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Transformation, sex and the city (Monthly tale - 24) X
🕑 Added 2020-04-14 21:36:39 +0000 UTC(Women into ¿¿??)
We were once women, womanly women, sophisticated city women.
New York women.
The busy heart of the world, a city where a million things happen every minute, sex, romance, drama, laughter... we stood there in the middle of so much life, thinking ourselves and our so unique lives a relevant part of that magic in our eyes.
Maybe that’s why we thought ourselves so entitled to our status, yet I can’t bring myself to agree with the twisted ending that our tale had... not completely at least... and it isn’t just because I was a victim of the twist because I can admit that we were kinda at fault for putting ourselves in that situation.
My three best friends and I.
Samantha Jones was the oldest of the group, she owned her own public-relations company, which meant she had sex with a lot of young hunky men.
A mature blonde cougar on the hunt and a self-proclaimed "try-sexual", shame would never be for her, she often took the lead and we followed.
Charlotte York-Goldenblatt, with her long dark brunette hair, could easily be one of those ladies you see in the “housewives” section of your favorite porn site.
Once she had been a respected art dealer, but life and her choices put her in the stay-at-home mom role and, to be honest, she embraced it quite freely.
Miranda Hobbes, career-minded would be the polite way of saying she had never stopped being a workaholic, a lawyer to be exact, but one of the good ones.
Tall, thin, with short red hair, she could have been a top model and probably could have handled it without dropping either her law or single-mother careers.
I put myself last as the humble narrator and storyteller that I am.
Caroline Marie Bradshaw, Carrie to her friends.
Party girl, cocktail lover, fashionista, published author, icon, the best columnist at the The New York Star and the best freelance writer for Vogue, surely you have heard about my column, Sex and the City, even if you are just one of those dudes that almost certainly masturbates with my pictures.
I’m not judging or blaming you, I know I am a hot lady... was.. I think I’m still hot even if I’m no longer...
Well, let’s not rush the tale.
It was exactly one year after my “happily ever after” my dear beloved Mr. Big, a long year in which I learned to be a married woman, went back to smoking and had almost no time to hang out with my friends.
None of us did really, we didn’t have time to hang out, all four of us together for even a single time in those three hundred and sixty days and Samantha decided it was time to fix that.
Twenty four hours of freedom just for real, normal women like us: Catching up, chatting, eating, drinking, shopping, LOTS of shopping and then, when the sun began to drop lower we showered, put on our best outfits and headed to Central Park.
It sounds odd, I know, but it may make some sense to you when this story has ended, but, at least in the beginning, we went to the park because some rich famous dude was throwing a big exclusive party for the crème de la crème of the city.
And that of course included me and my friends.
“These invites are fake” the words from the mouth of the sturdy security dude at the entrance to the party left us blank.
Behind him the music was raging and spotlights were pointed at the sky attracting glamour like moths to a candle.
“What?” asked Samantha after the shock had passed.
“These are false, not real, not valid.” answered the guard, giving the invitations back.
“I know what fake means, what I am saying is that you are wrong, they aren’t fake.”
“Yes they are, they don’t even have the QR-Code.”
The line was getting annoyed behind us, Samantha knew it and decided to smirk, pulling the neckline of her dress down slightly as she leaned closer to the guard.
“Look, hunk, it’s just a mistake, but if you are a good boy, look away and let us pass I will give you a little sweet work down there.”
The security guy was the one left blank for a moment now, a very short moment that ended in a chuckle.
“If all four of you grannies suck my cock together maybe I would consider snatching you a bottle of booze, but in the meantime move away, the line is waiting.”
Giggles behind us, our faces grew bright red, Samantha’s eyes had never been more open as she stepped back speechless and even hiding her bust slightly.
I couldn’t tolerate that, taking a step forward, pointing my finger at the chest of the guard.
“Do you know who you are talking to?” I asked, ashamed and outraged.
“No.” he answered, quickly and dryly.
I kept pointing with my finger without knowing what I was pointing at as everybody behind grew more amused by our show.
“G-good... Good for you...” I managed to mumble.
Miranda grabbed my arm, I looked back at her, Charlotte was on the edge of beginning to sob.
“Let’s fucking leave...” she pleaded and so we did.
We walked in silence away from the glances of the people in the line and the noise of the party that we had been denied access to.
Heads down and silent, blushes still radiating on our faces.
Samantha walked out in front, we could feel her trembling with rage as we walked along under the trees.
“Follow me...!” she growled between her teeth.
