Choose Your Words, Part 5 (Multi TF, Anthro, Body Alteration) (Patreon)

By FoxFaceStories

A Combined Story Tier Prompt from Rilby & TG Sorcerer

Abby finds herself the target of her jealous stepmother who hates how happy Abby is with her loving fiance Trent. When Abigail confronts her stepmother over her cruel comments, she finds herself cursed to ‘regret her words, and the words of others.’ Soon, Abigail finds that her body and behaviour is transforming on the basis of what other people nearby say about her. As she tries to take control of the curse, things spiral even more out of control, and Abigail is left wondering if she’ll even be human by the time the curse has run its course.

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Part 5: Fur-ther Troubles

“Fur? I’m growing fucking fur!?”

She didn’t mean to speak so loudly, but the horrifying revelation terrified her nonetheless. That woman hadn’t even intended to make a comment like that. She’d just suggest that longer hair -”

Abigail paused as several people exiting the park nearby gasped. She reached a hand up - a hand that was still largely bereft of fur - and felt her head where her scalp was experiencing a strange ‘pushing’ sensation through it. Sure enough, her new platinum blonde routes were surging through the thin layer of skin, growing at a rapid pace. Like noodles through the holes of a strainer, they extended unnaturally, lengthening second by agonising second and causing her to grunt. She shook her whole body, and that set all her curves and animal parts wobbling as well; her udder, her tail, her breasts and even her larger butt.

“What’s wrong with her, mummy?” a young girl asked.

“I - I don’t know, dear.”

Abigail did her best to ignore them, hoping that the muffle of the hat’s interior would shield her fox ears from hearing what they were saying.

“C’mon Trent, pick up, damn it!”

At this point, the fur was spreading even more rapidly, just like the hair on top of her head. It was coating over her back, spreading over her legs. The twin points in her forehead were likewise pushing further outwards. She felt at them beneath her hat, only to dart her hands away in horror. They were bone-like, and sharp at that.

“Horns,” she muttered, “from the cow comments. Euughh!”

“Do you need help miss?” a man asked, approaching.

“NO!” she screamed, and with that, the entire apparatus of her coat became overstretched and untenable. As her long hair cascaded down her back, and fur grew down her sides and hips, and her horns pushed out yet further, the rest of her was put on display as well: her hat came free and was whisked away by a gust of wind, her scarf came loose and coat opened to reveal her bulging udder, and her tail sprung finally free, its aching confinement too much for it to handle.

“Good God!” the man said. “You look -”

“Don’t say a f-fucking word!” she screamed, before racing off across the street. Several cars halted as they nearly collided with her, their horns screeching in anger and shock.

“Watch it, freak!” an irate driver called out. “Try getting rid of the costume and focus on obeying the rules, huh!?”

Another tension, another magical release. Tears pooled in Abigail’s eyes as she continued to run down the block. Her heavy udder slapped against her thighs, releasing full spurts of milk onto the pavement with each thudding step. It was deeply uncomfortable, and needed release, but she needed to get away. She dialled Trent again, hoping against hope he would answer. Her breasts, even cupped as well as they were in her large bra, still bounced painfully on her chest, pulling at her shoulders. More fur spread, and soon it was all the way down her legs and around her udder. Even her damn tits were growing fur everywhere except around the nipple. It was beginning to spread to her face, and by some panicking instinct her longer canine tongue licked at her lips and lapped at the cat hair growing around them. Her bushy tail caught the sight of everyone even if her udder didn’t, but her horns were also making people pause and look. Abby continued to grunt and groan as they extended outwards, pushing from her skull until they were over four inches long and curved like an actual cow’s horns, made of solid bone springing from her skull.

“Pick up Trent! Pick up, goddamn you!”

She went to run across another road; there was no traffic to worry about this time. Except she found that she physically couldn’t. The words of the driver were starting to affect her now, the magic seeping in.

‘Focus on obeying the rules, huh?’

The words echoed through her mind, and they became a steadfast directive for her mind. Despite the fact that the road was clear, she had to wait for the green walking man to give her the go ahead.

“I can’t even f-fucking jaywalk,” she groaned, scratching her skin and trying to hold her udder up a little and get it re-scarfed. But then she started doing the strangest thing without intending to; she began to take her clothing off.

“What? What am I doing? Why the hell am I doing this? Stop it! What the fu-oh no!”

It hit her like a ton of bricks. The irate driver had told her to rid herself of the costume, never knowing that her various animal parts and overdeveloped body features weren’t a costume, but instead actual aspects of her now. Which meant that the only thing that could be considered a costume was . . .

