Kia Forte Commercial: LadyBot

Respect the Tech indeed! Everyone loves gynoids, and this commercial is certainly progressive about it!

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It Girl! – The Comic Every TF Fan Should Be Reading

I’ve been trying to find the time to review It Girl! and the Atomics, and the opportunities have just not been there. But transformation fans should absolutely be checking out this series!

Not only have the covers been great – there was a tree merging one, and the most recent is It Girl as a statue – but inside our lovely heroine has shifted through all sorts of material, from hard metal to fluffy pillow!

Of course these transformations are only temporary. And some issues concentrate only on other members of the Atomics (which in some cases still include some shape shifting). But the series has been consistently entertaining and I highly recommend everyone checking it out!

The cover to my copy of It Girl! and the Atomics! #7

The cover to my copy of It Girl! and the Atomics! #7

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Unexpectedly Overwhelmed…

Hey all,

Upon Friday morn I will start driving a 6 state trip which will include 5 stops to see friends and family, and I won’t be back until Memorial Day. I’ve been trying very hard to get Sucked In, Part II finished, but as the “preparatory responsibilities I had not foreseen” continue to pile up it is clearer and clearer to me that an acceptable version of Sucked In, Part II will not be ready before I leave. Internet will be spotty during my travels and I don’t pretend to promise I can rely on posting anything while gone (my inlaws, who I will be staying with for the majority of my days away, don’t even have internet).

So, although you shouldn’t expect the story between now and Memorial Day, I will work to have something quick and fun to schedule for posting these next two weeks. Certainly stop by and see what I’ve come up with or found!

And this lack of internet while away always gives me a chance to creatively recharge, so while I feel crappy for leaving everyone hanging for a little while I know I’ll be coming back with some new material that will eventually benefit everyone!

Hope you are all well, and thanks for reading!

 

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Sucked In

Sucked In

a short story by Dan Standing

 

I could feel myself getting flushed. This was why I never showed up until the last sixty minutes of the museum’s hours. I could be alone down here, undisturbed, and stare.

Imagine.

Want.

The hallway was a dead end. At the end, just to my left, was a wide wooden door from the Victorian era, the red paint of its carvings barely visible. Behind me was the large mirror noted to be from a Middle Eastern palace, its glass stained and the gold frame faded. Other large pieces and oil paintings ran down the hallway to my right, where the thin space opened into one of the larger gallery rooms.

I’d never thought I was an art person. I’d perused these university museum halls with a sort of indifference a liberal arts student wasn’t supposed to have. Literature was my thing. My fateful trip to this hallway was spurred on by the search for an art history topic. My doleful stroll had stopped fast when I set eyes on my obsession.

Entitled Sappho and Friend, it was an oil painting recreation of an illustration done by Edouard-Henri Avril. The little fact board to the right of the frame said that it was believed that it was painted in 1929, but that the artist – most likely acting without the approval of then then-deceased Avril – was unknown.

The paint before me depicted a woman – Sappho, I assumed – reclined on a large stone at a beach. Her hair was a dirty blonde and curled up around her head. Her figure was full and sensual, healthy and sexy. Her breasts would have over overflowed a man’s hand, each laying spread-out over her ribs. Red nipples stuck up from her pillow-like chest. Her beautiful face had the expression of casual but fulfilled pleasure.

Perhaps that was because of the woman lapping at the tuft of fur between Sappho’s legs. I assumed this was the “Friend” in the title. Some odd looking mermaids frolicked in the water – and in each other – but none seemed terribly invested in Sappho. It was this woman, this Friend, sprawled across the sand and lovingly tending to Sappho’s fertile valley that had gotten me to stop and stare.

Sappho’s body was the opposite of mine. My dark hair was long and stringy, a description that could actually describe most of me. My chest was flat; if not for my nipples one almost wouldn’t know where my breasts were. My waist was the same thin width that my chest and hips maintained. I dreamed of having the full, soft body reclined on that stone.

And the soft lips and tongue between those legs.

There was something deep down inside of me that this picture had been slowly drawing to the surface. The answer to a question I’d long held close. The more I came back and soaked in the image of Sappho being enjoyed by her Friend, the closer I felt that answer was to me.

And more than once I left with my panties soaked. This was why I’d started coming down to the hallway when I was certain no one would be around.

I’d found pictures of the painting online, scans of the original illustration by Avril and photographs of the oil painting the museum held. But none of them did for me what standing in front of the actual painting did, with the lights glistening over the individual brush strokes still visible if you looked hard enough. More than once I’d brought my eye close enough to the canvas to set off the beep of a proximity detector.

I’d visited the painting so many times I’d lost count. Today looked no different than any of the rest. I was standing in my t-shirt and jeans, toes stretching and curling at the edge of my sandals, my hands trying hard to not touch any part of me they shouldn’t. I only wore a bra to the museum, otherwise my achingly hard nipples would show through. I’d actually put on another pair of panties over the pair I’d first pulled on that morning. I was already thankful for that forethought.

I stared. My eyes lingered over every sensual detail of Sappho. Although I knew not who had created the oil painting, they’d copied Avril’s illustration perfectly. I silently thanked him for the luscious curves on Sappho and her Friend.

As I usually did, once I’d stared for a while, I closed my eyes. I could smell the beach. The water. My arousal. I could almost feel a tongue getting closer and closer to my-

Beep!

I opened my eyes. I’d started to lean backwards and gotten too close to the mirror across from the painting. Flush of arousal was taken over by flush of shame, and I quickly sidled down a few paintings to hide my real interest. I stood still, with my hand to my chin, looking like I was fully interested in some 1800s portrait of a portly business man. Another student, a strawberry blonde girl who was the usual museum volunteer for this floor, casually walked over. I maintained my eyes on the portly painting’s.

I always wondered why she was down here. The way her blouse and skirt rested on her I thought she was better suited for some frat wet t-shirt contest. I had the body for a museum volunteer, kept underground with a bunch of people more interested in looking at everything but you. She paused for a moment, making certain nothing looked disturbed, and then the girl wandered off, satisfied that no one was touching the exhibits.

What she didn’t know was that touching the exhibit was exactly my plan.

When I was certain she had retired to the other corner of the larger gallery room I side-stepped back to Sappho. She was so beautiful. She had everything I wanted in body and experience. I felt like I was so close to accepting my epiphany. All I needed was one extra push. Just a gentle brush, my finger on her bosom ever-so-softly petting to her stomach, feeling the brushstrokes, before pulling back.

And then running. Probably lots of running. I could outrun the volunteer; she wasn’t wearing a sports bra, and I didn’t need one at all.

Even if I did get away I’d still probably be expelled once she filed her report.

But it would be worth it. I just needed do it fast. Gentle, but fast.

I took a moment to pump myself up, taking deep breaths, feeling the hot flush replaced by cold sweat and a pit in my stomach. This was something I would have loudly spoken ill of had I seen anyone else doing it. You don’t touch the art! But I was going to.

My arm moved quickly. I intended to achieve my goals in the length of time it took for the beep to start and end. My finger came into contact with the rough surface of the painted canvas. I could feel the soft ridge of a brushstroke beneath my fingerprint. I went to move my hand, complete my caress, but found that I couldn’t.

My finger was stuck fast to the paint! I couldn’t move it! Oh shit! Was the paint wet? Was there a varnish I hadn’t noticed?

