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An American Weregirl in London by Blankage and Ketrian

The following story was written as a commission. If you would like a commission of your own, please email me at blankage1 [at] gmail [dot] com or message me at Deviantart or Furaffinity

“She was alright,” is what Brett had texted his buddy. “Maybe a seven or an eight after she took off her cheap fur coat.”

That was a lie though. She’d been a ten, fur coat or no, the type of woman you never expect to see outside of a magazine, much less leaning drunkenly into you on a packed dance floor. Of all the sights he’d seen while traveling Europe, all the places he’d been, that night in Greece was where his mind kept returning. He could still feel the softness of her body against his and see the delicate goose pimples raised on the slope of her forearms as they waited for a taxi.

No, he didn’t have a picture, he texted his friend. Not even a name. That part was unfortunately true. She’d left him alone in his hotel room while he slept with only an unsigned note to prove the night had ever happened. The words of the note, hastily scrawled on a tissue, had been utterly incoherent. Something about…

“There’s a full moon out tonight,” the weatherwoman said in a lilting British accent, “not that you’d know with all this fog. And we won’t see that letting up anytime soon. It will continue through Friday.”

Brett cursed under his breath. Though he’d been assured his hotel room had a nice view, nothing but abysmal grey clouds had been visible from his window since he arrived in London three days ago. At least he was going back to his home in California soon. They sometimes had light fog there, but nothing like this thick, soupy mush that soaked everything that dared move through it.

He relaxed back onto the plush bed of the hotel room and stared at the ceiling, his eyes following the contours of the large, golden chandelier above. Another night at one of the local pubs had been the plan, but he felt suddenly achy and feverish. The weatherwoman droned on and on, and he absently toyed with the elastic waist band of his skirt. He looked down, and all of the color suddenly drained out of his face. Laying over his hairy legs was a black ruffled miniskirt. A strange, painful rattle went through his thighs, and he lurched to his feet, his forefinger still looped underneath the hem of the alien garment.

“What the fuck?” he screamed, finding it suddenly difficult to swallow. He tore off the skirt like it was on fire and hurled it to the ground. Underneath, clinging to his crotch was a tiny, pink thong that could barely even contain his bushy pubic hair much less his genitals. His hands were jerking spasmodically, but he somehow managed to grab a fistful of the frilly, satin fabric and drag it down his legs and onto the floor. He had almost peeled off his white crop top when an intense pain tore through his body and doubled him over. He screamed, some ferocious, invisible creature sinking its fangs deep into his flesh.

“Somebody help me,” he yelled with what felt like the last breath in his lungs. His blouse and bra felt like barbed wire cutting into his sensitive skin, and he ripped them off, falling to his hands and knees and shrieking as the carpet grated against them. He screamed endlessly, the all-consuming agony like a mindless animal gnawing his flesh, clawing his body from the inside.

The wiry thicket of entangled hair that surrounded his privates began to unkink and soften. It was thinning into a soft, sweaty down under his armpits, but he couldn’t stop screaming. The skin underneath his beard stretched and jerked as if it were melting off, his whiskers twitching and lightening. He pulled at them madly, but they were already inverting, boring their way back into his pores. They crawled underneath his cheeks, and he clawed blindly, but they only squirmed further in, a million tiny insects underneath his flesh.

His hands continued to contort, and with a dull scraping, his nails began to grind slowly longer. Some furious force was pulling them into a lengthy, tapered shape that he could barely recognize. He grabbed his index finger, and his hands shook uncontrollably as a thick red goop oozed onto his nails. It rippled like a scarlet tide, shiny and brilliant in the flickering light of the TV. He didn’t see that the soft curls above his thighs were arranged in an almost unmistaken triangle or hear that the screams that emanated from behind his gritted teeth had less of a growly edge to them with every passing moment. The feeling of his thick eyebrows tightening into fine lines sizzled through his skull, devoid of any meaning.