“My clothing,” she said, taking her coat off. She tried to resist the compulsion of the magic, but Clara had been right, it was too strong to fully resist. Instead, she was forced to continue moving, dialling Trent again even as she left articles of clothing in her wake. The coat went, leaving her udder and tail bare to the world to see. Her shirt went next, as did her trousers, until all that was left was her stylish lingerie; her panties tight against her impressively round backside, their front hidden behind the overhang of her huge, dribbling udder, and her large E-cup bra holding up her bouncing breasts.

“What the actual fuck?” someone muttered as she ran passed, tail almost hitting him in the face.

“I’m sorry!” she called, before continuing. Her tongue flapped out the side of her mouth as she ran, as if she truly were a dog in a passenger seat. But far from canine was the growth of her cat fur. It was silky and beautiful, except it should never have been on her. It was spreading over her face by that point, even around her eyes and over her nose, though at least it was thinner there. 

“I’m a freak. I’m a freak. I don’t deserve this! I just wanted to marry Trent and have a good life!”

“Watch out, horny animal coming this way! Awooooga!”

She finally cracked. The homeless man who had made the comment, half-drunk and pointing in her direction, received a wallop of a punch to the face from her. She didn’t care that the motion made her udder slap painfully against her right thigh, or that her breasts almost escaped from their cups, or that her tail brushed against his unwashed figure, leaving it partly coated in his filth. All she cared about was venting some of her anger.

He went down like a sack of potatoes.

But not before his words carried a further effect, and she began to feel a strange arousal come over her. Again, there was that rippling of magic, that rustling of wind that signalled further change within her. The freakish woman staggered away from the homeless man, dialling out to Trent again and again and again, pausing for breath, tongue panting like a dog’s.

“C’mon, Trent! Pick up!”

Just the thought of him was agony thanks to the strong arousal sweeping through her. Her loins were getting wet, her nipples hard, and even her teats were becoming stiff as well, aching for her fiance to milk them free of the pressure.

“Ohhhhh, why d-does that s-sound so f-fucking hoooot.”

It did. God it sounded hot. The notion of him stroking her fur, caressing her tail. Taking her from behind like the animal she now was. The homeless man’s words had that additional effect, and it was a powerful one at that. She was an animal. Fox and cat and dog and cow and God knows what else by the time this transformation was over and ‘locked in.’ No one could look at her and think she were human, and if they did, it would be because she was in a costume from their perspective. 

“No!” she said to herself. “I’m not . . . I’m human. I am human! I’m . . . an animal. I’m a b-beast. I’m a b-big-titted beast. And I’m s-so fucking breedable, ohhhhhhh . . .”

Her mind receded further into that bestial category. She was an animal, there was no other way to put it. Thanks to that ridiculous homeless man, her mind now occupied that space. She could still talk, walk, act like a human, but deep down she was a creature, something inhuman, made to serve humans. Made to breed like one.

Trent finally picked up.

‘I’m sorry babe, I was searching through everything to find a cure to the curse! I may have found something! A tome I’ve got out from the library might be able to help. It’s seriously a tome too, babe. But if we can get it to Clara and maybe try a spell then it could possibly-”

“Good, great, excellent Trent, now shut up! I n-need you to come pick me up! I’m on the corner of Maddison and Hartley’s. You n-need to be - ahhhh - quick!”

‘What’s happened? Is everything okay?’

More tears formed, and she became a blubbering mess. She’d never felt more ridiculous or shameful or foreign to her own body before, and it was made worse by her fur completing its invasion across her skin. She now had blonde and ginger cat’s fur all along her, and platinum blonde hair to complement it that fell all the way down to her waist, leaving space for her bulbous backside to be very obvious. She was almost completely naked, just like an animal, and it caused her to grab her left horn in frustration.

“Nothing’s okay, my love! Nothing at all! Please, get here as soon as you can! I can’t stop ch-changing! I’ve b-become a freak!”

‘You’re not a freak. I love you no matter what, okay? I’ll be with you soon. I’ll speed there if I have to!”

“P-please don’t break any rules,” she cried, her new ultra-law abiding streak coming over her. “J-just come get me. I n-need my master.”

The last word had slipped out, and led to a small gap in the conversation. She could feel the awkwardness from his end of the line.

‘I’ll be there straight away, Abby. I love you. Clara won’t win.’

He hung up, and she sagged, sitting down on the pavement and being as grateful as she could be that there wasn’t much foot traffic or regular traffic in the apartment-filled street she’d found her way to. She retreated a little from the corner just to increase her chances, though the unconscious homeless man remained in view.

