My interest in metafeminine fiction can be traced back to high school. I’d always been a writer at heart, and so when I realized I had this interest of course I began writing my own story. My First Story was one of those large-scale ideas that has every possible TF thrown into it, and – like many other stories like it – would have quickly collapsed under its own weight into incompletion.
Sadly, I no longer have the file that I’d begun so long ago. As I pushed through puberty I experienced what I’m sure many do; a strange guilt about the enjoyable parts of going from youth to adult. Part of the way I dealt with that guilt was by purging my computer of any files I associated with arousal. I did this a few times, and once I’d sorted myself out I regretted each mass deletion.
While I don’t recall much of my First Story, I know it had to do with a young woman waking up in a fantasy-but-also-post-apocalyptic world populated with strange creatures and magic-like science. The heroine was pursued by the agents of the Queen of Treasure, in particular one high-ranking individual called Marza. I don’t remember anything about the heroine, but I do recall that she escaped Marza one too many times, and the Queen of Treasure wanted to make sure her displeasure was known.
It is important to know that none of the Queen’s citizens are capable of touching their lower genitals without the Queen’s explicit permission.
So – to paraphrase Tenacious D – this is not a passage from my First Story, no. This is just a tribute.
Marza stood before her queen and bowed. Her modest breasts, unsupported beneath the cold metal of her specially-cast cuirass, rolled and brushed the chest plate’s interior. The leather skirt that ended mid-thigh creaked as Marza straightened herself. She looked up the four short steps that lead to the Queen of Treasure’s dais in the rear of the Crystal Palace’s throne room.
The Queen was reclined; her seat was nothing more than gold coins and trinkets, gems, pearls, and anything else the robust woman found value in. The structure only vaguely resembled a chair, the mass of material constantly moving and shifting so that the queen’s bare skin was only ever in contact with items that were not too cold nor too warm. The same mysterious abilities that had secured the Queen’s position of power were also what she was using to bind together her throne.
Marza looked on as a golden scepter, partially extruded from the other items around it, pushed into the Queen’s pussy. Tendrils of coins and diamonds wrapped around the woman’s ribs and grasped her breasts, massaging melon-sized balls of sensitive flesh.
Marza had never seen the Queen go a moment without her treasure pleasuring her. A river of the matriarch’s juices seemed to constantly flow out from the bottom of her compiled cathedra. Two women, transformed to be little more than living mops, would occasionally scurry out of the shadows to sop up the mess before quickly retreating to join the rest of the Queen’s cowardly court.
“Where is the intruder?” the Queen asked Marza. The military woman stood tall where she was. Marza knew she was only being asked so that she would have to admit her failure in front of the judging eyes peaking from the darkness. It was no secret that the Queen had many spies who would have already reported Marza’s failure and loss of the girl.
“I do not know,” Marza replied, her chest out and proud, “The last I saw her was in the Forest of Rooted Rutters. There was a faction of rebels who helped her escape.”
“And you brought none of them back to your Queen?”
“No, your Highness.” Marza stood straight, determined to show the spineless cretins watching and mocking her from the dark corners that she could face failure with as much confidence as she could success.
The bullion bench shifted the Queen so that her body swung around. The Queen’s face, with her long dark hair and full features, heaved towards Marza. The full, round ass of the powerful sorceress was pushed up so that Marza could see it over the top of the Queen’s head. No doubt a larger golden phallus was currently finding its way between her swollen, dripping, lower lips. Fingers of coins pulled at the thick nipples which were now nearly eye-level with Marza. The show was having an effect on the standing woman’s own nether region.
“What will you have of me, my Queen?” Marza spoke, her voice full of loyalty and determination.
“You will have another opportunity, Marza. But it would not hurt to have a reminder of what awaits any further failure.”
As the Queen spoke Marza felt a pressure in her breasts. They were quickly growing within the curves of her cuirass. It wasn’t long before Marza felt them pushing against the inside of her protective gear.
“You should remove your armor. You are no longer allowed to cover your chest,” the Queen smiled. Marza’s hands moved quickly, turning the wing nuts that held the front and back of her metal dressing. The pieces hinged at the shoulder, and as Marza released the last fastener she lifted the back half up and over her head.
As she tried to pull her armor away Marza felt resistance. Her growing tits were stretching out, following the metal as Marza tried to pull it away from her. She had to struggle, and after a quick tug she felt the surface of her breasts finally release the cuirass. The snapback of her own flesh into her ribs caused Marza to stumble backwards and nearly launch her armor across the room. She’d never been so out of control of her body before. She quickly regained her composure, letting her banished protection fall to the floor at her side.
Looking down Marza held back a gasp of shock. Not that anyone would have heard her reaction over the snickering echoing from the shadows. The growth of Marza’s breasts was finally coming to a close, but their size – nearly the circumference of the Queen’s gold-caressed udders – was not what elicited Marza’s disbelief.
The skin of her bosom was no longer the roasted almond color that covered the rest of Marza’s body. Instead, two bright green orbs hung from the woman’s ribs. They were some sort of rubber or polymer, and the substance was somewhat cloudy instead of being either completely opaque or clear. The gel her flesh had transformed into was incredibly pliable, her own shallow breathing causing her breasts to jiggle and ripple.
“There, that should remind you of what is in store if you fail me again,” the Queen of Treasure smiled. A flick of her wrist made it clear that her humiliated agent was dismissed. Marza bowed, and felt her altered chest stretch a number of inches towards the floor from its own weight. As she rose her green breasts snapped back, bouncing up nearly to Marza’s chin. As she turned the wobbly things swung and struck Marza’s upper arm, sticking to her skin for a moment before her first step shook them loose.
Marza could barely keep her balance as she swiftly left the chamber, her boobs flailing and swinging wildly with every step. It wasn’t until after she’d shut the door to her room that the laughter of the Queen’s damnable cackling audience finally left Marza’s ears.
Inside the privacy of her own space Marza sat on her mattress and faced the mirror. She lifted her hands and grasped what had been her formerly athletically-toned and physically-sensible chest. As her palms touched the green mass Marza felt an erotic tremor shudder down her spine. Her pussy immediately began to gush.
Lifting up the shifting spheres Marza saw that her nipples had grown and stretched out, and had become the same substance and color as the rest of her chest. Marza’s fingers moved to pinch her altered teats, which was difficult to do thanks to the adhesiveness of the jiggly gel. Marza wanted to sate the need that had suddenly overtaken the dripping slit beneath her leather hem, but try as she might it felt as if the most sensitive parts of her green bust kept escaping her touch. The gel shifted, squeezed, and bulged between Marza’s fingers, refusing to let the horny woman find a spot that could help her reach climax.
Reaching her point of frustration Marza pulled her hands away from her sticky tits. The green continued to stick to her hands until Marza had nearly straightened her arms. Her breasts could stretch well over twice their new resting circumference. Suddenly they released from Marza’s palms and snapped back, the springing sponginess sending such a shock to Marza’s clit that she almost cried out.
But it wasn’t enough to make her cum.
Marza caught her breath and looked across to her reflection. She was a joke. Green balloons marred the body that she’d spent so long perfecting in the name of her Queen. Now this strange intruder had brought shame to Marza’s reputation and standing.
She would not fail her Queen again.
Not just for her honor, but because the thought of Marza’s entire body being transformed into the surprisingly sensitive gelatinous green polymer, rendering her completely helpless in a boneless jiggling mass, was a thought that terrified the deepest reaches of Marza’s mind.
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