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Metamorphosis (Commission for Joducus)
🕑 Added 2020-07-23 13:36:49 +0000 UTCHe could never have expected that thing to actually exist, what with the only evidence he had being spurious claims on internet imageboards and the occasional friend of a friend of someone who totally knew someone else who once talked to this guy who swore they saw it once, but after months and months of searching, Jeremy finally had it in his hands. He probably shouldn’t be so happy that he did, considering what he was planning on doing to himself without telling Ashley anything, but considering how much he had wanted to find that app, there wasn’t really a lot else left in his head; just lust and the knowledge of what was about to happen.
On the surface, it was… frankly not “just another app”, considering the garish colours and the subject matter, but no one would ever have any reason to believe it was anything more than a pornographic self-insert program meant for particularly desperate people who really wanted to see what they would look like as a fur. It was a profitable market, after all; everything from specialized photobooths to even the odd gene clinic offering full transitioning services, it was commonplace for humans and anthros to switch places every once in a while, wanting to experience life from the other side.
Jeremy, meanwhile, had no intention of just stopping there. Though he had never shared his innermost desires with anyone, not even with his wife, he had always sought a way to fulfill his lifelong ambition of… well, it was just too good to think about, really; looking at the app made the whole thing feel almost too real, and now that he had the opportunity to do something about it, he began to have his doubts.
Should he really go through with it? He hadn’t told anyone, after all, not Ashley, not his family or friends… not once had he shared his dreams for fear of being mocked and ridiculed, or worse, dissuaded from them. It was always a nagging concern for him, the thought that maybe all it would take for everything to come crashing down would be for anyone he cared about to try and stop him, after which his goals would be revealed to be as flimsy as a house of cards. He didn’t think they were, but he did also use to believe his favourite jersey was the best piece of clothing he owned, and now it was rotting away somewhere in some dump.
Thus, he kept quiet, hoping that if he just accepted the fact that he wanted it, then it would help him through the decision. And yet, the more he looked at the options menu, the harder it was to actually move the sliders. Was it reluctance, fear? Or perhaps just such an enormous change in his life handed over to him so unceremoniously, without any kind of fanfare and preparation? He had known friends who underwent the absurdly expensive procedures required to become furs, and it was always this long, drawn-out process that required so many steps that… honestly, it just felt like validation. Meanwhile, there he was, looking at a bootleg program that was supposed to break the laws of physics after locking onto his genetic code, alone, in his room, without anyone there to tell him it’d be fine after he came out the other end.
At the same time, though, it did give him a certain semblance of confidence that he actually managed to get that far. Others would have given up long before he even thought of doing so, and even in his darkest days he never truly considered the option of just throwing the whole project down the drain. No, he had carried on and succeeded, found the damn app and downloaded it onto his damn phone, and now he had it, right there, in his hands! He did that, he accomplished it, and that made it just as real as it should be.
He smiled. It was a good realization… and suddenly the thought of altering himself didn’t feel all that daunting.
The options menu, however, absolutely was. As the app was supposed to enact changes at such an insanely fine level, it was no surprise then that, at its smallest, it consisted of a couple of dozen headers that split up into sub-menus and sub-sub-menus, rapidly collapsing into hundreds, thousands of sliders that could all be combined in so many different ways that Jeremy honestly couldn’t even begin to calculate a fraction of them. This was to be expected, and in fact he had heard about it, but actually seeing it right there in front of him didn’t really make it easier to take in; if anything, the sense of emptiness in his stomach returned in full force, as his newfound self-acceptance had just been sniped by the intricacies of genetic modification.
Thank goodness for the presets menu.
He hadn’t really thought about using those, seeing as the supposed creators of that app were anything but wholesome or family-friendly, and as much as Jeremy himself had every intention of racing towards the limits of decency and then rushing right past them, he did still need to keep his job; couldn’t exactly have Ashley be the sole breadwinner in the house just so he could have fun being a lewd little fuck machine, that wouldn’t be fair for her. With the sheer amount of options to pick from, however, the prospect of going for one of the predetermined body types was just too enticing not to consider, and after fiddling around with just one of the three hundred sliders meant to control his right arm, he just gave up trying to do things the proper way.
