The Transformations of Lady Fairfax

A new story!

So, I was seized with the craving for a big, regal grrl teasing a servant as she grows. I landed on a smutty version of the Picture of Dorian Gray. Then I did an additional part because I wanted some more macro action, and because I wanted to work out some anger over everyone's least favorite transphobic author. (I don't know if this blend helps or hinders the piece - it felt cathartic to get out, but I'd appreciate your comments if it feels off).

First part is focused on hyper and mostly fits inside a room; second part goes full on macro with a side of some multi freakiness.

It felt really great having time in my easter break to bang this out. Havn't written this much in a single day for years, feels like. Hopefully I can channel a modicum of this energy into my ongoing projects...

Visual inspiration for Felicity Fairfax was this piece by Perru. (Go follow!)

PART ONE

Felicity Fairfax was many things. A woman of prodigious means, an aristocrat, and a recluse. Her name was a word of power in the villages around her estate, a talisman to be sworn by, where the villages had paid fealty to her family for generations. But the world was moving on, and Lady Fairfax had to move with it. So from her ancestral home, she would sally forth and win friends and influence among the nobility. To do that, she needed arms; art and culture, the weapon of choice in the rarified air of upper class society.

Which is where Louis came in. A bright young painter, fresh from his apprenticeship with an old master in the city, he was en route to the Fairfax domain for the first true commission of his professional life: A portrait of the grand Lady.

It was his lucky break, and the brown-eared bunny knew it. He could hardly sit still. Even as the loveliest pastoral landscape rolled by, through rolling hills and winding paths, his inner eye was firmly trained on the task ahead and the bright, golden future it heralded should he succeed. If he hadn’t been so single-minded, perhaps, this is where he would first have seen the signs of what was to come: How the sprawling fields and forests grew tall and lush, and the lovely lasses that tended them grew lusher still.

But if Louis’s thoughts had been in the clouds, his meeting with Lady Fairfax soon brought him crashing back to the real world. A woman of her stature demanded nothing less than his full attention…

“Lady Fairfax? Madam?”” Louis called, rapping his knuckles tentatively at the dark, oaken door that had been left open to the drawing room. A servant had received him and sent him upstairs, but did not accompany him. So Louis had been left to climb the stairs with his heartbeat quickening in his chest as he took in the old coats of arms, the fading tapestries, and the centuries that hung heavy in the air. Announcing his presence, he stepped into the drawing room—and lost his breath.

Lady Fairfax turned towards him. “Ah, the painter. So glad you made it.” She was a titan of a woman, at least two heads taller than the city boy, with a figure framed against the windows like that of a greek statue; that is, if her particular sculptor had been obsessed with making his Aphrodite as tempting and curvaceous as (in)humanly possible. The combination of sexy and sombre resulted in a dark-furred feline that would fit as well in a throne room as in a burlesque—though Louis thought better than to say the latter out loud.

“Y-yes,” he said, nodding his assent in the absence of his normally glib tongue. Gods, she was pretty! It took all of his willpower to avoid the gravitational pull on his eyes of her vast, burgeoning cleavage, practically spilling out of her silken robe and teasing a view of what remained uncovered.

“The trip was not too arduous, I hope. Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m most eager to get started.”

“Already? I mean—of course, my lady. I’ll fetch my gear right away.”

“There’s no need. I have everything that you will require right here.” She gestured towards the side of the room, where a canvas had been set and prepared. “You’ll be my guest for the next couple of weeks, so I took the liberty of anticipating your needs. And I wouldn’t want anything but the best materials for your art.”

“Well, shucks. Thank you, your ladyship. Yes, I’ll get ready. Maybe just a glass of water, and I’ll get cracking.”

“By all means. Wouldn’t want you to be thirsty while you work on my painting, would we?” She smiled coquettishly at him. “Though perhaps just a little would be in order…”

Louis caught himself blushing—badly—and took cover behind the canvas. “So, er. What style of portrait are you wanting? Classic, I presume? Stately, like the royals? We want to make an impression there, I’m presuming.”

“I was thinking of something more candid,” she said and undid her robe. 

Louis looked up just in time to watch it fall—and all but froze in stunned silence as the Lady of the manor bared herself completely for him. If keeping his eyes in check had been a challenge before, now it became impossible. Especially as they, working entirely on automatic, scanned down his luscious host’s front and ended between her legs to reveal that Lady Fairfax’s gender was not as simple as he had assumed. Or, put in other words, they fixed themselves to her incredibly fat cock.

