The HELL did they serve at that rave?!

"This is awful..."

Tugging on her top to make sure it fit her now alien looking body, Jessica sighed and pouted her lips into a frown. She along with everyone else in the room had regained their wits thanks to Captain America's quick thinking. He had gotten her back surprisingly easily when she thought about it. He had her list off her best cases back when she was a private investigator. The second she brought up her fourth criminal case, that one being a cold case she solved years back, her mind began to clear... And the last 3 hours slammed into her like a ton of bricks!

Looking at her reflection in a full body mirror, Jessica turned back and forth to make sure she looked presentable with what best she and the others found to be usable. She failed spectacularly, but then again there was not a lot to work with. In the span of just hours, her size and weight had nearly tripled. Her hips were almost 3 feet wide now, much to her chagrin, sporting 'thunder thighs' that felt solid yet soft. Making her wonder if she was just large because of increased muscles... Or something else. Speaking of else, she brought her hands up to cup her four pumpkin sized tits in her hands, then down to the shelf of meat that was her derrière. And then there was her middle. Reaching out with both hands, her skin was so sensitive, she nearly had to bite her lip to stifle a moan when she finally reached the tiny bump that used to be her belly button… Two and a half feet away from where she last remembered it.

She felt huge, and heavy, and she looked it too. The woman standing in the mirror wore a pair of red, tied back tops to contain her four assets and a matching-coloured smock around her waist to maintain her decency. Both of which looked tight over her and did more to show off her chest and thighs than it did to cover them up. Not to mention there were her other new assets.

Her feet were now cloven like a cow's feet. Clomping when she moved to change her stance. Behind her, a tail ending in a plume of hair swished with her every anxious thought. And reaching up over her head she winced at the pair of horns over her scalp. Her body save for her face, chest and stomach were covered in a sheen of black fur that matched her hair color and made her self conscientious. She looked like a human cow. A human cow wearing a table cloth scraps for a top and skirt so she would NOT look like some bloated goat-whore. A bloated goat-whore who looked knocked up with sextuplets. Bringing her hands to her bare middle, she bit her lip at how solid her womb felt, unyielding to her fingers, yet there was the slight sensation it was still growing, all of her was.

Looking behind her, it was a cold comfort to learn she wasn't the only one in the same boat. Jen, Carol, and Greer had all managed to pull on some make-shift clothing that bordered on being bikinis on their taller, larger frames. Jen felt up her dome of a belly, almost unable to see it over the four slopes of her breasts bound in a couple of purple silk tops and a smoke wrapped around her waist. Carol looked like she was hating every second of the entire experience, frowning as she felt up her wider hips and the underside of her womb, grousing when she realized she was lactating with the stains forming on her two blue-cotton tops.

She gave a look like she was wondering if she should swap the fabric out for another but considering her lack of other options and how much her expanded breasts were producing, she rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance. Surrendering to the fact she was going to be dripping mother’s milk over the floor like a leaky drinking carton.

Greer was handling things a bit differently. The tiger woman was already an animal hybrid to begin with, adding satyr to the mix wasn't too much for her to cope with, but she still lamented her expanded figure and increased height. Her tail was longer than the other’s tails, and she still retained her orange and black striped fur enveloping her entire body. But now she had horns growing over her own head and her feet clopped when she walked over to see how Jessica was doing, her outrageous hips swaying back and forth unintentionally like a pendulum as she walked on her cloven feet.

"Feeling okay Jess?" She asked, crossing her arms between her pregnant belly and her four breasts.

"Yeah... No..." Huffed Spider-Woman, giving her reflection one last look and mulling over the size of her ass. "I'm a big, fat, knocked up cow."

"Your a satyr now, you’re more a goat than a cow."

"THAT doesn't make me feel any better Greer..." She frowned, giving her friend a dirty look, until she felt a kick at her belly and brought a hand over to feel. Letting her hands roam over the surface of her belly, she felt each of her unborn kick and move, bumping against the palms of her hands and making the horned heroine shiver, her tail swishing back and forth from the stimulation. "They're developing so fast!"

