick her eyes over the other girls. Her slow, silly thoughts kept trying to correct him on her name. She was Girl Number Eight. With hard work and diligent mating she could get up to number six. “Persian and a Siamese. And you!”

The other girls had clustered in. Oscar flicked his gaze from one girl to the next. His dick was pressing hard against his waistband.

“Laney! It’s Laney,” Laney said, and coughed. Forcing her name out had downright hurt her throat. Everyone else was so close. It was intolerable—she was not just a cat, a solitary beast of prey, she was Laney. She stole cars. She wasn’t newest harem member.

It occurred to her, as she reached out to touch the beautiful dick just inches away, that her stepmom hadn’t reported the car stolen. They had the license plate on file at the warehouse. So it was her employer who had given her up.

Oscar caught her arm as she was close, so close to touching him. “Whoa-a!” he said. “I think I’m getting even stronger, huh? Or do you think its playing sports? No animal urges, Calico, remember!”

He turned. He would have such a beautiful tail once it was grown in. It’d lash behind him. Laney wanted to claw at his back.

“Ahem,” the Lioness said.

She’d been sitting. Standing, it was clear there were substantial differences in the overall feline species tree. She had a foot of height over Laney. Her claws had mostly come in. Her breath was hot and, even though it was commissary hot dogs, it was all meat-based. It occurred to Laney that she was getting uniquely curvy, as the cat girls went. They were sleek. She was—rounded.

It also occurred to the new cat girl that she had tried to steal this big girl’s man. Her self-esteem unexpectedly exerted itself, to keep from whispering “I’m sorry.” She felt at the tips of her fingers. They were still fairly human fingernails. Her teeth still had the broad, flat edges of a multipurpose omnivore.

“I know he’s a lot, we’re learning together,” Lioness said.

“He gets us all like that,” said Jaguar. She had been a stark fishbelly white and was becoming a dramatic noir black. Of all of them, she looked the most pettable. It hadn’t escaped Laney’s notice that the two other domestic girls were towards the back, staying quiet. “Oscar is a lot. But he’s a sweetie. Just showing off a little.”

“He’s—” Laney trailed off again. There was no way to acknowledge how she felt. Her—she refused to think of it as a pussy—her vagina was leaking. If he’d handed her the basketball, she was pretty sure she would’ve cum. “He’s invasive.”

“We’re gonna talk it out,” Lioness said. “Tonight. Sneak out over to those trees over there. Ten-ish. We’re all good at sneaking now.”

“Work out the—” Laney’s shoulders slumped. She hadn’t been prepared for any of this. Not just sudden, uncontrolled submissiveness around a dominant male. Sympathy. “Work out what, the sleeping schedule?”

“Us. We’re gonna figure out us,” Lioness said. “We’re all in this together. I mean. I know we’re cats. So we’re not. But we also are.”

7:41 p.m., Day 2, Cabin 3B

Already she was more cat. Laney had told herself all afternoon, all evening, that she was not going to sneak out and meet up with the other kitties. She didn’t even know their names. She did not need to smell Oscar’s mane, as good as it would definitely smell. Or see how his tail was coming along.

But she was curious.

Being in Cabin 3B had not been good for her arousal level. It smelled like comfortable masturbation in there, and kept her body at a warm, hot peak. Her body kept telling her to rub off while she could. Soon she would have claws, and it would get more tricky.

She hadn’t exactly stopped herself. Everyone else was doing it. It smelled so good in there. So good....

When she opened her eyes the world snapped into focus. This was a different universe than the human one. It was outlined in dark blues and greens, and supplemented by the scent of her fellow 3B cabinmates. Marissa and Jenny had snuck out as soon as it was half-dark, as had most of the others. Berenice had stolen some of Laney’s clothes, but she wasn’t inclined to complain. It felt a little too hunter-prey for someone trying to hold on to a fading humanity. Also the bunny girl was busy humping a pillow.

Laney started to pull on shoes, and stopped. Her pads had come in on the bottom of her feet. Her fur had kept up its spread. It had spread along both sides of her chest, leaving clear mostly a large patch underneath her tits, and, judging from the feel, most of her back. At least, unlike her overstuffed bunny neighbor, she was still comparatively lithe. Even if she was feeling a little overly curvy for a cat. She wasn’t sure why MPV had, for example, expanded her butt.

Laney picked her way through the bunks, noiseless, dressed in a Minnesota Wild t-shirt stolen from her step-brother. And then outdoors.

Prey was everywhere. She had to blink and then blink again to see fellow campers, all tip-toeing around in the glare of several floodlights. Whatever scare factor there’d been in drugging two other campers, it had worn off. Too many hormones floating around the camp.

Laney hugged herself, making her way through the night. Two... three? Days ago she’d been walking back to the car from a swing shift. She put fake headphones on so no one would talk to her. They had pink plastic cat ears. Now she was making her own pair.