She let him gawk and process the situation with a mild, knowing smile on her face. Shock and awe was evidently a common reaction to her presence, and she was in no hurry to startle him out of it. And why not? The towering feline’s endowments were incredible. Her thick, veiny cock not only reached her knees, but surpassed them, and her balls looked big and virile enough to bathe any lover lucky enough to spend the night with her in her seed. And nudity took nothing away from the rest of her body; the magnificent thickness of her hips and her thighs, the power of her limbs, and the impossible shapeliness of her enormous chest. All while her face retained its effortless aura of regal sensuality.

“I—I’ll just have that glass of water,” Louis stammered, finally.

Lady Fairfax laughed. “Please do. And take some deep breaths. I wouldn’t want you to come all this way just to choke on it.”

Louis promptly went into a coughing fit, mid-drink, as he couldn’t help but imagine what else he might choke on. But the bunny recovered valiantly and cleared himself, red-faced, but focused. “Right! Okay. Candid. Extremely so. A full-figured—” he almost choked again “—portrait. Any particular pose that you’re wanting?” He looked up at her, as if to say ‘are you sure’, but flinched under her smoldering gaze and the fresh view of her alluring stance.

Was this really going to be his first entry into the scene of higher art? An erotic piece of a bawdy noble? Well, it paid well—and lewd or not, with Lady Fairfax’s influence and his skill, he could still make a splash.

Lady Fairfax arranged herself skillfully on the sofa. “You’re the expert. Direct me as you will and sketch away. We have no shortage of paper or paint. My only request,” she said, her smile turning sly, “is that you faithfully capture the grandeur of my body. Embellish, enhance, exaggerate. Show me from the biggest side that you can.” There was nothing subtle by the way she laid a hand on her gigantic girlcock, shifting her hips to put herself in the best possible light.

“Yes, ma’am.” The blush on Louis’ cheeks were settling in as something of a permanent feature, a rosy touch that made his face all the cuter as he settled in to work. Embellish, she said. Even his most conservative drawing of the ample feline would leave his critics accusing him of caricature. And she wanted more? Well. It was her buck. He might as well go all out…

***

Lady Fairfax stirred as the first stroke of paint captured her on the canvas, as if the brush had caressed her fat, inviting nipple, instead of the square of blanched linen.

Louis paused. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she said promptly, waving her hand. “Proceed. Please.” 

There was a touch of huskiness to her voice that made Louis shiver. He had ample cover to hide his stiffening erection; but when her fat slab of cock began to swell and harden, there was little he could do to disguise his look of shock—and the queer fascination that she held over him. “Proceed,” he repeated to himself, nodding, as he gave life to the sketch on the canvas. She didn’t need to tell him to make her larger than life; his hands did that all by themselves, elevating the magnificent feline to nothing short of a sex goddess in repose.

Felicity approved. She couldn’t see the canvas, but her painter’s intentions were evidently clear as day before her. Her smile broadened, her nipples hardened, and her tail swayed from side to side, casting a long shadow through the drawing room from the bronze light of the afternoon sun.

And here, in the dreamlike atmosphere of being commanded to paint not a respectable, if boring, portrait of a noble, but an erotic exaggeration of the sexiest, most outrageously endowed woman he’d ever met, something strange happened. Louis’ eyes played a trick on him. As he alternated between the canvas and his subject, looking back and forth, he found small inconsistencies; details that appeared to change before his very eyes. The curve of her hip, the heft of her breasts; wider, bigger than before. To say nothing of the beast between her legs, still advancing down her shins as it hardened, with plenty left to go before its full erection. But if that was all it was doing—growing hard—then why did her fantastically fat balls keep up pace, swelling along with her shaft? Louis did have a cock of his own, after all—he knew it shouldn’t work like that. Was he imagining things? Or was his erotic caricature coming to life, smirking at him as she lounged in the sun?

“Is something amiss?” Lady Fairfax demanded, not unkindly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, I…” Louis said, sheepishly snapping back to reality. “I was just lost in thought for a moment. About the painting, of course.”

“Good thoughts, I trust.” The regal feline shifted, running a delicate hand across one of her enormous breasts. Gods, her palm alone couldn’t hope to cover her nipple, let alone her areola! And she caught him staring, too, winking as she did. “You’ve done an excellent job so far. I expect it to continue.”