Oh God, had there been a beep? I had to get out of there, but my finger held fast. The canvas didn’t seem to be moving at all as I struggled. I was about to grab my wrist and pull harder when suddenly I felt light. It was if gravity had released me, and I was now floating in front of Sappho and her Friend. My clothing was still effected by gravity, and it fell to the ground…passing right through me, as if I wasn’t even there.

Suddenly the painting was rushing towards me – or I towards it? The world went dark for a moment, and my form was changing. I was getting smaller – no, flatter – no, spreading out - no-

Suddenly I could feel again. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped, but now I realized I had and now I could feel again. A cold, hard surface was beneath my back. There was a cushion between me and the - no! I was the cushion! My, my body was soft, and full! I had a wonderful pillowy ass and plush flesh gently resting on what must have been a large stone underneath me.

Slowly I could feel more and more. My breasts were heavy and hung to the sides of my ribs. My one hand was raised and resting on a cold rock. My other on a thin rod. My left leg was propped up on another stone, and my right leg was in the sand.

Then I felt something else. Something warm and soft was wrapped around my right calf. I could feel something pushing down on my pubic hair. And between my legs…something moist was pushing against my clit!

Mmm…that felt marvelous! I felt a swell of arousal wash over me. I felt warm, and could feel an orgasm begin to grow. The feeling became more and more intense until I was practically at the peak…and then it held there. I was just short of orgasming, but couldn’t! I tried to move an arm, shift at all to get that wonderful teasing something to do more to me, but nothing would respond.

Then my vision started to fade in. Gradually I began to make out something…a rectangle of some sort. No – a mirror! Wait, I’d seen this mirror before, it was the one hanging across from the Sappho painting! But why was I looking at that? Clearly I wasn’t in the museum, I…hold on. What is that?

The mirror was reflecting something. With the brown stain that ran across the reflective surface it was at first hard to tell what it was. Then I realized I was looking at the Sappho painting. Then I realized something else.

I was in the museum.

I was in the painting.

This is a faithful photographic reproduction of an original two-dimensional work of art. The work of art itself is in the public domain for the following reason: This work is in the public domain in those countries with a copyright term of life of the author plus 80 years or less.

This is a faithful photographic reproduction of an original two-dimensional work of art. The work of art itself is in the public domain for the following reason: This work is in the public domain in those countries with a copyright term of life of the author plus 80 years or less.

With this realization suddenly I felt something new. In addition to the stone against my back I could feel the canvas behind me. I could feel how my flat, painted body was stuck to it. I could feel the slight draft of the museum caress my brush strokes and cracks. I could tell I wasn’t breathing, and had no heartbeat. I was Sappho in the painting, both physically and metaphysically!

God, that idea made me both hot and terrified at the same time. The feeling of impending orgasm intensified for a moment, but I still didn’t cum.

I could see Sappho’s Friend – now my friend – lapping at my bushy pussy. No, not lapping, just one lap. It was human nature to give action to a still image, but there was none. That’s why I couldn’t cum, and certainly why I couldn’t move. I was stuck in mid-action, in a moment in time. I could think and I could see, but all sensations had been locked at this erotic instance captured in oil.

God, now I really wanted to cum. Would this beautiful, soft woman be forever between my legs? Was this all I had wanted, in both the most wonderful and terrible way possible?

As I lay there, my mind pleasantly tortured by the unalterable pleasure of my body, I noticed a motion in the hallway I had only recently been standing in.

Hey everyone! It’s been a while since we had an audience weigh-in on the ending of a story! Comment and let me know how do you want this to end? Should it be;

a) a nude woman who looks exactly like Sappho rises into view
b) the art museum volunteer comes back
c) another student walks up
d) other thoughts?

Log your votes below and I’ll reveal what I’ve been inspired to do next week! ~dS

 

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From C2E2 the Fourth with Love…

Well, Amber and I are back from Chicago and C2E2. While we enjoyed our trip, this year’s C2E2 was more of a mixed bag of experiences than any other. However, I got to meet, talk with, and shake the hand of Felicia Day – so that sort of automatically makes the trip a roaring success.

When it comes to having found some sexy new graphic novels and sketch books, that was also a success. While big names like J. Scott Campbell were in Artist Alley, I decided to concentrate on finding talent I would not normally know to look for or buy online, and perhaps could only get at the convention.

First up was the ashcan edition of Jeffrey Moy’s Video Game Gals. The black-and-white interior features a Felicia-from-Darkstalkers style catgirl waitress named Amber, who kicks the crud out of a challenger. It’s a preview for a larger project, beautifully drawn, and better yet – it was free!

The cover to my copy of Jeffrey Moy's Video Game Gals Ashcan.

The cover to my copy of Jeffrey Moy’s Video Game Gals Ashcan.

Next up, to tread slightly mainstream, is the trade paperback edition of Irresistible, published by Zenoscope. I’d actually heard about this and intended to pick up the individual issues, but the trade makes it easy to enjoy whenever I want. The story is about a guy who wishes to be irresistible to women, so Mind Control fans may want to check it out. It is beautifully illustrated, and – unlike many Zenoscope books – it features some actually bare-breasted beauties.

The cover to my copy of Irresistable

The cover to my copy of Irresistible

Swinging back around to the self-publish side of things, Amber and I came across artist Danielle Gransaull. Amber was immediately struck by her art books (which I will get to in a second), while I picked up her Life with Death #1, which is a compilation of her web comic. It features plenty of sexy demon ladies, a couple dancing fire women, and a teensy bit of Mind Control spell casting (on a dude). It is quite enjoyable.

The cover of my copy of Life with Death #1

The cover of my copy of Life with Death #1

Regarding Ms. Gransaull’s art books, having She-Hulk on the cover of one meant Amber was immediately on board. We picked up Volumes 1, 2, and 3 of VaVaBoom!, each of which is filled with color pin-ups. Highlights from each include;

Volume 1: She-Hulk, some fun Black Cat/Catwoman rivalries.

Volume 2: more Black Cat/Catwoman rivalries, some great renderings of Futurama‘s Leela, Emma Frost as a sexy librarian, a pixie in a teacup, Little Mermaid cheesecake, Tigra, and a variety of fun lady/lady pair ups.

Volume 3: two topless renderings of Daenerys Targaryen from Game Of Thrones, a very nice Poison Ivy, and a myriad of rough sketches of nudes, catgirls, and a gynoid.

The cover to my copy of VaVaBoom! Volume 1

The cover to my copy of VaVaBoom! Volume 1

 

The cover to my copy of VaVaBoom! Volume 2

The cover to my copy of VaVaBoom! Volume 2

 

The cover to my copy of VaVaBoom! Volume 3

The cover to my copy of VaVaBoom! Volume 3

And last, but certainly not least, is another art book; Bald Guy’s Big Book of Beautiful Babes. Tigra (represented three times), Element Woman, topless Daenerys Targaryen (twice again), Catwoman, and many other (sometimes topless) very sexy women can be found within what I consider one of the gems of my C2E2 trips.

The cover to my copy of Bald Guy's Big Book of Beautiful Babes

The cover to my copy of Bald Guy’s Big Book of Beautiful Babes

Well, that’s all I have to report. One thing I have learned is that, even though I don’t watch the show, we should all be thanking Game of Thrones, Daenerys Targaryen, and of course the very beautiful Emilia Clarke, for suddenly making it okay for every sketchbook to feature a topless woman surrounded by dragons. If there’s any theme I noticed this year, it is that.

There are worse themes.

Be on the look-out next week for a new story! ~dS

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Flanked, Part IV

Flanked

a story by Dan Standing

Part IV

The next morning Lydia came down and met Hillary in the stable. She had brought a platter of greens for the centauride. Aside from some quiet “Good mornings” and a “Thank you” both were silent – their lower lips were doing plenty of quiet humming on their own.