A forceful yank on the close cropped hair on the back of his head twisted his neck severely, and he yelped like a frightened dog. Every single hair follicle was like a pin piercing his skin. Dark, wispy strands clung to his sweaty forehead, inky invaders among the rest of his blonde hair. Another excruciating jerk sent his bangs sweeping across his vision in a wave of tiny raven-colored curls, and he pawed at them like they were acid. Their weight sliding over each other snapped his head from side to side, his neck contorting. Tug after violent tug stretched the hair until he was certain it was ripping out of his scalp, but, in fact, his locks were filling in, thicker and darker than ever. Tendrils crawled over and around his ears, hiding them beneath a dark mat of hair. The dense, wet fibers slithered over his shoulders, cold against the hot, sticky flesh.

Every single cell of Brett’s body was grinding apart and deforming into a new shape. Blood-red nail polish crept over his roughly unadorned toenails. The black hair flowing down his sweaty back tightened and pulled, the long strands curling into delicate ringlets. They oozed and pulsed like a river of dark lava obliterating every single blonde hair in their path. Underneath the matted hair, a horrendous tearing exploded through his back like some vicious animal had ripped off a strip of his flesh. Another rip, and he screamed even louder than before as the strands of his muscle began to tear apart. He raked his long, dainty fingernails over the sweat-covered bumps of his spinal column, helpless as his back pulled itself apart from the inside.

Brett’s shoulder blades rose like islands out of his flesh as the surrounding muscle was stripped away, leaving little but hard bone beneath his clammy skin. The overburdened threads of his forearms began to snap beneath his weight and he fell onto his elbows. His biceps flattened into gentle, shaky contours, barely visible unless tightened. The flesh hung loose and baggy, a reminder of the proud brawn that had once been, and his frail arms trembled pathetically, struggling to hold him up. The carpet ground between his teeth as he fell face first to the floor. All over his body, he could feel sharp fangs ripping away at his muscle, and he collapsed onto his side in convulsions. The edges of the room began to blacken, but the bestial force dragged him back from unconsciousness, screaming and cursing. His chest collapsed, thin and anemic with nothing between the skin and the breast bone. His legs kicked spastically in the air, the muscles contracting weakly as their mass was slowly stripped away until the hard lines of his bones were visible beneath the sagging skin.

He grabbed his throat as his voice began to fracture and split apart. It was as if his vocal cords were a rubber band that was pulling tighter and tighter. His uncontrollable screams were an incoherent siren climbing the scale chokingly as if he were being strangled into a higher register. The tension in his throat kept growing until he was an adolescent boy, screaming for the pain to stop in jagged, broken tones. The pitches blaring from his mouth were insistently higher and more piercing, rising over the sound of his muscles being ripped apart.

Directly above the surface of his brain, his skull began to crunch inward. He screamed for death, for anything, anyone, but the only answer was the stomach-churning crunch of bone cracking and reforming. His brow shattered, the fragments dimpling his skin. The bone of his forehead exploded outward into two shallow mounds, invisible beneath his bangs. An insistent hammering began to pound his nose back into his face, and the cartilage ripped apart with a dull, wet splat. He gasped and snorted as the thinning bridge mashed deeper between his eyes and the tip began to slowly bend tremblingly upwards.

He felt a sudden, intense pressure around his eyes, the sockets shifting rounder with a loud scraping. His eyes squished wetly as they expanded, and he blinked back the tears that glistened over his larger, blue irises. His cheek bones jutted out like shelves beneath his eyes, dripping with sweat. He snapped his jaw shut as the edges of his chin began to round, the invisible force sanding it down into a petite curve. A slick puffing bubbled up from inside his lips, and they began to push together, momentarily muting the sound of his choked shrieks. He bit his lower lip as it plumped into a thick cushion beneath his teeth.

His chest began to crush inward, and a visceral cracking forced all the air out of his lungs. He gasped and tried to inhale, but an unbearable heaviness compressed his back and crumbled his sternum into the carpet so that all he could do was wheeze hoarsely. Fissures formed in each of his ribs, and they began to tighten and curl like a closing claw, squeezing his internal organs together. His grunting cries became less and less resonant as his chest cavity constricted narrower and more slender. He didn’t even look up as the door burst open, and a room service waiter bolted into the room.

“Are you alright?” the young man asked needlessly. Brett could only let out a strangulated shriek that rang high and screechy in his ears, the unmistakable sound of a woman in pain. He felt a dull scraping on the insides of his bones as if the marrow was being chiseled away. His shoulders popped painfully out of their sockets and began to magnetically pull in towards each other, shredding his shortening collar bone.