"I know..." Replied Tigra, feeling up her own swollen middle. "I wonder how many I’m carrying… There were times I feared if I DID end up in a motherly way I’d end up with a litter of kittens. This seems arguably no better."

"Not as many as Jen's by the looks of it." Jessica nodded over to the green skinned giantess, taking up the entirety of the couch and panting as she tried to calm herself down. Muttering criminal law under her breath while massaging the kicks meeting her outstretched fingers.

"Hey! I heard that!" Spat Jen, cradling her green belly in both hands and eyeing the two with disdain. "I'm bigger for other reasons."

“You can’t blame EVERYTHING on gamma Jen.” Smirked Jess.

"But at least we're back in control of ourselves." Spoke up Steve, entering the room now wearing a pair of pants from Bruce's wardrobe when he stayed at the Avengers mansion. The oversized stretch pants looked glued onto the satyr man's body, made worse that there was a massive trio of bulges at the crotch that left nothing to the imagination. Hanging from his back was his shield, now looking as small as a Frisbee to the now 8-foot-tall satyr. "Thor and Dr. Strange are still in Las Vegas trying to contain the situation. All we can do now is wait for them to succeed."

"What about the others? Did they make it out too?" Wondered Greer out loud, rubbing her distended middle maternally as she approached Captain America.

"I didn't get a chance to ask." He winced, shifting his gaze to Jen.

"Sorry..." The She-Hulk apologized, blushing but still smiled a bit when Steve came up to the couch and rest a hand over her shoulder to soothe her.

"It wasn't your fault, this... State, Dr. Strange said these bodies are fueled by our desires and appetites. So long as we can fight them, we can keep our sense of selves intact."

"So THAT'S why I feel so damned hungry." Complained Carol, pouting, her hands roaming up to feel her breasts. "Among other things... Gasp!" Bringing her hands down to her middle, Carol panted as she felt a frenzy of kicks meet her hands. It caused a fire to ignite in her loins and feel flushed from it all. She felt someone come close and rest a hand over hers when she looked up to see Steve there checking up on her.

"Are you alright Carol...?"

"HERE!"

Grabbing his hand and pulling it over to the surface of her womb, Steve's eyes opened wider when he felt one of Carol's unborn kick furious against his palm. Still panting in surprise, Carol found her face looming close to Steve's. Without thinking, she pulled him close and kissed him passionately. Catching the super soldier turned satyr bull off guard. Swooning into his mouth and squirming on the spot, the satyress leaned forward and pressed up against the man, humming into his mouth. until she caught herself and pulled away. Blushing hotly and closing her eyes, reciting the steps to prep airplane flight in her head.

“S'-sorry, its just so..." Carol regained some composure stepping back. “You smell so good…”

"I know... I know…" Steve breathed in sharply, catching himself getting hard and trying to pad down the shorts he wore. "It all feels so good, until it gets out of hand. That's the trap." Resting his hands over Carol's shoulders, the woman steeled herself, managing to get control again. "We'll get through this. Dr. Strange put up a barrier to keep the mansion contained so we won't spread across the city while he tries to stop Wanda. All we have to do is sit tight and hope things don't get... Well... Weirder."

A cry from Jessica turned everyone's attention to Spider-Woman who looked like she was trying to reach her sides to scratch an itch. An itch that caused two additional sets of arms to sprout from her sides, shocking both her and everyone else there to see the six-armed arachnid satyress to wrap her many arms around her in both confusion and embarrassment.

"Weirder you say?"

“Yeah…” Scratching the back of his horned head, Steve Rogers sighed and turned to leave the room. “I know everyone is kind of hungry right now, but…”

“Kinda?” Asked a confused Jen from the couch.

“Well, I was going to make something light, maybe help us curb some of this forming.” The horned man hinted towards his paunch, grabbing it with both hands and shaking it slightly. “You know… When the… Uhm…”

“Steve, right now you are the only one in the room who doesn’t have a gut that looks like you strapped a recliner chair to your beltline, and if you make ONE MORE suggestion we need to lose some weight I am going to throw a shoe at you!”

