Transformation thing

The night seems slightly colder than usual, the jacket she wears slowing her down. The frozen air carries sound with a crisp clarity, falling trash cans knocked over by a black cat creating a cacophonous mess behind her, hurried footsteps darting in her periphery, yet when she glances back there’s nothing there.

The plastic bag smacks against her leg as she strides with a nervous purpose, go get inside, out of the night. The keys jangle as she pulls them from her pocket, a loud cadence. She smiles faintly as the key she selects at random slides easily into the lock, clicking to the side in a fluid and smooth motion. The door swings open welcomingly, and she steps into the marginally warmer room of her home. She closes the door behind her and closes it with a lock, stumbling slightly as she misses the step the divides the entrance of her home from the rest of it. She frowns, certain she left at least one light on before she left.

Asides from the initial fumble, she navigates her dead silent home with ease, and places the plastic bags on her kitchen counter before turning around to find the light switch. She freezes.

“It took you long enough. I swear. You humans are so oblivious. On a guy it’s kinda cute, but for a woman, aren’t you just a failure of a predator? Ah, I guess you do have those useless noses.” She opens her mouth to scream, but the twin glowing eyes, like crimson embers in the dark, blur as they approach and grow larger. A claw holding a cloth is held across the girl’s face, muffling the cry to come, and with the intruder’s weight, she’s pushed back against the bench. Claustrophobia sets in as the drugged fumes fill her mind with compliance. The last to struggle are her eyes, trying to make out the features of her assailant, darting from dimly lit asset to the next, the hellish glow of her eyes the only light source. Ultimately it proves futile. As her muscles slacken and her vision dims, her eyes are inexorably drawn to those eyes glowing in the darkness.

The first thing to come to her is a chaotic roar as a manifold of voices cheer all around her. Her eyes open in a flash, but only the blackness is before her. She starts, nervous and confused as vision refuses to return to her, and the cheering dies down.

“Welcome, welcome, Ladies and Lads, to another episode! Needless to say, this is not a show that needs introducing! I’m your host, Mary Sue, and the beautiful specimen here, is Mary Jane!” The voice approaches, and the human woman flinches back on instinct, drawing an image of the woman approaching by her voice alone. Fingers curl around and tug as something tied to her head and as it slips down to hand about her neck, harsh, sharp light blinds her, a painful contrast to the blindness from only a moment ago.

Smirking derisively at her is the single most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Wicket horns curve back from her head, giant folded wings cling to her back. A modest bust barely deforms the straight line of her suit jacket, but the same can’t be said of her hips. Wide and womanly they seem to strain the seams of her pants, similarly formal. Before she’d even realized it, the smirk turned into a pleasant smile, and she’s facing the audience again,

“Ah, we even have the same name! How cute! Aww, but there’s one difference isn’t there?” In a graceful smooth motion, the woman slips behind her, and gropes her large breasts, feeling them up, lifting them and tweaking the nipples, “Look at these udders! Regardless of the results, I think she’ll be a holstaur anyway!” the woman tries to cry out as she’s molested and the crowd laughs at the host’s joke, but two things become readily apparent. There’s a gag in her mouth preventing her from screaming, and the second most apparent thing is the tall pole she’s bound to, preventing her from reacting at all to the demon taking her free reign of the woman’s body.

The last spark of realisation comes in the soft sensation of the demon’s fingers sinking into the flesh of her bust. She’s naked. Shame and humility course over her and a heavy blush crosses her cheeks. “Oho? What’s this? We have a shy one, people!” There’s another round of applause, and her sight flashes towards the audience seated high above her and looking down. Frantically, she scans the horror before her, twisted forms of wings tails and far too many legs for a human to have. Some of the forms are naked like her, but instead of the embarrassment, a sort of confidence exudes from their perfect forms, they only make her feel smaller. But shrinking away isn’t an option with the spotlights on her, the large screens to the left and right reflecting her image through camera lenses.

“Now, Mary Jane here is a quiet girl, with a quiet job…” The host begins to introduce her as the screens cut from her and display pictures of her, at work, walking around, taken from various viewpoints, “She likes quiet men, but… well, she’s not so quiet about that.” Her eyes widen in horror and humiliation as the screens cut to a picture of her on her bed, and the auditorium fills with her pleasured moans. The audience coos as they watch her plunge her dildo in and out her pussy with one hand, the other holding a book before her. Her pale body is framed in a picture of busy as the sheets coil about her like the absent lover she cries out to.

Lewd catcalls and cheers accompany the hot tears that spill down her face as her emotion are strained to the brink and finally snap. But her tears go unheeded as the audience cheers as they watch her begin to buck her hips into her dildo. She jams the whole thing into her cunt, plus a few fingers, and for a brief moment her orgasmic screams drown out the roar of the audience.