While Hillary ate her breakfast Lydia prepped and saddled her. Once the greens were finished the bit and its straps were put in place. Lydia swung herself up onto her lover, her body shivering ever so slightly as the crux of her legs plopped down on the ridge of the leather seat. Hillary’s spines shuddered as well, knowing someone was close enough to reach back and – she shook her head and focused.

The competition wasn’t scheduled to start for another two hours. The race track was being prepared for the day’s events, so rider and mount headed over to the open field to warm up. They weren’t the only ones with this idea – at least a dozen other competitors were also warming up with their horses.

A stretch of grass in the far rear of the field was going unused and Lydia and Hillary made their way to it. They worked up from trotting to full gallop, then practiced making turns as sharply as they could. They’d been at it for a while before the quiet concentration was interrupted.

“So, Hillary doesn’t have the balls to compete on her own horse?” a voice struck Lydia and Hillary’s ears, halting their practice. Both turned to see another rider, a woman they knew of named Sharene, atop her horse and coming up to a stop not far from them.

The reason they “knew of” her and not “knew” was because Sharene had her own little clique of riders, and the catty bunch kept their social time to themselves – although the same could not be said of their opinions. The primary reason either woman knew of the encroaching contestant at all was because she was a pixie-cut red-head with orange sized breasts and an incredibly toned body…an incredibly toned body that was often “accidentally” shown off in the locker room. Although it was known Sharene didn’t swing in Hillary and Lydia’s direction, she was all about people being jealous of her, and flashing some of her golden-tanned skin and 1% body fat was an easy way to do the trick.

Sharene was also the competition’s First Place winner four times in a row, and was poised for her fifth win this year.

“Whad da hell-”

“What do you want, Sharene?” Lydia interrupted Hillary, not certain just what the antagonistic rider might hear from the glamored centauride.

“I mean, a lot of us have suspected she’s wanted balls to use on you, but it’s clear she can’t bring it on the field…has she been as disappointing in bed?”

Both Lydia and Hillary were secure and mature enough to pay no mind to Sharene’s ignorant statements. But that didn’t mean they weren’t trying to figure out what Sharene’s game here was. Why was she suddenly…had she seen Lydia and Hillary practicing yesterday, and this was some sort of psychological attack? Had they done so well that she could be nervous about their competition?

Up until yesterday Lydia had been so blasé about actually competing to win that she hadn’t thought about the fact that winning the race wasn’t just about handling the course. There were plenty of people who would be actively working against them for that same placing.

Sharene was here to psych them out.

“I’b going goo ucking kill-”

“Who I take to bed with me is none of your business,” Lydia replied, “Now if you’ll excuse us…”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re a carpet muncher,” Sharene gave a nasty grin as she started to turn her horse back towards the other end of the field, “…maybe then you’ll at least enjoy staring at my ass as you finish behind me. With all that whinnying from your horse it won’t be hard for me to know you’re there.” And with that she spurred on her mount and galloped away, leaving Hillary and Lydia to exchange a slow look to each other.

“Welb, ow we hab goo wih.”

“Seriously.”

The pair practiced a little while longer, then went back to the stable to quickly refresh and recover a little. Soon enough they heard the call for contestants to begin lining up.

There were five runs of the course, each run with five riders competing simultaneously. Although technically anyone in any round could win with the best time, riders were ceded based on times calculated from their practices. The slowest competitors went in the earlier runs, and the competitors expected to be fastest – and thus most likely to be exciting and determine the top times – were assigned the last run.

Lydia guessed someone besides Sharene had been paying attention to their practice runs because they were in the final grouping – along with Sharene. As they waited for the other four runs to finish Lydia was thankful that she’d not been lined up next to the nasty woman.

As times began to post on the boards Lydia and Hillary both grinned – the other competitors weren’t anywhere near their practice runs. It really would come down to this final circuit around the course. As riders and mounts stepped up to the starting line, Lydia took one last glance down the line towards Sharene.

Sharene was already staring at her intently. She raised her crop’s tip to the side of her eye, and then pointed the crop at Lydia. She shuddered and turned her attention to Hillary.

“You ready?”

“Yup.”

“Let’s show that horse cock goddess what we can do.”

Bang!

Every rider was off the line accompanied by thunder. Hillary and Lydia had spent so much time practicing without any one around them that at first they fell back, forced to the rear as their competitors fought for space. But, like everything over the past few days, they adapted quickly. Within the length of the course’s first quarter they had moved into third place.

The battle for Second Place was a tough one, but as they neared the midway point of the race Hillary’s shoulders were in front of the nearest horse’s nose. A tight corner pushed them safely into Second.

Unfortunately, Sharene’s horse had its ass squarely in front of them. Lydia ducked down and squeezed tightly as adrenaline spurred Hillary to burst forward. They’d finished seventy-five percent of the race when a grinning Lydia pulled up even with Sharene.

Neither woman said anything. Sharene was far too consumed with driving her mount, and Lydia was doing everything she could to hold on without yanking the reigns in her hands. For a moment it seemed as if the two of them were overtaking Sharene. Lydia looked up and saw the final infamous jump not far ahead of them. She grinned. There was no question that Hillary was one of the best at jumping this by now.

That’s when Sharene slammed her horse into Hillary.

Startled and surprised Lydia yanked the reigns, and the pain caused her centauress to slow. Sharene took the opportunity to gain a lead of a foot or so, but Hillary wouldn’t have it. As Lydia gripped around the human torso in front of her Hillary bolted forward. The jump was wide enough for two to go at once, and both mounts left the Earth simultaneously.

At the apex of their leap Hillary and Lydia heard an ice-cold “No.” Faster than either could react Sharene’s crop came down and struck what the attacking rider would have seen as the horse’s neck.

But in truth it was Hillary’s bare skin, just along her ribs. Her human portion curled into a ball as a red welt immediately surfaced. The pain reverberated through her equine portion, all of her legs tensing at the same time.

“Land us!” Lydia screamed as the ground rushed towards them. Hillary pushed through the throbbing ache just quick enough to unfurl her legs and keep them from tumbling into the dirt. But it was such an awkward landing that Hillary stumbled and tripped through about fifteen paces before fully regaining control of her momentum.

By that point First through Fourth places had already crossed the finish line.

Lydia screamed and cursed about what had happened, so the judges examined Hillary and the footage. It was quickly clear that the camouflage spell cast on the centauride was hiding the wound. And there were no images or videos that clearly showed Sharene striking Hillary. Because of the scene made by Hillary’s actual horse the day before it was easy for Sharene to claim that Hillary had freaked out from the stress of the situation, and Lydia was blaming Sharene for an incident she had nothing to do with.

With no clear evidence to prove Lydia’s claims the race times stood firm. Sharene had won. Neither rider nor mount bothered to even look for where they had ultimately placed.

As the sound of the awards ceremony played over the loudspeakers the transformed lovers, long dismounted from each other and unsaddled, slowly made their way to the open pasture. Since Sharene’s placement had been confirmed neither had said anything. For now they just wanted to be as far away from everyone else as possible for Epona’s arrival.

“Well, that was some tense drama, wasn’t it?”

Slowly Lydia and Hillary turned to find Epona standing behind them. She’d taken no false form this time, now standing in her full naked glory in the field. The smile stretched across her face was wide and toothy – perfect for shit eating.

Silence was the only reply she got.

