Puff, splash, transform (Monthly tale - 42)

(Women into ¿¿??)

October first, morning.

The witch put the niv of the pen on the top of the blank page, the pen stayed upright right there, without her having to hold it and began to write as the woman's thoughts flowed out of her mind...

“Chesshire’s search journal, entry 68

When I opened this inter-plane window to explore the art of metamorphosis in other realities I have to admit that my intentions were (mostly) hedonistic in nature. I wanted to see the bad outcomes of my adventures, the infinite spectrum of other versions of myself, other Chess’, ending up as the victims instead of the perpetrators.

The Chess that becomes a goat after a gig as substitute teacher

The Chess that becomes a bike for love

The Chess that becomes her own pussy

The Chess that becomes a bug because she ate bread spiced with onion and garlic

But I found… something more, something that paused my thoughts…

A kind of transformation, a process to be exact, that I have never seen before in any of my explorations or studies.

Something twisted, humiliating and degrading to a level I hadn’t eve conceived of before.

Goddamned hot.

Only by chance could I have imagined such a thing, yet now it has become an obsession to the point of-!”

The door of the room opened abruptly, the sunlight made Chess hiss like a vampire.

“Chess, I’m going to buy doughnuts!” said Kinky, the young asian woman with the large breasts and very short blonde hair, as she entered. “You want some doughnuts?

Chess was sitting in a large chair, in her pajamas and wearing a large plaid housecoat. She had bags under her eyes, her hair was  a disheveled mess from which hung her trademark black ribbon.

“I told you to always knock before entering!” the witch snarled at the intruder.

Kinky frowned like a disappointed mother and pointed a finger at her roommate.

“Since you made that silly mirror thing you have been totally unbearable!”

“It’s not a silly mirror! It’s an inter-plane window and you are interrupting my work!”

“You have spent the last two weeks living like an otaku hermit! I was just asking if you want breakfast!”

“YES! Thanks! Now leave me alone!”

“Geez!” Kinky rolled her eyes and began to walk out. “Fine, I’lll be back in a while…!”

“I want cream in mine!” Chess shouted before Kinky had closed the door. “And put on some damn pants!”

“Sure, okay!”

Kinky closed the door, as the twilight reclaimed the room she leaned in the chair, sighed and returned to her journal.

“My desire is to record my findings about this new transformative procedure.

The first case I found was by sheer coincidence, looking for a Chess that might have been a transformation on the beach - I stumbled into a scene that now lives rent free in my mind.”

Chess put a finger on the surface of the mirror.

“Near to the shore a woman was lying on her back on the moist and muddy sand surrounded by a half-moon of beach-goers which also included her husband.

Nobody helped her.

They couldn’t.

Their only option was to witness the woman’s cruel fate.

A big woman, a white skinned MILF with curly blonde hair, voluptuous.

Tan marks adorned her generous curves.

She was wearing a pink bikini, almost wearing it, because in her frenetic public mastubation she had ended up showing most of her goods. The curious strangers, and her husband, were watching her masturbate in the middle of the beach as she moaned, cried and pleaded.”

The glass glowed, fluctuated and the scene Chess had just described in her journal appeared in the mirror at a perfect angle to see everything. From the mix of reactions from the public, to the voluptuous mom masturbating on the ground, with her large tits out and her hands going wild at her groin.

“Her name was…”

From the other side of the mirror echoed the memory of the husband’s voice.

“Zuzana!”

“Alek! ALEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!” groaned the woman as she deepened her exploration of her sex. “Something pinched me in the water…!”

“Okay, I got that! Just stop rubbing your twat!”

“I can’t! I won’t…! I… Oh, oh, goddess! I feel it! The edge…! Nggnnnn it’s going to happen!”

“What are you talking about?! You aren’t making any sense!”

“Alek! I’m sorry…! Don’t tell the kids…! Aaaaahhhh! I didn’t want…! I swear I didn’t-!”

Foam.

Sea foam.

In a blink and you miss moment, less than a heartbeat, Zuzana’s whole body became a sculpture of foam in the not too graceful shape of that last instant as a  human. In the foam remained her bikini, her expression one of horny terror… but such a flimsy structure wasn’t meant to last… Before either her husband or any of the witnesses could begin to understand what had just happened, the shell that had become her body collapsed and softly splashed into a puddle of that white bubbly substance.

In the middle of that puddle, legs wiggled, pincers clacked the air.

“A red crab,” wrote the pen in the journal. “That’s what she had transformed into.”

Alek tried to reach for the panicking crustacean, but the sea was quicker in claiming his wife. A wave hit the beach shore, taking away the foam, the bikini and the former woman into her new existence.

Chess removed her finger from the mirror for a moment as she concentrated on her writings, the memory faded and the magically imbued pen kept scribbling onto the blank pages.

“That was the first time I ever saw such a unique process.

