Transformation Meeting 1, Part 2: The Close Calls

Andromeda

Andromeda enters the fitting room, curious to see what awaits her. She sees the full length mirror, noticing the bags under her eyes. The nightmares from seeing that thing on that card kept her from getting a good night’s rest. Tessa, angry even in her sleep, did not help either.

She notices the dresses next. All three could classify as Japanese school girl fetish wear. One is the color of brass, with splashes of blue serving as highlights, arranged almost like circuits. One, the size of a doll’s outfit, is blue, with black accents of flower petals and leaves and butterfly wings. The final, the deep purple WmoT uses as a color scheme for the black leyline, with actual black accents. Tentacle shaped accents. Andromeda shudders. Please don’t let that one win.

Having noticed the pattern already, Andromeda strips out of her jeans and blue leyline T-shirt. She stands and looks in the mirror; the gamer girl intellectually knows that she is aesthetically pleasing, but here, standing in some plain cotton underwear, she doesn’t feel it.

Tyalangan pipes up, interrupting Andromeda’s spiraling musings, “You are not needing anything special from the heath boost, so, are you ready, Andromeda?”

Andromeda nods and the transformation begins. She watches as the skin around her scalp starts to change, becoming perfectly smooth. As the skin spreads over her eyes and ears, things look and sound different, almost as if her organic sense organs have been replaced with high powered cameras and microphones. She feels like she is observing the world through a computer monitor and headphones. A numbness passes over her as the skin spreads, adding subtle lines around the joints. Andromeda feels her breast as the skin spreads over them; it feels pleasant, in a high end sex toy way, like silicon covered in a thin layer of latex like rubber. The fact that she can’t feel the touch on her breast is mildly disturbing. Then, when the skin finishes covering her arms, she can’t feel much of anything at all; she understands that she will be able to tell if she suffers damage but otherwise her sense of touch is limited to erogenous zones: her tongue, her nipples, her clitoris, her vaginal canal, and her anal canal. Her body proportions are preserved, at least. This will take some getting used to.

Tyalangan orders someone, presumably Mona, to discuss something with Andromeda before she uses something. The words were a little garbled, like her microphones glitched.

Andromeda expected her body to move stiffly, like the crude robots back home, but her movements are smoother than they were, if anything. She dresses in the brass and blue magical girl outfit, giving it a good spin in the mirror. The dress hugs her curves a little bit too tightly and the hem of the skirt ends a little bit high for her tastes, barely passing the rules of modesty. She wishes she brought some bloomers to be worn under a short skirt. Still, she exits the fitting room, seeing Mona doing something with her phone.

“With exactly 50% of the vote, **** of Will is our winner. Time Walk was winning very early along, but, once **** of Will took the lead, it would not be defeated. My bonny bunny, if you please...”

Tina, an obvious influence on her daughter, salutes and updates the illusion she is using to display the transformation text. Andromeda is again disturbed as her optical sensors glitch when she tries to read some of it:

Andromeda’s primary class is now Wizard (School of the War Mage).

Whore-forged – Andromeda wanted efficiency, now she’s got it. Andromeda becomes a Warforged, a gnomish construct that was designed for both defense and sexual pleasure. And what kind of construct would Andromeda be without some customization? Mona gets a phone application called Andromeda Emotional Programming app (AEP app) that she can use to customize Andromeda’s emotional state. Mona starts with 5 Emotion Points (EP), but will have access to more as Andromeda levels. Andromeda cannot comprehend information about the app without Mona’s express permission. She is currently a base model, but further transformations will allow for increased functionality (Warforged).

Integrated Pleasure Circuits – As a tournament grinder, Andromeda is all about being efficient with her time and her prize money. So, now that she is going to be a magical robot wizard, how can she best utilize her features? Andromeda can now scribe spells onto her body as if she is a spellbook and can do so while in stand-by mode. The more spells she has scribed on her person, the more sensitive her skin becomes (Tournament Grinder).

Mona looks up from her phone and blushes. “Wow, Andromeda, you look amazing! May I?” The perverse Mistress looks like she wants to grope the android (soon to be) arcanist.

“Just a hand hold, Mona.”