“Oh come on, even Mr. Ed talked more than you two,” the goddess laughed, slowly circling them. The grass crushed softly under her bare feet.

“Sharene cheated,” Hillary finally said. Anger was beginning to boil up behind her eyes.

“That’s true, and she will be getting a visit from me. But you don’t actually expect me to stand here and listen to you complain about someone’s inappropriate use of a crop, do you?”

Again, Hillary and Lydia were silent.

“I thought not. My terms still stand, regardless of the actions of others. So…”

A little glimmer of light washed over Hillary, and she realized the spell that had made everyone see her as a horse was gone. A small thrum remained, concentrated on her ears and breasts.

She brought her hands to the sides of her head and felt her ears shift up and stretch back. She could feel short hairs, similar to those on her horse portion, spring up across her lengthening skin. Hillary knew she now had the ears of a horse.

Here eyes were drawn to the sensation across her chest. Her pert breasts were growing, filling up and pushing out. Hillary grimaced slightly as the skin stretched and pulled, flesh bubbling up from somewhere inside her and filling the flesh bags. Her nipples were also growing, quickly becoming as hard as - and slightly larger than – shot glasses. Beneath them her breasts ballooned up to the size of casaba melons, standing round and proud on her ribs. She could feel their inconvenient weight, but their pull on her back wasn’t painful.

Lydia was concentrating on her own, somewhat unexpected, change. Her hands were exploring where her spine met her ass. An intense itching had preceded the sprouting of a tail. As the long horse hair grew out her muscles started twitching on their own. Not only did she have the tail of a horse, but Lydia had no control over its movements.

“There,” Epona smiled, examining her handiwork. Hillary and Lydia looked to each other to see what had been done to their partner. Silently, each acknowledged that they had been expecting worse. Epona clearly sensed it, “Well, Sharene did cheat. Hillary gets ears to add a touch of equine to her stubborn head. And she seemed to be trotting far too comfortably, so those breasts should be a great reminder of her humanity. Also, they compliment the fact that since humans can fornicate whenever they like Hillary’s horse pussy is in constant heat. And Lydia has a wonderful little tail as a reminder that it isn’t the horse alone that wins a race.”

Lydia knew better than to protest.

“Um…thanks?” she finally said, her and Hillary’s attention returning to the goddess.

“Don’t mention it, although, I feel like I’m…never mind. What I do know is that it might be best for Hillary to get out of sight…” Epona twirled her hand and the trailer that had brought the centauride’s absent horse appeared next to them. “…I dole out punishment, not science experiments to be dissected in labs. Now, be on your way.”

Not sure what else to do Lydia and Hillary started to reach for the rear doors of the trailer. As they did so Epona turned as if to leave, but suddenly spun back around.

“Oh, yes, I remember now,” Epona smiled, pointing at Lydia, “I wanted to show you a real horse cock.”

~~~~~

Sharene stood in her room, holding her trophy and staring at the mirror. She was dressed in her silk pajamas, which hugged her toned curves and fit body. The material fell gently over her breasts, and her thick nipples made obvious tents in the fabric. She could not keep her eyes off her trophy, which was three tiers full of little golden parapets and a small gold model of a an unsaddled horse in mid-gallop.

Gently angling herself left and right in the mirror the onset of a yawn finally got Sharene to consider going to bed. She placed the trophy on the desk in her room and she turned to go to bed – and made a little yelp. A nude woman was reclined on her bed. Although petite in height, her curves were broad. Her breasts were a few inches larger than Sharene’s, and her hips were wide with full cheeks beneath them. A wild tussle of curls sat between her thighs, colored like a strawberry whose color had faded under the sun. It was a beautiful compliment to her milk-white skin, and the curly locks that cascaded from her scalp to her shoulders held the same tone as her twat. She sat with her legs out and crossed at the ankles, with her thin but solid arms up and her hands behind her head. Her face held a smug expression, as if she was proud of something she’d done.

Or was about to do.

“Who are you?” Sharene asked, completely shaken by the fact that Epona had not been visible in the mirror.

“Someone who doesn’t appreciate cheating. But you certainly seem to be attached to that trophy. I’m sure you’d appreciate it if I made sure no one could ever separate you from it.”

Although everything happened to Sharene nearly simultaneously, her mind could only process it in pieces. The first thing she felt was her body being tugged towards the trophy. As she moved through the air she could tell her body was compacting. The neck of her pajama top was swiftly a massive ring around her, Sharene’s body shrunk down to a matter of inches. The empty silk billowed down to the floor.

The cheating woman could see the golden horse on the trophy getting both bigger and closer to her. Soon she was to scale with it as if it were a real horse. Her tiny naked body landed next to the trophy decoration, and she was compelled to climb atop it. She grabbed the metal mane and swung her leg over the statue’s back. Her labia landed atop the ridge of the golden mount’s back, her pussy gently split open upon it. Holding the trophy and thinking about her victory had made her wet, and this sent her body aflame with sexual need. She’d thought her nipples had been hard before, but now they ached with every heartbeat.

She angled her body forward and bent her legs back, as if she was really riding the horse at the speed it was posed in. This worked to grind her pussy and clit against the metal, and her breasts were pressed against the fake animal’s neck. She wanted to touch herself so badly, or at least continue to grind her leaking twat against the source of her pleasure, but she found her body held fast in this position.

Then, simultaneously across her entire form, she turned to gold. Well, gold-plated brass, but close enough. As her still living mind realized her body had frozen to the trophy and become immobile metal she started screaming. But mental exhaustion quickly gave way to her silently begging that someone would relieve the relentless horniness that quickly dominated her thoughts.

Epona smiled and vanished.

~~~~~

Two months later Lydia returned home to the small, private ranch house she and Hillary had recently purchased. Their dream home was possible thanks to a mysterious deposit of money that happened to exactly match the ill-fated tournament’s First Place winnings. Their little love shack lay on the outskirts of a small town in the middle Oklahoma, only an hour’s drive from downtown. Although the house was surrounded by open space, the amount of open space meant they had all the privacy they could possibly want.

Lydia placed down her bags of groceries and looked around to see if Hillary was relaxing inside the spacious building. The rooms and doorways had been customized so that she could come inside if she wanted, but the weather was so pleasant most of the year that both home owners spent much of their time on the patio and in the more open guest house.

It was quickly obvious that her lover was not inside. A glance out the window confirmed that Hillary was in the field bringing in the team of race and breeding horses the couple owned, cared for, and sold. She watched the majestic centauride gallop through the field, her hair and tail flowing backwards as her enormous breasts bounced and jiggled in a fashion only capable because of magic. Hillary had described their sensation as “noticeable, but not painful.” In fact, since Lydia had discovered how to get Hillary to cum – hard – from the right boobplay, she had come to greatly enjoy Epona’s breasticular enhancement.

Lydia moved her bags to the kitchen, then retired to the bedroom. It wasn’t the most romantic looking room, with the strangely high bed and the small step stool in the corner, but it was cozy enough for the two of them. Most importantly, it allowed both of them to be comfortable when they most needed to be.

Lydia looked at herself in the mirror. Her outfit consisted of a white blouse, a black skirt, pantyhose, and wedge sandals that matched the arch of her horseshoes. Lydia unbuttoned and dropped the blouse on the bed, letting her fleshy melons swing out free from their confinement. When it came to breast size she was now the jealous one in their relationship.

Reaching back Lydia undid the zipper of her skirt. As she pulled it down the first thing to find freedom was her twitchy tale. She’d learned quite quickly that if she wore a skirt with heavy enough fabric her uncontrollable flipping and swinging would go mostly unseen. Almost no one down at the market seemed to notice the small bump under the back of her skirt.