In a snap of the finger, puff, the body transforms into a conveniently matching shell, one not meant to last, and the person turns into their new form.

Usually a small critter… I haven’t seen what would happen with animals larger than humans… yet…

It left me in shock, I needed to know more, needed to see it again.

I learnt the patterns, the details, the clues and went in search of more puff & splash transformations…”

The finger moved back onto the mirror’s surface and a new scene appeared.

Some alpine looking farm, the inside of a barn, in a corner covered by hay.

While leaning against the wooden wall of the building a twenty-something farmer’s daughter had the skirt of her dress raised, her boobs out and she was fingering her hairy pussy without any sense of restrain or control.

She was thin, petite, with long limbs and fair skin. Her tits were small and her hands large, her cheeks were red and her hair was dark, she was biting her lips.

“The edge.

That’s how I have labelled those last seconds before the puff,” the pen wrote. “It’s very easy to track people at that stage of their transformation thanks to the powerful raw sexual energy they radiate. It just grows in strength until they have no option but to try to appease their bodies desires.

Try.

But always fail.”

“Papa…! Papa, please!” moaned and sobbed the farmer’s daughter, shaking her head. “Big bro! Anybody… I’m going to…!”

“I haven’t yet found anybody who has managed to escape their change once they reached the edge, nor in fact at any other step once they are marked to transform in such a twisted way for that matter… masturbating only makes it worse and resisting only prolongs the inevitable…

Rules and details can vary, but, so far, all victims seem to share a knowledge of their end as the heat increases, perhaps not fully, but at the very least with a vague notion that something terrible is about to happen to them when a climax is reached.”

The farmer’s daughter leaned fully back against the wall, spreading her legs, closing her eyes.

“I’m really going to…!”

“But there’s more…

Another fact that I realized during my investigations.

Often transformations are meant to be permanent and irreversible, but I, having undone changes of such a kind even after suffering them myself, can testify that to be a sometimes bogus claim.

But with a puff & splash transformation?

What is even left to restore? The body is just a shell that can be blown away by the wind and their core essence gets squeezed into a critter.

Might this process be the first truly permanent and irreversible metamorphosis?

Such a degree of humiliation...

I only have one conjecture of how it could be possible reverse it, a mere hypothesis that”

The loudests of moans came from the farmer’s daughter, ending in a gasping whisper.

“Papaaaaaaaaah…!”

It was followed by an abrupt silence.

“Hay, of course, her shell was hay, what else could it have been?” wrote the pen.

That lewd hay effigy of the farmer’s daughter stood for a few seconds, until something shook between the straw-tits and it instantly collapsed. Chess watched as something tiny, furry and gray emerged from the pile and ran away.

“Her family will only find the warm dress of the missing woman in the pile of hay, but nobody will ever notice the mouse getting screwed up in the ceiling above them.

She had hooked up with every single farmhand in the farm except one before puffing into mice-hood, so she will probably be fine…”

The witch crossed her arms, letting the image fade as the nervous female mouse was found by some male members of her new kindred.

The pen continued it’s arduous writing labour.

“It can happen either by science or magic.

Curses, maledictions, punishments… or just at random…

A mature guy, aided by a friend, tries to undo a curse after pissing off a forest in some silly way. They fail, he ends up jerking off in the middle of the woods in front of that friend… a shell of moss from which emerges a female mole…

An explorer, hit by a dart from the first trap in a tomb she was trying to raid, in front of her assistants she masturbates herself into a shell of sand from which emerges a male snake with his two cocks out…

Two siblings try to reach a witch’s house, but before they can even see the building in the distance the older sister orgasms herself all the way into a shell of pebbles from which emerges a ladybug…

A doctor creates a serum and decides to be the primary test subject, next morning the assistants have to mop up the shell of water… and the jellyfish is put in a tank…

Infinite variations…

It can also happen purely at random without any apparent rhyme or reason…”

A finger touches the glass once more, another scene of sexual action, this time in the usually more appropriate environment of the bedroom.

A plump black skinned woman with big hair, wearing only her socks, is riding the penis of a young lad that has had a crush on her for years. They are coworkers, he’s grabbing her hips, having the best moment of his life. She’s not sure if this was just an act of pity, but she has been horny all day and can’t stop smiling.

“Don’t you dare stopphmmmm now!” the woman chuckled.

The guy only gave a nod as an answer.

“At any point.

At any moment.

Anybody can just puff.”

The woman in the mirror bent backwards, her hands danced over her body and her hair, an image of pleasure.

Chess bit her lips just as the farmer’s daughter did.

“Aaaaah…! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” the woman’s moans reached a peaking climax. “I’m a goner…!” were her last words.

At that final frontier of pleasure the woman flared up in a way that was caught fully by the cunning magical glance of the witch.

It was beautiful.

Puff.