“Right. I’m ringing emergency services. The ambulances will be here soon.”

“Help me please!” Brett wailed. Muffled crackles were echoing through his hip bones, and he could feel his femurs jam upwards as his legs jerked shorter. He rolled onto his back, howling in pain at the feeling of his pelvis beginning to split apart. He gritted his teeth and pushed, and his hips groaned achingly outward, the bones flattening and stretching apart like taffy.

The waiter looked on dumbly. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t think I ought to move you. Are you in labor?”

“No!” Brett screamed, as his thighs pulled slowly apart, popping and shaking. The space for a vacuous cavity was ripping open with each rumbling outburst from his widening pelvic bones. The curving crest of his hips shot violently towards his ribcage, his spine grinding itself into dust as it shortened. He arched his back and felt the shudder of his skeletal rear end spreading across the ground. He could only grasp vainly at the carpet and scream in his high, earsplitting soprano. The waiter had left for help by now, gagging at the sight of bones snapping and breaking from the inside. Brett felt a crushing weight land on his wiggling, outstretched toes and compress them down towards his heel. Shards of bone disintegrated around the edges of his soles, and his toes were more delicate and petite with each painful blow, his arches pulling in on themselves.

Despite the pain, Brett was drifting closer and closer to oblivion. A sharp tingling swept the length of his body, and his muscles began to relax. The evil force ravaging his body was loosening its hold on him. He let his head drop to the floor, and his fists unclenched, the angry nail marks still etched in his palm.

Brett laid on the soft carpet for what could have been an hour or only a minute. The pain flashed randomly, striking at his ankles then slashing across his neck, then thudding against his sternum. Visions of spears and knives floated in front of his bleary eyes, and they poked and sliced him mercilessly. He lashed out at them wildly, his thin, twisted fingers clawing at thin air.

Brett’s convulsions grew weaker and the edges of the spears wore off until they were more like dull clubs slapping against his body. He half-heartedly tried to fend them off, but they were beginning to feel like a massage that was loosening what was left of his tired muscles. His eyelids drooped. His defensive swipes were becoming increasingly like tender brushes, as the clubs merged together and began to loll over his skin, spreading a wet warmth over every inch of his prone body. A huge, slippery, wet tongue was lapping up his legs, sliding over his chest, and caressing his face.

Brett grimaced and tried to pull away, but he was weak and his muscles lay limply beneath his flabby skin. He closed his eyes and the comforting flowing sensation gently calmed him. His dick was solid and turgid, scraping against the carpet when he managed to roll lazily onto his side. He willed the blood to stop flowing into his cock and engorging it, but the moist tongue caressed the tip insistently. Unbidden, an image of a beautiful woman on the beach danced in front of his closed eyes. Her body was partly submerged beneath the dark, blue water, but he still recognized her instantly, the goose pimples raised on the slope of her forearms. He wanted to walk over to her, make love to her as he’d done in Greece exactly one month previous. But the warmth lay heavily on top of him, and he laid back into the sand of the beach. The woman dripped slowly out of the water, her bikini barely able to stretch over her overflowing bosoms. He felt his dick swell even harder as she turned around, adjusted her scant thong over her voluminous ass, and laid down on the sand.

The warm surf nibbled at her glossy, red toes as she reclined on the shore, her bikini-clad breasts pooled high on her chest. Her long black hair trailed in the water behind her when a wave came in, and tousled around her narrow shoulders when the foam pulled back into the sea. Brett exhaled deeply, a low whine escaping his lips, barely audible above the calming sound of the surf. His eyes wandered over the water droplets clinging to the woman’s cleavage, across her glistening belly and down to the wet fabric between her legs. Her hand slowly shifted her thong to the side, and she and began to stroke herself. Brett rolled the tip of his penis between his thumb and forefinger as the woman arched her back and began to moan. He scarcely realized that he was moaning with her.