“But, my Lady… This isn’t really happening, is it?” Louis said, clinging to his brush as much as to his conception of what was real and what wasn’t. “It’s a trick of the light. You’re not really…”

“Growing bigger?” She cast a theatrical look down the couch, her thick thighs squeezing around her even thicker cock. “You’re the artist. What does your highly trained perception tell you?” A playful grin flashed across her face. “I won’t mind you getting a closer look.”

“But… That’s impossible.”

“Is that so? Doesn’t feel impossible to me,” she said, openly toying with her vast, sensual curves and cock, as if she wasn’t so much a person, but an otherworldly spirit come to tempt him into sin. “Feels exceedingly solid to me, in fact. Like I said, you’ve done an excellent job. But I want more.”

Reeling, Louis retreated for the cover of the easel. But this was no reprieve, as the half-finished portrait of the voluptuous aristocrat leered at him just the same from the canvas. He frowned. “The painting…”

“Makes it real, yes. You’re a bright young lad, you can put two and two together.” 

“But why?” 

“Because I mean it to. And because I want to make a statement.” She rose from her seat, a titaness of sexuality. The elegance of her movements had not suffered one bit—if anything, they were enhanced by her imposing size, hips swaying to and fro with enough concentrated allure to fell a man—and she towered above him as she drew close, her colossal cock threatening to knock him and the whole setup down.

“Statement made,” he quipped.

“No, not yet. But it will be, once I take it to Windsor and show those conservative pricks the breadth of what a woman can be.”

“Ah. Not fans of yours, I take it?”

“Not a fan of anything that doesn’t fit into a neat little box. And I don’t intend to ever fit any box that I’m presented with.” She glanced up, the angry edge in her voice once again replaced with honeyed teasing. “Including this room.”

“You can’t be serious! You mean to grow larger than this whole…?”

“Paint, Louis. It’s what I pay you for.” She turned, blessing him with a heavenly sight of her huge, toned ass on the way back to her seat. “Unless—you’re getting cold feet?”

Was he? Louis didn’t know. He felt a tight knot in his chest, shock and worry and fear all concentrating into one solid lump amidst the overwhelming temptation of his patron’s sensual manner. It was a lot to take in.

“I… You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little taken aback. I did not expect any of… all of this,” he said, gesturing at her largesse. “Which, I’m guessing, you might’ve expected. Not that I mind. On the contrary, I’d encourage it all! With, perhaps, some advance warning, going forward.”

Felicity watched his internal battle, and its outcome, with a shrewd smile on her lips. “Granted. So you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay. And I’ll help however I can.”

“Grand. Then paint me, Louis. Paint me like you’ve never dared paint before.”

***

Schlick. 

Splish.

Schlorp. 

“Could you keep it down? It’s… very distracting,” Louis said, clenching his fist around the brush.

“No.” Felicity did not even deign to look up; she was entirely engrossed in the task of titfucking her third leg of a cock, which throbbed and sprayed precum across herself and her lavish sofa like an active volcano, kissing and licking and sucking what little she could of its bulging cockhead. 

“Sheesh. Fine, be like that,” Louis muttered, struggling to focus as the distractions continued. True to his word, he had gone back, making changes, gradually causing the obscenely endowed feline to grow bigger. And she took full advantage of the pleasurable process.

“Mmh… Yes, like that!” Felicity said, her voice husky, as her breasts swelled in her hands. She needed every inch to tame the beast between her legs, fucking herself with undisguised fervor and not a shred of shame nor worry about the mess that she made of herself and her surroundings. “You can’t imagine how good it feels.” 

“I’ve got a pretty good idea…" Louis said, ignoring the painfully hard tent in his pants.

“Make me bigger! I want my orgasm to be like a fountain.” It was impressive, really, how clearly she enunciated with a mouth full of mega-cock.

“In the portrait itself? I mean, I could add a bit of a mess to the floor…” He was editing the work, but he hadn’t switched the pose to her current, far more carnal posture. Then again, following his patron’s directions for ‘Bigger!’ and ‘More!’, most of her had started to disappear behind the enormity of her torso-dwarfing tits and the package that threatened to outgrow the imposing noblewoman herself.