I feel as if I should have described what clothes we were wearing to you, but clothes had become such an abstract concept with the passing of the months...
Miranda was wearing pants at least, something handy for the place that Samantha led us to..
It was a wire fence between the trees, a wire fence surrounding the facilities for the park horse carriages.
“See?” said Samantha with a weird smile on her face pointing to the other side of the fence. “There? The lights of the party? That white tent? It must be the kitchen or something, we only have to climb over, cross to that building and we are in.”
“That building is the stables...” pointed out Miranda.
“So? Are you scared of some horses?”
“They can be dangerous in fact.”
“Then don’t wake them up!” Samantha put a foot through a hole in the wire mesh fence and looked back at us. “Let’s go!”
We didn’t move, I looked directly at Samantha.
“It’s just a stupid party, I don’t think it’s worth all this trouble.”
Charlotte was rubbing her hands
“Yeah, maybe we should go back home, make a jug of margaritas and watch some TV show...”
“FUCK OFF!” yelled Samantha with a judgemental glare. “We are going to climb this fence and get into that party, we are going to have fun and I will screw a guy in the bathroom, OK? We aren’t going home to watch TV like some... lame... grannies!” her voice broke slightly. “We aren’t grannies... I’m not! You can stay here if you want, but I’m going in!”
After leaving us speechless she began to climb the fence as if she wasn’t in her fifties.
Miranda shook her head.
“Good grief...!” she said, smirking as she began to climb the fence too, right behind Samantha, but she stopped for a moment to protest when she looked up at her. “SHIT! You could have warned me that you aren’t wearing panties!”
Samantha was already at the top of the fence.
“You are scared of horses AND pussies? You have one too, you know?”
“Maybe, but I can pass on seeing your beef cake.
Samantha dropped down on the other side of the fence.
“Somebody is going to eat that cake today!”
I also found myself chuckling and shaking my head, after a long sigh I began to climb the fence as well, but first I took a look back at Charlotte.
“Look, the most likely thing is that security will catch us and kick us out for making a scene, so it’s fine if you don’t want to come, we’ll talk tomorrow, OK?”
Charlotte’s face moved through a bunch of expressions and a couple of colors, ending on red indignation.
“I’m not going to stay behind! I’m not lame or a granny or a lame granny!”
She began to climb behind me, we all felt that teenage rush in our chests.
I jumped down on the other side of the fence, pulling down my dress’s skirt, shortly after that Charlotte landed on her arse at my side.
“AUCH!” she yelled.
“Shh...!” whispered Miranda. “You are going to get us caught!”
“Sorry...”
I helped Charlotte up, we nodded at each other and began to cross through the dark towards those damn stables.
Halfway there Charlotte squealed, making us stop.
“YAAAAAAAAAG!”
Samantha looked at her, frowning and exasperated.
“What now...?”
“I stepped in some poop!” sobbed Charlotte. “My heel is ruined!”
“That’s horse shit...” mumbled Miranda.
I looked at her.
“What, are you some horse expert?”
She shrugged.
“We are near a stable, is it really that rare?”
“I was just joking...”
Samantha was getting annoyed.
“Can we move already?”
“But what about my heel?” babbled Charlotte.
“Just take it off and stop making so much noise!”
I had to help Charlotte limp all the way to the entrance of the stables, I was expecting the door to be closed, but...
“It’s open!” confirmed Samantha, showing some joy as she pushed the door and took a look inside. “Open and clear, not a single stupid horse in sight.”
She went inside, we followed, on the solid floor of the stable I didn’t have to help Charlotte.
“Don’t slack.” said Samantha, already walking towards the door at the other side.
Every single stall was empty, Miranda wondered about that as we walked between them.
“Isn’t weird that there’s not a single horse inside the stalls in the middle of the night?”
I shrugged and for the third time that night Charlotte called out for our attention, but this time with a chuckle instead of a cry.
“Hey, Carrie!” she said. “This horse has the same name as you! Isn’t that something?”
Miranda and I shared glances before going over to her.
“What the actual fuck...?” I gasped breathlessly.
On the stall’s nameplate I expected to see the name Carrier written, that’s not such a weird name for a horse, at least I don’t think so... but no, my full name was on the plate: Caroline Marie Bradshaw.
It even had a number that just happened to be exactly my age.
I had put a hand on my chest.
“That’s not funny...!” I gasped.
Miranda had turned even paler than usual at my side, she was covering her mouth and pointing at the plate in the stall near... mine... it said Miranda Hobbes.
“Not funny at all!” she mumbled.