Mona looks way too satisfied by an offer to hold hands. The mistress goes for it, squeezing with a look of surprise and wonder and wanting. Andromeda doesn’t feel anything. At the moment, she wishes that she could.

Andromeda: +1 XP (Hand-holding, How Lewd)

“Andromeda, you feel so good. I can’t wait for you to use these fingers on me!”

Of course, the pervert had to ruin the moment. Andromeda smiles at her despite it. Her mind wanders a bit as she returns to her position with the others. Since I now have a body literally designed for sex, maybe Mona won’t abandon me if I can’t emotionally connect with her? Only time will tell. But I just need to survive long enough to help her save the world. That is the important thing.

“Gaia, you are up.”

Gaia

Gaia rushes into the fitting room as fast as her barefoot feet will allow her. Being stuck in the evils of shoes has softened her hard-earned calluses. She saw enough of them go through the process to notice a pattern.

She sees the dresses first, touches them. They feel so soft and silky, not like the cheap plastic polyester clothes they **** upon her in the prison. The color scheme must have something to do with the winning combination. The black and green one is the one she wants to wear, assuming that the dress is for the Save the Plants transformation. She would be satisfied for the red and black Watch Civilization Burn one. The brown and white one, with little pink accents, she finds too cutesy. How can a servant of Malar be seen in such a thing?

The prospect of finally being free of the disgusting orange jumpsuit is too great to resist. She starts to strip out of the prisoner uniform as quickly as she can. She loses the ratty tank top and cheap, threadbare panties, too. The criminal pays no mind to her nudity, reaching for the black and green dress, only to hear the Host command, “Transformations first, then getting dressed, Gaia. Take a look in the mirror and we will get started.”

Gaia stiffens, then stands before the mirror. The changes begin. It starts with a tingle in the back of her brain. Her ears shift and reshape into some animal form she is not aware of. Antlers burst forth from her head, branching out like velvety trees. Her tongue elongates. Her hair grows and thickens (which is at least appreciated; maybe she can get it styled as she likes). A wiggly little tuft of a tail springs forth. Finally, her legs shift to that of a deer of some sort from the knees down. It takes her a few moments to get used to walking on the equivalent of her toenails.

Disappointed, Gaia finds that only the girly dress remains. She slips it on, still appreciating the softness. The skirt portion feels a little short. Gaia holds the skirt down as she half stumbles over to the others.

The Host explains the obvious, adding some details, “With 41.18% of the vote, Save the Animals won in a real squeaker of a contest. The other two options each tied at slightly under 30% each, with Save the Plants almost winning early on. Our sneaky sea slug of a show-runner got an audience member to select your initial form for the day, which is a cute little reindeer-girl.”

“CUTE!!!” Mona coos then hurries up to stand before the terrorist, “Can I touch your antlers?”

Gaia bites her lip, not realizing until just this moment how much she wants someone to stroke her antlers, pat her head, rub her belly, take her on walkies. She still tries to discourage it, “Please don’t, kid.”

The Host teases, “Mona, watch the ears and tail. Her sense of propriety says ‘no,’ but that tail wagging says ‘yes, please.’”

Tail! You traitor! Ooooooh, fuck! That feels soooooo good! Gaia feels Mona’s touch as a shock of electricity traveling through her body to stimulate her deepest parts. Tongue lolling out of her mouth, Gaia starts to pat Mona’s head. The sensation feels even better. If being Mistress’s pet feels this sexy... fuck!

Gaia: +1 XP (Headpats for Mistress)

“That’s enough petplay for the moment, Mona,” the Host (cruelly) interjects, “My bonny bunny, if you would display Gaia’s transformations?”

The rocking tit rabbit changes her illusion with a flourish:

Gaia’s primary class is now Druid (Circle of the Shepherd).

Time Keeps On Shiftin’ – A shifter is a beastkin that has a case of lycanthropy, able to tap into a more primal, bestial state for a temporary boost of instinct. Gaia has been turned into one, but what’s the fun in only getting to be one kind of animal? Gaia’s base form changes every day at dawn (with her more bestial shifted form adjusting accordingly). Her erogenous zones expand to include many of her animal features (Shifter).