“Yes ma’am.”

Leaving the room, Steve exhaled and winced as he made his way to the kitchen.

“I wonder if our friends are having it as bad as we are…”

*

With a robe tied around his waist to maintain his decency and pressing a button at the throne, T’Challa gave the emergency order to shut off the throne room from the rest of Wakanda. With a flick of a switch, T’Challa watched on as the windows were covered over by stone plinths etched with the histories of his people slowly lowering down, descending from the ceiling and almost merge with the window frames themselves. Giving off a hydraulic hiss that told him he was hermetically sealed away from the rest of Wakanda and his people. Locking him in. The main entrance was no different as it too sealed up, the doors locking like some massive puzzle made of stone and metal, ending in a hiss of air letting T’Challa know that the chamber was air tight and unaffected by the outside world. Truly he was cut off now. His people safe.

Sitting at the throne and leaning back to rest his horned head at where he thought the head cushion would have been, it made him realize just how much he had grown in his transformation. He always found the armrests were too far apart, so much so he once commented secretly to his father he could lounge over the seating like a couch had no one been there to see the moment of sacrilege. But now? The stone seat felt snug. His thighs now larger and more muscular as was the rest of his body. Easily 2 feet taller than his original form and lord knew how much heavier, he was the size of one of W'Kabi's prized rhinos sitting on the throne of Wakanda.

T’Challa worried what effect this new form had on his friends, especially the mental damage it was causing. Last he saw of the Avengers they were degenerating terribly. Natasha and Janet had been reduced to **** bimbos looking for someone press up against, and Iron Man was on his back picked at like a soup can by several satyresses trying to get at him.

Closing his eyes he could feel the gnawing drives surge through him. A salacious, gluttonous animal that only wanted more, always more, eating away at his will. A will made of vibranium thanks to years of meditation and martial discipline. He could keep the worst of the corruption's effect on his mind at bay for now, until he could find a way to reverse this madness.

Opening his eyes and going through with his plans, T’Challa pressed at another button at the throne, calling on his palace mystics. A digital projector came to life in front of the throne, showing a 3-dimensional picture feed of Wakanda’s mystic temple where his people’s mystics were in contemplation.

"Yes my lord?" Spoke a robed figure, displayed by the holographic representation of the man before his king. "How may I... BY THE EYES OF BAST!!!"

Rolling his eyes at the hooded man’s reaction, stumbling back and tripping over an incense tray and collapsing onto the floor, T’Challa looked to the hologram, his demeanor serious once the man got back up to his feet.

"Yes, the shock of the moment struck me just as hard. I and my friends back in the city of Las Vegas have been ensorcelled by the Scarlet Witch, and a demon from the Darkhold. I have been turned into a satyr, a creature of nature and indulgence."

"Are... Are you in pain my lord?" The mystic asked, looking up at the 12-foot-tall satyr wearing the sacred visage of the Black Panther like a toga around his waist. Hearing T'Challa's stomach growl, the two remained silent until the Black Panther scratched at his left horn with disinterest.

"I have been... tightening my belt to resist the impulses of this body. I ask you to find the means to undo this madness. If you can, your king will not be the only one grateful for your efforts. I fear this may spread unchecked across the globe if we do not act soon."

Bowing, The mystic agreed. "Indeed my lord, I will see what our texts will say in regard to this... condition. We shall do all within our power to undo this affliction my king."

"Be sure that you do, in addition, NO ONE must enter the throne room while I am in this state, the Scarlet… Satyress has amplified the magic’s toxicity. Simple proximity is enough for this madness to spread from one person to the next."

"As you command my king."

Turning off the holographic communicator, T'Challa brought his hands together, crossed his legs akimbo and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as he put himself in a meditative pose to collect his thoughts and strengthen his resolve. All he had to do was wait, and to wait, is to prepare for the best or the worst. And to prepare for either, is to be ready. That he could do and strengthen his mental resolve for as long as he could until a solution could be made..