Samantha was struggling with the door at the end of the hallway.
Charlotte, having become aware that her discovery wasn’t fun at all, began to look around in panic and on the plates of the stalls just behind us found what she feared: Charlotte York-Goldenblatt and Samantha Jones.
Our mouths dropped open.
“This is... This is just some sick joke... isn’t it?” she begged as if we could give her some mercy.
“Hey girls! Can you stop doing nothing and come here to help me open this damn door?!” yelled Samantha, she had a foot on the door and was pulling the handle with both hands.
She stopped when the door behind us closed with the loudest of dooming slams.
Miranda and Charlotte and I looked back at the closed door as if hope itself had died.
Samantha stopped trying to open her door, she pulled down her skirt slightly, the lips of her vagina still a little visible between her legs as she walked back with us.
“What’s going on?” she asked, stunned by our expressions. “The wind closed the door... that’s all... no?”
I haven’t been able to talk about this with my three friends, mostly because we can’t talk anymore, not as humans communicate at least, but I think it was right at that moment that we all felt the same thing at the same instant.
The trembling of the skin, hairs rising up, a painful heartbeat and tightening of the cunt.
How hatefully dense was the silence of that breath holding second before our lives were forever crushed away in such an unfair manner.
We took a couple of steps apart from each other, knowing that the others were feeling it too but not daring to ask, Charlotte was already sobbing, grabbing her side.
“HEY!” yelled Samantha, still walking towards us. “Please, tell me what’s going on...!”
Her cheeks were bright red, it was the heat, her steps made her stumble to the left, she put a hand on a stall door to hold herself while she raised her skirt with the other.
“What’s going on?!” she groaned as we saw her mature meaty pussy leaking between her trembling legs - the same sexual juices that were soaking our panties. “I can’t... hold...”
Samantha began to finger her soaked cunt in front of us and we could only blush.
“So hot! So good!” her voice shook with pleasure.
“This is... not right...” I said, trying to wave the hand pulling the bust of my dress. “We have to leave this damn place, quick...!”
“You’re right...” whispered Miranda, but when I looked at her I saw that she was leaning against a stall with a hand inside her pants.
“Charlotte...!” I saw that Charlotte had just laid herself down on the floor in a fetal position.
I couldn’t see her face, but I heard the intense rubbing.
I had pulled out one of my stiff but small nipples without noticing, mesmerized by the heat, one of my fingers played around with it, what else could I do?
Leaning against the stall with my name I let myself slide all the way down, biting my lips as I sat with my legs spread, I proceeded to pull up my dress’s long skirt and slide my fingers inside my vaginal passageway.
Slippery sounds, rubbing, gasps, moaning... loud snorts...
We wasted a lot of time talking about sex, about how much we like it, about how much more we want... but can you believe that until that cursed night we hadn’t done anything sexual together?
I found it hard to believe, even more so after I stopped being a woman.
Samantha had bent her knees and had half her fist inside her vagina, neck bent back as she shouted at the stable ceiling.
“OOOOOOOH! GOOOOOD LOOOOOOORD FUK ME!”
Orgasms were reached one after the other, but it didn’t give us relief.
“Why doesn’t it stop?” shouted Samantha, trembling. “This is not right!”
“I already said that!” I yelled as my pussy clamped around my soaked fingers and vibrated all up my spine. “There’s something wrong... With us...”
A loud snort as Miranda shook her head.
“Not with us, this place, it must be this place... It’s... claiming us...”
Charlotte was getting down on all fours, both hands in her crotch.
“Please!” she begged. “Please tell me one of you has a damn giant dildo! PLEEEEE-EEEEEEEASH!”
The stretching of her voice into that inhumane sound scared her even more than it did us, she reluctantly moved a hand from her cunt to cover her mouth.
“God, shit... FUUUUUUUUCK!” protested Samantha. “My cunt!”
Bodies hurt, muscles ached.
Samantha’s mature throbbing vagina clenched and opened around her fingers, it widened enlarged by a pulsating wave of changes that twisted it, it became a large prominent animalistic mount of flesh in her crotch.
“My cunt! My cunt!” she yelled in disbelief at the sight of her large inhumane pussy. “Is this an allergic reaction or something?!”
I wasn’t sure if that was a question or a plea, but Miranda answered.
“Nggoouuuu...” she was leaning across her stall, bending her back, one hand on the door, the other lowering her pants. “It’s worse!”
She was the first of us to figure it out, she pulled down her pants and panties, showing her thin pale ass to everyone.