As if to force the issue, Felicity’s spire of girlcock erupted at that moment, firing the first of many, many voluminous cumshots against the ceiling with enough force to splash back across half the drawing room. “Yes!” she cried, shivering as her shaft twitched, still for just a moment, before the next wave rolled through her and forced a fresh moan from her lips.

Louis was all but enthralled. That is, until the shower of semen rained down upon him and all of his supplies and caused a panicked rush to save his work from the encroaching storm. “Hey, watch it! Don’t ruin the portrait!”

“It’ll add—mhm!—character. Don’t you dare stop, Louis. Paint my fat, throbbing cock bigger.” The delirium of her orgasm made her demeanor courser than it had been; though she was still majestic to the bone, even Felicity couldn’t quite ignore the level of mind-melting pleasure that coursed through her huge, sensitive body.

Louis was caught between two dangers; the storm that threatened to batter—or worse, drown him—and the storm of her fury if he disobeyed. He glanced back at the canvas, where the suggestion of a sea of cum had started to imprint itself by the sheer, horny will of his patron. “Well, shit,” he told himself. “You only live once, right?”

“Ooh. Yes!” Felicity cried, her eyes going wide as her enormous, feminine balls abruptly bloated bigger in a tremendous surge of growth, hanging so low and huge they almost touched her ankles. And by the rate they were gaining, they’d reach the floor in mere moments. Meanwhile, all that fresh, glorious production only made her cumshots harder, her cock growing inches at a time as it fired across the room, as if it meant to coat every single surface in the room under a dozen layers of thick, molten seed.

The canvas, at least, provided a modicum of shelter. Though it couldn’t save Louis’ shoes from the rising pool of cum, nor from the sweltering heat and the intense scent of sex imprinting itself—presumably permanently—across his clothes and his fur. 

“Like that?” he ventured, with a sinking feeling that his artful portrait was being reduced to a work of abstract art, of a set of grossly exaggerated genitalia floating in a pool of pearlescent white.

But if his inner critic was tearing him down, Felicity bigged him up with far greater gusto. “Yes! Exactly like that. You’re doing a wonderful job, darling.” She had gone half-lidded, eyes unfocused, as she kept on cumming, kept on squeezing her enormous, shapely tits around her ever larger, ever greedier girlcock. It had grown to touch the ceiling, now, threatening serious structural damage to the manor if allowed to continue. And yet there was seemingly no end to her climax, or to the oceans of baby-batter brimming in her absurdly fat balls. Louis had to do something to push Felicity to the crescendo of her orgasm; lest he be forced to swim for dear life.

And so, against his better judgement, he strode out from the safety of his shelter, brush in hand and ready to finish the job.

Felicity’s eyes flicked towards the figure wading through her river of cum. “Louis?” she said, blinking through the haze of lust. “What’re you doing—ah!—away from the canvas?”

“Earning my commission.” He touched the tip of his paintbrush to her gargantuan girlcock—and drew an almost instantaneous gasp from her lips as it twitched and grew under his touch. It was almost enough to make him flinch; she was way more imposing up close, Louis only now realizing that he had embellished even her height without truly realizing, leaving her easily twice his size and, by the application of the enchanted paintbrush, rising.

“Oh. Ooh…” Felicity gushed, sinking back. “Proceed. Please.”

And he did, nearly as fascinated by the power of the tool to change reality as he was by her all-engulfing, erotic aspect, her unrivaled size, power, and lust. “This may be a good idea,” he said, flushing from her blazing heat and the difficulty of keeping up with her rhythmic movements, “or it may be a really, really bad one.”

“It’s a great idea,” Felicity rumbled, her voice reverberating through him. “Let me show you.” She plucked him off the floor with a large, elegant hand and urged on his work by giving him a face-full of her fat, cum-covered shaft, which throbbed and grew all the more eagerly for his closeness.

The artist squirmed—but did not pull away, despite breaking out in sweat, his clothes utterly ruined by the scents and juices of the imposing feline. The fact that he was harder than he’d ever been in his life, liable to explode before his pants even came off, did wonders for his resolve as well. Whether he’d regret it once post-nut clarity set in was an entirely different matter.

Not that he had any agency left, after giving himself up to Felicity; that ship had sailed. With a very literal pleasure button in her hands, and already half-mad with an ongoing orgasm that would’ve broken a lesser woman, she bellowed her commands and moaned loud enough for the entire estate to hear her: “More! Make me grow faster! Bigger!” 