If it wasn’t for the pantyhose almost everyone would have noticed a bump in the front of her skirt. Because of Lydia’s insult towards Epona right before the race the goddess had left a particularly large parting gift between Lydia’s legs; a constantly rigid horse’s dick. The massive thing was as thick as the woman’s arm, and ran all the way down to her knee. Extra strength pantyhose, which held the absurd penis tight against her leg, were the only things that allowed her to go out in public at all.

Placing the skirt with the blouse Lydia sat on the bed and kicked off her sandals. It felt very weird to have the hose pulled over her metal-rimmed foot, but she loved the look of it. Lifting her ass up she slipped the pantyhose from around her hips and pushed it down her legs, her dick springing into the air as she did so.

“I see you brought back two bags and a nice package for me.”

Lydia looked up to see Hillary in the doorway. She’d learned how to lean against the wall, her horse bottom looking amazingly casual. Her windblown hair and heaving breasts immediately set Lydia’s heart a flutter. Thanks to Eponia both of their sexy bits were constantly aflame, but it was the love the two shared that really made their frequent sexual trysts enjoyable. It was inside the trailer on that last day of the tournament when Hillary and Lydia finally came clean about their lusty thoughts, and Lydia had stood atop an overturned feed bucket to christen their new forms.

Afterwards they found themselves each incredibly satisfied, exhausted, and full of love for each other. The massive pleasure rod between Lydia’s thighs, and the gaping love canyon in the far rear of Hillary, weren’t anything either would have ever wished for.

Now neither would ever give either up.

Lydia smiled at her hard-working centauress as she finished pulling off the pantyhose. She rose from the bed, and all six horseshoes clopped across the floor as they came together and their hands played across each other. Suddenly Hillary scooped her lover into her arms, their breasts meeting the same time their lips did. As they shared a passionate kiss Hillary walked them to the bed.

Neither had ever been so happy to have lost a race.

FIN

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Tomorrow -> Flanked, Part IV

I’m not sure what is up with the internet here, but twice now I have saved and had my additions/changes to Flanked, Part IV lost thanks to a time-out. Although I have reached the end of the story, because of having to backtrack so much I have been unable to edit, proofread, and detail as much as I would like.

I’d rather post something I’m proud of tomorrow than crap today. I apologize for this delay after saying it would be posted but I hope everyone understands why I am holding off.

Hope you are well,

~dS

P.S. MANY thanks to everyone who has purchased a copy of A Dos Of Erotic Transformation: Volume I. If you want to spread the word, I think you can actually get some sort of credit linking to it using the link at the bottom of the sales page. If we can all make a little, why not? :)

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eBook: A Dos Of Erotic Transformation: Volume I

First, I want to let everyone know that I hit the halfway point on Flanked, Part IV yesterday and am expecting to post it sometime tomorrow. I’m also expecting it to be the final part in the story.

Now, I wanted to briefly mention something else. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m trying to figure out how to make DanStanding.com/SexyFantasyComics/Exiern my job. Part of that is finding (better) ways to monetize my work. For a long time I figured one way to do that would be to start collecting my stories in volumes.

But not just collect them. Fix them. Take the time to add in detail maybe I didn’t get to when I wrote them. Expand out an idea that didn’t occur to me at the time. Or just apply the experience I have now to make an older story a little better.

To that end I am excited to say that I have recently published A Dos Of Erotic Transformation: Volume I via ebook publisher Smashwords!

DosVol1Cover

Have I mentioned I’m a fan of puns? Especially bilingual ones?

Anyway, inside this $1.99 ebook you’ll find new versions of REAL WOMAN and STICK TO IT.

REAL WOMAN has been given some sexier details, but the most significant addition is an epilogue which reveals that the fairy Mavi didn’t get away quite as cleanly as the first version of the story might imply.

STICK TO IT doesn’t have an extended epilogue, but it does have some more detailed descriptions and one significant switch up; our lovely heroine makes a last second change to one of her sticky-note requests. While it doesn’t derail what happens in the story, I think it is a very sexy change and better sets things up for the sequel. And yes, the sequel will be posted here first, but it will follow the version written for the ebook.

There’s also an exclusive limerick called SOUR CREAM.

Since they are stories which have been previously published I’ve priced the book at $1.99 (cheaper than many other erotic books on Smashwords). So if you’ve just been looking for a quick way to support DanStanding.com, or always wanted a copy of some of my stories for your own ereader, this is a great way to do that.

Now, let me be clear; no one should panic. I am absolutely going to continue writing free stories here on DanStanding.com. Nothing about that is changing, and I already have the next one after Flanked figured out. A Dos Of Erotic Transformation: Volume I is only meant to help bolster my dreams and give me an excuse to revisit my old stories. Although many have recommended I give up the free stories – or move them entirely to a pay system like SFC or Smashwords – I have always sought wisdom in my guiding business acumen; Don’t Be A Dick. Much of my enthusiasm for writing comes from the comments and enjoyment of my loyal readers here, and I won’t abandon you for a quick buck.

However, if A Dos Of Erotic Transformation: Volume I does well I would love the excuse to add some polish to many of my other stories. But that doesn’t mean sequels to things like STICK TO IT and TATTOO FOR YOU will be forcing my wonderful readers to plunk down any change…and yes, I’ve made progress in outlining those.

As always, if anyone picks up A Dos Of Erotic Transformation: Volume I I’d love to know your thoughts.

Regards,

dS

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Flanked, Part III

Flanked

a story by Dan Standing

Part III

Hillary was still in shock. Not only was her mind trying to resolve the fact that she’d just been partially transformed into a horse, but there was all this new sensory input to process.

It had started when both her legs felt like a Charlie horse had run through their entire length. At the time Hillary had no idea that this was how she was understanding the sensation of her legs bisecting lengthways. Her ass and lower back felt heavy, and she could feel creaking and cracking going on across her bones as her lower body stretched backwards and her legs reformed. Then, from her hips down, a terrible itching spread across her skin – second only in irritation to the intense burn at the base of her spine. It felt like ants were crawling across her as thick hair grew in and her tail flowed over her equine ass. The sensation of her toes curling into themselves and hardening into hooves, with her horseshoes reshaping to fit, was the most uncomfortable feeling.

The most disturbing input came from her pussy. Although nothing about what was happening to herself felt sexy, her changing vagina felt otherwise. As her slit pushed back under her new belly to find its place between Hillary’s rear legs, altering to match the new genetics that surrounded it, there was no question that it was on fire with lust. Since the moment it had started dripping with need the damp crevice had been impossible to ignore.

Which was why Lydia had to repeat herself twice before Hillary registered what she was saying.

“Are you coming with me to the grazing field or not? People are staring at us just standing here. Especially since it looks like I am talking to a horse.”

“Oh, yes, yes.”

Four legs…four legs…four legs…just try moving one…

If Lydia thought they were being stared at before, walking with what appeared to be a drunken horse was not losing anyone’s interest. Not helping were the remains of Hillary’s clothing in her hands, the presence of which she could not explain.

The centauress was working hard on lifting two legs - which weren’t both on the same side – from the ground at once. She was kicking the back of her front legs. And if she thought the sensation of having a rim of metal between the ground and her fleshy human foot was strange, dealing with metal under a hard solid mass which gave way to the muscles of her leg made judging her steps difficult.