The warm caressing sensation was intensifying, lingering over his genitals and squeezing his balls roughly. Without taking his hand off his cock, he tried to wriggle across the carpet, away from whatever was clapping over his testicles, but the strange tugging followed him. His scrotum was cramped and bulky between his legs, and still the woman rubbed her clit, increasing her tempo.He wondered what she felt like, masturbating in the sand with complete and utter abandon. What sensations flowed through her feminine body? Her moaning grew stronger and stronger, blurring with the sound of the seagulls overhead, and her free hand reached for her nipple and pinched lightly through the fabric of her bikini top. She hefted one large breast and sank her long, red fingernails deep into the flesh. It seemed so heavy in her hand, and he imagined what it must be like for her to have something so soft and pendulous attached to her body.

His testicles were betraying him. He felt them shudder violently, and a squirt of estrogen seeped into his blood stream. It surged into his brain and he shook his head to clear his thoughts as he watched the woman pleasure herself. She seemed so happy and free, so full of feminine power that radiated from her soft, white skin. Brett’s balls slowly began to churn, squeezing and pumping his frail body full of female hormones.

The warmth was still washing over Brett, but it began to seem somehow thicker and sweeter to his utterly exhausted mind. He leaned his head back on the carpet and luxuriated in the pleasantness of it like he was relaxing into a hot, steaming tub of water. The warmth soaked into his bones and dripped over his almost nonexistent muscles. A heavy swelling sensation crept through his entire body from the tips of his scarlet toes to the top of his head, and he moaned at the weight of it. His body was a sponge, soaking up the thick wetness, a soft bloating sound squelching up from beneath his skin.

Brett felt the warmth grow thicker and thicker. It skimmed his ankles and dimpled his knees before oozing into his thighs, rolling and swirling beneath the surface of his skin, all the while becoming richer, heavier. His thighs began to melt and flow together like two softening pillars. The warmth oozed around them, into them, over them until the insides began to slowly push against each other, the soft flesh cradling his turgid balls.

His silhouette began to broaden outwards as well. Warm cream rolled across his thighs and buried their sharp edges. Heavier and heavier the flesh swelled until it came to rest on the ground, flattening beneath its own weight. He could feel the engorged meat stretch and bounce every time he thrust into his hand.

Like a tidal wave, the delicious warmth swept up towards his hips, the bones disappearing beneath a thickening deposit of jiggly fat. The hard angles that jutted into his skeletal waist plumped into smoothly curving contours. His skin began to stretch tightly over the thickening blanket of cushiness. More and more soft flesh dribbled and spread across the swell of his hips, quivering as it settled.

Brett’s penis was unbearably heavy, the skin red and irritated. It was losing its pliability as it became denser, pulling away from his hand. The pleasure that exploded out of it was so intense that it was almost painful. He began to focus his energies on the tip, brushing it as roughly as he dared. His strokes across his cock became shorter and faster, mirroring the frantic masturbation of the woman on the beach. The distance between his hips was lengthening visibly now, but Brett was certain that like the woman on the beach, the unmistakably sloping flesh was simply a figment of his imagination. The edges of his hips bloated yet again, and though he clenched his muscles as tightly as he could, his thighs began to undulate to the rhythm of his masturbation.

The woman on the beach was panting heavily, each breath heavy and full of lust. She rolled to her knees, and Brett found himself doing the same. A tickling sensation flickered across his ass cheeks as fat began to fill them until they drooped beneath the weight. The straight line of his butt bulged into a gentle slope, wobbling as it curved. He felt the feminine padding squish against his legs beneath him. It billowed out behind him, and as more and more mass jiggled over it, his legs began to go numb beneath the ever-increasing weight. He arched his back and leaned forward as another especially heavy tide of fat almost tugged him over backwards.

Brett kept his attention firmly on the woman. He couldn’t stop the rolling softness that was burying his masculinity. The bulk of his unwieldy hips weighed him down, and his thighs squashed together awkwardly whenever he moved, better suited for downy comfort than mechanical efficiency. An emptiness gnawed at his stomach, and he sighed as the warmth filled it. An expansive fullness stretched deep between his hips, and his belly slowly began to round into a creamy hill of smooth flesh. It centered above the growing hollow in his abdomen, cradling it gently.