So great was her need that the world seemed to heed her words even without the intervention of the magical paints. She filled the room, heedless of the consequences, her monolithic cock spewing a river of pearly, ultra-virile cum, while her ever-fattening girlballs threatened to knock down the back wall. She was more cock than woman—but that didn’t mean that her curves weren’t gigantic or that her cleavage couldn’t easily gobble Louis up, trapping him in the middle of her otherworldly titfuck, soaked in her essence and so close that he almost felt a part of her. Her moans were his moans, her desperate thrusts his thrusts. And he held the power to finally push her endless climax towards its final, earth-shattering peak…

“Yes…” Louis mumbled, barely cognizant. He’d lost his pants somewhere along the way, and he shivered helplessly as the massive feline’s thrusts grinded him up and down her own veiny shaft, the weight of her soft tits crushing in behind him. But he had the brush, still, and though half detached from his own body, found the will to use it, stroking the tip along Felicity’s desperately eager fuckflesh. Outside his cocoon of cleavage, there was the sounds of breaking timber, of the ancient manor protesting and breaking upon the grandeur of its mistress; but the sounds weren’t half as sweet as the gasps and soft, pleading whispers from behind his ears, of the quickening of Felicity’s strained breaths and the tensing of her body. And finally, finally… Sweet, blessed release—and a sea of salty white, flooding the manor and beyond through every door, window, and chimney.

***

“It’s not really much of a portrait, is it?” Felicity said, squinting in the morning sun. She was seated in the grass—her backside now being far too big for any of her chairs—sipping from a pitcher of tea as she judged the final result.

“It’s not much of anything after that wash.” Louis held up his hands in a defeated gesture.

“Well, there is that. The patina adds a certain raw character to the piece. But you can’t even see my face on it. I thought expressions were your speciality.”

“Expressionism. And whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” she said, smiling like the cat she was. “And it was glorious. I have no regrets.”

Louis tore a piece off his croissant and cast a glance at the mindbogglingly hung giantess by his side. She remained gigantic in every way—though he’d watched her shrink inside the house and grow back at her leisure the moment she was out. Just being near her still made his heart beat faster, still…

“Neither have I,” he said, finally.

“I’m glad. I trust that you’ll take that attitude into our future projects.”

“Oh?”

She laughed. “Please. It’s too late to play coy with me. I’m going to retain you for the foreseeable future. I promise you that nobody can beat the benefits that I offer.”

Louis caught sight of her licking her lips and quickly averted his gaze, though not quickly enough to avoid the rosy blush on his cheeks. “I may be interested.”

“Good. Because I still need a portrait made. We’ll just have to try again until we get it right.” Felicity ran a hand across the base of her gargantuan girlcock. “ And again, and again, and again…”

###

PART TWO

Lady Fairfax had decided to do something drastic. Louis could tell by the steely look in her eyes.

“I have a new task for you,” she announced, walking into his workshop in the wing of her manor.

“Yes? Fashioning a new statement against the forces of social regression?” Louis dropped what he was doing and turned his full attention to her; always a wise choice considering that his towering patron took up half the room with her endowments alone, when she elected not to shrink herself down to fit. Today, it seemed rather the opposite; that the majestic feline was meaning to take up as much space as humanly possible.

“Precisely. I’m glad you’re keeping up.” She had a look among the colorful stacks of paints and canvases, her ear flicking with annoyance. “Against my better judgement, I attended a soiree held by the Duke of Edinburgh last night, where I had the distinct displeasure of meeting the most repugnant writer that I ever saw. She would’ve spit on me if she thought she’d get away wit it.”

“Not a fan of the larger things in life, I take it?”

“I doubt it, given how small-minded the transphobic hag was. She called me a monster, a freak. To my face. From a friend, I’d take this as a compliment, but from her? Those insults demand a response.”

“So… What do you want me to do? A scathing caricature?” Louis scratched his head. “Not really my forte.“

“No. You leave that to me. I mean to dispense a little karmic justice of my own.” Felicity’s wicked smile widened. “Well, perhaps not a little…”

***

The hot air balloon was tied down on the great lawn behind the Fairfax Manor. Louis frowned at it as if it were some dangerous, exotic animal. “Do I have to be in this thing? Heights make me dizzy.”

“You’ll need the perspective.” Felicity guided him towards it—and there was no denying the helpful nudges of a 12-foot tall giantess. “If you do your job right.”