“She’s just a little spooked still, everyone give her some space,” Lydia assured anyone nearby as they slowly worked towards the open field across from the competition area. The human woman hoped that no one would ask how a horse that they had just seen led to the stables was now back out on the field.

“This is impossible,” muttered Hillary as they finally made it to the grass. The soft structure of the plants and soil was anything but easier to traverse than the hard-packed dirt that ran beside the course.

“Well, you’d better make it possible. You’ll figure out how to run if you don’t want to be…like this for the rest of your life.”

Hillary was concentrating too hard on her legs to have noticed the odd pause in Lydia’s sentence.

The afternoon was spent getting Hillary capable of operating her new body. It was slow, but ultimately successful. Lydia watched as her transformed lover galloped around the grass. Her thick strong legs striking the earth, her arms bent and held back for balance and drag reduction. Her nipples bouncing and wiggling at the tips of her tiny breasts. Her tail swinging and fraying overtop of a bit of Hillary that Lydia did not know was locked in an intense and perpetual heat.

Hillary was well aware of what was going on between her back legs, though. It was a constant distraction that she could do nothing about; she wasn’t phsyically capable of squeezing her horsey thighs together. And, of course, she couldn’t reach back far enough with her hands – not that she would do so in the open field. A desire to keep her mind on anything but that sensation was one reason why she’d taken so eagerly to learning how to run.

By the time she had trotting down pat neither had eaten. Since mounts were not supposed to be left unattended anywhere on the field Lydia and Hillary went back to the stable. The spaces for the horses were large and spacious, and Hillary’s own mount was indeed absent from the stall. Lydia opened the gate and let Hillary inside, placing the torn clothes on a shelf. She then left to find lunch and file the paperwork needed to switch riders/horses for the competition.

Standing alone in the stall Hillary could do little more than try to ignore her pulsing pussy. Yes, her body was sweaty and she ached all over. Based on how her human torso felt Hillary had never been happier for such a lightly weighted chest – although they had grown in relation to the rest of her. But her dull pain was not enough to take her mind off the humidity between her rear legs. She paced around in the small space, and found her tattered clothes. They were so small in her hands. She’d been considering asking Lydia to bring her a top, but it was clear that now nothing either of them had would fit.

Plus, what would happen – would everyone see her as a horse with a blouse wrapped around her neck?

Soon enough Lydia returned. Neither of them was quite sure what Hillary could stomach, so Lydia had brought a large platter of carrots, lettuce, and other veggies they were certain would not tie Hillary’s intestines in knots. As the centauride ate Lydia picked up a brush and began wiping down the sweat glistening on her horsey hide. Hillary practically vibrated from how good the bristles felt. Each swipe, as they freshened her thick coat, was heavenly. This wasn’t helping her ignore the slick slit so far behind her. She concentrated on eating.

“Feeling full?” Lydia asked as Hillary swallowed the last bite of carrot.

“Sort of,” Hillary replied, not sure just how many stomachs she now had to fill, “But I’m good enough for now. What next?”

“Well, we need to practice with me riding you.”

“Too bad I can’t run by myself.”

“Yes, well, if everyone sees you as your horse, and not a sentient mythological creature, I don’t think they’ll let you run riderless.”

“Will the saddle even fit me?”

“Let’s find out,” Lydia said, a little eagerness for adventure audible in her voice. She hefted the saddle from its perch onto Hillary’s horse back. Lydia was about to declare it far too big when it shrunk down to size right before her eyes.

“Well, that’s convenient…”

“What?” Hillary asked, unable to turn her torso and neck far enough to see what had happened.

“The saddle adjusted itself to fit you.”

“Well, isn’t Epona ever so considerate…”

“Yes. Which makes this next part only slightly less awkward.”

“What do you mean?” Hillary could hear a jingle of metal. Lydia came around fully into view and lifted something up so the centauress could see it.

“I am not putting that in my mouth.”

“A bit and halter are required items for competition, they won’t let you on the field improperly fitted.”

“No, I know that, I mean, I’m not putting that in mouth,” Hillary repeated, pointing at the previously used metal and leather in Lydia’s hand, “The saddle is one thing, but if I have to wear the bit I want a new one.”

“Oh.”

“Get my credit card from my pants and go to the tack shop. I’ll wait.”

“Fine.”

Again Hillary found herself alone, and this time the empty ache of her pussy was even more intense. There was nothing in the stall that was correctly shaped or clean enough to consider using to satisfy her. For a moment the centauride considered asking Lydia for a quick chance at relief, but she threw out the idea. How would Lydia react to such a thing? And what if they were caught? Lydia would be immediately thrown out, and then where would that leave Hillary?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lydia’s return. She put all the new pieces together and brought them around to Hillary. Just like the saddle had shrunk down to fit her smaller back, the leather straps and metal cross-bar shrunk down to best fit her human head. As straps ran across her face and tightened on their own Hillary felt like she was in an S&M dungeon.

“Gisth isth du mostht uncumffortble thing ebuh,” Hillary muttered, spitting profusely as she tried to talk around the bit. Lydia unbolted the stall’s door.

“I’m sure that’s part of Epona’s point,” Lydia replied, placing a high-heeled boot in a stirrup, “Now steady yourself.”

“Wub? Hey!”

Hillary’s two right legs shifted to take Lydia’s moving weight, and then shifted again as her rider settled into place. It was strange – she could certainly feel Lydia’s weight and the saddle, but Hillary didn’t feel especially uncomfortable. It was like getting on all fours and having a medium weight bean bag laid across one’s back.

“How do you feel?”

“Fime. Bud don’d ebum think aboud using dose reigms.”

“I won’t, I’ll just hold them for show…assuming you can run the course without my direction.”

“Very fubby. Hold om – ack!”

Hillary had begun moving, and Lydia had instinctively pulled the reigns for balance.

“Sorry!”

“Ow. Don’d do dat agaim!”

“I’ll try…”

It was not easy for either of them to adjust to their new challenges. To stay steady and avoid yanking Hillary’s head backwards every few paces Lydia had to crouch down, relying on the low squeeze of her legs and the high vice of her arms against Hillary’s neck. Hillary was learning to run and turn at steady speeds so that it didn’t constantly feel as if Lydia was going to be flung off.

It was only after they’d run a few circuits with no balance issues before Hillary attempted the jump. On the first two landings Lydia pulled the reigns, but after that they each figured out how best to handle it. It had taken the rest of the day, but they had themselves sorted out. They were even making better time than Hillary had on her runs earlier that day.

Back in the stall they ate dinner, and Hillary’s coat got another brushing. After finishing they both knew Lydia couldn’t stay in the stables for the night. After helping the centauress find some blankets to use as a sheet and pillow for her human half to rest against they said their goodnights.

The stall had an open window which was at a perfect height for Hillary to roll up one of the blankets as a headrest. She placed it on the window sill and lowered her temple to it. Her legs instinctively locked into place so she wouldn’t tumble over in the night. At first Hillary wasn’t sure if she would fall asleep. She was upright, with a heavy barrel of weight beneath her. Right now, as she twisted her human half to comfortably rest against the window, it almost felt as if Hillary was only made of her torso. As if it had been fused to some enormous block of stone, instead of growing out of the ring of hair where the transition from one species to another was made.

It would have been easier to image her equine portion an inanimate lump if it wasn’t for her sopping wet horse pussy. The second brushing had truly set her alight. She’d almost broken down and begged Lydia to shove her whole arm inside the empty cavern, but she bit her lip. The threat of disqualification was too great. Instead, Hillary quietly sputtered frustrated horny murmurs to herself until exhaustion finally pulled her into slumber.