Or that would have been the case until a noise from the throne room's main entrance opened, and a regiment of the king's personal body guards the Dora Milaje marched inside and closed the door behind them, marching into the throne room double-file and stopping once they took up the entire throne room’s main hallway, their weapons at the ready and looking around the throne for possible threats.

"Ayo... What have you done?" Gasped T’Chala, getting up from the throne in shock.

Hearing her name, the leader of the regiment straightened her stance and stamped her spear to the floor, an act mirrored by the other Dora Milaje when they found no threats in the room.

"My king, the emergency protocols were BY BAST'S TEETH!!!"

Blinking back stunned at the large, anthropomorphic goat sitting on the throne wearing the royal garments like a toga around his waist, it took Ayo a split second to realize it was her king T'Challa himself before she composed herself and continued. Straightening her composure and stamping her spear to the floor.

"You... You enacted the emergency protocols to seal the throne room, we have arrived to protect you from the incoming threat, what ever it may be."

"... I AM the incoming threat Ayo. I sealed myself away from my people to prevent them from being exposed to this... Plague of madness."

"... Oh." Slowly turning to look to the rest of her troops, the warrior women had a distinct feeling that they had walked into a proverbial pie to the face, willingly. Turning back to look up to T’Chala, Ayo shrugged slightly, hesitant to ask. "Are… Are you in pain, my lord?"

"No, this... Curse makes it where all sensations are pleasurable, wearing down your sense of identity over time to the drowning desire for gratification. And I am afraid it is contagious."

"How contagious are we talking about my liege?" Ayo asked, suddenly feeling woozy, there was a scent in the air she just noticed now, one that smelled of sandalwood and wildflowers. Not only that, but her uniform feeling also constricting as she tugged at her collar. Hearing fabric rip behind her, the rest of the Dora Milaje looked down with wide eyed shock to see that Ayo had sprouted a tail.

"Very..."

*

Groaning out and clutching the carpeted floor beneath her, Tigra's face was a mask of what Steve could only describe as unbridled pain. When the horned tigress wasn't gritting her teeth with her eyes shut, she was panting for air or crying out a deep moan as she pushed. And she wasn't the only one in the throes of it.

All around him Steve Rogers could see the She-Hulk, Captain Marvel and Spider-Woman were all in the same state. It had all happened so FAST! Their pregnancies spanned only hours if that. And in those hours they had eaten everything they could get their hands on; the refrigerator and cabinets had been picked clean… Then the cabinet doors had been pried off the walls to be bitten into. It didn’t matter whether it was food or not so long as they could eat it to feel full. Months worth of hormones boiled away in their system as their middles swelled rounder and tighter. Their moods switching wildly from enamoured, to testy to erotic at the drop of a dime. Until one by one, they had all gasped and cried out when their water broke and they lowered themselves to the floor, wailing and moaning loudly when their contractions took over.

Since then, Captain America had been hovering between the four heroines, trying to offer comfort or encouragement while they gave birth to his children. A thought he had to shove at the back of his mind when he went over to Jessica who screamed, pushing out her third child while her first two nestled under her many arms, suckling from her breasts. The woman was sweating and panting as her brow furrowed, and she was **** to push with all her will. Clutching at one of her outstretched hands, Steve wince when she squeezed his hand back hard enough to hear a ‘crick’ in his finger bones as she pushed. The strain on her face making Steve worry, especially how she squeezed his hand even tighter.

"Do you need anything Jessica?" Asked Steve, trying to comfort her while she reared her head back and push. "A hot towel? Water?"

"I want you INSIDE me!" She gurgled, her hand slipping free from his to reach down and fondle at the bulge between his legs. Surprising the man into a blush and shoo her hand away when she reared back and cried out again. "Aaaaw FUCK! Why does this FEEL so good?!!"