Opening that particular bit of the app was just like being given the menu at his favourite restaurant, with the various options doing very little but causing his mouth to water at the prospect of picking them. Poor thing even had to look around his room, making sure no one was watching while they unbuttoned their trousers and hastily got them off of himself. It didn’t help that each preset came with an “example picture” of what the body type would look like, or that said picture was so incredibly photorealistic that Jeremy couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t computer-generated at all. Whatever the case may be, his free hand wouldn’t be free for much longer, and he’d end up making a mess of himself without even going through every single possibility… which of course just meant he had to take a break before finishing himself off a second time.
Such was life.
With so many options to choose from, he felt like he was spoiled for choices, each one lewder than the last. There was no way in hell he’d be able to keep a normal life after going through any of them, so that prospect was quickly thrown out the window; and yet, despite his early concerns about being fair to his partner and wanting to maintain a certain amount of normalcy, he didn’t quite feel like stopping even after realizing how drastic the changes to his body would be. If anything, the knowledge that they would be so drastic only made him want to go through them even more, and he found his fingers scrolling through the list without even realizing he was doing so.
The choice of species wasn’t even a choice at all: oversized ears, tiny, prime material for a shortstack? Had to be a fennec fox, no other would ever do. Bit of a cliché choice, sure, but it was his choice and no one was going to take it away from him. Finding the correct body type was a bit harder, if only because even the preset menu had multiple iterations of the same “base” form with only minor alterations to it. Fearing that he’d have to go for a third run, Jeremy placed his phone down on the bedstand and took a deep breath… only then realizing he’d forgotten about the most important thing: setting the scenery.
Why, exactly, was he in his room? Ashley was working and the house was empty, plus the couple had bought a full-body mirror for the bathroom that he could and should use to witness his transformation. Without a second thought, he bolted out of the room, having to turn back to pick the phone back up, and only stopped when he was in front of the mirror.
That was him. His body. The one he was about to change.
And to think he was going to do it somewhere where he couldn’t even see it happen in real-time!
There were a few more moments of consideration where Jeremy narrowed down his already limited choices, but it was nothing compared to his earlier indecision. Before long, it was down to just two, and a flip of a coin thus decided his fate. Surprisingly, clicking on the preset didn’t actually start the transformation… and instead opened a secondary menu. This one, however, was not composed of sliders, but of “phases”, where each progressive stage was both lovingly rendered in full detail and described as luridly and deeply as it could be. Jeremy’s pants would have felt tight if he still had any just from looking at phase one alone, and it wouldn’t take a lot of time for him to slam his finger down on the checkmark.
Immediately his body temperature skyrocketed, and the pressure mounting inside of him was the final confirmation he needed to know he was dealing with the real thing; to some degree, he had been expecting all of that lead-up to eventually culminate in sweet fuck-all, but as soon as he saw his shirt begin to tent out in front of him, all of his worries vanished. He was developing breasts, and not only were they going to be very big, but assuming he had read things correctly, they wouldn’t be alone either.
The two mounds were extremely heavy, even when they were just barely D-cups; this was to be expected, considering that they were meant to have overfilled saline implants inside of them (how exactly the app did that was anyone’s guess) in addition to their own hyper-productive lactation. Two spots on the fabric, where he felt his sensitive nubs rub against, were already sopping wet, and a few seconds later he could feel droplets of some warm fluid trickling down what was an increasingly-larger set of genuine tits.
Underneath them, the pressure in his ribcage mounted, with his torso elongating ever so slightly, just enough for three small spots below his original pair to start growing red and swollen, eventually sprouting three breasts in an oddly-numbered row, both of which rapidly inflated to meet the size of the original one; as soon as Jeremy noticed that his third “pair” was actually comprised of a single tit underneath his second row, the topmost rack split apart, providing enough room for a third mound to develop, giving him an obscenely mismatched three-two-one arrangement! All six were almost impossible to move, being so unbelievably hefty that Jeremy nearly collapsed on his knees from the strain of carrying them around. With his shirt having been ripped to shreds, he was fully able to see how every single one of those six teats was in full flow, spurting milk everywhere in front of him and making an absolute mess of the mirror and floor.
Trying to squeeze them was both a losing proposition and the absolute best thing he ever tried in his life; they were all positively stuffed, with a more “solid” core at the center made up of their overfilled implants, which sloshed deliciously loudly with each motion and sway of his chest, while the outer layer was absolutely filled with creamy, sweet milk, something he knew from experience after lifting one of those nips to his own mouth. Trying to sink his fingers into them was, therefore, all-but impossible… but trying to do so sent so many jolts of electricity up his spine that he just kept doing it over and over again, long after the point where he realized he wasn’t going anywhere.