“Gaaaaaagh! Dammit!”
Her buttocks trembled and expanded, her anus pushed out, visible, round and as swollen as Samantha’s cunt and clearly way beyond anything womanly.
I noticed that her ears were becoming pointy, I touched mine.
All of our ears were developing points.
It was terrible and the heat was only getting worse, pushing myself straight against my stall I bent my legs to get my feet closer, they had been hurting for a while.
With some effort I removed the shoe and made a closer examination of my foot, I pressed it with all my fingers, it was numb, but not cold.
I wiggled my toes, trying to regain control, but that just made me scream.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!”
It wasn’t a scream of pain, it didn’t hurt at that moment, it was more the impact of seeing my middle toe swelling and elongating beyond my foot, a big toe with an even bigger nail, a nail that soon started to darken in front of my eyes.
A hoof.
My feet were turning into hooves as I felt my anus expanding in my ass and my inflated pussy chewing at my panties.
Charlotte was down on all fours with her big nippled boobs hanging out freely, clearly panicking more than all three of us combined, her teeth seemed larger with each breath.
“We are... turning... into freaking... mareeEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIGHS!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as her whole face clearly cracked and pushed outwards into a muzzle.
We couldn’t argue with her whinnies and not only because we were crazy horny and changing.
It was obvious what was happening to our bodies even if it didn’t make any sense.
Horses.
Goddammit.
I hate horses, totally despise them, stupid animals.
For like twenty years of my life I was called “horse-face” almost daily, I didn’t got rid of that stigma even after becoming a woman and yet there I was, sitting in misery in that stable as I stopped being a woman together with my best friends, slowly transforming into a mare for some humiliatingly and cruelly idiotic reason.
It was totally unfair, we just wanted to get into a party.
Can you imagine the gut wrenching horror I felt pulling down my dress and saw my breasts darkening into horse teats and my perfect flat belly inflating so much that my navel popped out?
I didn’t deserve this fate, none of us did.
Maybe we were a bit obnoxious and superficial, hateful, vain, snobbish... but...
I don’t want to be a horse!
“Come on...!” shouted Miranda with her pants down around her knees, she didn’t fall onto all fours, she let herself drop, standing on her hands and feet as her back realigned, her neck elongated and a tail began to slap her enormous exposed ass, she didn’t resist the need to neigh. “NEIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH!”
Her red hair extended down her long neck and began to sprout from the lump of her tail.
Samantha fell to her knees, maybe because her feet had become hooves, her round swollen belly’s taut skin was out even more than the black lips of her equine cunt.
“I’m... I’m sorry!” she shouted with her deforming face. “This is myyyyyygh fault! Iiiiii just wanteeeeeed to feeighl young! GNNGGGGH!”
She clenched her bulky teeth and salivated as the muscles of her neck stretched and elongated.
“Of courseeeeEEEIHG iIIIIIISH you fault! Yyyyou uncontrollable hornyyyy-yyyy mulEEEEE!” yelled the angry horse’s head with Charlotte’s voice. “Keeeeigh your sorriesh! I haveee responhsibilitiesh! I haveee a famileeeeigh!” I have kiiiiidsh! And now am goiiingh to be a horsesh and you not eveeen have a horsesh sized diiiiIIII-Iiildo for my horeeeeigh sizeed cunt! And... Miranda... wha you doiiing?!”
Miranda had walked, or sorta clopped, all the way down towards Charlotte, she had climbed up on the angry mare and was now pushing her down with her big rear, slapping her muzzle with her long tail.
“STOPSH!” cried Charlotte.
She didn’t and Charlotte had to lie back down on the floor with her head just under Miranda’s needy equine vagina.
“Suck meigh!” grunted the redhead.
“Nu! NUH! Yyyyou can’t beeeeeigh okeish with thish!”
Miranda bent her long neck to look at Charlotte.
“Am not, yyyou can beigh shure! Am fuckiiing livid, but we were fuck shince we step inside the stableeeeeigh... snort... What elsh weeee can do?”
And with that she lay down her pussy over Charlotte’s muzzle.
I’m sure Charlotte continued protesting at our fate down there, but she also began to suck the cunt as the red hairs of Miranda’s tail grew against her face.
Miranda, as a good team player, lowered her muzzle between Charlotte’s elongating back legs to repay the chore in the same way, Charlotte’s tail slapped the floor once that happened.
Soon they were sucking each other's pussies as their bodies changed, fur began to sprout on their skins, dark for Miranda, white for Charlotte.