Lydia had gone from the stables straight to the spa, and found herself alone there. She stripped off her dirt-and-sweat encrusted outfit and set it aside for cleaning. She’d slowly pulled the boots from her legs, and carefully examined the metal U attached to the bottom of her soft foot. She traced her finger around the steel, following the arch that kept her foot locked upright and stretched.

The metal clanked on the tile of the spa as Lydia approached one of the floor length mirrors. She stood and examined herself, pivoting on the horseshoes fused to her soles. Her skin shimmered from the day’s sweat. But that wasn’t the shimmer she’d wanted to see.

Like all other horse riders Lydia ached between her legs when she was done each day. But, she didn’t ache between the legs like most riders did. One hand lifted and teased a full breast while the other slid down between her thighs. She gently spread her labia, and let out a long sigh at the glisten within her.

She’d always been fascinated by horses. They were powerful, majestic beasts. Riding them, owning them, and presenting herself atop them was a major turn on. She’d never considered doing anything inappropriate with one – the idea repulsed her. Her sexual attraction had always been squarely set on women, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think of the incredible beasts now and then as she rammed her plastic rod inside of Hillary.

But Lydia had just spent the day with a physical representation of a subconscious wet dream that would have blown Freud’s mind. She’d never imagined such a situation, never thought about how turned on she’d be by such a mix of human and beast, but here she was. This wasn’t a mindless creature; this was Hillary, who could voice a desire for Lydia to touch her…pleasure her…

The tantalizing woman’s breathing was getting heavy as she stared at herself, eyes locked on the horseshoes fused to her. She hadn’t even noticed how far she’d pushed her finger inside her lower lips. Remembering where she was she grabbed a robe and covered herself, the material cruelly rubbing over her incredibly engorged teats. Her balance on the horseshoes had greatly improved since the day before, and she had no trouble making her way back to her room.

A more self-centered woman would have resolved then and there to throw the race, to keep her impossible plaything. But the idea, at its base core, made Lydia sick to her stomach. She realized then how much she actually loved Hillary, and she would never seriously consider such an louthesome betrayal. She would do all she could to win that race tomorrow, and put Hillary right.

Inside her room Lydia let the robe slide off her shoulders and collapse to the floor. She slipped into the covers of her bed, her belly resting on the mattress. She bent her legs and knees back and rubbed her hands over both of her manipulated feet. The feeling of the horseshoes, immovably affixed, actually gave her pussy a little gush. For a moment she ground her slit into the fresh sheets, but then she let go of her feet and rose her ass into the air. The sheets kissed her full buttcheeks as the fabric pulled across her skin.

Fingers from both hands slid into her slit, finding all the best parts of her. Lydia’s clit was more engorged than she could remember it having ever been before. Her juices were thick and slick, and as she flicked her button a few digits slipped inside of her. She was so wound up from the impossible dream that her orgasm – her intense, crashing orgasm – came quickly.

Lydia muffled her scream into the pillow, as her body stiffened. The locked rigidity of her toes, aching to curl, was a pleasant torture. Gradually her muscles loosened and Lydia melted into the bed. Within moments she was also sound asleep.

to be continued…

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Flanked, Part II

Flanked

a story by Dan Standing

Part II

Lydia’s alarm stirred both women just before dawn. Slowly they arose, dried substances from the previous night cracking and crumbling under their motion. Their skin separated as Lydia rolled over to silence the alarm. Each hoped for a second that their alterations from Epona had been part of crazy dream.

The sound of Hillary’s horseshoes knocking against her lover’s crushed that possibility. They raised their naked bodies from the mattress and practiced standing once more. Lydia’s balance was much improved from the night before, and she assured Hillary that she would be able to shower and dress without issue. They shared one final kiss before Hillary threw on her robe and left, while Lydia prepared her shower.

Hillary brought her cleaned clothing into her own room and immediately dropped the crop into the waste bin. Although she had a long streak of being defiant in the face of authority, the steel rims around her feet were a reminder that in this case she was in over her head. She’d never think that Epona’s actions were fair, but she wouldn’t risk receiving anything worse.

The horseshoes clomped harshly across the tile of the bathroom, and Hillary fully believed that they would crack the tub basin as she stepped in. They afforded her absolutely no grip or traction within the shower. She hoped that Lydia had opted to sit instead of stand while she bathed.

With the souvenirs of the night’s pleasures washed away Hillary started dressing. She passed over the clothing from the day prior and selected an entirely new outfit, although it was only marginally different from the other.

Then came time for the socks and boots.

The socks slipped on without issue. Hillary was expecting that her flat-held feet would give her an issue pushing all the way down to the toe of her boot, and she was shocked by how easily they went in. She retained full control of her ankles, which was really what she needed to properly angle her foot into her gear. The second foot was dressed just as smoothly.

It was quickly clear that walking wasn’t going to be any easier with the boots on, although it was certainly more comfortable. She stomped her way down to the breakfast buffet, ate quickly, and went out to the field. Still concerned about the horseshoes in the tub, Hillary looked around to see if Lydia had already come down. She spotted her across the field, crossing towards her mount. For a moment Hillary was jealous of her lover’s ridiculous boots; she was capable of a much more normal looking stride than Hillary was.

Satisfied with Lydia’s safety Hillary mounted up and began her runs on the course. In the beginning she felt powerless. Her hand felt empty, and she could feel her arm twitching and aching to pull back and swing when she reached certain portions of the course. She avoided the final jump with each pass. If the beast hadn’t been able to make it before, what good would it do to try now?

Slowly, with each subsequent loop, Hillary began to notice a pattern. While her times had started out lower than normal, she was gradually shaving off more and more time. Knowing this she began paying closer attention to the horse, which was growing bolder and bolder with each circuit. Hillary began to gently spur it on at the slower points as she continued to practice.

Soon they’d met her best time, and were holding it strong. But they hadn’t tried the jump yet. Without knowing her possibility of success there, Hillary wasn’t any better off than she’d been the day before. She decided that on the next round she’d make sure the horse knew she wanted to jump.

Of course, that didn’t mean her steed was going to do it. They’d curved around the cross-beamed wood with each run of the course, and now Hillary began to pull the reigns over and aim for the jump. The horse had other ideas, though, and kept going around. The defiance was starting to make Hillary fume. She did notice that they kept getting closer and closer each time before the animal deviated from course. It was enough that Hillary held her temper.

But Hillary’s patience for such things started out at the Thin setting, and there weren’t many settings to select from below that. Spectators could hear the leather reigns looping and straining under her tightening grip.

Seven times she’d aimed for the jump, and Hillary was not going to let it be eight passes. The horse stayed straight on course past the first time it defied her, past the second…the third…

As they got closer an exhilaration rose up Hillary’s spine. She was certain this was their fastest time so far, and if they made the jump tomorrow’s tournament could easily be hers! Hooves thundered beneath her, and her breathing stilled as they past the last point at which the horse had turned away, and…it started to veer!

“Stupid beast!” Hillary shouted out. Her frustration broke to anger. Her right hand left the reign, rose up, and swung down swiftly. Her glove connected with the horse’s neck, a harsh sound snapping through the air. Hillary had slapped her mount harder than she’d intended to.

But not as hard as she had wanted to.

The horse whinnied, the heat of pain rushing over it. It was disoriented, not quite heading straight at the cross beam, but not far enough over to avoid the supporting post. It reared up on two legs, momentum carrying it forward. One hoof clipped the top of the wood, but the rest of the animal cleared the obstruction.