That was the point, after all.
As far as he cared, he could very well have remained there, fondling his breasts for the rest of the day, but seeing as those were only step one of gods know how many there were, he merely allowed himself to waste a good twenty to thirty minutes admiring his new busts. Admittedly, having his torso expand upwards to meet the demand for extra space was… odd, but more than likely necessary; at least that way he still had some room to move, even if doing so became incredibly distracting thanks to the endless sloshing of his semi-artificial, milk-stuffed udders.
Gods, that thought was good enough to make his legs quiver.
Next up came his hips, thighs and ass, all of which were given a single command: grow. If he still had his pants on, they would’ve been shredded by the sudden burgeoning of soft flesh, but at least he still had his underpants for him to watch, stretching and ripping and tearing themselves apart, his body overflowing from the gaps in the fabric before they just ceased to exist as a single item of clothing. His thighs fattened up considerably, enough that he wouldn’t even be able to walk without them rubbing heavily against one another, while his hips widened to the point where getting out of the bathroom was going to be markedly harder than it had been going in. Meanwhile, his hands were firmly stuck in his asscheeks, which had ballooned to a large enough degree that he could sink his fingers into the soft, wobbly pudge and have them vanish from sight completely.
Perhaps the best aspect of it all were the noises, with his lower body groaning and creaking quietly as its skin had to quickly adapt to the sudden increase in surface area, not to mention the sheer amount of flesh that had to be added onto his frame for it to even work. Jeremy couldn’t quite begin to imagine how any of that was working, to the point where part of him genuinely believed it was just some kind of weird hallucination; even if it was though, he had no intention of breaking back through to reality.
Phase three was perhaps the worst one, as it required the complete restructuring of his skeleton and other assorted bits in order to fit their new female aesthetic. Not only did their pelvis need to widen and their shoulders shrink, but their legs needed to adapt to the new digitigrade configuration of their soon-to-be-fluffy feet, while their skull had to elongate in order to fit a muzzle filled with conspicuously sharp teeth. On top of their head, a pair of fuzzy ears sprouted, while his original pair seemed to shrink into their skull before vanishing. The final piece of the puzzle was, of course, the sudden emergence of fur all over their body, coating them from head to toe in an impossibly smooth, dull grey coat.
The whole process stopped for just long enough to give Jeremy a chance at catching their breath, at which point they were torn between their need to finish their transformation and the sudden desire to explore the body they already had. Even considering the time they wasted pleasuring themselves, there were still a few hours left before Ashley came back from work, thus leaving them with ample time to… admire their new selves. Wouldn’t be too hard, after all, just bring a hand or two between their legs to where their male apparatus had most definitely ceased to exist, replaced by a needy, eager slit that welcome all four fingers he managed to push into it, forcing the half-fennec to drop to the ground and collapse backwards underneath the weight of their six full mammaries. Before they even realized what was happening, they were milking themselves with one hand and pleasuring themselves to climax with the other, their mind having lagged several actions behind while their body raced forwards to give them the best possible experience.
There were no words that could express what Jeremy was feeling at that exact moment, but the sounds they were making were a close enough approximation. It was a good thing no one was in the house to hear them, though they doubted their neighbors would appreciate them moaning like a whore in heat at such a loud volume. There was no other choice, sadly; with their body outside of their control, their hands reaching for each of their most sensitive spots only to then activate them as best as they could, the half-fen’s mind was nothing if not a puppet of its own physical container, constantly assaulted by sensations that no mortal was ever meant to experience.
At least there were no more doubts about whether or not they should’ve gone through with it.
A good time later, after the floor was stained by a significant amount of both milk and femcum (far more than it should’ve been, all things considered), Jeremy succeeded in getting back on their feet. Contrary to what they might’ve expected, the leakage didn’t exactly stop; all of their breasts were still producing copious amounts of milk, while thick strands of their fluids drooled from their lower lips, staining the inside of their legs, only made worse by the fact that their puffy, swollen mound was being perpetually smushed and rubbed by a set of thighs thick enough to quality as small tree trunks.
This would have made them worry, but it was frankly far too enjoyable for them to care; for Jeremy, it was an affirmation of their metamorphosis, a statement to the world that their old self had been removed and replaced with something new, something better… and something that wasn’t quite done yet.