Miranda was usually the smartest of us and if she was going along the changes then there was no hope for the rest of us.
I hated her for being so clear about that... but I also felt envious...
Samantha, still down on her knees, was sobbing as she saw the two forming mares do a female sixty-nine.
“Am shorry... Am shorrriiiigh!” she continued grunting annoyingly..
I shook my head and gave a loud snort from my growing nostrils, I didn’t even attempt to stand up, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t work, I put myself down properly on all fours and clopped my way towards Samantha.
My hands deformed as I walked on them, similarly to my feet, middle fingers forming the hooves as the others shrank, it sucked, but it was surprisingly easy to reach Samantha, maybe the changes were screwing with my brain, maybe hooves aren’t much harder or different to heels.
“Carrieee!” cried Samantha. “Iiii ruineeeed ush!”
“Ye... Kiiiinda... Shorta... but we gonna beeeigh maresh...”
“AAaam sho, sho...”
I stopped her then, taking a step forward, we saw each other eyes, in our faces behind our growing muzzles, the expanding irises, the scared rectangular pupils.
“Pleasssh... just neeeeeigh... Iiii don’t want lasht wordsh...!”
I kissed her, we kissed, big tongues clumsily meeting as bulky blunt teeth got in the way.
We rolled down on the floor as our growth made clothes tear into nothing, giving way to fur, mine was blonde, Samantha’s brown.
It wasn’t easy to rub our cunts together having horse legs, but it was still possible at that point of the metamorphosis and it was made quite sweet when our pussies slid to the proper mare placement.
Our swollen tits also got into a sort of rubbing race as they migrated down towards our crotches.
The heat was intense, inside and outside of our skin.
That stable was an oven, an oven in which four women’s lives were turned into ash leaving only mares behind.
It was... blissfulness...
Maybe because we at least still had each other, and not just sexually, even as that unfair mutation took every inch of humanity from us.
...
Waking after a transformation was worse than a hangover.
Aching muscles and bones, a headache, being awoken by confused yelling, the realization that it wasn’t a nightmare and your human existence is over.
Also the screams of the stable worker realizing that all the horses were out and for some reason they had four new mares in the stables, sleeping together on a bunch of fancy rags.
They didn’t seem to pay attention to the shreds of cloth all over the place, I always wonder if they knew, even after they put us through the vet’s check.
The vet was clear, four healthy and fertile mares in the prime of their lives.
Four FREE healthy mares.
We were livestock after all, useful beasts of burden and the owners quickly put us to work pulling the park’s carriages, making the dates of luckier women more enchanting.
I would like to say that we protested and lamented, but that’s not entirely true, it’s as Miranda said, what else could we do?
They saw us as just horses, the other horses saw us as just horses, only one of the mares seemed to notice our doom in the same way as we noticed each other, but she could help us about as much as we could help her.
While that mare worked alone pulling her own carriage, a pretty easy job in my opinion because we were put to work together pulling a big deluxe carriage that was heavier.
The humiliation of being used as pulling horses, having to clop around naked at a drivers command while carrying around brides and drunk bachelorette parties.
Pretty infuriating indeed.
Have you ever noticed that city people can be quite insufferable? My cunt is more cosmopolitan and interesting than all of them!
Sigh, I miss cocktails, I miss my life.
Our driver is at least not as harsh as he could be and is quite a hot chunk, more than once during the week he has made some extra cash riding women, which makes us green with envy.
Did I mention that we are fertile? As you might have guessed we got exploited in that way too, I’m sure it isn’t a surprise to say that Samantha was the first to go into the breeding pen.
She took her first pregnancy pretty well, maybe because stallions are way superior to men.
Yes, we all got put to breeding and to pulling and to the simple mindless routine of a carriage horse that ended up making our days blur into each other and our humanity slowly became a distant mental fog.
But... it could have been worse... at least that’s what I want to think...
I miss writing, I don’t know how I can still think like this, it’s not as if I could ever write again with my big clumsy hooves, I guess it’s self therapy to try and not hate myself too much for resigning into mare-hood.
Still, I think this would have been my best article ever, don’t you agree?
Sigh, sigh a hundred times.
I still hate horses, but I love the stallion’s cock, I love the foals and I especially love my mares.
Nobody came looking for us, it’s as if we have been forgotten, or we have always been mares, I’m not even sure if the plates by the stalls still have our names - reading is becoming... hard...
But it’s normal, kinda normal, in such a big city.
In a city where a million things happen every minute, who would have noticed that four women just became horses?