The woman on the beach was clearly nearing orgasm, and Brett felt the orbs that were now his ovaries churn heavily in preparation for his own climax. Sticky fluid trickled down his thigh as his scrotum began to loosen and leak a strange mixture of fluid. His ovaries slipped out and dangled freely in the open air against above his smooth fleshy thighs. Brett’s eyes widened as something gently scratched across his nipples, like tiny teeth were pulling at the edges. At first, the nibbling seemed random, without purpose, but gradually it became obvious that the unnamed force intended to burrow into his chest. The pokes and pricks stung his nipples, and they brightened angrily, slowly beginning to spread. He rubbed the sore chaffing skin, and the small nubs thickened against his hand. Between his thumb and forefinger, they stretched longer, and tiny bumps sprung up all across his areolae.

Sensitive nerve endings sprouted beneath each of his hardening teats, and pleasure began to pulse from them. The strange nibbling was penetrating deeper and deeper beneath his skin. He could feel a multitude of tendrils spreading through his chest like the roots of a tree. The irritated tissue began to swell, the skin stretching like rubber, and he delicately ran the tips of his fingers across his hard, developing mounds. They were swelling into tiny sensitive buds, dark veins pulsing just beneath the surface of the hard skin.

A deep thud echoed through his chest and his left breast flopped outward as a lobule formed. Another thud emanated from his left breast and then another and another. Soon his breasts were jiggling constantly with the vibrations of lobules expanding like popcorn in a microwave. With each pop, his breasts jiggled a little more, fat drooping around the lengthening ducts. He watched his chest blossom, the growing weight resting heavier and heavier against ribcage. Waves of bile hurtled through his esophagus, but at the same time, his soft thighs quaked and a sweating warmth grew in his belly. He cried out in perfect unison with the woman as his penis began to contract in explosions of pleasure. The nerve endings lit up like fireworks and pulled together beneath his skin. The head of his penis darted away from his hand like a slippery eel, and he grabbed it tightly, a choking seizing in his chest despite the orgasm that was still bubbling through his body.

Try as he might, he couldn’t hold onto his penis as it wagged spasmodically, pulling narrower towards his groin. It felt hard and solid, and he realized for the first time that no semen had shot out. The channel of his dick was sealing off, his urethra sliding quickly away as the cartilage compressed. The orgasm was still searing the pleasure centers of his brain, but instead of release, only a heavy, bloated wetness pooled in his abdomen. Although the pleasure emanating from his genitals was as strong as ever, he was beginning to feel that his hard penis was in the way, like an annoying tube that someone had strapped to his groin without his consent. His breath caught in his throat as the woman beckoned him. Still yanking feebly on his penis, he tried to rise to his feet, but before he could even get his shaky legs beneath him, a tall man appeared from the right side of his vision. He walked slowly, his white swimming trunks riding low on his muscular hips, feet sinking into the sand with each step.

The woman beamed up at him blissfully, the moonlight reflecting in her dark blue eyes. The man pulled off his swimming suit nonchalantly as if he were flicking away a fly. His penis hung long and meaty from his hairless crotch. Without saying a word, he knelt down beside the woman and put a large hand on the crook of her hip. Then, he flipped her onto her knees and roughly raised her ass towards him, her pussy dipping around her disheveled thong. He brushed off the sand that clung to the undersides of her butt cheeks, the flesh wobbling heavily when his calloused fingertips swept across it. The woman’s tits hung from her chest like heavy fruit dangling from a tree, but Brett’s eyes were drawn to the man’s swelling cock. The veins were plumping and lengthening beneath the hard, red shaft. Just as it seemed the man’s cock couldn’t grow anymore, another pulse of blood stretched it as it began to curve upwards. He dipped his fingers into the soaked crevice of the woman’s pussy, and smeared her essence over the smooth head of his cock.

The woman screamed, high and breathy, when the man entered her, the pussy stretching around his massive girth. Ripples of jiggly flesh flooded across her ass like waves on the sea when he thrust into her, and beneath Brett’s palm, his own ass felt boyish in comparison. The woman let out another tremulous cry, and though Brett tried to match it, his voice felt clumsy and dull. His ovaries began to tighten and fold into his body, sliding easily over the slick, broadening walls of his vaginal canal. The cream that had been building up behind the dam of his crotch began to dribble out onto the carpet.