Cosmetics always had a place when it came to transformations like those; most people who underwent the procedures to become a fur spent an inordinate amount of time intricately designing their new colour patterns, sometimes down to individual strands of hair (fur?) in order to have the greatest possible impact. Jeremy, meanwhile, lacked any of the artistic sense necessary to make themselves look visually stunning, and therefore chose to keep a single, solid colour with maybe a few accents here or there. Fortunately, the app had a function for that as well, allowing the fen hybrid to carefully pick the best kind of light brown they wanted for them, as well as any patterns they might desire.
Much as they thought it was overdone and potentially somewhat laughable, there was no way they could avoid doing it: they needed heart-shaped white patches over their nips. It was unbearable, they needed that, precisely because it was so absurdly obvious and overblown that it fit the overall excessively indulgent look they were giving themselves. After all, Jeremy didn’t see herself even bothering to wear bras, if they even put on a shirt at all; with her puppies in full sight of everyone, why should she bother holding back? Better to let everyone know which part of her she expected people to pay attention to, even if it meant making her look like a cheap slut.
Which, to be frank, she kind of liked being. Odd, because she was almost certain that hadn’t been the case before… oh well!
Next up was the capstone to the whole transformation, when their almost six-foot frame began to shrink down and down and further down, all the while keeping the overall size on anything that wasn’t his torso and legs. While it wasn’t as immediately pleasurable as the blimping out had been, the sight of his body turning into some kind of hyper-exaggerated shortstack, carrying six tits so large compared to the rest of her that she had to physically move the topmost row just to be able to see herself, was enough to get her to collapse again… though honestly, that might very well just be the weight she now had to carry on a body that was absolutely not ready for it.
In fact, moving just seemed to confirm that hypothesis, because it just wasn’t happening; much as the fen tried to shift her frame from one spot to another, it seemed like she was destined to be pinned down by her own assets, stuck between having her ass firmly plopped against the ground on one side while her lowermost trio of breasts grazed against the floor on the other. Not that she cared that much, in all honesty; the simple fact that such a thing was even real meant that her size goals had not only been achieved, but massively surpassed, making the time spent looking for that app entirely worth the investment! That said, being able to move would be nice, so most of the following hour was spent trying to figure out how to get from place to place.
It quickly became evident that the only way she’d ever be able to move would be by hefting her own ass up off the floor, because otherwise it was simply too much of a source of friction for her to drag it along. Her haphazardly-numbered breasts didn’t really help, nor did the fact that they chose to stack all of their weight closest to her head, making it completely impossible for her to walk in a straight line without at least bumbling to one side or another in her attempts not to trip forward. Still, pacing around the bathroom a few times let her know that motion was possible, and thus it was time for the final touches in the transformation.
The remaining stage was simple, giving the fen the last things needed to truly embrace her new life as a slutty shortstack. First were her lips, plumping up to a point where talking became a chore in and of itself and her upper lip began to tickle the undersize of her nose; the amount of drool that seemed to trickle down those cocksucking lips was also somewhat worrying, or would be if Jeremy retained any of her prior ability to worry about anything that wasn’t finding the next big dick to shove between those lovely, soft, plush pillows.
Right about the same time as she felt that, her whole body erupted with a soft tingling, accentuated in her more erogenous areas; even if nothing told her what that was, she knew. She knew that if she even so much as placed a finger on her lower mound or dared to squeeze a nipple, her mind would break in half and the neighbours would have to file a noise complaint, because even the ambient breeze rolling from the open window of the bathroom was enough to set her on edge, and even in her lust-filled, addled state, the fen knew better than to try and walk, knowing that the ensuing rubdown her mound would get would end up destroying her ability to think coherently.
And she was reasonably certain she didn’t even have that, seeing as every time her mind tried to focus on anything of substance, it was quickly rectified by it being filled by images of hung himbos and enormous, bulging sacks. Once again, it would have worried her, had she the ability to do so. As it stood, when her hair elongated and the final touches were given to her productivity, ensuring that not only did her tits and slit would constantly leak like crazy, but her upper lips too would be permanently awash with drool, her transformation was finally complete, and the phone was discarded onto the floor, where it would shatter into shards of glass, along with any ability to turn herself back to normal.
Not that she wanted that to happen, obviously. Though any vestiges of the old man she no long was were properly disposed of, it was still her mind in there, even if it had warped almost as much as her body did; what with her objective having been accomplished, there wasn’t a single bit of her, admiring herself in the mirror, that wanted to go back.
