Evelyn returned home later than usual, her purse slung over her shoulder, her mind still haunted by the image that had been looping through her thoughts all afternoon. She closed the door carefully and leaned back against it for a moment, drawing a deep breath, trying to gather herself.
“Mom?” Lily’s voice drifted from the living room. “Are you back?”
Evelyn forced a smile before stepping inside. Lily was curled on the sofa, phone in hand, a large camping backpack at her feet, ready for the weekend trip. Her long tail swayed gently beside her.
“Darling,” Evelyn exclaimed. “I thought I’d missed you.”
“Yeah, the bus was delayed… nothing serious.” Lily studied her. “You okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine, it’s just that…” Evelyn paused, hesitating to burden her daughter. “A coworker… mutated. Right in the middle of the office, in front of everyone.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Really? What happened?”
“It was… shocking,” she admitted. “Emma, a colleague, was handing in paperwork at the desk in front of us when her rear seemed to inflate, then her whole body began to stretch backward. Her skirt, her stockings, her shoes—everything ripped apart as her legs split and duplicated. Her breasts grew too, sending buttons flying everywhere.”
Lily shuddered. “Oh shit, that must have been terrifying. Just thinking about it makes me queasy. I’m so glad I was born a mutant.”
“Yes, it was terrible,” Evelyn repeated, though she chose not to mention the screams of pure ecstasy the humantaur had let out as she transformed.
Lily zipped her backpack and sat down beside her mother. “Well, I’m already a mutant, but if I ever had a second mutation, I’d just hope it’s something mild,” she said, half joking, half serious. “Nothing too crazy or invasive.”
Evelyn smiled tenderly. “That’s what we all hope.”
“In that respect, I’m a little jealous of you.”
“Jealous? Why?”
“Well, you’re thirty-nine. You’ve got a dormant mutant gene, and at this point it’s never going to activate. You went through adolescence, had a pregnancy, and that was it. You still get the positive side effects of being a mutant, without actually being one.”
Evelyn laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess I’m lucky that way.”
“Just look at you,” Lily went on. “Shiny hair, perfect skin, amazing figure. You got the advantages without the problems.”
A lump rose in Evelyn’s throat, and she did her best to hide it. She leaned down and hugged Lily. “Thank you for reassuring me, my love.”
“Well, the bus should be here any minute,” Lily said, getting up and hoisting her backpack. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own? Dad won’t be back until next weekend.”
“Lily, I’m a grown woman. I can manage a few days alone perfectly well. I’ll relax with some shows and a glass of wine.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lily said.
A few minutes later, the bus pulled up in front of the house. The girl said goodbye to Evelyn and left, tail wagging. Evelyn watched her go, unable to suppress a pang of jealousy at her daughter’s mutation.
Alone in the apartment, Evelyn began to undress for a shower. She stood before the mirror and admired her reflection. Just as Lily had said, her body was enviably firm.
“Not bad at all,” she murmured to herself, “although an extra pair of breasts, or an extra head, or maybe just a tail like Lily’s wouldn’t hurt.”
She stepped under the shower and let the water cascade over her, trying to organize her thoughts. Years ago, back in high school, Evelyn had discovered her fascination with mutations—unlike most of her friends and classmates, who viewed mutation as a source of complications and discomfort. When several medical tests confirmed that she carried the mutant gene, she could barely contain her excitement at the thought of which mutation she would inherit.
But months passed, then years, and her body didn’t change. Tests revealed that her mutant gene was dormant, almost inactive. She was a mutant, and yet she wasn’t.
Is it wrong to feel jealous of Emma? she wondered as the water streamed over her. She remembered her colleague’s transformation—all four new legs struggling to stay upright, thighs slapping together, and those moans of ecstasy Emma had tried, and failed, to stifle.
Evelyn imagined herself in that scenario. She closed her eyes, picturing a second pair of legs, feeling the cold shower floor with all four feet. Or perhaps extra breasts, or more arms. Her sex grew slick as she slipped a couple of fingers inside and stroked herself vigorously until a climax slammed through her.
“Damn, I’m a pervert,” she laughed to herself. After all, she was alone, and she planned to make the most of it.
She stepped out wrapped in nothing but a bathrobe. It had been ages since she’d had the house to herself, and this was the perfect chance to indulge her fantasies. She let the robe fall onto the bed and stood before the full-length mirror.