Someone tackled her. A powerful body, rolling as it hit her. Laney hissed, automatically, and recoiled. Her legs tried to scrabble and her fingernails tried to scratch. It was pointless—she was held tight, and she was being pulled into a set of small bushes between dorms.

“Quiet, little kitty,” it was one of her fellow cats. Did they—were they taking out the competition?

Flashlights lit the grass.

Humans in gray and black uniforms flooded the field. They didn’t look very intimidating, to Laney’s new eyes, but there were many of them. Very many. They wore simple cloth masks and baseball caps, and they’d already taken a number of boys and girls. A girl with her legs half-fused, developing lower-half scales. She was hissing, furious and frightened. And another, a fox girl, her tail already fully developed. No, she had multiple tails, all of them beating against the men holding her arms back.

“No drugs unless necessary,” a very dry voice barked. It sounded filtered through a long, wooden tube. Dr. Hunt. He wore a lab coat eight to nine sizes too big. “If you do need to sedate, get them in the rear. Don’t flail about, trying to hold an arm down.”

The two kitty-cats were hardly concealed, and Laney was very conscious of her new white fur. It would be all dirty. She’d have to lick herself clean, right?

“Okay, they’re gone,” Jaguar said. “Come on.”

“Come on, to where?”

“Pride meeting.”

“There’s a crackdown going on. There’s no need to have a cat meet up. Even without the raid.”

Jaguar tried to lift an eyebrow that was no longer there. She had the widest eyes of all of them. “Do you not want to hang out with Oscar?”

Of course she wanted to fuck Oscar. A stupid question. It sent a rush of heat through her, even stronger than the fear of getting caught by drug-happy authorities. Laney gritted pointier teeth against it. “What else are we doing at the sleepover? Watch Halle Berry? Are we gonna comb our fur?”

“Look at you,” Jaguar said. She stopped. The noise had died down, the unlucky mythological creatures and various animals taken away for processing. They had the night back to themselves. “Your fur is standing up.”

It was true. The puff especially taking over her neck was stiff and raised. Laney touched at it, self-conscious. They’d made it to a shaded area with a few broken glass tanks, some Merit Badge activity from long ago. There were no felines lounging around. Jaguar looked up, significantly.

They were all in one of two oaks. Two trees that were wrapped together, branches rubbing close to one another. Leaves interspersed. Oscar was on the biggest branch of all. He had his Persian on his lap. She seemed completely contented, making the tree branch sway as she ground, not too softly, onto his crotch. It was essentially tree sex, with just a small scrap of fabric keeping them separate. Her fellow cat girl had acquired the look of true feline bliss, nearly boneless with relaxation, every scrap of her purring. The other various felines were hidden on similar upper levels.

“Hey,” Oscar gave a friendly, relaxed wave. It was difficult to see his face in the dark, but Laney gave it her best effort. He had a protective arm around his current seatmate. “Calico. I like your fur.”

“It’s... dirty,” Laney stuttered. Of course—that explained a lot. Oscar had ordered the other girls to be nice to her, to come and get her. No need to deny himself the entire harem. “Complimenting another girl while you’ve got one on your BALLS?”

There was a round of titters from the other felines lolling about.

“We’re thinking big cat pile,” Lioness said, from someplace Laney couldn’t see. “You know it’ll be great. But it’ll have to be tomorrow. The heat is on.”

“Come to my cabin!” Oscar protested. He looked up. “We’ll put a sock on the door! Or like—a sign. Cat pile. All eight of us. Or, how many is it now? Anyone feel like counting?”

“Tomorrow, Oscar,” Lioness said, firmly. “And hurry up. Laney gets a turn on the lion. Only fair.”

“I mean, we can let some of the other guys—share,” Oscar’s apparent natural niceness warred briefly with new lion programming. “Or... watch. Actually, they can just watch. Yeah.”

“Watch, WHAT?” Laney said. “What do you all have planned, in there? Something with... URGES? Did you have your girls come and get the cat with big boobs?” She was noticeably chestier then the others, which was mostly embarrassing. Not just a calico, a fat titty calico. Every bit the equivalent of a foofy sleepy domestic.

Although... Oscar did seem to like the view of her new cleavage. She gave it a jiggle, just to see what would happen.

Oscar grinned, and couldn’t stop himself from punctuating it with a deep, growled roar. She wanted her own mouth there, so badly. The Persian lost her balance, and fell right out of the tree. But of course she landed neatly on her feet.

8:15 p.m., Day 2, Southern Boundary

The first chain link fence was deceptive. It was no true barrier—probably intended as a deer deterrent, or just to mark the boundary between camp and non-camp. Keep small children from wandering off. Any baseline human could scale it, and a modified half-cat-girl, even more so.

