Striped, Collared and Heated Chapter 40

Vire’s mind groped for a way out of this. This monster must be the chaos demon. Just giving into it wasn’t an option, even if that tantalizing glimpse of her slit stuck in her brain and jammed the gears of thought. If she could call Boon… But what if that's what the monster wanted her to do. They’d been avoiding each other as much as possible since the incident, but…

She shook the thoughts away, but still her painfully hard dick ate at her thoughts. It was just hanging out there for everyone to see. Slowing to a stop, she glanced back and didn’t see the tiger. Not that it meant much. The damn thing could become invisible. She took a moment to thread her absurdly long cock up her shirt, trapping the tip beneath her bra. Didn’t help the no pants situation but the damn thing was like shiny glowstick in the dark. 

“Help! Somebody help mmmuuuuuh- meeeee.”

Vire’s ears flicked as they caught the faint plea for help, and she snorted in irritation. She didn’t have time for this! If she didn’t figure out to get to her doe she’d have to fuck that cat.

A sudden slap stung her cheek. From her own hand, while the other rubbed at her cock through her shirt.

“Heeeeeelp!” The voice came again. 

Vire shook her head. It felt like her brain was starting to rip itself in two.  She needed to fuck someone so bad. Maybe… if she helped the voice?

Ear’s flicking, she managed to home in on the source of the soft cries.  Down?

Glancing up, she appeared to be in the rear of an apartment building. 

“Help Muh-mooooo!”

There! A stairway cut into the ground. She staggered over, peered at the non-descript door at the bottom. A padlock held the thing closed. That was weird. She took a few steps down.

Her balls churned like a pair of hungry stomachs and Vire staggered. Catching herself with a two fingered hand. That was new, her hands had never changed before. Damn tiger thing was making everything so much worse. Another plea for help pulled her attention off her cursed, blessed body. Staggering like a drunken woman, she reached the door. Grasping the lock, she broke the metal with a twist of her wrist and pulled the door open. The whirr of ventilation fans greeted her from the abyssal dark of the basement. A fumble at the wall found a switch and blinding light flared on.

Blinking, Vire found herself flanked by a rows of ancient looking washer and dryers. A laundry room? It looked unused. 

“Muuuuh Mooooooo! Help!”

Vire ignored the defunct laundry and walked deeper into the basement. Past a massive rectangular machine that might be a furnace was a blue door labeled: Ventilation access. The door, the wall and the knob all looked brand new, but the pleas for help were definitely coming from inside it. She imagined Boon bound to a chair, his pussy leaking, milk dotting the tips of his nipples and teats.      

Grasping the handle, oblivious of the multiple security cameras watching her and heedless of the shimmery pink haze in the air, she entered the room.

That wasn’t Boon, but there was no denying the presented pussy of a rapturous creature. She stood in a hastily constructed pen, on a bed of golden straw, a thin chain connected to the pink leather collar that held her in place. Vire catalogued her strange mix of human, bovine and dragonic features: the heavy udder and breasts, the scales along her spine, the swooped back horns, the thick hips and buttocks, the raised that tail that started wide and tapered down to a tasseled tip.

“Help me!” The devastatingly beautiful creature moaned, “I don’t wanna be a muh-muh-MOOOOOOO!”

“Its okay.” Vire spoke the words automatically, a trained response to encountering those altered by magics. “Its going to be okay, I’m with the MDA.” Her training also stated that you should never approach an altered individual without backup and avoid eye contact. If possible, put a door between you and the changed, then mark it for retrieval. Vire technically did one of these things, staring at the creature’s sex and imagining shoving the length of her cock into it. This fantasy propelled her forward, even as the disciplined part of her mind pulled hard at the reins. She drew up short within an arm’s reach of the creature’s round rump. An annoying niggling sensation warned her of magic surrounding her, nibbling at the wards that protected her body.

“It’s… Okay.” She mumbled, pressing her palm into the furred buttock, finding it not coarse like a natural heifer but silky and soft.  

“I know. So much better with a herd.” The creature craned its long neck around to look back at Vire with a smile on its thick muzzle. The thick lips made larger by the pink lip stick, small circles of blush emphasized her cheeks. Vire watched those lips form an O and felt a dull flicker of danger. One of her ears flicked in concern as thick plume of pink smoke filled her vision and more importantly, her lungs.