She was perfect. Finally perfect.
Admittedly, she could only guess what Ashley’s reaction would be once she got back home; probably some mixture of utter disbelief, disappointment and odd arousal judging from her own personal tastes. Curiously, though, the fen wasn’t really all that worried about it, as much as she was thinking about what her new name should be. Didn’t really feel right calling herself Jeremy anymore, but nothing really came to mind; any time the fen tried to think too hard about pretty much anything, it was almost like a headache, her neurons aching from the effort of trying to focus on anything other than seeking the nearest source of sexual pleasure.
To that end, the time in between her final transformation and her wife opening the door to the bathroom and recoiling in shock with a loud yelp was quite literally filled with shampoo bottles being used for many purposes that they were not initially intended to fulfill. It was a miracle none of them actually burst, though the fen wouldn’t have minded if the ones she shoved in between her tits actually did; the softness would be a welcome change from the sweat leaving her fur stained and feeling all yucky. Barely even noticed when Ashley came in, loudly asking her just what the hell was going on and who the hell she was supposed to be; it was so weird seeing her from that angle; with the fen barely hitting four feet in height, it was like the entire world had just turned into a scaled-up version of itself, which curiously enough included her own body, seeing as her assets refused to remain proportional to the rest of her body.
Left without any real response or excuse, nor the capability to come up with any reasoning, the fen was content with just carrying on with what she’d been doing before, drawing a seriously bright blush from Ashley’s cheeks while she tried to regain her composure. It was clear that the sight was activating parts of the young human woman that she didn’t want to even consider, which is probably why they sighed and took a few steps outside, loudly and audibly sighing before coming back in, taking some deep breaths in the meantime. With shaky words, she ordered the fen into the bath, declaring that the shortstack was “utterly filthy” and in need of some good cleaning; feeling like that was a perfect opportunity to let her wife appreciate her former husband’s new body, the fen agreed, pulling herself over into the tub and ending up filling it like some kind of deranged, obscene pile of soft flesh and wobbly pudge.
Ashley seemed to think the same thing, seeing as she took an inordinate amount of time picking the showerhead up, but at least she got into a rhythm after staring at the fen for long enough; the whole exercise was obviously very taxing on her, which was a shame because the fennec didn’t really have the mental fortitude to do anything about it. Maybe she used to, back when they hadn’t been transformed into the perfect object of lust, but right then all they really cared about was how soft Ashley’s hands were, and how great the water felt after soaking in her own juices for so long.
Unfortunately, her leaking didn’t really stop even when submerged, and considering how much of the tub the fen took up, it was no wonder that the water began to spill out, staining the ground further as it mixed with her milk and constantly-running femcum. Ashley was polite enough to ignore this, even if she was clearly scowling after a while, and instead focused on getting her “husband” as clean as possible before turning the showerhead off and heading off to find some towels. Took about three of them, tied together in a series of complex knots, before the fen’s body was deemed to be decent enough, after which Ashley led her out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom.
What followed were about two hours of careful interrogation, where the human woman had to very slowly break through the many layers of airheadedness that protected Jeremy’s mind in order to get at the truth; not that she wasn’t almost entirely certain that she didn’t already know it, what with her husband not being nearly as subtle about his kinks as he thought he was, but she needed to hear it from his… her? Her mouth. Even if it was difficult to tell what she was even saying, her lips having become too plump to allow for regular speech.
She couldn’t understand why he would have done this to himself. So many options to choose from and this is what he went with. Not just that, but he seemed to be enjoying it as well judging from how much leakage was completely ruining their sheets. Though, it was entirely possible it was outside of the fen’s control from what she gathered; they didn’t seem to be doing anything to cause it and it just refused to peter out, so maybe that was just the new normal?
Great. Just great.
Asking if there was any way to revert it didn’t really help either; not only did the fen react incredibly badly to the possibility that they might go back to what they used to be, but in between their spluttering and spitting she somehow managed to tell Ashley that the phone was broken and would never be fixed quickly enough for the app to be able to change what it did to them. She said it with a smile, drawing a grunt out of her wife and yet another round of temple-rubbing when the human tried to figure out what to do.