Pat the Bunny (or Kitty or Puppy or Whatever) – Gaia was a babysitter at one point. Now that she is an animal-girl, she’s going to experience new forms of nurturing. Gaia now has a fetish for head pats, ear scritches, and other pet play acts, both giving and receiving (Nurturer).

Gaia, having recovered from the too brief petplay, grumbles, “So, today I am a reindeer; tomorrow I will be something else? Is there any predictability in it?”

“At the moment, no. Transformation upgrades exist and will be available after you have had time to get used to your current set. So, after the first major quest, you might find an upgrade in the shops to let you control what you turn into. But, even then, you will be required to change into something new every day. You wouldn’t be repeating from a small list of choices. Make sense?”

Craig barks, “So, I could get something to counteract my fucking garbage transformation!?!?!?”

“No, upgrades will not undermine the spirit of the transformation. Gaia’s shifter transformation is designed to have her take on a variety of forms, so she will be taking on a variety of forms even if the transformation is upgraded. Your Empathy Training is designed to make you care about your partner’s sexual needs. Upgrades may make it easier for you to connect with your partner emotionally or make it easier to get them to cum from your actions, but you will never cum before your partner ever again.”

Craig growls. Gaia does not care about the gnoll’s desires at the moment. Instead, she walks back to the others, already more or less used to her new legs. She hopes that tomorrow’s form is pleasing to the Beastlord.

“Last up, Kevin.”

Kevin

Kevin is worried as he steps into the fitting room. He’s the last one. And, given how thin the margin Gaia’s winning option had, it does not bode well for him.

He takes in the clothes hanging on the wall. The color scheme for all three are the same: silver and white, with some powder blue accents. Two are Japanese school girl fetish uniforms, one cut for a modest sized bust, bigger than the psycho Tegan’s, but not by all that much; the skirt seems normal enough. The other dress is cut for someone flat chested, but with wide hips. It looks almost cartoonish. Finally, a tuxedo for someone built like a linebacker, broad in the shoulder and neck, with limbs closer to tree trunks than what Kevin could ever imagine attached to his person.

He strips down to the pair of panties Winter gave him, adjusting his caged cock inside the panties just so. The key is on a cord around his neck. He told himself he was just trying it out, but he can already tell that, if the Sissy option wins, he’ll never take the cage off again. It feels so safe already; how much more will it feel when I am actually turned all femboi?

“To spoil the surprise, Kevin,” Tyalangan speaks from outside the fitting room, “I am using my veto. The audience just couldn’t decide what to do with you, really, despite you tying with Tegan for most audience participation. Two of your options tied at 38.89% each. All three options were tied for first at least at one point. So, I am going to be trying to please the most people I can and you are getting an extra couple of transformations, with some tweaks. One set at a time. Are you ready?”

Kevin audibly gulps. Extra transformations? Above the four I am already getting? Why?

“Standard Package and the first two incoming,” the Host mentally states, “And don’t worry about your current attire. Both items will accommodate your new body.”

Then, Kevin starts to feel the changes. Little protrusions grow out of his forehead, curving upward into a pair of horns. His ears reshape into little flappy cow ears. His jaw juts out, growing thicker, more muscular. His neck expands, his chest bursts out dramatically, his arms triple in diameter. He rubs his elongating abs as he now has a visible six-pack. Damn. Is it wrong that I want to be fucked by myself?

His panties grow as his hips expand, not as childbearing hips, but as the hips of a real man with some actual core strength. The crotch expands too. Kevin’s caged cock lengthens, thickens, hardens. He feels a slight dribbling sensation. Then the cage transforms, too. Not quite a chastity belt, but similar, with a tube leading to a milk reservoir at the small of his back. Just below the reservoir, he feels the swish of his tail. His thighs quadruple in diameter, as do his calves; when all is said and done, he has the body of a 7 foot tall bodybuilder with a little touch of furry porn. Fuck.

Hoping that Tyalangan is reading his mind, he asks, “If I unlock myself right now, to see me, will I lose my bounty?”

He mentally hears back, “Two minutes. Time starts now.”