Beyond that was the real wall. It wasn’t close—it was even obscured in the brush by design, past a dense thicket. From what Laney could see it was overengineered with shiny new links, and concertina wire, and was a full nine feet tall. And that was just the clear deterrent. The forest floor was disturbed in a number of places. The MPV had access to a lot of very sophisticated hardware.

“It’s impossible. I tried,” Marissa said, right behind her.

Laney jumped a full four feet. High enough that she had time to calm down, during the lengthy descent.

Marissa had been, along with Berenice, easily categorized by Laney rightaway as a go-along get-along little crowdpleaser, obediently lining up for assemblies and snacks. A plump accommodating nobody.

That wasn’t—true like it had been.

The curves were now lush, even overwhelming, the girl’s waist a departure point for a bursting bounty of ass and titties. And her voice was... rich.

It still beggared belief that she, a new kitty-cat, had gotten snuck up on by thick friendly girl. Especially one obviously distraught and—Laney sniffed—surprisingly musky.

A lot musky. From multiple musks. She tried sniffing again. Marissa had always been somewhat stinky, in a good way. Now she was an entire wall of candles. And it was a lot.

“I tried to climb it,” Marissa said, pointing at the first broken down, barely five-foot fence. “Unclimbable. I mean, I guess you’re a cat, so have fun out there, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You tried to climb it, huh?” Laney said. She sat down. Her nose didn’t detect any danger. Whatever else there was about Marissa, she was nonthreatening.

Instead she smelled super good. Especially to a girl with a newly sensitive nose.

“Fell right on my tushie,” Marissa said, shaking her head. Her curls were all askew, and hung in front of her face, in new bangs. “Twice. Now I’ve got mud on my butt.” She’d poured herself into a sort of high-waisted overalls, and a loose t-shirt. Nothing that could hide her curves. “You running away too?”

“Its that or become Harem Girl Eight. Or Nine, I don’t remember,” Laney said.

“Ooh, cat harem,” Marissa said, nodding. She shifted her weight, and rubbed at her long ears. Laney gave her a look.

Marissa wasn’t looking very elvish.

“Yeah, and not even like, the cool, mistress one. The cutie widdle kitty-cat. The housecat. Not even the best housecat! The one named Lady Fluffykins or something!”

“You’ve got the biggest tits, though,” Marissa said.

This didn’t seem like a very Marissa comment. Or was it? It was encouraging, in a way. And Marissa was right—all the girls in Cabin 3B had hefty chests, well above and beyond the norm with the other kitties. “I guess?” Laney hazarded. She wiped her nose. It was so oddly sensitive during this transformation, and throwing off wayward signals. For example, Laney could scent at least three other people on parts of Marissa’s ovestuffed body. But that couldn’t be right.

“Laney, I know its hard, what you’re going through, but if all the kitties are getting together and starting a family I think that sounds... I think that sounds really nice.” Marissa looked up. The one nice thing about quarantine camp, there were stars at night. “I think that sounds really great. Plus you get to fuck a lion. I don’t know. Is it so bad?”

“I’m not part of a LITTER, Marissa,” Laney said. Who had said anything about fucking Oscar? She was half-minded to stalk away, and hunt for a less-protected exit. But there was just something—nice—about being near Marissa. An herbal blend. Vaguely she wondered if catnip smelled like—this. Just like this. Like she could just breathe in and out, and be happy, and also terribly aroused.

They both sat and watched the turning of the sky. Constellations were somewhere out there. Each star thousands of light-years from its neighbor, only united through the fake proximity of the night’s sky. Laney’s tail twitched. It was nice to just sit around, be quietly horny, and smell the most intoxicating woman Laney had ever met. Laney kept meaning to say something about it, comment on the aroma pouring off her cabin mate, but it was easier to just breathe in and out.

And in and out.

Although she did say something when Marissa put her hand over her pussy.

“Ummmm?” Laney said. It almost came out as a purr.

“I’m super-sorry about this,” Marissa said. She pulled her hair back behind her ears, distracted by getting her hand into Laney’s cunt. So the catgirl got a good look at the demon horns erupting from right above her forehead. “Sort of. I don’t know. PART of me is sorry.”

“Murrr?” Laney said. Pillow-thick thoughts tried to make their way through her brain. Horns. Demon. Prohibited? She needed to go, but Marissa was right, she couldn’t just run away from everyone. She needed to stop running and let Marissa rub her clit through her pajama pants. They were already sticky wet anyway.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I need this,” Marissa said. “Is it—is it a vitamin? Is there vitamins in pussy juice? I don’t know but I gotta—put your ass up, cat. I’m gonna stick my nose in your cunt.”

Reasonable enough, and Laney complied. A big mound of brown curls got between her legs. Laney felt only a brief stab of concern, at a look at Marissa’s pleading, needy eyes. And then her entire face was lapping at Laney’s pussy.