The recorded ‘her’ jitters in a familiar sensation of orgasm, and the audience laughs as her muscles slacken and the drop the open book across her face, the tips of her ears belying the blush now hidden.

A low, sultry moan fills the auditorium, different from her own, “Mmmm, now wasn’t that hot? See, we’re not so different. It’s what I’ve said all along. Hell, it’s why this show exists! To bridge the gap! Make her like us!” the audience cheers as the flashlight is taken from her to an ornate, giant wheel the rim of which is sculpted in various twisted forms like those she sees in the audience, locked in orgy with countless men. On it, are countless sub-sections of monsters of all shapes and sizes. “Now, now I wonder which one it will be?! Werewolf? Harpy? Mermaid? Or even the rare dragon? Hey, she’s practically already a semen demon, so why not the tried and trusted Succubus, huh?”

The woman frowns, trying to take in the words she’s hearing. Make her like them? What is she talking about? The answer bleeds into her consciousness with a traitorously tiny voice. “Oho, looks like she’s figured out the name of the game folks! Let’s see what she has to say!” The demon saunters back to the bound girl, and pulls down on her gag, freeing her mouth. The woman draws in a large shaky breath,

“Please don’t do this! W-who are you people? Where am I? Why have you taken me?! What have I do-mpf” The demon crams the gag back in,

“Whoops, careful there dear.” The claustrophobia returns as the woman closes in, pinning her with a look far more effectively than the thing with glowing eyes did at her home. A sold sweat runs down her back. With her back to the audience, the demon’s eyes sharpen to fine slits like a serpent eyeing prey, cowing the woman, “This isn’t a quiz show.” The audience laughs obliviously at her affected tone, and she spins around to face them, a laid back smile on her face, and she gives an exaggerated shrug, “Humans, right? Well, our regulars might have caught on to the fact that there’s one last thing to be revealed, but before we do, lets cut to a few words from our sponsors!”

Music fills the auditorium as lights dim. The girl, her nakedness how shrouded in shadow begins to relax, until the looming click of heel on the hard floor makes her tense up. The demon’s dim form approaches and she takes the girl’s chin in hand, “Alright, listen here, slut. Clearly those fuckwits backstage haven’t clued you in. Nod if you know what’s going on.”

She shakes her head from side to side frantically. “Tch. Okay, let’s start at the beginning. You aren’t human. Not anymore.” The girl frowns at this as the demon continues, “You’re meat. You’re profit. You’ve been sold to us to do whatever we want with, and we want to make you like us.” The demon grins as she grows visibly aroused. She leans her bottom heavy boy against the bound and naked woman, “See, the transformation is a beautiful thing. Everything you are, everything you once were will die.  And it doesn’t even matter that I’m telling you this. You’ll accept it either way. And once you do, you’ll be stronger, faster, a- oh, I see that look. You think you’ll escape right?” the human glares defiance at the demon, and the demon only laughs, an eerie, harrowing sound. Suddenly the air-conditioned room seems chilly enough to freeze her to the bone, and an unnatural shiver sets in as the lights begin to brighten. “You’ll see.”

With those parting words, the demon steps away and affects that same smile, disgusting and creepy now that the woman had seen behind it. She strides to the centre of the floor, and the audience cheers once more as the spotlight turns to her as the room fills again with the bright light.

“Welcome back, welcome back, I’m Mary Sue, here with the beautiful Mary Jane, this week’s participant! We’ve introduced the girl, introduced the wheel, what’s next?” she leans into the audience and cups an ear.

“THE COCK!” The roar shocks and stuns the bound woman, and the spotlight steals her gaze as it flashes towards something in the far side of the floor, covered in a black silken sheet. There’s a cheer as a second spotlight appears on the doors which open to reveal a buxom woman with paws, wings, feline ears and a bulbous, spiked tail. Her hips sway and her massive wobbling bust threatens to slip out of her slutty nurse’s uniform with each tit-quaking heeled step.

“Oh, if it isn’t the beautiful Nurse.” The feline woman stalks towards the black mass, in her arms a massive syringe filled with a faintly glowing pink liquid. She stops before the black thing, and grabs it with her long tail, whipping the sheet off. Revealing a gaged and blindfolded man bound to a chair-like contraption that has his arms bound behind him, his back supported by the back of the chair, and his knees on what would be the ‘arms’ of the chair, or the seat if you looked at it that way, as there was no surface for someone to sit on conventionally.