A bunch of petals from all kinds of flowers, a shell that didn’t last even a second before the former woman’s lover hands squeezed hips as he came.

“What the hell!” grunted the man as a rain of colorful flower petals rained onto him.

Gasping, exhausted he lifted himself up from the bed slightly and looked down, petals covered his crotch, surrounding his still pulsating cock, some of them sticky with cum. On his chest he saw a tiny, vividly green caterpillar tingling his skin with her many legs. The caterpillar looked up at him with the same glance of confusion in her small eyes.

Chess’ fingers slowly slid off from the mirror, she spread her legs.

The pen continued.

“There’s one more mystery I need to solve surrounding this investigation.

My original intent when I opened the window was to find my other selves suffering transformations and I have found plenty of that.

From reality altering deals with the Moth Mother, to getting tricked in the silliest of ways Chesshires are prone to transform, yet…

I haven’t found a single Chess that has puff & splashed yet.

Which is odd.

Just by mere chance I should have certainly found at least one about to transform, but I haven’t found any at all.

I know for sure that being a witch or being synced with magical powers doesn’t protect you from this process, so why? Why haven't I found a single one?

I want to see it, a Chess puffing would be…

Hot…

Maybe I have to change the parameters of my search?

Or perhaps…

Hmmm…

Wait… Why…

Why am I masturbating?”

The pen stopped, Chess’ eyelids opened wide as she stared at her own clock.

“I am masturbating…?” she repeated in a lewd tone after seeing that she had in fact mindlessly pulled down her pajama pants and had started to finger her vagina… it didn’t take much time for her mind to catch up, which only widened her eyelids even more… “Shit… SHIT!”

She rose from the chair, yet couldn’t stop touching herself, leaving her unable to move too far away. Knowing that climax was both an impossibility and also her doom she stood with one hand on the mirror.

“Calm… NGHHHH! Shit! This is no… goooooood… As good as I imagined… Fuuuuuuck… I’m going to puff! Shit! Shit! I… Concentrate… Calm! The pen…”

Chess closed her eyes, held her breath and the pen came back to life.

“I swear I don’t want to!

So gooooood… SO GOOOOD!

I’m going to puff!

I am also a goner!

NO!

Concentrate! CONCENTRATE! Kinky! Kinky, you have to read this, listen to me… the shell…

Noooo! Why does it have to be that of all things?

If this is the edge just let me stay here forever!”

The witch reopened her eyes and stared directly at her reflection in the mirror, seeing in her irises the sparks that would soon turn into a final flash of pleasure.

“Kinky, please!

I don’t want to be a fucking worm!

It’s going too fast!

The shell! Don’t break the shell! If it’s still intact and with the critter inside there may be a way to restore it! It’s a mere speculation,  but you onlyyyyy”

The pen never finished that last line, it traced a line until it reached the edge of the page, fell off all the way to the floor and rolled away until it hit a naked foot.

A foot made of mud.

Chess shell was still staring at it’s reflection despite not being able to see anymore, because she was entirely made of mud. Like a wet clay statue, standing up thanks to the hand it had against the mirror.

It had it’s legs spread, a hand still inside her pussy and a dumb half-smile. The weight of the clothes were slowly deforming the petite, flimsy statue, but if she was lucky enough, perhaps...

“I brought the doughnuts!”

The opening of the door sent a gust of air that made the shell lean to the side, hitting the mirror and the nearby table with a loud splash. Kinky watched it from the doorframe, with the box of pastries under one of her arms.

“What the hell? Chess? Are you here? I have your breakfast!”

Confused, she entered the room, looking around, stepping in the mud.

“Geez! I’m totally not cleaning up this mess! Did you hear me? Chess?”

When she was nearer mirror and the largest pile of mud she squatted down to inspect that mix of wet soil and clothes, frowning.

“Did… Did you turn yourself into dirt?” she asked, trying to figure out what had happened.

The clothes were indeed what Chess was wearing when she had left and, on top of the pile, there was something that looked like one of the witch’s breasts, nipple and everything, near the black ribbon.

She was going to get up when she detected some movement.

The surface of the mud shell swelled slightly, followed by a small pop and a worm emerging from the interior. A slimy pink earthworm that jiggled its limbless body in horny despair.

Kinky blinked, then smirked.

“Ahhhh! A worm, you turned yourself into a worm! I admit it fits you like a glove!”

The woman picked up the jiggling creature effortlessly.

“Well, if you want to be arguably the most insignificant of critters what else can I do other than leave you in the backyard?” chuckled Kinky as she walked away. “Plenty of fresh soil to eat and a mate for you back there! But hey, don’t worry, after I wash my hands I will have double breakfast in your honor, cream doughnuts are also my favorite!”

Unable to express its frustration, anger or hornyness, the worm could only wrap itself around Kinky’s fingers.

Behind them, in the room, the journal was left covered in mud.