“What if it falls down?”

“I’ll catch you.”

“But what if you don’t?”

“Then you didn’t make me big enough.” She grinned down at him and effortlessly hoisted a crate of equipment into the basket. “Off you go. These are all the art supplies you need?”

“Yep. Never know when you’ll summon me in the middle of the night for an emergency session, so I’ve gotten quite efficient at packing the necessities.” 

“Good boy. Settle in, and I’ll strike a pose for you.”

“What’re we going for today?” Louis unpacked in a practiced flurry of activity, albeit with a worried eye on the cramped space of the hot air balloon and the burner hanging over his head.

“Sketches, mainly. You won’t have time for anything bigger before the scenery changes. Take me, here… and, say, a view of the pavilion. Just block out the shapes for now.” She struck a confident pose, hand on her delectably wide hip, as Louis began his work. She had elected to fit in a dress this morning, however much it had to stretch around her colossal curves and the third leg of a cock bouncing between her ankles. Both of them knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Got it,” Louis reported, working on a small sketchpad. “Any particular requests?”

“Mmh. Monstrous. Freakish. Those are the words given to me, and thus they are the words of the day. But, first things first: erase the pavilion you drew behind me—and redraw it, half as big.”

“Ah,” he said, seeing where this was going. “Coming right up…”

Felicity held her breath. This was the most exquisite part of the process: the rising anticipation of her forthcoming orgy of sensation, and the slow, pleasurable tingles that spread through her skin as her expansion began. Slowly, she rose taller, wider, stronger than before, and as Louis’ deft penstrokes worked their magic, that trickle became a flood.

“Ooh. Here we go,” she murmured, suppressing a gasp as her already imposing figure shot upwards, doubling in short order (and leaving the artist no taller than her knee). “Mmh. A good start.”

“I’m getting the sense of why you insisted on this rickety flying contraption,” Louis said.

“Yes, yes. Get on with it, lad, don’t leave me waiting. I want more.” If the swishing of her tail didn’t give it away, the stiffening behemoth between her legs blared out her arousal for all to see, skirt or no skirt.

“You’re the boss.” Louis erased and shrunk the pavilion again, pausing only to glare at the groundskeeper who had helpfully begun to unfasten the straps that kept the hot air balloon anchored in place. Though he didn’t dare leave the basket, that didn’t mean he had to go up without a fight. 

Felicity paid no attention to the struggle beneath her. She had far more important things to do, such as laughing maniacally and moaning her heart out as she soared towards the sky, her sprawling manor shrinking to the size of a dollhouse before her. “Yes!” she cried, her voice booming across the estate. “This is perfect. Just as I wanted. I feel so powerful. You really ought to try it one day if you have the chance.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, my lady!” Louis said, fencing at the groundskeeper with one of his brushes. That is, until a deep shadow fell across him and Felicity’s magnified face appeared from above. The groundskeeper fled, leaving only the beleaguered artist to face his titanic mistress.

“Y-yes?” 

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?”

“You didn’t.”

“Then stop fussing with those damn ropes and take flight. You’ll need a better view to draw me from.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Louis released the last restraint that kept him connected to terra firma. All that was left was to accept defeat and float up on the gentle breeze. The prospect was markedly improved by the view of Felicity’s luscious figure hovering just out of reach, a slow, detailed pan that made him all the more eager to get back to drawing her.

“The balloon didn’t come cheap, you know. I’d be a shame not to use it.”

“I bet. How do you steer it? I don’t see any kind of… well, any way to control this thing.”

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll keep you on a tight leash,” Felicity promised, seizing the balloon by one of the dangling ropes. “All you need to do is to find a new feature from your new vantage point to shrink beside me. And, perhaps, consider what kind of beautiful monster you could make me into.”

“Aye aye,” Louis said, flipping onto a fresh page. He wasn’t that high up yet, but the scenery was gorgeous—not even accounting for the giantess beside him. Rolling hills, golden fields, and lush, green forests stretched out on all sides. He didn’t need them yet, though; the obvious comparison was right in front of him. And so he sketched Felicity anew, next to the venerable old manor house, the pointed roof of which still presumed to reach her thighs. That couldn’t be allowed to continue.