“Pig,” she said, wishing she could influence changes on someone else. But instead he just gurgles happily, mumbling incoherence that not even her fox ears could take in. She brushed her fur, looking up at the slowly darkening sky and hoping that it wouldn’t rain. That would just be the pits at this stage. 

She waited like that for some time, silent, her body only growing more unbearably aroused and in need of servicing.

“Where did it all go wrong?” she asked herself, patting down her fur. It was surprisingly silky and comfortable, and even gave her the notion that she wasn’t entirely naked so long as she had this covering. But the pressure in her udder could not be ignored any longer. Of all her new parts, she hated this one the most. It gurgled loudly, its pink mass getting rounded and tauter as it filled, the teats straining to release her milky produce. With a grunt, the new animal-woman gave in and shuffled her big butt forward near a drainage gutter. She looked around one more time, saw that no one was looking or at least taking images, and proceeded to milk herself.

“Mhmmmm . . . ohhhhh . . . ahhhhh . . . that’s the s-stuff. A cow n-needs to b-be milked.”

The phrase was oddly comforting. She was an animal, after all. This was what animals needed; to have their produce expressed. Just a shame it had to go to waste. She brushed her thighs against one another as she did so, relishing the pleasure of the feeling. It wasn’t the same as being fucked or bred - she really, really fucking needed that thanks to the hobo’s comments - but it was the closest thing she could get. She clutched her tits, rubbing her nipples as the pleasure rose, as more and more seeps of milk became full on rivers.

“Ahhhhhh, I n-need you Trent, my m-master! I need youuuuuu!”

It was almost a moo. Her tongue wagged as she reached down to pleasure herself. She could imagine her fiance, her master, taking her from behind. Mounting her.

“Yesssss, oohhhhh, make me your b-breedable girl! Your g-good girl! F-fuck meeee!”

She climaxed. It shuddered over her powerfully, setting her whole body alight with pleasure. Her enormous breasts jiggled, her udder released full torrents of milk, and her fur almost stood on end for some brief moments. Even her tail went ramrod straight as the ecstasy hit her.

“Ohhhhhhh, f-fuck yesssssss.”

A camera click sounded, then a shutter from another, and the clicking of mobile phones taking images. Abby looked up from her self-pleasure. Her eyes went wide at the horrid image of a dozen young teenagers all snapping photos of her.

“Check out the half-human freak!”

“Is that an udder? With milk?”

“Woah, she’s a ‘foxy’ lady, get it?”

“This is so going on my socials!”

Abby stood, only showing off more of her naked, voluptuous, and utterly alien body.

“Oh God, no! Please don’t take photos! P-please!”

But they just laughed and kept on snapping, until one of them said something she most certainly didn’t want to hear.

“Check out her tits! They’re huge!”

“Do you think they’re full of milk like her udder?”

“They totally are. She’s a real animal. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a second pair of tits beneath those ones.”

“She probably does! You just can’t see them! Let’s get closer and video her!”

Abby groaned, succumbing to a new set of changes. Was there no end to it? She was practically resigned to them now, as two points beneath her large breasts began to push outwards, becoming rapidly sensitive. Her breasts suddenly experienced the same warmth as her udder, and they too surged larger.

“N-not more t-tits, please! Not m-more m-milk!”

But it was too late; milky droplets were already pushing out of her nipples, her breasts rapidly engorged, all while two more boobs began to slowly grow beneath them.

“Noooooo!” she cried, even as the teenagers drew closer, taking images and videos.

She was only saved by the sudden arrival of Trent’s car. He screeched up beside her, pushed the passenger side door open, and gaped up at her.

“Abby, holy God!”

But she was already pushing her overdeveloped animalistic body into the car.

“Don’t s-say a word! Drive us home! I need you to g-get me home and f-fuck me!”

Trent took one last moment to look at her chest, where a new set of breasts were rising up, expanding to push her ‘upper’ ones yet higher.

“Abby, you’re growing-”

“Now, master, please! Take me home and m-mount me! I need it!”

He hit the accelerator, confusion and shock on his face. Abigail just continued to groan. The changes were not yet done.

Abigail’s breasts - all four of them now - continued to expand, all filling with milk. Her udder leaked onto the car floor. Her tail pressed uncomfortably against the backseat, and her horns scraped the car ceiling. She rubbed her fur, moaning with desire, needing to touch every part of herself so long as Trent couldn’t. He reached a hand out and placed it on her thigh as he drove, and even that tiny touch of intimacy was enough to make her moan aloud, her tongue slipping out the side of her mouth.

She needed to be bred. Her mind could think of nothing else. Only after that was taken care of could she devote energy to what Trent had found, and undoing the curse. Thanks to the hobo, breeding like an animal was what she needed most.

To Be Continued . . .