“Purr,” she said. “Holy shit.”

It was incredibly skillful tongue action. Laney braced herself on the damp ground, her back to a tree. Everything had moved so quickly. Why was she getting eaten out by a succubus? And—were her tits getting heavier? They definitely felt heavier, almost beat by beat with her heart, responding to something in the air and against her clit. The horns on Marissa’s head threatened to stab Laney’s exposed thighs. She opened her legs wider.

She had to pull away, if only because Marissa was doing something, changing her, real fast. Not just the weight and heft of her breasts, which were already jug-sized, and not just the rest of her, which was fast becoming an extra-buxom cat. The inside of her was changing. As nice as the tongue felt, and the air smelled, Laney felt strongly that what she really needed was a big strong lion’s meaty dick all the way inside of her. The other girls could watch. It’d be kinda cool if they did. It’d be better if they joined in.

Her tail added a half-foot in a matter of a few minutes.

But none of that mattered underneath the relentless assault of Marissa’s tongue. It was taking from her, leaving behind a silly sexy kitty. Mischievous and playful, that was her, and always available for the tomcats. Not really previous Laney, anymore, but definitely more fun. It was what she needed to be, Laney dimly realized, to make her an easy feed for succubus girls.

With her remaining, half-drunk strength, Laney gripped Marissa’s growing horns. Not even to stop her. To direct her tongue.

Marissa gasped, and broke off. Her eyes were wet and sparkling with Laney juice. Her entire face was drenched. They stared at each other.

“Meow?” Laney hazarded. It was the best she could manage. She had intended to say, “don’t stop.”

“Holy shit, look at your tits. Laney, I’m so... so sorry.!” Marissa hopped up. A forked tail lashed behind her. She ran off, into the night.

7:31 a.m., Day 3, Southern Boundary

Her head felt—different—after tangling with an honest-to-goodness demon creature of the abyss. And not all of that was the cat ears. They poked through her hair, twitching in the first rays of the sun. Hair that was longer, and now calico-colored, matching the rest of her spotted fur.

“Meow meow fucking meow,” Laney said, picking herself up. It didn’t come out sarcastic like she had intended. She’d even slept in a curled-up pile, way out in the woods. Big tits demanded her attention. So she wasn’t even going to be a graceful feline, not with the boobs. Her hips pooched out, too, with a butt fit for an overfed house tabby. At least her tail had some catlike grace. And she’d thought she was buxom before. Now she was stuffed.

Despite sleeping rough, and donating some sort of personal essence to a ravenous hellbeast, Laney felt—pretty good.

Until a whistle split the first crack of dawn.

The MPV was not fucking around. Laney watched them through a patch of grass. The assembled paramilitary was in full uniform already, despite the early hour. Patrols in PPE, some sporting gas masks, were marching into the dormitories. Even those without full filters wore double masks, and they were trying to evenly space.

Laney felt a new urge, to belong. She went to reflexively push it away, and didn’t. No doubt the malign influence of the succubus, the same one that had licked her senseless. And besides, outside of whatever drug cocktail Marissa had slipped her, she had also been right. It was nice to belong. Especially during aggravated crackdowns. There were shouts from the cabins. Things were getting broken, hopefully not heads.

The world’s only catgirl with an enormous dumptruck ass crept through the open fields.

The tree copse from yesterday was nearly emptied out of horny cat women. But Siamese was there, watching the violence from high up. Laney hoisted herself up, gratified with how simple it was, how her legs had a powerful new bounce.

“Oh,” Siamese said. “Nice tail.”

“Same.” Siamese avoided commenting on her exaggerated proportions. They sat in the foliage together, watching heavily changed campers get pulled out one by one, to be escorted to breakfast. “Nasty stuff.”

“Can you get to 7A and tell Zadie that Pauline got out okay?” Siamese registered Laney’s blank look. “Zadie is the lynx and Pauline is the leopard. And I’m Marcy.”

“No problem,” Laney said, giving her a warm smile, and a pat on the butt. Siamese/Marcy appreciated it, favoring her with a soft “murr”. She’d have to take notes, if she was really going to try being nicer. She needed to pet her catgirls.

For all their numbers, and her wide-swinging butt, it was easy enough to get around unseen. The back door of 7A was cracked open, and the MPV staff were well away from it. They didn’t bother to look up. A human would never approach from the roof.

Inside, a number of girls were trying to keep two big ones calm. An orc girl, seething, her skin a mottled green, and a cow girl that veered towards Arianne’s proportions. The orc woman had a bruise over her eye. The catgirl was casually aloof from the scene, watching from the darkness of a top bunk. Laney fell in next to her.