The man thrust into the woman with abandon, his rock hard abs propelling him deeper and deeper into her. She screamed, loud and lustful as if no one were around to hear, and Brett wished he was feeling what she felt. He stared at the man’s brawny ass, the way the muscle rolled beneath the flesh and tightened, concave when he thrust into the woman. He gawked at his thick knuckles intertwined in her long hair, jerking her head back like she were some horse he was riding.

The man grunted ferociously, and his massive balls began to pump torrents of gooey cum into the woman. Her toes jerked violently, raising little arcs of sand in the air. Brett thrust his fingers deep into himself, and he could almost feel the man’s seed flooding into the woman, her tits swinging beneath her, the man’s calloused hands encircling her throat. The world was erupting around her, and all she wanted to do was scream until there was no more air in her lungs.

She opened her eyes. Her hand in her cunt suddenly seemed small and pathetic, and she pulled it out, wiping the glistening fluid on the soft carpet. The image of the man still floated over her eyes as if he were a bright, dazzling light that she had stared into for too long. His broad, hairy chest rose and fell beneath the hard line of his jaw. She wondered whether such a man existed outside of her fantasies. He would press his gruff cheek to hers and whisper into her ear all the things he was going to do to her. He would grab her tits and squeeze until they ached. He would fuck her wildly, just as he’d fucked the woman on the beach. At the thought, her hand brushed unbidden across her clitoris.

She lept to her feet, shaking herself, frowning down at her thin frame. Sirens blared in the distance, but they didn’t pierce her consciousness. All she could think about was the firmness of her breasts and the flatness of her ass. She bit her lip and silently begged whatever force had taken hold of her to complete its work. It was still oozing through her body, periodically fattening her thighs or pulling her nipples a little higher off her chest, but was it enough? Would the man on the beach want to fuck her? Would any man?

The pale, rose-colored thong was still laying on the floor where she’d flung it, and she walked over and regarded it absently. She stroked the silky fabric, musing that it almost matched her long fingernails. When she slid the thong over her smooth legs, her thighs shook and tiny drips of hot juice dripped languidly out of her. She stroked her moist sex, moaning at the sensation of satin rubbing intimately against her. With considerable effort, she tensed her muscles and pried her hand away from her crotch.

Her panties were becoming saturated with her fluids, but she barely noticed as she picked up the matching bra and fingered the cups. She rather wished they were padded, but as she felt a deep tremor wobble through her breasts, she realized that she might not need padding much longer. With a practiced ease, she pulled the bra straps over her rounded shoulders and clasped the bra in the back. As she gently scooped her breasts, they overflowed her hands, squishing between her fingers as fat poured into them. They sat comfortably in the bra cups until the warm squirts of fat began to ooze out the sides, pushing the underwire off her ribcage.

She stared down at her swelling tits, grinning dimly behind the warm film of arousal that blanketed her flushed body. Everything that had happened to her before tonight seemed a distant and fading dream. She could be anyone, go anywhere with whomever she wanted. She had no concern for the past or the future, only an immense, burning hunger between her rounded, quivering thighs. She pulled on her black miniskirt, and though she was worried it didn’t show off her ass well enough, the glowing warmth began to persistently remedy the problem, flowing down the small of her back and over the jutting curve of her ass. With a heavy jiggle, her cheeks were pulled down and apart by the ample, molten layers of fat that burbled up. The fabric of her skirt sank deep into the plush flesh and she could hear the threads pull tight under the strain.

The bottom of her thong began to poke out the bottom of her skirt as she walked over to her white, lace blouse, draped messily over the lamp in the corner. The fat kept gathering in the slope of her breasts, until they dwarfed the bra, billowing over the cups like bread rising out of a pan. The blouse settled around her tits, just barely stretching over them, leaving her pale stomach naked and uncovered.

She walked over to the mirror to admire herself, her cleavage rippling and waving, her every step a miniature earthquake. Her hand was still down her skirt, fingering her puffy clit. The woman in the mirror ran her tongue over her pouty lips as she gently gyrated her hips back and forth. She grabbed a fistful of tit and moaned, her breath fogging up the mirror.

A paramedic rushed into the room.

“Everything okay in here?” he asked.

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