The first thing Ashley needed to know was how much mobility was left in the fen; sure, she could move around from place to place, but the human wasn’t about to become her chaperone whenever they felt like getting anything out of the top shelf in the kitchen. Sadly, it did seem like some degree of intervention would be required, because after dragging the stacked fennec over to the other side of the house, wobbling and waddling all the way while leaving behind an oozing trail of fluids (not to mention getting her wide ass and hips stuck in the door and needing to be pulled inside), it was quite clear that the shortstack wasn’t going to be doing any chores any time soon. Not only did she feel the need to bump against whatever hard surface was next to her, squirting even harder and moaning like a needy slut in the process, but even after being invited to pick something up from the cupboards, the only thing she managed to do was trip after standing on the tips of her paws, which itself made such an enormous mess that Ashley gave up on her idea for a second try.
It was obvious the fennec just wasn’t cut out for… well, anything. That body was made for one thing and one thing only, and the one human in the relationship wasn’t sure she even wanted to give it to them. Jeremy hadn’t even consulted her on anything, and there he (she?) was, scrambling to get onto their feet after having slammed all six of her oddly arranged tits on the ground, unable to do something as simple as getting some table salt. And liking it, as well, seeing as after a while they gave up trying to stand and would’ve very well brought both hands between her legs if Ashley hadn’t been there to stop them. She was about ready to throw in the towel and just accept that her former husband was now nothing more than a slutty pile of fur and moans when, at very long last, said pile turned around and tried to say something.
It was difficult to tell just what it was, seeing as trying to speak through those lips made most of their words incomprehensible, but when she began resorting to simple miming it all became clear. Seeing as how even the simplest of non-lewd thoughts appeared to be hell for the fen to focus on, the fact that they got a whole sentence out on how sorry they were about not telling Ashley about their plan must really mean they were being honest about it. Didn’t really make it any better, but at least the fen’s wife had some reassurance that part of Jeremy remained in there.
“Listen, I don’t need you telling me that you’re sorry, alright?” she sighed, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, “I… I don’t know what I need from you, honestly. How are you going to keep your job? You can barely walk, how are you going to work like this?”
For once, the fennec seemed disappointed, sad even, a state of mind that was as transitory as any other of her thoughts. Within moments, the feeling was gone, replaced by the ever-present, overbearing sensation of fullness that permeated every inch of her. Hard to focus when every time she tried, the fennec’s tits ached from how full they were, or her thighs rubbed just enough against her mound that it sent jolts up her spine, or any number of things that served to do nothing but remind her of the type of body she had created for herself. Even while Ashley continued to speak, the fen tried to get back up again, if only because she knew that any attempt at doing something useful was just an excuse to end up in an embarrassingly lewd situation again.
To that end, she grabbed one of the few stools they kept lying around and tried her best to climb on it, somehow succeeding in doing so; with a precarious balance, the fen stretched one of her arms out and opened the cupboard, retrieving a single packet of crisps from inside and letting it fall on the ground. The whole thing took about thirty seconds, during which Ashley had to keep her mouth shut about how rude it was for them to ignore her, but by the end, even the fennec’s wife had to concede that the tiny bit of ingenuity in using the stool had made up for her lack of mobility.
Even if the fennec then immediately fell over again and smushed her many breasts against the floor a second time, blanking out completely and needing her human partner to drag her into the bathroom to be drained.
This, of course, was easier said than done, because as much as Ashley wanted to help her new “husband” empty out, those sextuple tits seemed to be bottomless; even milking the vulpine like a cow didn’t do anything but make the flooding worse, and after a while the human was grunting in frustration, less at the overall situation, and more at the simple fact that her own tits would never be like those.
Really, where exactly was the justice in that? Her own bust was quite large, and yet never once lactated, even with all the supplements she took; how was it fair for her husband to not only develop six of them, but have each one be so milky they could probably open a dairy farm and se-
Hold on there, that was a good idea. She should write that down, it could be a good way to get around Jeremy not being able to hold a job anymore! All that would be needed would be their consent, which Ashley figured wouldn’t be all that hard to get; a few words about how much milking that would mean, coupled with how much they were clearly enjoying it, and the fennec would be all over the idea.
Quite literally; it’d be hard to keep them separated from the milking machines whenever they got them around. But, those were thoughts for later.
Giving up on her attempt at emptying out the fennec, Ashley instead settled with grunting in frustration and leaving them alone in the bathroom, needing some time for themselves. Without anyone to help pull them out, the freshly-minted fur was stuck inside the tub, and absent anything else to do, decided to just play with herself until such a point as her wife came back to get her. It seemed to be the best possible option, even if she didn’t know why… even when she eventually collapsed from exhaustion as the hours ticked away without Ashley ever coming back.