“Marcy says Zadie and Pauline are alright,” Laney reported. Zadie was pitch-black and had leaf-green eyes. She gave every appearance of being asleep, until she reached over and scritched Laney on top of her head. Laney closed her eyes, and sunk into Zadie’s blanket.

“Serena is with Oscar in the abandoned showers. Tell her all that and add that I think our government buddies are scared.”

“They’re getting infected,” Laney said, luxuriating in the sharp nails on the top of her head. Her pussy was getting juicy again, despite the serious lashing it had gotten from Marissa. Or because of it. “Or they think they are. A little lower, please?”

The nail dug right beneath her new ears. Laney made a sound of such pure contentment that the furious orc-esse stopped bitching.

“Where’d this butt come from? Mine is half of this. Well, Calico, go find them. Oscar owes you something.”

“It’s Laney,” Laney said.

The showers were on the outskirts of the Camp, and it was obvious Oscar wasn’t there. The MPV was there in force, including the entirety of their top brass, in their lab coats and holding their clipboards. But the path led on into the trees, into the darkness of the woods, and up to a small cabin apparently built entirely to house facts about newts. There were a few broken glass aquariums on moss-ridden tables.

And a great big lion man, lounging without any cares in the world.

“Calicooooooo!” Oscar said, cheerful. And too loud. Serena, his lioness, was doing her best to match his apparent ease. But it wasn’t working—she was deeply on edge, staring off towards the MPV teams doing violence nearby. Her new teeth were bared. There were a lot of them. Laney delivered her message. Serena squinted off into the middle distance, her ears perked.

“If you’re up for it, I’ve got more messages,” she said. “We’re trying to start coordinating by dorm. Aren’t you in 3B? There’s something up with that one. They’ve got an entire cordon set up.”

“Probably the succubus sleeping with us,” Laney volunteered. That got a startled reaction by Serena, and a slow, very slow, developing grin on Oscar, plus a new appraisal of her sensational curves. Laney surprised herself with a smile of her own, and a flicker of her tail. Oscar only wore jean shorts, with the button undone.

“Uh-HUH,” Serena said. “Interesting. Then go sneak into 4C and check in with Tania. And keep an eye out for radios. Or mice girls. The prey types really need to start carrying their weight.”

“Serenaaaaaa,” Oscar said. He had found the mossy remnants of an adironback chair, to serve as a makeshift throne. He was doing his best to flirt from there, using his smug, cheesy grin and the force of his mane. Laney took a step in his direction.

“And go sit on the lion. You’ve earned it.”

Laney stopped. She felt her tail bunch up, suddenly confused.

“Did I?” she said. “Just—like, because... why? Why did I earn it? Because I’m a kitty-cat, you mean?”

Oscar froze. He was obviously totally at sea with what to do with a cat girl who didn’t want to jump on his lap. He looked at Serena, overlarge eyes pleading.

“Um,” Serena said, at a loss herself. Her khaki-colored fur shivered in the thin breeze.

“Why do you want me? I’m just this—I’m just THIS,” Laney said. Oscar didn’t help things, although he was trying to, with an appreciative cat call at her overstuffed feline body. “I’m just this b-b—this BITCH who happened to end up in your species. You were s-so nice to me yesterday for no reason even though I thought you were so cringey and n-now you KEEP saying you want me even though...”

She sniffed.

“Just go fondle the male,” Serena said. “You’ll feel a lot better. We all do.”

“Oh yeah,” Laney said. She wiped her eyes. “Yeah. I know. Thanks. Thanks very much. And then I’ll do the messages.” She had to keep everyone’s name straight. Tania had to be the Bobcat. That meant two other cat sisters to learn.

Oscar, relieved that a cat girl had worked out her emotions, patted at his lap. Laney climbed aboard. His hands went right underneath her shirt and squeezed her jugs, none too gently. But that was fine—Oscar’s enthusiastic, rough-patched hands sent a pulse right up to her brain. She waited for him to tear off her panties and work his dick inside of her, only slowly realizing that when it came to Oscar, the girls had to do most of the work.

But that was okay. Laney uncoiled her legs and pulled down his shorts. Serena made a noise at this, but didn’t intervene. Some wisp of Marissa, still clinging to her. It was a relief that his leonine body didn’t extend to a catlike cock. She’d heard unfortunate things.

“Uh. Roar,” Oscar said, in a suddenly small voice. But he gripped her big hips and started to thrust, tossing nervous looks at Serena.

Was she being too forward? It barely occurred to her that this was less than appropriate. Sex was normal, and should be constant. Oscar combed her hair back, and that gesture started her crying again. “Happy tears. Happy,” she assured him, starting to bounce up and down, for emphasis. And because it felt so perfect with her retoned legs. She could hump all day long. Laney shucked her shirt off, letting her lion bury his head in her tits, tickling them with his fur. Both of their tails were whipping about, uncontrolled.