The boisterous crowd cheers again as the spotlight focuses in on his towering erection, throbbing in beat with his heart and slick with dribbling pre that made his balls a sticky mess and had dripped onto a puddle on the floor. The feline woman licks her lips, and hefts the massive syringe into a grip like someone staking a vampire. With a grunt, she plunges it into his heart hard enough to hear the impact, and the body begins to jerk and seize as she pumps the contents of the syringe directly into his bloodstream.

The silhouette of his chest gives a frightening glow as his body shakes and jitters and finally falls slack. The crowd watches with baited breath as the glow begins to spread through his veins, and though his muscles don’t jerk back into life, his cock does. It seems to nearly grow in half its size again, the veins standing on edge, his balls almost visibly churning as his cock begins to dribble even more pre onto the floor.

“Oooh, he looks fit to burst. It’s always a pretty sight, isn’t it ladies?” This time the cheer is mostly feminine. “Well then, let’s not keep the man waiting! Luckily there’s a nice, warm, wet hold for him to fuck right here!” A perfectly manicured nail points at the woman bound up, and her eyes widen as she follows the finger down the arm to the owner.

What? Fuck? Her? Some stranger? She screams out to be set free, but it, like usual, is silenced by the gag in her mouth. She struggles in vain against bindings created by creatures she could never defy. Creatures she was certain she was about to join. “It just needs a little… adjusting.” The audience silences in anticipation as she stalks to the wheel. Despite herself, she watched in wrapt tension as to what kind of beast they’ll twist her into, as drawn into the foul spectacle as the audience.

Her perfect fingers curl around the rim, lights dim and a tense music plays softly, “What, oh what will it be folks?” She speaks softly, conspiratorially

She rotates the wheel up, “Lest find out!” With a heave and a flash of light, she hauls the wheel down by the rim, setting it in a fierce spin that sounds more like machinegun fire than the flicking of the marker. It bounces back and forth in a blur as the wheel spins and the entire auditorium waits with baited breath. The spinning slows and slows, and ever so gradually passes the last slot with a final click, and lands on,

“ARACHNE!” the crowd cheers loudly as the wheel settled on a picture of a monster, half woman, half spider, one of her human arms resting on where her hip slips into monster, the other stroking her chin as if in lewd contemplation of what to do with the prey before her.

“Fufu… Arachne it is then. Something, something, spider pun!” Fel power gathers in the demon’s hand and it shoots out towards the bound girl in a beam, infusing her with its energy, and burning away her bindings. A myriad of sensation hits her at once, but the first thought invariably wins out. ‘Flee’.

Rising to her shaky legs, she goes to run for the door, but falls flat on her face as only one leg obeys her, and the other rolls its ankle, ripping at the muscles. The crowd laughs and some slapstick sound effect plays as she grits her teeth in pain and tries to crawl for the door, but lacks the strength to move her entire body. Instead she curls into a ball as pain courses throughout her body and her spine shatters as bones expand and rip through her back, black and glossy.

She opens her mouth to scream in pain but no sound comes forth. The glowing finger of the demon comes to her attention as she weaves an incantation behind her back and smiles as if to say ‘can’t have you screaming and unsettling the audience now, can we?’ Then something else rises up from within her, as endoskeleton becomes exoskeleton. It fills the silent auditorium and strikes the heart of every one there. A rapturous moan of pleasure. If the biting of lips and the hardening of cocks were audible, the room would be filled with it.
She writhes as the tips of her toes burst open, and glossy, slick, black exoskeleton covers it, reaching up her legs, the muscles melting into the same hemolymph that fills the body of a spider. It spreads throughout her, stopping at her hips, where muscles develop under the new exoskeleton and lash onto the inside of the exoskeleton, securing her human torso to the diminutive arachnid body growing out from her back.

Throughout the process she moans unabatedly, heat suffusing her body as her legs-turned-pedipalps twitch and scrabble at the floor. Her mind is away with pain and sensation and horror at the way her body twists. She nearly breaks her mind when she looks back at the pulsating abdomen growing from the base of her spine, but her eyes are forces shut by her subconsciousness in attempts to preserve what remains of her sanity as her psyche undergoes a similar transformation. The worries and wonders of her life fade into mere packets of information as her sense of taste and smell and touch amplify. Through the floor she can faintly feel the thunderous breathing of the audience, she can scent the musky arousal thick in the air and more importantly, she can taste. The molten need broiling in the loins of the man tied up before her.

The black blob of her arachnid throax hardens into its proper form and eight portals appear, with thin spindly legs spearing out and splattering the ground around her with a squelch of internal juices. The legs splay out as they thicken with fluids and grow longer and larger. Her abdomen balloons out across the floor into a healthy shape, and before long her eight legs are fully formed, her abdomen thick and healthy looking with her own unique pattern being recorded on camera.