Blinking in shock and pulling her hand away out of embarrassment, Steve looked to his friends and just finally registered the situation. None of them were in actual pain, if anything, their faces betrayed smiles and gasps of pleasure. Jennifer pushed, groping one of her unattended breasts before bringing her hand to her mouth to lick her fingers of her mother’s milk. Carol had finished giving birth seconds ago, a healthy litter of four now nursing from her enlarged breasts when she rolled on her side to feed her newborns, her eyes heavy lidded and smiling dreamily as she squirmed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Tigra wailed as her labor finally ended, a litter of five now being bundled to her chest as she pouted her lower lip and sat up. Almost looking dissatisfied, like she wanted it to go on longer.

Captain America was stunned, so much so he didn't register a hand grab at his left horn to pull him down where his lips were captured by Spider-Woman's own. Moaning into his mouth as her tongue invaded and swirled around with his own tongue before she broke the kiss. Pressing her forehead against Steve's with an intense look in her eyes that told him she wanted him then and there before she collapsed back and moaned silently, too tired to act on that desire.

Helping her gather her four newborns; three daughters and a son to her chest, they immediately began to latch onto Jessica's breasts to feed, the satyress swooning and squirming as she hugged them all close to her affectionately and rolled onto her side.

“Hmm… Take me Steve…” Jess mumbled under her breath, her eyes getting sleepy. “Take me…”

"I... I'm going to make some coffee." Steve said with some anxiety, getting to his cloven feet and realizing his shorts were tenting hard with an erection. “I’ll be right back with drinks for you all.”

Leaving the living room where the four tended to their broods. The satyr never noticed Carol was watching him leave the room with an attentive eye. Stopping at the door frame and **** to duck and squeeze himself through, Steve sighed and went down the hallway to the kitchen.

"I hope our friends are handling things better than we are."

*

"YOUNG LADY! GET A HOLD OF YOURS!" Pleaded the god of Thunder as he tried to pull the recently transformed satyress Becky off a panicking Dr. Strange. The Sorcerer Supreme wrestling his erection away from her prying hands while Thor had the woman in a bear hug trying to pull her off him. "YOU HAVE BEEN BEWITCHED BY THE SCARLET WITCH; YOU MUST FIGHT THIS!"

"What I MUST do is get my hands around that baloney pony this guy's packing and get me a horsy ride!" The blonde furred satyress drooled in lust, clawing to get free of the thunder god while Stephen panicked and tried to scramble away from her. “Horsy ride! Horsy ride! HORSY RIDE!!!”

Finally breaking free and taking to the air with a magical **** field to protect himself, Stephen left Thor and Becky on the ground where the satyress fell back and landed on top of Thor who now found himself with the manic goat woman right on top of him. His helm falling off and letting his long hair run free. Looking down at the prone man underneath her, Becky’s look of confusion soon turned to a toothy grin, flaring her nostrils, and immediately straddling the man underneath her.

"Ooooh, you look HAWT without that dick helmet on, I wonder what helmet your REAL dick is wearing down here?" She tittered, reaching down to try and undo the man’s pants with one hand and pulling his head up with the other for a kiss..

Feeling her try to fumble for his belt, Thor screamed, waving his arms out for someone to rescue him from the salacious concert goer, his prayers were answered when a magical bubble made of golden runes enveloped around Becky and pulled her off the man. Leaving the satyress pouting and pounding her fists against the barrier, then slump down to sit with her arms crossed.

Calmed down, Thor looked up to see Dr. Strange land with his cloven hand outstretched maintaining the forcefield, the massive satyr creature sighed seeing Becky lick at the interior of the forcefield to get at him.

"This is going to be a problem, at least she’s contained for now.” Seeing the Thunderer on the ground hyperventilating, Dr. Strange winced, nodding back to the man. “Are you alright Thor Odinson?"

"Heh... Not the first time a maiden from Midgard wished to bed the son of Odin." Thor chuckled to himself as he got back up to his feet and brushed down his pants and tunic. “Reminds me of the old days where I would venture to the villages of Midgard to sample their mead and…”

"Be honest."