“Oscar, hurry,” Serena said. Laney diligently started to squeeze, as much as she felt like just luxuriating in his touch, his scent. Had Marissa changed her, taken something away? It wasn’t clear, and, at the moment, she didn’t care. It just felt so fucking good to be part of the team, for once.

MARISSA 4

8:06 a.m., Day 3, Rifle Range

The miserable thicc succubus slut was out by the rifle range.

She’d told herself that at least she deserved for a cold and awful night sleeping rough. Marissa had made a pillow out of dirt and tucked herself in with a single blade of grass. It was still more than she deserved. She’d sucked some sort of essence out of a—if not a friend, at least a bunkmate. And also a guy who probably deserved it, and two other girls who hadn’t done anything bad to her.

She’d changed them. She could feel Laney getting heavier. Like these girls didn’t have enough problems, she was making them sexier. More fuckable. Not just cat but hot kitty.

Not only was that bad overall, she’d done it in a period of like four to six hours, in three separate sessions. Extrapolating out, she was going to be draining the population of a small city on a yearly basis. She’d barely have time for other hobbies. It was going to be fucking and sucking on the regular, possibly while cackling.

Marissa sat up.

It made her feel even worse that she’d slept so incredibly well. Her mind had even entertained her with a number of very sexy dreams. Mostly pointing out that there were all sorts of interesting sexual experiences she had yet to have. Her ass, for starters. Marissa was afraid to explore down there, but her subconscious wanted her to know: it was going to feel really good, when she did. There were all sorts of spitroasting things she could do. And with so many blank, smiling men and women, their nostrils flaring, enjoying the scent-spice she was flooding into them...

Marissa aggressively pinched herself.

“Ow!” she said, even though it didn’t particularly hurt. And felt okay... even sort of good. Her skin was still, to a casual onlooker, ordinary-if-curvy girl legs. But it felt padded, shiny, like she’d added a little sex toy to her DNA.

Marissa stood up.

Her horns were well in, and had added some special features. She could feel them, high and proud above her hair line. They were angled just perfectly so she wouldn’t hurt anyone while giving head. She also had a few purple streaks running up her legs, apparently just decorative. Also the ears felt as hot as ever. No wings, but there were some hard buds that she couldn’t reach, and could just feel by moving muscles around.

The only semi-good news in the body examination was her tail. Although it had fully emerged, it was still stupidly short, and looked ridiculous parked above the bulk of her booty. It looked like a pull cord. But it promised eventual seduction—it was a dark black whip with a wicked barb at the end. It felt good too. All of her felt good, and also, well rested. Whatever she’d sucked out of Laney was as good as chocolate, and very good for her sleep.

Marissa moaned again. And the worst, darkest truth of all, was that she didn’t even feel super bad, as much as she was trying to force it. It was hard to feel bad about eating. That was what she had to do. It felt like apologizing for breathing. And if she’d lapped up a few of a ridiculous cat girl’s more pointless brain cells...

“Marissa, stop it,” Jenny said.

Marissa whirled.

Jenny had gotten kinda tall.

She’d gone up about half a foot. She wore a baggy hoodie, which now showed a lot of midriff, and a pair of pajama pants that showed a lot of ankle. Despite that, and having her hood up, she was a sparkling blonde goddess perfectly highlighted by the sun. Her ears pulled backwards and up and were aerodynamic. She made Marissa feel immediately like a squat bundle of infectious tits and ass.

Her eyes drew Marissa in, deep and hard. What color had they been, before? She hadn’t spent time gazing in Jenny’s eyes, but now, now there was something in there, something that made her at least want to say what color they were...

“I can hear you whining from way far away,” Jenny said. She blinked hard, and Marissa’s reverie broke. Jenny was by a set of moldy hay bales, peppered with .22 shot. There was still one scrap of target stuck to the twine. “And everyone is looking for you.”

“Ooooh, that’s bad,” Marissa said. She wiped her nose clean. “I’m really distinctive now. I got horns.”

“You did get horns,” Jenny said. “How’s the tail going?”

“Big spike. Like a lawn dart. I think I’m supposed to... supposed to... umm... use it like a dildo. I think I’m supposed to fuck other people with it. So... yeah. I grew a penis tail. How was your night?”

Jenny stood next to her, and Marissa had to look up. Her friend had had a slight height advantage on her, before. Now she crested six feet. And—had SHE shrunk? Become more dense, sinking into a black hole of boobs? Jenny’s lips sparkled. They seemed to have natural lip gloss.

“I could hear you, and I can definitely smell you,” Jenny said. “You’re like if that mediterranean place on 4th and Mission blew up. You’re very, you know, a spice ship from the age of sail. You’re allspice.”

Something was off, Marissa realized. She wasn’t able to just reach into Jenny’s nose and make her a plaything. It felt strange, after last night. Like a limb she couldn’t extend. The woman was breathing her handcrafted musk, and nothing was occurring.