The scent, the sweet, cloying mix of sex and delicious grass. Memories rose, of that house in the middle of nowhere. Dim flashes of stripes and something being stripped away. The taste of Boon’s lips echoed through her memory. This scent had been there when she’d first started to slip.

Danger. It was a trap! She had to get out! A tiny, distant voice screamed.

Her head swam as her balls seemed to pull all the strength from her body. Vire crumpled to her knees, her cock slipped free of her bra to stain against her button-up shirt. Her breasts too gurgled and swelled, the buttons of began to strain.

Another stream of pink fog enveloped Vire’s head, sending a surge of magic coursing through her body. Not merely altering flesh but unlacing a complex ward set deep in her soul. Vire knew she should stop it, that her life and career depended on her fey self staying locked away, but she couldn’t bring herself to push back against the magic of the pink smoke. Just as she hadn’t immediately reported the ward being damaged. For the first time since she woke up in the MDA academy, her heart drew its full measure of blood and sent a torrent of life through her body. Far too much for a mere human body to handle, this heart built to power something much, much larger.

Vire’s bellow shook the entire building, she tore her shirt open with such force that the buttons ricochetted around the room. Her hair blazed with verdant energies as two horns sprouted from her head. The horns branched, again and again and again, flowering and moss covered their surface of these great antlers. Those two fingered hands seized her great breasts and squeeze out streams of milk. A patch of bright green leaves sprouted to cover their surface except for the nipples, which turned the red of crimson flowers in sunlight. White burbled from the tip of her great cock and dribbled down its shiny pink length. Her shaggy balls pushed her thickening thighs apart.

Yes! Vire’s entire being rejoiced as her power, her true self coursed through her body. A jumble of memories held that this lust wasn’t entirely hers, but she embraced it, it had set her free. Slowly, she turned to regard her savior, the dragon cow doe. In her heart-shaped eyes, Vire saw the remains of a man named Floyd who’d been clumsily forged into this creature.

Floyd smirked, then drew a deep breath and expelled twin geysers of pink smoke directly into Vires face.

Cheeky doe! Vire shook her head as she inhaled the vapors, a pasture of infinite green unspooled in her mind. Plenty of space for her and countless does, a safe place to rut them until they teetered on shaky legs. There would be a hill from which she could watch over her herd.

It ringed of an empty fey promise but Vire didn’t care, she grasped for it. A freedom from all the chains that bound her. It made her balls churn, her cock hard, her tits leak and her heart thunder in her ears. She gripped Floyd’s delicious rump and stood on quivering legs. Hips were wrong. Something twitched on her waist but her breasts were too large to see what was there. No matter.

“MOOOO!” The doe lowed as Vire sheathed the entire length of her cock inside the warmth of the cowdragon’s body.

RUT! The need, the joy, swept away all other thoughts and concerns away. Each slow, almost ponderous thrust brought an audible crack of bone as her body remembered its true form. Vertebra lengthened, divided, slowly pushed Vire’s upper body up Floyd’s back. Vire’s original legs grew into a muscular cervine flank that almost matched the huge balls that slapped against Floyd’s padded rear. Thick and shaggy front legs reached down, caging the cow-dragon’s head between them. 

As Vire’s lower half solidified into that of a huge stag, the size of it rivaling that of a moose and making the cow-dragon seem small by comparison, the rhythm of thrusts finally increased. No longer occupied with altering Vire’s body, green magic began to crackle over the shaggy pelt. Each bolt racing over her body and culminating in her swinging sack.

THUD! THUD! THUD! The room rang with the power of Vire’s thrusts. Floyd bent her head, bracing against the deer taur’s massive strength. Vire herself alternated between bracing her humanish hands on the overhead duct and squeezing her flopping breasts as the light show of her balls built. 

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna- I’m-” Vire slapped both hands over her mouth as her front legs sudden swept back to slam Floyd into her thrust. Rearing back, she lifted the cow dragon completely off the ground, the thin chain tethering her to pen snapping. Vire felt her pump and pump huge quantities of cum into her doe, each gout delivering mind blanking pleasure.