“Ooh,” she purred, tail flicking as her growth resumed. “Now we’re talking.” The earth compacted beneath her feet as she ascended in a powerful surge, the ground shaking with her every little movement. “Better not lose my balance now,” she laughed, looking around with a grin as she soared into the hundreds of feet, a lighthouse of erotic power that shone upon all who had eyes to see. The megalomaniacal act only lasted until her toe brushed against the pavilion that had played the prop for her first bout of transformation, whereupon the awe-inspiring aristocrat dutifully tiptoed out of the bounds of the manor, lest she ruin the structure with an errant shift of her foot.

“How’re we doing?” Louis called out, holding on for dear life as Felicity’s explosive growth spurts caused the balloon to pull this way and that. “Happy with the size?”

“Very happy. Very happy indeed. Although that doesn’t mean you can let up. My wretched nemesis’ mansion is not very far up north, but far enough that I’ll want to be plenty bigger to saunter up there and pay it a visit.” She ran one hand across her burgeoning cock, smirking as the first heavy drops of precum smashed into the landscape below. “And how are we doing for freaky? I’m not seeing any changes yet.”

“Well, I…” Louis started, squirming uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, my lady. Freaky can be a lot of things. What if I choose wrong and can’t reverse it?”

“Sounds like an awful lot of worrying for someone who isn’t being transformed.”

“You are holding my balloon.”

“All the more reason for you to keep me happy, no?” Felicity grinned toothily. It was all the more daunting by her being big enough to swallow him. “Allow me to inspire you. You can make me bigger—you’re very familiar with that by now—but you can also make me more. More powerful. More dangerous. Give me more arms, more breasts. More…”

Louis had already started drawing, and the result of his furious scribblings came into being before Felicity could finish her sentence: A sudden explosive bulging in the already straining fabric of her skirt, as a whole second cock and accompanying sac burst out between her legs, every bit as meaty and excited as the first.

“Beautiful,” Felicity laughed, breathing hotly as she hefted her freshly grown shaft. “You read my mind. See? You can do it.”

“I can,” Louis admitted, hesitantly sneaking glances at his goddess’ throbbing double-cocks. “If you’re sure.”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” she boomed, urging them bigger.

“But—aren’t you playing into her hands? Becoming freakier on purpose, I mean. If you make yourself into the monster she thinks you are, aren’t you proving her point?”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “I could be as meek as a mouse and her ilk would still revile me. There’s no point in hiding yourself from bigots, Louis; they will find a way to attack you. So I’m going to be as loud and proud as I can—and if I happen to crush one rich transphobe’s house under a mountain of feminine penis along the way, well, these things happen.”

***

Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.

Felicity moved, and the world moved with her. She was nothing less than a titan, a goddess made manifest, striding purposefully through the trembling landscape with mile-long steps. Louis dangled helplessly behind her, dragging through the clouds en route to their destination.

She wanted more. And Felicity got what she wanted: Taller. Louder. Sexier. She roared like a tigress, raising her arms as another set grew in below, powerful and dextrous. Another set of breasts followed swiftly, huge and sensitive, demanding her attention. As did her monolithic set of cocks—three of them, and counting—pointing straight ahead as they fired out heavy spurts of cum in the first stage of her orgasm.

The bigger she grew, the more ferocious her appetite became. Louis knew that fact well, but he’d never seen her ascend to this level of extravagance. Nor had he thought that she’d parade herself like this for the whole world to see. Sure, she liked flaunting herself, and shocking the occasional friend or foe, but most of the time, her wild tastes had been confined to the privacy of her estate. And yet here she was, urging every man and woman and in-between to look to the sky and gawk at the unabashedly proud dickgirl tearing her way through the country.

“You’ve asked me before; I may be starting to get cold feet now,” he said.

Felicity growled, fondling herself as her fourth cock grew in and provoked the rest to join it in a renewed eruption, their endless fountains of cum raining upon the unprepared countryside and forever altering it.

“Cut yourself loose any time you like,” she said. “If you can’t handle the heat.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe to me.” Louis huddled in the corner of the basket. He was past the point of no return, and he knew it. He also knew, much as he tried to dissuade himself, the only surefire way to pacify his patron: By bringing her the satisfaction that she demanded.

The giantess, meanwhile, had laid eyes on her prize: a palatial estate, tucked away in the hills ahead. “It won’t be long, now,” she said. “If you’re still with me, it’s time for the grand finale.”

“I’m still trying to convince myself that it’s for a higher cause.”