Not that she wanted it to. Certainly not.

“I organized a resistance movement and also found time to do some more research,” Jenny said.

“With what? How?” Marissa said.

Jenny ignored her. Her open nostrils taunted Marissa. It should be so easy to play around with the elf’s libido. Make her do stuff. Lots of fun stuff.

“I don’t think you actually FEED on girls, per se. But you do... encourage.. the virus in some way. It’s already making us hotter and wetter and breeding-tastic beasts and... you encourage that. A lot. And in exchange, something about other strains of virus nourish you.”

“That sounds like feeding but with additional steps,” Marissa said.

“Uh huh. But what makes you special, Marissa, very very special, is that you, uniquely, can infect uninfected MPV staffers. Easily and quickly. Here. I brought you a present,” it was underpants. A bright blue cotton pair—not hers, and Marissa was pretty sure they weren’t Jenny’s. Bright blue wasn’t her look. “Put them on.”

“How’d you know I wasn’t wearing any undies?” Marissa said. But she slid them on, underneath her skirt. It was a relief to wear panties again, even if they weren’t hers, and even though they didn’t really fit. It wasn’t good for her sense of humanity to keep feeling pussy juice running down her thighs.

“Lucky guess.”

The rifle range was at the far northeastern edge of the Camp, down a long trail. Marissa had found it by accident deep in the night, Laney’s taste on her lips, her thighs juiced and tits burning. She’d made a single effort to climb the fence just past the hay bales, and her boobs had squeezed into the spaces between the chain links.

“Everyone is on lockdown, and the MPV is scared as hell. They found that guy you left. I don’t think he could describe you—he’s in some sort of merman fish rut. Just completely given over to lust and growing gills. But the girls you got into are... fine. Dumb-horny and way thiccer but fine.”

“I feel really bad about that. The girls.”

“Yeah, well, they went up two cup sizes and they’re currently licking each other out in their own observation trailer. Could be worse, although maybe they give birth to guppies down the line.”

The trail reached the main road. At some point a signpoint had been put up, with handpainted directions, and all that was left was the remnants of the pole. The trail was only still there because the plants hadn’t bothered to overtake it. Jenny took her off-trail, through a set of rust-colored bushes, and stopped.

“Marissa, can you get really horny?”

“I’m always horny,” Marissa said. She waved her arms, setting parts of her jiggling. “That’s the whole deal! I’m gonna have to live in a shack in the woods with only vibrators for friends. It’s the only way to be safe. Look how stacked I am, it’s insane! I’m walking spanish fly!”

“Mmm. This is too much human Marissa. Ironically enough, I currently need the slut-beast. This is tricky.” Jenny fingered her ear.

“Does that still feel good?” Marissa said. She crossed her arms under her boobs. “Are YOU horny? What’s it like, going elf?”

Jenny hesitated. Her hand froze on the back of her ear. “It’s more complicated than you’d probably think. I’m not... human... like maybe it looks. And I’m not Cate Blanchett either. Just rub your butt or something, okay? I really need your... demon secretions.”

“Then I’m gonna need some motivation,” Marissa said. She really didn’t, but her inability to drive Jenny crazy was surprisingly annoying. But every bit of her was wet. Each step was distracting—thighs rubbed together, pussy dripped, tits bounced. Her boobs especially felt swollen in a concerning way, taut and tight. They couldn’t possibly get any bigger. “What’re you even planning? I thought the idea was to hide me somewhere. I assumed you had a slut shack I could lay low in!”

“Oh.. oh no,” Jenny led her in a little farther. It struck Marissa that she had no idea at all if all this brush she was walking through was poison oak. It would serve her right to have her new, glossy, curvy legs completely covered in itchy. “You’re the least of our problems. We’re in the middle of crackdown.” She pulled aside a red-green branch.

They were all there, in the omnipresent uniforms, every single MPV staff member. The squat low cabins had loose cordons around them made out of men and women. Cabin 3B especially was thick with staffers, and had that squat goblin girl professor nearby, stalking behind the humans.

“Ooohhhhhhhhhhh I caused all that,” Marissa said.

“Sort of. Okay, give me your underpants. Assuming they’re all juiced up.”

Marissa paused.

“Why?” she said.

“I’m making Marissa bombs. Pheromone-laced pussy-potent Marissa bombs. Cause a little chaos.”

“Isn’t that going to INFECT them?” Marissa said. There was a catch in her voice. Infect them, make all the men and all the women into ravenous, horny beasts. There’d be so much variety for her to play around with. She hadn’t fucked anything to speak of, not really. A cat girl and some mythological creatures. There were entire animal kingdoms to work her way through. Jenny caught her look.