“Mmm, my breasts aren’t bad at all,” she said, admiring her reflection. “But I’d look so much better with one or two more pairs,” she added, tracing her hands over where they might be. “I could be covered in them. And maybe with a little milk to share. I’d love to breastfeed again.”
She shifted her hands over her chest. “And if I had six breasts, I’d have six arms… that would be so useful. I’d have to spend a fortune on manicures, though. Definitely worth it. And so many rings and bracelets,” she laughed.
She turned slightly to admire her legs, long and toned. She usually hid them under her gray office uniform, but she knew they were one of her best features.
“And of course, I’d look amazing with more legs. A second pair, like Emma,” she mused, eyeing her rear and envisioning it. Then she faced forward, spreading her stance. “Although I’d also rock three legs, like a tripod. And definitely two vaginas.”
Evelyn let her imagination paint those extras onto her reflection. Each thought made her wetter, until she couldn’t resist and slid her hand down to pleasure herself again. She was on the verge of climax when the phone rang, cutting her short. Gasping, she tried to steady her breathing and compose herself before answering.
“Hi, honey. Just calling to see how you’re doing,” said Michael, her husband, from the other end of the line.
“Hey, love. I’m fine,” she replied, a little flustered. “Just doing some tidying up around the house.”
They talked for a few more minutes. Michael told her he’d be away a few more days on his business trip but would be home soon. Evelyn said she’d be waiting.
After hanging up, she sighed deeply. She loved her husband, but that had been quite the anticlimax.
“If only I could mutate,” she whispered, “even if it were just an extra horn or a few extra fingers.”
Still naked, she sat at the small desk in her room and opened her laptop. She began browsing the websites where older women discussed late-onset mutations. It was her usual corner of the internet, where she read their stories with a mixture of hope and envy.
“Maybe I should ask the AI if there’s a recipe for mutating,” she murmured, then burst out laughing. “Better not. It’d probably suggest I drink something dangerous.”
Instead, she went to a few Reddit forums about mutations. There were plenty of pictures of mutant women, some quite erotic. Evelyn knew this well; she’d pleasured herself more than once while looking at those photos, imagining herself in those forms. As she scrolled, she noticed a subforum where women talked openly about their mutations, and a few even admitted they wanted to mutate. Evelyn’s eyes widened. Finally, a community that shared her longing.
She immediately typed a post: “Hi, I’m a woman in my late thirties, a mother, married, living in Port Solei. I have a dormant mutant gene, and as strange as it sounds, I desperately want to mutate, by any means necessary. Does anyone know a way to activate a dormant gene? Preferably without illegal drugs. Thanks.”
Evelyn stared at her post and felt a little embarrassed. Despite the anonymity, speaking so openly about her desire stirred a mix of emotions.
She closed the laptop and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. As she filled her mug, she couldn’t help but imagine how delicious it would be to top it off with her own milk. Or, even more daringly, if she were a futanari, she could add a little cream.
“Damn, I’m really perverted,” she said to herself. “If I were a futanari, I’d love to be able to take my head off, like a Dullahan, and give myself a good blowjob.”
She returned to the bedroom carrying her coffee, her arousal still slick between her thighs. She glanced at the forum thread. To her surprise, several replies had appeared beneath her post. She began to read them eagerly. Many were from men offering to help—if she sent them photos first. Evelyn laughed; she enjoyed the attention, but she knew they were just perverts trying to get her naked.
“Sorry, guys. I’m a pervert, but a loyal one.”
Then she noticed a different message, far more serious and longer than the others.
“Hi, I’ve been following cases like yours, and believe me, there are solutions. I think I could help you. If you’d like to discuss it further, send me a DM.”
Evelyn hesitated. It could easily be a scam, or something worse, but she had a hunch—an instinct—that some of it might be real.
“Hi, I’d be interested in talking. If you have time tomorrow, that would be ideal.”
After a brief exchange where they settled on a time and place, the woman signed off.
Evelyn felt a strange wave of euphoria. She didn’t want to seem naïve, but it was impossible not to get excited at even the slightest possibility of mutating.
She closed her computer and went to bed. Lying naked under the covers, she imagined how wonderful it would be to have two heads. As she pictured what a French kiss with herself would be like, Evelyn drifted off to sleep.