“What course could be higher? You’ll take a bigot down a peg—and you’ll get me off. What’s not to like about it?”

“I’m not crazy about the collateral damage.”

“Eh, it’ll buff out. A little bit of magic and we’ll have it fixed by the end of the day. Although it’ll take some convincing to get me to remove all of my footsteps. I quite like having made my mark.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a long breath. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Felicity’s giggle boomed across the sky, dispersing the clouds before her. “Let’s.” She hefted her quartet of cocks, took aim at her target, and, with a slight lolling of her tongue, let loose. The resulting barrage of cumshots was nothing short of apocalyptic; ropes of semen the size of castle towers raining upon the manor and smashing to pieces. And she was just getting started; with every passing moment, her cocks swelled bigger, harder, and more eager to flood not only the estate, but the whole country. And Felicity, growing taller and hornier with every shot, did not look much inclined to stop them.

She was becoming too large for even Louis to follow, his hot air balloon struggling to rise as the air grew thinner. As a consolation prize, he had a splendid view of her massive, round ass, and of her rippling back above it; all the more intriguing when he gave her a third set of powerful arms in a wild confusion of anatomy, quickly put to work in stroking and squeezing her overflowing cocks and curves. But there was no time to stop and admire his work for long; now drifting free, he had to make her cum—truly—before the winds decided to sweep him up and carry him away to the mountains or the sea.

“Yes!” she bellowed, feeling his efforts on her body acutely. “Just like that.” She arched her back, cackling with delirium, as she welcomed the third set of insanely sensitive tits on her chest. At the same time, her tongue slid out, far, far longer than usual, and made its way down to one of her fat nipples, wrapping itself around it in a suckling motion that left her gasping for more.

And her climax kept on coming.

A chill ran down Louis’ spine. How in the hell was he going to push her over the finish line? “You’re made your point!” he cried, cowering under his slowly deflating balloon. “What more do you want?”

“More. Of everything,” came the predictable reply.

“I know that. I need you to be more specific. You’ve destroyed the mansion; now quit it before you destroy the rest of the world, too!”

“Ooh. Now there’s an idea.”

“No! Bad. I’m laying down my veto. I won’t help you do that.”

The colossal figure turned. “A veto?” she said, icily.

“Yes. Enough is enough. You don’t get to turn the country into a footprint just because you’re mad at one person.”

“Enough is never enough.” A hand that could grasp a whole village came down and snatched the balloon out of the air. It collapsed entirely, leaving just a little basket pinched between index and thumb as she brought him up to her face. She smiled at him. “But for you, I’ll consider it.”

“R-right,” he said, dumbstruck by the visage; of her enormous, dark eyes, deep enough to drown in, and her vast, alluring lips, held so tantalizing close that he could make out ever detail; and more besides, as she abruptly brought him in for a kiss that saw him smothered in her velvety softness.

“Mmh… My little hero, saving the world from the big, bad monster. Every fairy tale needs one such as you, no? Except, perhaps, for the part where you made me so terrifyingly freaky.”

“You asked me to!” he protested, kicking his feet as her tongue, against all probability, tugged his clothes off with its nimble moves. 

“I did. And you’ve performed marvelously. In fact, you’re due for a reward…”

“Oh! Oh, gods…” Louis said, shuddering as the goddess wrapped her tongue around him; the touch of her warm, wriggling tongue was nothing short of electrifying on his naked cock, her lips drowning him in kisses.

“Precisely,” Felicity murmured. In the mists below, her many arms still played across her cocks, throbbing and firing like clockwork. But even in the workings of her endlessly chaining orgasms, there was a change when Louis touched her; and her supercharged sexuality pushed an octave higher as he shivered and tensed in her mouth.

“Oh gooods,” he cried, utterly beside himself with erotic pleasure. He’d kept himself together, holding on for so long, and now it all came flooding out at the expert touch of the divine dickgirl. “I can’t… I can’t—”

“Then don’t,” she hummed, stepping up her efforts. “Cum for me. Cum in my mouth. I demand it.” 

“I…” Louis went rigid, then limp, sighing contently as he slumped onto the expanse of her lower lip.

Felicity purred, a shiver running through her vast, evolved body, as she tasted him. It tasted like relief, of acceptance, and of sweet, simple bliss. She swung around, aiming her erections to pour her vast, ebbing bounty out to sea, and put her painter safely back into his basket.

It tasted like victory.

###