The demon’s mic picks up muted moaning as the rubs herself through her pants and the audience gives into open masturbation at the sight of the transformation and the girl’s trilling and plaintive moans. Her head whips to the bound man at the smell of semen and she can’t stop herself from growling as she sees his cock wrapped in the manticore’s tail, and, not careful at all not to prick him, jerking him off. The beast just smiles as she licks the cum from her tail and retracts is from the man’s cock.

The woman, gaps inwardly, the remnants of her sanity questioning her. What does she care if some monster jerks him off? It’s not like he is hers. He is hers. Who is he anyway? Hers. She clutches her head with her human hands and looking down, begins to calm as she sees her purely human digits. Soon, that too passes as the tips of her fingers split open as black chitin begins to cover her hands. She doesn’t even struggle, merely watching in mesmerisation as the inky black slows up her arms, to just past her elbows.

She shocks herself out of her reverie as she realises she’s now elevated, swaying drunkenly, as her body gets used to its new weight and strength. That’s right! She has to run. To flee. She takes a skittering step or two, struggling with the motion of moving her new legs, when a deep heat in her belly stops her. She needs… something. As if dredging through the deep silty sand of the oceans, her eyes are dragged across the room towards the bound man.

Instinctively, she lifts a leg to take a step, but retains enough of her wits to stop herself. “No…” Her voice comes out in a whimper as the manticore runs a hard sharp claw across the man’s bindings. She shears through the leather like wet paper, and as she steps behind his field of view, the last two things to fall are his gag and blind fold.

Time and the audience freezes for her as the man slowly opens his faintly purple glowing eyes, and his gaze locks onto hers as the first thing he sees. His large, over-hardened cock bounces and throbs with the need of release and she becomes painfully aware of the slick wetness between what was one her legs. She takes a panicked step back, as the man steps towards her.

“N-no… Please.” He takes another wobbly step, the circulation in his legs still struggling to get back into the flow, “S-stop. Don’t cum any closer.” She backs into the wall, and instinctively, her legs push against it, lifting her halfway up. Torn between running and staying, four legs on the wall, four on the ground she shudders as the stranger draws closer still. Why is she running? Look at that cock. It’ll fuck her hard, fill her with what she needs. The four legs on the floor quiver as they bear her weight and then her body slips off the wall, ell eight again touching the ground.

She holds her hands to herself, wringing her wrists nervously, shaking her head from side, her eyes locked on his, “No… no closer. Don’t come near me..” Something deep within snaps and wrenches her mind from her and in a flash she’s on him, one hand on his head, she wrenches it to the side and bares his neck. She rears up, her pedipalps holding his hips to hers, his hard cock throbbing against her bare stomach, her two front legs holding his in place as she sinks her fangs into his throat and pumps him pull of her venom.

He comes then and there all across her toned stomach and her breasts, much larger now after the transformation. Half of her tingles in pleasure at the hot sensation and the other, human half sighs in defeat as the scent of cum fills her mind.

The next few hours are an orgiastic mess as the audience devolves into a giant fuckpit and the host begins openly masturbating with a conjured dildo. Her memories of the scenario blend into billions of thrusts and a myriad of positions as she takes her husband and he takes her in turn. Her consciousness devolves into a tiny voice screaming. Screaming ‘he’s not your husband’ and ‘get away’ then ‘don’t let him cum inside’ and ‘I don’t want to be pregnant.’ The small voice beats on an impenetrable film as she watches through her own eyes as someone else acts for her, loves a man she doesn’t care about and had never met.

The space for her within her own mind becomes smaller and smaller as cum splatters across her face, breasts and against the walls of her uterus. She curls into a ball and begins to sob, the world around her growing less and less distinct.

She frowns at the irksome tugging at the back of her mind. “Are you even listening?” the Arachne blinks in surprise,

“Sorry, what? There’s just this… thing in the back of my mind like I’m forgetting something.”

The demon smiles genuinely, “Ah, don’t worry. It’ll fade soon. How are you feeling?”

“You were right! This feels great, I feel so strong and fast, and so light!” the demon scowls playfully and pokes a tit,

“Don’t know where the lightness is coming from.” The Arachne laughs and pushes the hand away, making the demon giggle. She releases the hand of her husband who is blushing shyly after he came to, and found out that his first session of lovemaking with his wife was televised.

“Seriously, though, I never realised I could feel this happy.” Her eyes moisten as she pulls the demon host into a hug, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” The tiny tug at the back of her mind screams itself into oblivion, leaving her with a feeling on serenity.

“It was my pleasure.”