Unprepared for this reaction, Hillary felt herself slip back and away from the saddle. She’d already lifted off the seat too far to use her legs for grip. Her left hand tried to hold onto the reigns, but as the beast felt her weight pull its head backward it threw its neck forward. Hillary’s fingers uncurled from the strap as if loosing an arrow.

The ground was soft and moist, and she fell flat on her back with a thud. Her body ached from the impact, but she thought it gentle enough that she’d not broken any bones.

Not yet, at least. Her mount was freaking out, jumping and bucking in circles. Circles that were moving closer to where Hillary had landed. Other riders, handlers, and spectators had immediately moved to try to calm her animal, but it was too dangerous to getting too close. As heavy hooves pounded flat the ground in front of her, Hillary tried to scuttle away. On her back as she was she could not make good distance with her elbows and feet in the trodden earth, and she was certain she was only moments away from an ironic and deserved death.

Suddenly the legs of another horse were between her and the panicking animal. A living wall had been put between Hillary and her gruesome end. She looked up to see that Lydia had ridden over and put herself and her ride in the middle of the chaos.

“Don’t just lie there, get the Hell out of the of course!” Lydia shouted. Not one who needed to be told twice Hillary flipped herself over and finally got on her legs. Stumbling flat-footed as fast as she could she made it to the other side of the fence in short time.

It took another five minutes before Hillary’s horse finally calmed down, and the handler lead it back to the stable which all the competitors had their animals in. Lydia dismounted and let her own horse be taken back as well. She trudged through the dirt of the course and jumped the fence, making her way over to where a doctor a nurse were checking over her lover.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I’m fine, I just-” A look from Lydia stopped Hillary’s voice cold.

“I didn’t ask you.”

“She is, in fact, fine,” the doctor replied, putting away her gear, “I would have expected at least some bruising, if not worse, but I can’t even tell she had such a fall.”

“It’s as if some higher power had a larger plan for her,” the nurse added.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far…” replied the doctor, snapping closed the case and starting back towards the club house, “I just wouldn’t risk it again.”

“What happened out there?” Lydia asked, her voice stern. Hillary didn’t look her in the eyes as she stood up.

“Nothing, my crop is in the room, I didn’t do-”

“We promised each other ‘no lies.’ Remember?”

Hillary paused. She recalled back to the few moments right after coming down from their first fling. In that closet, in the old Statlington Farm House. They both knew then they wanted more. The big question, which neither knew the answer to at the time, was “How much more?” Thus the pledge made to each other, so they’d both always know how the other felt.

“I slapped the horse on the neck.”

“Hillary!” Lydia gasped. Using the crop was one thing; a tradition of riding. But directly striking the horse?

“I know, I’m sorry, I was angry. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s true, you won’t.”

If ever there was the definition of a slow burning about-face, Hillary and Lydia met it. They’d never know if the nurse had always been Epona and they’d failed to notice, or if the goddess had assumed a similar and independent form. But there was no question that they were in Epona’s presence once more.

“What are you going to do to us, now?” Lydia hissed, stepping in front of Hillary.

“Not to you both, just her,” Epona smiled, pointing a finger past the defiant woman. Lydia stood straighter and puffed out her chest, but it was quickly clear that her posturing was not going to make any difference.

“Ow, my legs!”

Hillary’s gasp spun the other rider around, who looked on in silence as her lover pawed at her pants. But the fabric wasn’t there for long. Lydia watched Hillary grit her teeth and stretch her back up as the sound of stretching fabric and popping stitches filled the air. Swiftly Hillary’s garment, and the panties beneath it, was nothing more than scraps and string on the ground. Soon after her boots burst apart, her socks stretching to their limit and ripping.

The entire lower half of Hillary’s body was changing. Her legs had already split down the middle, forming a set of four. The rear two were moving backwards as Hillary’s ass and hips stretched out. For a few moments all her legs appeared to be human, but that was swiftly changing. Her toes were sucking in on themselves, the keratin of the toenails growing wide and thick. Her feet were being pulled up and back. The joints of her legs were changing, the rear ones bending differently than the front. Some of the alterations were obscured as a coat of brown hair began to push out of her skin.

Something that wasn’t obscured was the sheer size of Hillary’s growing ass.

It was immediately clear to Lydia that Hillary’s lower body was transforming into a copy of her own horse. As the transforming woman floundered about on her legs, trying to adjust to what was happening to her, the half-brown/half-sand colored hair of her mount’s tale was bursting forth from above her butt crack.

Hillary wasn’t just transforming, she was scaling up. Her human legs were nowhere near the length and thickness of an actual horse’s, but that was being fixed. Her entire unnatural form was growing, but her horse half and her original human torso were growing at different rates. The human portion was expanding slower than the horse half, but Hillary’s blouse and bra were quickly too tight for her. She’d have ripped the constricting outfit off with her own hands if the stitching hadn’t undone itself and the fabric fluttered from her form. Epona was clearly responsible for the assistance.

Soon the process was complete. From her hips up Hillary was nude and looked like herself. With nothing to scale her against no one would have ever known she’d increased in size by about twenty-five percent.

Below her waist she was the classical centauride; a female centaur. Her horse half was seventy-five percent the size of her actual mount. This allowed her human half to be a reasonable size where it merged human hips to horse shoulders, while her equine parts were still large enough to support someone on her extended horizontal back.

Even with the changes done Hillary didn’t quite know what to do, and all four of her legs – complete with permanent horseshoes reshaped for her hooves – were clomping about like a newborn colt. Then she realized that a four-legged being merely needed to not move to stay up right, and she managed to steady herself. The shock of what had just transpired lingered on both she and Lydia for a moment, and then both women looked to Epona.

“You’ve turned me into a real freak!” Hillary exclaimed. Looking around she recalled she was in public, and clasped her hands over her slight-but-still-bare chest.

“Oh, don’t bother with modesty, for now everyone only sees you as that poor horse you’ve been beating.”

“I said I was sorry for smacking it!” Hillary shouted, hands not moving.

“And I think I made my rules quite clear.”

“When you said ‘for now’ what did you mean?” Lydia asked, reaching up and placing her own hand to the side of Hillary’s human abdomen to calm her.

“Well, you did immediately voice sorrow and apologize for what you had done,” Epona espoused, slowly walking around the pair in an arch, turning back around when she neared Hillary’s twitching rear legs, “So I’ve decided to, as you mortals say, ‘cut you a break.’ Not because I’m getting soft, but I think it will be extremely entertaining.”

“What…what did you have in mind?” Hillary asked, caution and dread dragging down her words.

“Well, as I said, for the moment everyone sees you as your steed - who, by the way, has been moved to a very nice field far far away from anyone who can cause any more harm. You share all the stamina and strength that you’ve been abusing. My proposition to you, and the only way to get those hairless little legs back, is that your lover must ride you in tomorrow’s competition. If the two of you manage to win, I make everything human again…although you’ll retain the horseshoes. If you come in second I remove the glamour spell and everyone will see you for as you are now. Depending on what you do during the race I may yet have more adjustments to make. Any places less than second and I guarantee your upper half will become more and more horse, and less and less human. Any questions?”

Hillary and Lydia stood silent. That was all rediculous…but straight-forward. Neither really dared to ask anything more of Epona.

“I take it you are dumbfounded, but I know you are not dumb. Therefore I’ll assume my terms are clear, and take me leave. See you at the finish line, my dears!”

And with that Epona vanished.

to be continued…

Posted in hooved, story, transformation | Tagged , | 3 Comments