The fen would wake up in the morning, her sleepy eyes opening to see her wife standing above her with the showerhead again, muttering something about needing to get them ready for work. The former Jeremy didn’t really understand why she was still trying to force normalcy back into their lives, but their confused expression at least helped bring some insight into what her wife meant; rather than going back to the office, she was planning on bringing her to a nearby job center that specialized in more “unique” cases like hers. What that meant, the fennec didn’t know; but the prospect of being put to work using her engorged assets on something that might actually make use of them was enough to get them to comply, even if she didn’t like having to let go of her own body.
It thankfully got even better when Ashley began taking care of her, because every solution she came up with to “solve” the various “problems” that had arisen from the fen’s transformation only made the whole situation worse (or better, depending on one’s point of view). Issues with leaking? Get some tape and cover every teat with a thick, black X that just barely held back the constant outpour of milk, incidentally causing quite a bit of swelling when the flow backed up and had to find someplace else to be. Femcum won’t stop pouring onto the ground? Simple enough, get some extra-absorbent pads and make sure the underwear isn’t on too tightly, even if it meant they now had to carry around a whole pack of those things and constantly change them every hour or so.
Despite it being a complete waste of time, the human even tried to do something about the fennec’s heightened sensitivity; admittedly, it was a losing prospect from the get-go, but even the former Jeremy had to give her some credit for trying... even if her definition of “helping” was to put small pieces of soft cloth around what she assumed would be the worst areas being affected. This only ended up making the vulpine squeal in delight the moment she tried moving in the slightest, as the combined assault of the clothing forced onto her and the “buffer” pads meant to protect her resulted in so much rubbing of sensitive skin that her brain blanked out and she ended up collapsing onto the floor from exhaustion. This, of course, resulted in the need to take off all of her clothes, find new ones that weren’t stained by milk, re-apply the electrical tape and then just give up trying to pretend things could be salvaged.
Ashley’s face was a bright red when she led the fen out of the house and into the building’s elevator, figuring that attempting the stairs would just end up in complete disaster. Despite the fur’s small stature, her overblown curves made it a chore to even fit inside the small cubicle, and for a short while they both feared that they’d gone over the weight limit, what with all the groaning and creaking coming from around them… and despite them clearly hating the task, the elevator’s mechanisms slowly brought them down to the underground garage level, where the next step in their convoluted routine had to take place: getting in the car.
Using the doors was just not an option; not only was the fen’s topmost row of triboob too wide to fit through, her hips and asscheeks would rip the whole thing off its hinges, not to mention the simple fact that she was simply too big to even fit back there without squeezing herself to the point of pleasure-driven immobility. The front seat was much too small as well, as was the trunk… which only left one possibility. It was so embarrassing and humiliating for Ashley that the poor woman didn’t even notice how several neighbors, themselves not-so-eager to get to work themselves, had stopped by their cars to watch just what exactly was going on, a few even trying to exchange words while speculating on the fennec’s identity; the young woman just refused to look up. The transformed fox, eager to make new friends, resorted to waving and blowing a kiss to those she saw staring at her, only succeeding in spitting drool onto her shirt… which itself led to a nearly-unbearable desire to rub down her own tits with it, only stopped when her wife bapped her muzzle and pulled her hands away from her chest.
The only way to get the fen into the car was through the back, via the trunk, and even then it took Ashley lowering every seat for the smaller anthro to have the amount of room necessary to crawl in and make a bed for herself, something the fen was happy to try out if it meant being buried by her own tits. Predictably, it ended up being just that, so much so that Ashley just sighed, counted it as a victory and went into the driver’s seat. The sight of the fennec wobbling in the back of the car, desperately keeping herself from unbuttoning her strained shirt just so she could get at her needy chest, was so oddly alluring that it made driving surprisingly dangerous; Ashley couldn’t really look in the rear-view mirror without catching a glimpse of that pile of furry tits and ass, meaning that if anyone decided to rear-end her, it’d come as an incredible surprise. Hell, even the side mirrors were dangerous, as parts of the fen’s body were still visible, all-but forcing the human woman to look straight ahead and hope nothing out of the ordinary would happen.
