“Aaa… whaaat… but… but why?!” Rosa’s voice cracked into a sharp, trembling female cry as she jerked forward, her tail twitching and curling above the sheets like a startled ribbon.
Her blue eyes glimmered and the first tear was already sliding down her cheek. On the table, right in front of her, sat her laptop, and on the screen an email title flashed in bright, merciless letters: “Action needed: Your post has been hidden…” and there was no need to read further. She knew that wording by heart.
Rosa let out a breath so sharp it felt like a hot knot of disappointment tore itself out of her chest.
“Oh what the hell again…” she whispered, grabbing her head with both hands and then instantly flinching, forgetting how painfully sensitive her black horns became at the slightest touch whenever she was stressed like this.
Still, the tips of her fingers brushed the warm base of one horn and a sweet, piercing shiver ran down her spine, making the long pink tail snap nervously against the sheet. Her tail lashed again, and her wings, folded neatly behind her back moments earlier, trembled and unfurled half a meter wide, bumping into the curtain. The room filled with the light rustle of feathers and the dense scent of her own stress pheromone.
She stared at the screen where the red banner with white text pulsed mockingly:
“Your 18+ post has been removed. Repeated violation of Community Guidelines regarding non-consensual themes.”
Rosa swallowed hard. Her throat tightened so much that even breathing felt difficult. She lowered her gaze to her hands, long pink nails on thin trembling fingers. Just a few minutes ago these very fingers, despite the awkward manicure, were tapping out the next chapter about the annoying, oversized office boss named Daniel who, because of a strange global event later called the “Alt Shift”, swapped bodies with a pregnant woman from the slums of China. She only meant to take a break. To check her email, so she could…
“I can’t do this anymore… I… I can’t,” Rosa’s voice broke into a thin, almost childlike sob. She clenched her fists so tightly her long nails pressed into her palms, leaving tiny crescent marks, and another shiver raced across her skin.
This cursed form reacted to any discomfort he once fantasized about. Back when Roman still thought it was exciting, the idea of a man somehow being turned into a woman against his will. Back when he never imagined he would one day pick up a laptop not to write another boring report, but to turn his fantasies into income and, as it turned out, into the source of his own transformation.
It didn’t happen at once. At first it felt like a harmless little obsession, like tasting some ice cream that turned out too good and then wanting more and more and more. The fact that with every taste, with every new scoop, something seemed to appear on your head, and your hair seemed to grow a little longer, was easy to blame on lack of sleep, coffee on an empty stomach, deadline stress. Roman never even considered that soon, literally a few years later, his body would be changing every single evening into something wild, unreal and impossible, yet too real, shaped from the very fantasies he once teased himself with, becoming a form that accumulated everything and without which his own existence would simply become impossible.
That realization came much later. Much later than the moment when his body had already begun changing so drastically that it became unrecognizable, acquiring hyper-sensitivity and overly feminine features, the “form for creativity”, as he joked, never thinking it was not imagination but reality.
He realized it only in that moment when, one evening, sitting in front of his laptop he suddenly understood that he had gone too far. That he was desperately searching for new plots instead of enjoying any of it. That all of this was no longer for pleasure, but to feed that strange, almost addictive craving awakening inside him every time he described another forced metamorphosis. He froze, sitting in the dark room lit only by the bluish glow of the screen. His fingers stopped on the keys, his breathing hitched.
And in that moment he felt something different, something that sent a faint electric charge down his spine while a barely noticeable sweet scent spread in the air… the very same one Rosa would later release whenever she was stressed.
He blinked and saw his own reflection in the black sheen of the monitor, except it wasn’t him. Big blue eyes, long lashes, pink hair… horns. And. And… that fucking massive chest that looked like it weighed a ton.
Saying he was shocked would be an understatement. That evening Roman ran around his apartment with all the curtains drawn, desperately trying to convince himself that none of this was real, couldn’t be real, had to be some waking dream. But the dream was too real. His heavy, oversized, soft tits pulled at his skin with every step, bouncing in rhythm with his panicked running, crashing into each other and sending strange, animal echoes through his whole body. Unfamiliar long hair clung to his cheeks, fell into his eyes, snagged on the collar of the T-shirt he had no idea how to take off now. The tail… the tail was the worst. It had a life of its own, whipping around, hitting the table, sliding across the floor, catching on a chair leg, and every time it jerked too abruptly a wave tore through his spine that made his knees buckle.
Roman couldn’t understand anything at all.
“This… this is nonsense!..” he rasped, touching himself and being terrified to do it, because every touch on this body responded with an electric jolt gathering somewhere deep in his lower belly, spreading into the new heavy curves of his tits, into his thighs, into the trembling inner sides of his legs.
“No… no, stop…” he breathed out then, but the body was no longer listening. His hand slid lower on its own, under his belly, where everything pulsed, wet and hot. His fingers brushed the swollen folds, and Roman cried out, high and feminine, his voice breaking into a sharp moan. The clit, unexpected where it shouldn’t be, turned out to be so sensitive that one light circular touch made him forget his shock and instead spread his legs wider, lifting his hips forward, as if seeking something more than just a finger.
He tried to stop, but his fingers were already moving faster, sinking inside, feeling the walls clench around them, feeling everything tightening into a hard, sweet knot. His tail curled around his thigh, its tip rubbed against the clit, intensifying every movement. His tits shook with every gasp, his nipples rubbed through the fabric of the T-shirt that hadn’t yet transformed into anything feminine.
The orgasm hit suddenly, almost like a switch, and his body arched on its own, his wings snapped open to their limits, the tail twitched uncontrollably, and a loud, drawn-out cry tore from his throat. Inside, everything clenched in waves, juices ran down his fingers onto the sheets, and such sharp bliss flooded his spine that Roman lost vision for a moment, pink sparks bursting before his eyes. He lay like that for several minutes, trembling all over from his first succubus orgasm until the last convulsions finally loosened their hold, leaving him collapsed in a wet, shaking heap on the bed.
When his breathing finally steadied, the body began shifting back. The horns pulled inward with a soft crunch, the wings folded and vanished, the tail faded away leaving only a faint tingling at the base of his spine. His chest shrank, his hair shortened, his voice returned to its usual low tone, and between his legs the familiar male organ reappeared. Roman lay there, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling while tears rolled down his cheeks, tears of that strange forbidden shame he’d felt before, but which seemed to sharpen in the moment of that orgasm.
Three years passed since then. Now, when Rosa sat on the bed straddling it, her thighs spread wide, staring at the red banner of the removed post, she no longer tried to resist anything. She simply knew what would follow and that her “creative” evening had come to an end.
“Assholes…” she hissed, her blue eyes narrowing with anger. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks, not from sadness but from pure rage. Her fingers slid under the edge of her off-shoulder top, grabbed her heavy tits and squeezed. The body reacted, the body demanded, orgasm was as necessary to her now as breath itself. She knew what to do, but to get even something remotely close to that first time she now needed so much more. So much dirtier. So much more humiliating for that little part of herself that still hid somewhere inside, like a faint transparent silhouette on the screen.
“Why… why am I… I just wanted it to…” her words cut off abruptly because her tail, already shifting into the shape of a warm cock, thrust into her mouth with full force and filled her throat to the base.
Rosa choked, her eyes widening even more, tears bursting down her cheeks, but instead of trying to spit it out she wrapped her lips around it and obediently began to suck, knowing she needed to take pleasure even from this, otherwise… otherwise she would have to repeat it again and again, only deepening that shame that would stab under her ribs when Roman finally returned.