Floyd’s eyes glowed with pink energy as her stomach bulged with the volume of seed. Each of her limbs trembled, then shook, sparks danced between the tips of her horn. “MmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOO!” With that roar of a moo, the substance that poured from her mouth was no longer smoke but an almost a viscus miasma. It hit the wall and then flowed through the rest of the room like a squirt of food dye in hot water. Bathing both of the rutting creatures in a thick pink fog that a sparkling green fairy dust floated through.

Vire lowered Floyd to the ground, panting heavily, filling herself with the product of their coupling. “Hrrrn!  Haarrrr!” She grunted over the snap and crackle of her skill as a doe’s head consumed her human visage, although perhaps only a kin could see the feminine curves of her new face. Bellowing a challenge to all who’d dare challenge her power, she slammed her cock into Floyd with renewed vigor. Green, vinelike veins tunneled beneath the skin of her human shaped torso. Muscles thicken beneath almost bark like skin, as it grew to match her lower body in terms of size and power. Her hair grew long and populated with flowers. 

Through it all, she rutted, mindlessly seeking dominance and pleasure from her untiring doe.

Every breath, every drop of milk that dripped from Floyd’s overfull udders and even the tears that streamed down her cheeks gave rise to more of the magical gas. A gas that the overhead vent continually drew upwards. Powerful fans blew it upwards into the ventilation of the building. There it found its way into the apartments. Tendrils of the pink aerosol slithered out of the vents and through the air seeking the slumbering residents. At first, they only twitched in their sleep. Pleasant dreams and nightmares both were interrupted by the sweet scent that they did not recognize. Several got up, a sudden craving for a glass of milk. Mrs. Cavendas on the third floor was all out, but the craving was so strong she collected her things to go to the store. Her fellow residents merely returned to slumber, finding themselves in lush grassland with a strange hunger.

Within an hour, the hallways were all cloaked in a pink haze and echoed with the sound of lust filled Moos. Those who hadn’t actually been asleep were no better off. Terrance Fidley of the twelfth floor filled his computer monitor with images of big breast woman mumbling about how good cows had it. Milk began leaking from nipples soon afterwards, udders and breasts slowly filling. The tauntness of skin, overwhelming heaviness, the sense of fullness tipping into discomfort, desperation is what slowly woke the dreamers. The panic of not being able to see through the smoke that cloaked their bedrooms stirred many to full wakefulness. Then they’d encounter the new heaviness of their bodies, shaking hands would explore to find absolute pleasure in their long nipples. Once they felt the pleasure of a single pull, the slight reduction of their fullness, they lost themselves again, struck by a forceful lust.

You are my doe now. A voice whispered across their minds along with the sensation of a huge cock burying itself within their feminine sex, whether or not they possessed one. It did not matter. A very few number of residents, those with prior experience with fey magic or those who were angrily opposed to the idea of being female surfaced at this point. They made an effort to haul themselves from their beds. Their moment stirred their spouse or partners to action, clamping mouths around a nipple. Eventually, these attempt escapes released a long Moo of pleasure and fell back into bed. Bruce Regan, retired Colonel, aged 82 and still smart as a whip dammit, was the last to succumb. He consoled himself, thinking, at least its a very nice pasture to be put out in.

The orgy began, as residents dragged their laden bodies to each other’s apartments or piled together in the hallways. Bones twisted and deformed as they pleasured each other. The magic took suggestions from its victims so long as they were a cow. Horns, tails, udders at least a single pair of hooves were all manditory. 

Two hours after she’d started, Vire came into Floyd and expelled the last of her nature magic that had been building up in her soul for nearly a decade. Nothing left to sustain her rut, she managed withdraw from Floyd and step back. Her four legs shook as she looked over her doe and seemed to remember her being… much smaller. That was her last thought before exhaustion crashed over her. 

It was Mrs. Cavendas who finally alerted the authorities, she’d stopped at a bar for a quick tipple and met a lovely woman who was a tiger, or maybe had a tiger tattoo? Anyway, she forgot all about the woman when she saw pink smoke pouring out of every widow of the building and flowing down towards the street. Fearing a fire, she called 991 before remembering her corgie, Mr. Snuffins and rushed into the building. After inhaling a dozen lung fulls  of the smoke and encountering the sweet nipple of the former doorman she quickly forgot all about her dog. It would take months of therapy to recall her name and she’d be grumpy about it, she liked her new one, Bountiful Betsy better.

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