“Maybe. Take off your panties. God, Marissa, you’re such a fucking SLUT now.” She held out her hand. Marissa stripped her new panties off. She’d been wearing them for about three minutes and they were completely sopping wet. Jenny handed her a yellow pair.

“Now get going on these. One pair alone isn’t enough to cause sex chaos. Maybe. I know you’re doing your best.”

The transition from sadsack succubus girl, moaning to herself in the woods, to pheromone factory, was very swift.

“How... how many panties do you have?” Marissa said, panting, after Jenny had produced the fifth pair from underneath her shirt. From somewhere in her cleavage.

“As many as necessary,” Jenny said. “You don’t need to put them on. Just rummage around in there. You’re not gonna get a UTI or anything, you’re basically 90% viral nanobots.”

“Uh... uh huh,” Marissa said. It was most efficient to sit with her back against a tree, in the cool of the shade, and diddle herself. She had her fat thighs drawn up, and rubbed between her legs dutifully. It felt like a sort of penance, helping the rest of the camp, through her intoxicating personal incense. And the panties came in all sorts of different colors. The current one was polka dot. “Can you have the next runner bring a water bottle over? I’m... I’m getting a lil thirsty.”

Jenny kept her eyes averted.

Mostly averted, Marissa had noticed.

Marissa was unclear on the details, since she was busy rubbing one after the other out. But while she had been busy sucking dick and pussy Jenny had swiftly organized a nascent Resistance, or something like that. It all seemed improbable, but, then, she herself had lost her virginity four times over and become an unprecedented viral vector, in the same amount of time.

And Jenny was clearly hard to disobey. Her eyes had a way of glinting in the sun.

There were a team of two runners, one some sort of owl girl, in dirt-brown feathers, and the other a very moist half-frog. Frog girl in particular didn’t seem suited for skulking around—the leaves kept getting stuck to her wet, shivering skin, and her tongue seemed to get longer with each visit. Jenny had also found some ziploc bags, and had instructions for where each scent-laden package was to be put.

“What do you... what...” Marissa tried to catch her breath. But overall she felt a little more like herself, after juicing her way through a half-dozen different pairs of underpants. Some of which were so tight they left imprints on her big ass.

“Take your time,” Jenny said. “We have a bit.” She kept a watch on the soldiery. They all seemed to still just be standing around.

“What do you think we should do, long-term?” Marissa said.

“We, or you?”

“We. Us,” Jenny gave her a look, and Marissa swallowed. “Is there an us? Am I just—am I really dangerous? Am I like a biological hazard now?”

“Us,” Jenny tasted the word, and shrugged.

“Lets get through today,” she said. “Here. I saved polka dots for towards the end. I thought that’d encourage you. Just so you know, we’re working towards a full dozen.”

“Jenny, I can’t just sit here jerking off if you’re gonna ditch me eventually,” Marissa said. “parting is such sweet sorrow. Is that the quote? You always knew the play better than I did.”

“That I shall say good night till it be morrow. I still can’t believe we got expelled over that dumb play,” Jenny said. “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into that presentation.”

“It was a miscalculation regarding the nature of our High School,” Marissa admitted. For the first time, come to think.

She started to pull on the underpants. Marissa was as dribbly and wet as the first time, and a wet patch immediately formed on the new polka dots. Jenny’s eyes watched it grow. Whatever elvish protection Jenny had, it was truly remarkable. The owl girl had turned her head an unnerving amount of degrees, to track her. Newly piercing eyes had zeroed in on the junction between her thighs. Jenny had needed to step between her runner and her pussy scent party.

“Do you think you can learn a little self-control? Do you think you can be around other people without turning them into playthings?” Jenny said. She kneeled, and prodded a finger in between Marissa’s legs. The unfamiliar touch made her whimper, and she juiced so much a spritz of fluid appeared on top of the cotton.

Marissa didn’t say anything. Jenny’s eyes wouldn’t let her.

“One problem at a time. But we’ll do our best. Look what we’re proving, even now. A bunch of dumb horny animals are about to put one over on another set of dumb, horny animals. With your help. Stand up, check out that guy standing sentry by 8F.

Marissa got to her feet. Her knees ached. Her body hadn’t gotten any in about eight hours and was feeling the need again. An urge she could force back. For now. A shack in the woods, Marissa could already picture it. The witch’s shack, where mischievous campers would visit, to emerge with dazed expressions and well-sucked cocks. Maybe some feathers.

The soldier in question stood up straight, eyes forward. He was well over six feet tall. And, as they waited, hiding in the brush, he discreetly took a small package out from behind his back, and sniffed deeply inside of it. Even from far away, Marissa could feel a small, knowing tingle. A little bit of her was in there, working its way up through his nose. He’d be getting a really powerful erection.

She stripped off the polka dot panties. They were her most soggy pair yet. “What’s next? Stripes? Do you have anything in pink?”