Thankfully, this exact same elephant in the room meant that the ride over to the job center was significantly safer than it normally would be, seeing as Ashley had to be extra careful not to drive too quickly or make any sharp turns; to do so would be to invite tumbling, and the last thing she needed was a small flood of milk staining the inside of her car. Well, not from Jeremy, at least, but that was a different story altogether.
Unfortunately for Ashley, even the most careful driving in the world didn’t stop the fennec’s body from overloading on what were, to most people, barely perceptible sensations. For the human, the rumbling of the engine barely registered as even being there; for the fen, it was a constant source of stimulation that drove her ever closer to climax the longer it was allowed to wreak havoc on her body, and even though Ashley was painfully aware of the effects it was having on her husband’s (wife’s?) body, she couldn’t just stop the car in the middle of traffic until the pile of horniness in the back of her car calmed down. Thus, she was forced to endure as the fennec underwent climax after climax, barely exhibiting any refractory period at all in between the loud series of moans that made focusing on anything such a chore that the driver barely noticed the long line of cars forming behind her; though they hadn’t stopped, they might as well have with how slowly they were moving, and Ashley very nearly ran a pedestrian over when they sped back up to compensate.
The atmosphere inside the car was becoming unbearable, the stench of milk and femcum intensifying as the fennec’s body was wracked by successive orgasms. If Ashley had any intention of her partner being even halfway presentable by the time they reached their destination, their hopes would be dashed, because by the halfway point they were visibly leaking from everywhere they could be, the electrical tape having long-since failed to contain the flow and causing so much milk to leak out that the fennec was openly lapping it up from her own tits.
Ten minutes. Ten more minutes Ashley had to endure the sight, smells and sounds before finding a parking space and turning the engine off, giving the fennec some time to calm down before getting out of the car and beginning the arduous process of dragging that creature of pure whorish energy out of the back of it. A small tide of milk poured out the moment the trunk was popped, completely ruining the human’s shoes and socks, along with attracting the attention of every passer-by, something that would only get worse when the fennec herself was pulled from the vehicle and shown to the whole world. Some of the more shameless among the crowd immediately pulled their cellphones and began snapping pictures, a small minority transcending the boundaries of decency and trying to make short videos with themselves in frame. Much as Ashley wanted to keep the creeps away, there was just too much attention being drawn to her, and with the fen’s clothing a single step away from disintegrating after being soaked so much, she felt that grinning and bearing it was the only choice she had.
At least the job center was right there.
Ashley should’ve expected something like it, judging by what kind of reputation that place had, but still felt incredibly taken aback after walking through the front door and seeing a spectacle of debauchery that rivalled the one her wife had been making for the past day or so. Thinking herself alone in her predicament, it was with no end of surprise that the human woman saw a whole bunch of people that seemed to be in the same position she was, humans and furs all accompanying their partners or family members, all of which had succumbed to the same kind of transformative growthlust that Jeremy had. Some were even more obscenely-endowed than the fennec, meaning that while their own arrival drew some eyes towards the entrance, those didn’t really linger; the newcomers were just par for the course when it came to a place like that.
Ashley didn’t find the job prospects on display there to be all that attractive as well, especially since most of them included a free “adaptation consultation” meant to instruct everyone involved in their life about how to deal with sudden “life-altering changes” like those. The idea that Jeremy would never come back, while always there in the back of her mind, had been consistently pushed back, only to be brought to the forefront quite unceremoniously after one of the attendant clerks asked her if the transformation had taken place more than twelve hours before; with Ashley nodding, the man sighed and apologized, stating that the emergency geneslate wouldn’t work, and the two of them should grab a ticket and wait in line.
At the very least, a quick scan of the available job offers revealed that there was a seemingly-endless opening for “lactic supply” jobs, which both of them assumed meant turning the fennec into a milking cow, as befitting her hyper-productive bosoms. In fact, the more they looked into it, reaching for a pamphlet and everything, the more the prospect seemed to be genuinely interesting: all-expenses-paid lodging and meals, excellent job security for as long as the milk kept flowing, incredible insurance policies and, perhaps most importantly, a permanent discount on all products produced by the company so long as they remained working there. What with visiting hours being unlimited as well, both Ashley and the former Jeremy could see such a thing turning into an honest-to-goodness career opportunity, assuming the transformation kept the fennec just as milky as she was right now. Wouldn’t be the most dignified of professions, but then again, the fen was anything but dignified at that point, so why even bother with that?
The two were kept distracted by these thoughts until their number was called out.
Time to start a new life.