Kevin pulls down his panties. His cock is a monster. He quickly unlocks himself and it bounces up, the weight of the cage the only thing that kept it from jutting a solid foot or so out. The head is almost as big as his old fist, slowly dribbling thin white milk onto the floor. And it’s thicker round the middle than it is at the base. He drags a finger across the head to get a few drops of his pre-cum and tastes it; it’s sweet like condensed milk but it feels wrong to try. Then the cage reattaches itself and his monster falls between his legs. Embarrassed, Kevin pulls his panties back up. Fuck. Why did I want the sissy one again? Why be the sissy getting fucked when you can be the one fucking him instead?

“Ready for the other three now, Kevin? They are incoming. And please be aware that this is the only time I am going to **** this.”

Kevin hears a ditty rattling around his head as he is bathed in silvery light. He feels himself... shrinking. When the light fades, she stands there, a lilac skinned elf woman with white hair in a boyish cut, periwinkle purple colored eyes, and an elegantly petite figure, wearing both panties and an offensive chastity belt. She knows she is wearing it for BP, otherwise she’d take it off immediately. To think that a woman of my caliber would be denied access to my sex is unthinkable. That is for males, not me.

Her eyes hurt a little in what was once normal light, not enough to be painful, but enough to be mildly irritating. She watches as the pear-shaped dress disappears and the normally sized one eats the tux. She smirks, then puts on the dress.

Exiting, the woman is surprised by her husky alto voice, “Are we done with this farce now?”

Mona squees. “Kevin, you look sooo sexy! I love it!”

That name sounds... wrong. Like something that belongs to a male. The woman makes a face of disgust.

“If you wish to change it later you may,” the Host declares, “but, for now, call her Caoimhe when she is in this form. That is the feminine version of the Irish name that was Anglicized into Kevin. My bonny bunny, if you would please display what all we did.”

Tina, ever the dutiful assistant, updates her illusion:

Kevin’s (Male) primary class is now Paladin (Oath of Glory).

Caoimhe’s (Female) primary class is now Cleric (Life Domain).

Moover Gooner – A goon-bud needs a proper goon stick. Let’s get Kevin up to snuff. Kevin’s default male form is now that of a hu-cow bull. He gets the ears, bull horns, tail, muscles and giant constantly leaking cock, as expected. In addition, Kevin’s assertiveness increases, as he needs to ensure his breeding bois are protected under his gentle dominance (Hu-cow).

Paging Droctor Caoimhe – Doctors are not really a thing in a land of magic, but Caoimhe will get to be the closest thing there is to one. It just requires a bit of an adjustment first. Caoimhe’s female form is that of a drow elf (32B – 26 – 32, 5 ft tall). She gets the ears, the light sensitive eyes, the skin tone and hair color changes as would be expected. In addition, Caoimhe’s sexual proclivities will lean towards traditional femdom tropes (Drow).

A Hippocratic Changedance – A key piece of the Hippocratic Oath is to do no harm. Instead of locking Kevin into the form of a female elf, he can switch between his default male form and female form at will (with a one hour cooldown). All other transformations will apply to only a specified form, unless otherwise indicated. Kevin will not be able to access any character features from his other form unless it is something his current form could also develop (Med Student).

Mona’s eyes light up. “Change back, Caoimhe, so I can see you leak!”

Caoimhe blushes a little in embarrassment. Ugh. Why would I want to be male again?

Tyalangan both helpfully bails her out and unhelpfully provides some good points, “The one hour cooldown is there for a reason, Mona. But, there are still reasons why Caoimhe or Kevin may wish to switch forms. Caoimhe will be the team’s primary healer for the foreseeable future, but there may be situations where having another melee range defender may be preferable. Also, one form may be better suited for a particular task than the other. For example, I highly doubt that Caoimhe would want to attempt the exclusive Winter Room’s weekly quest.”

The Host pauses for a moment, then continues to address the newly created drow woman, “So you know, you are the same person in either form, more or less, with slightly different perspectives. You share information and you know what the other form would feel about any given decision. You share the same Level, so you don’t have to worry about one form outleveling the other. However, each form will need to check in with Daphne to actually level up properly. Make sense?”

Caoimhe nods her head. She is happy to realize that her male form is interested in experimenting with that challenge. She walks back into position and begins negotiations with her other form in her head. She doesn’t pay attention to the Host wrapping up the meeting.