"I was terrified!" The man said with trauma filled eyes hugging himself. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

*

Back in the throne room of the Wakandan palace…

T’Chala had his eyes closed, breathing in quickly and exhaling slowly in a mental mantra to center himself. Something he was doing well at for the last few hours. Like many times before, in his practice, he centered himself, honing and sharpening his mind and keeping it above the now raging impulses of the satyr he had been turned into. For now he had control, for now he could keep above the madness.

“Gasp!”

Opening an eye, the Black Panther found his bodyguards not sharing in his sense of self control. Not entirely. The Dora Milaje were standing double file facing each other in rows from the throne’s plinth to the entrance, their spears, and shields in hand. In the last hour alone, the lot of them had each been afflicted by the satyr curse… And it was impossible not to notice.

The warrior women of the Dora Milaje could handle many things. Warriors without peer and disciplined to a fault, each was known to put their lives before the king of Wakanda if the call was ever answered. THIS however was a challenge for which they were not prepared. Squirming on the spot and trying desperately not to lose their resolve. Since Ayo’s first symptom of her becoming a satyress, the rest of the king’s bodyguards started changing, popping off almost like popcorn kernels in a kettle. All twelve women twitched and squirmed on the spot, trying to remain composed despite the radical changes over their bodies. Where once stood lean and firm bodied warrior women, their bodies and figures had drastically changed.

The sounds of fabric and stitching ripping slightly could be heard, and not surprising why. Not one of the royal guards were under 9 feet in height! Their growth had been slow, progressive, but occurring, nonetheless. Boots ruined and reduced to scraps of leather surrounded their cloven feet, clopping every now and then as the women shifted their stance, their thighs were meatier, wider, their hips wider and rear engorged with new muscle and bulk that had caused their pants to rip at the seams and their undergarments to ride up. Causing their new tails to whip back and forth from the sensitivity. Their once firm and flat stomachs had become padded and softened, overshadowed by the now over endowed and over expanded chests they now possessed. Several had lost their chest armor to the sheer heft and volume of their four J-cup breasts demanding room and attention. Gasping silently and panting from the overstimulation, their elongated ears flicked and twitched around their curved horns.

The worst off of the lot was the leader of the Dora Milaje. Ayo was the first to change and thus was the furthest along. At her current stature, her spear and shield looked comically like toys in her hands, her armor had snapped off bit by bit, the straps unable to keep bound over her expanded figure and curves. A sheen of dark fur had spread over her entire body and the only things keeping her decency with her armor and boots laying in scraps on the floor were her undergarments… Stretched beyond capacity and failing miserably to contain her exaggerated hourglass figure.

Not to mention an afro that had grown so fast and so large from her scalp that she looked like she had a tumbleweed growing from her head and hooked by her horns.

“M-my liege…” Ayo slurred, the woman looking delirious in her transformation. “I… I feel strange…”

Getting up from the throne to approach the now fully fledged satyress, T’Chala rested his hands over her shoulders, helping her steady herself as she swayed back and forth. Dropping the spear and shield at her cloven feet when she felt his touch.

“Ayo, the transformation is an intoxication, you must fight its temptations.”

Sluggishly opening her eyes, the woman blinked drunkenly back at T’Chala with an amused grin. "Hmmm, your highness... I have a cave that can only be delved by your great spear!"

“Ayo… What are you talking about?”

Pressing up against him, Ayo giggled out loud, playfully drawing circles over his chest with her fingers. “My KING. Pierce me with that magnificent horn of yours..."

"Ayo... I'm a satyr... my horns have curves."

"So do THESE!" Aya smiled, squeezing her chest together with both her hands and giving the Black Panther a bird’s eye view of her now VERY mountainous peaks.

Stunned by the view, T’Chala almost didn’t notice her gently grab his hands and have them reach back to grope at her rear.

"What do the American women say? I have junk in the trunk. Well if you want, we can do a little... Recycling."

"I don't think that's what the euphemism stands for Ayo."

"Blah, blah. blah fuck me!!!"

Leaning in, Ayo kissed T’Chala deeply, catching them both off guard as he stumbled back and she fell on top of him.