Suddenly Laquine - Chapter 4 (Patreon)

(Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (-----) (Ch. 5)

Not even Elara's center of gravity is safe in this tale of extreme circumstances and a short, spunky bunny girl who's about to be hung like a stallion.

Suddenly Laquine - Chapter 4
by Zmeydros
(edited by Tiliquain and UBA)

The mynahs and jungle crows were making a cacophony as they gathered in trees that pervaded the city. Neon signs flickered to life, drawing magic into them to make them twinkle with extra bands of color to draw the eye. The warm, comforting buzz of their plasma-filled tubes soothed my frayed nerves.

It was like gravity’s pull was centered on my crotch and my balls were making even the most basic locomotion a bizarre experience. They kept hitting my thighs, bouncing wildly and rubbing against my clit whenever I tried to walk too fast. I couldn't afford to get my snatch excited again because I was exhausted. If I didn't have to see Brintac, I would've gone to my apartment and collapsed into bed.

Weighing the risks of chaotic processes was inherently not possible and I’d gambled with magic I shouldn’t have. The dampness in my clothes from all my pre, girl juice, and cum further rubbed it in that I’d been an idiot. Now I was paying the price by having the equipment of a being more than five times my size. My dragon form wasn’t big enough to be unencumbered by what was between my legs. I hugged myself, tearing up as I imagined trying to teach martial arts while my balls flailed around in my undergarments. I hated that it was also hilarious. I didn’t want to be a joke or a manifested hyperbole. People already had enough trouble taking a five-foot tall lapine bouncer seriously and if this thing didn’t go away, I’d get even more confused stares.

Being unique was cool, but it came at the cost of social lubricity: the more strange I was, the more questions I had to get through before I was able to talk about something other than how weird I was. And the more I talked about those things in a conversation, the more I was treated like an outsider. And outsiders weren’t equal conversation participants. When I’d been young, I’d had trouble writing to the point that my tutors gave up on me ever writing things by hand and put me in front of a typewriter. That typewriter had cost several months of my family’s earnings and put us in debt for years. I was glad I could actually write with it, but since I couldn’t use my hand to write on paper, whenever anyone told me to write something down, I’d have to tell them I couldn’t. Then I’d have to explain my disability to them and get their condolences.

The same sort of condolences I got for odd movements from motor problems it took my entire childhood to overcome and being overwhelmed in social situations. To this day, I still had to be very careful at parties if there were too many normal people and not enough eccentrics.

Constant condolences from people quickly became a sequence of repeated meaningless noises or worse: a constant reminder that I wasn’t normal and that somehow warranted pity. I didn’t want people to be sorry for me, I wanted people to enjoy being around me. I wanted to be treated like an equal or noticed for something I’d actually put effort into developing, like my talent for giving oral, my cooking, or skill in downing large opponents.

Now the first thing people would think about me was that I was hung like a horse and if they didn’t ask me about it, I’d have to watch their eyes flick down to my crotch while they kept reminding themselves it wasn’t polite to ask a lady about her dick in polite conversation. Everything I said would have to get past the unasked questions cluttering their mind.

It felt incredible when I got this new cannon off, but I imagined something properly sized would have felt just as good. Also, I’d be able to fit into non-taurs. People were going to start introducing me as "The bunny with a horse dick" and I’d have to steer conversations away from my crotch. Tears beaded at the corners of my eyes, I’d start hearing people whisper about "That poor bunny," again. I didn’t want any piece of my childhood back, most of all that. Being universally pitied was like being in jail. There was nothing worse than having people offer praise framed from the perspective of my disabilities.

My uncle not realizing my hearing goes well beyond the average bunny: "I was expecting missing fingers when I first saw her with that knife, but she’s making very even cuts. If she could only apply that grace to keeping her spoon level when she’s at the dinner table..."

My writing tutor when I was eight: "She has a fantastic vocabulary for someone who struggles with reading."

The head judge at the first martial arts tournament I won: "You’re lucky. If they’d taken you seriously, there’s no way you would’ve won. You should probably quit while you’re ahead and go to the magic academy."

The next year, I won that tournament again and I threw my last opponent while looking that judge straight in the eye. Fuck, this cock had to go away. There’s no way I’d win another tournament with it there. Would I even be able to continue being a bouncer or practice martial ar--

A bike nearly clipped me because I'd wandered into the middle of the street, not looking where I was going. It took me a few steps to regain my balance after trying to move out of the way. My balls were in the way of even the most basic movements... Maybe my time as a martial artist was over.

I chewed on my lip as trails of wetness developed on my muzzle. Utari had poked holes in my pre-soaked blouse and used some ribbon to criss cross between them so I could make it home without my entire front exposed. Being topless was acceptable in this climate, but I felt far more vulnerable than normal with the gigantic nuts between my legs. They were completely out of proportion with the rest of me and I probably looked like a freak walking down the street. I was glad I'd used my draconic side to transform my feet, because there was no way I could hop without something supporting my oversized bulge. My tears came faster: maybe hopping was no longer a viable form of locomotion.

If Brintac couldn’t help me, if this parody of male equipment didn’t go away, my previous life was over and all the effort I’d put into forging it was for naught. Decades of effort, erased. I wanted to fall on my face and cry into the dirt, but I kept my feet moving forward while forcing back the tears so I wouldn't make an even larger public spectacle of myself.

Brintac was outside, dusting his entry rug as I walked up, and the moment he saw me, he said, "Another injury, already?"

I pointed at the fantastical bulge in my pants.

He dropped the rug and the stick he was hitting it with to the side of his stoop. Then he put an arm around me and led me inside. The moment I was out of the public eye, I lost my grip on my emotions. My immense capacity for self control was balanced by an immense capacity to feel.

Hugging me against his front, he swayed gently from side to side.

I shook as frustrated, annoying tears soaked into his diagonally-buttoned dark brown shirt.

What was going to happen to my life? Why could I only think about the catastrophic parts about having a giant dick? Why was I acting like it wouldn't go away eventually like other were-traits? It just felt like this was the end for me, the turning point where my life started falling to pieces around me.

Once my sorrow was outweighed by my self-consciousness about weeping like a child, I pulled away from him and said, "Sorry, I'm a mess right now."

"It's understandable," he said.

"My feelings don't make sense and I am failing to follow my mindfulness training. Assuming the worst about a sudden change in my life is classic me."

He went over to his purple wooden desk and pulled a fresh handkerchief out the top left drawer. Then he handed it to me, saying, "Allow me to return some advice I heard you give to one of my students: mindfulness isn't about conquering your emotions, it's about accepting what you're feeling so your emotions can pass through you."

After blowing my nose and wiping up my tears, I said, "Well, I'm feeling like my life's unraveling like a cheap sweater and it's because I made a terribly stupid decision despite you warning me." I sighed. "And I'm furious that the consequences have an immense physical weight attached to them this time."

"I do recall warning you, but even I wouldn’t have expected, uh...the ample roundness that’s settled in between your legs."

"What I expected, in the infinitesimally small chance that I caught that zebrataur's curse, was that I'd be able to manifest a zebra lower half. That would have been awesome." I pulled down my pants, showing Brintac my gigantic balls and sheath. "Having a package that completely changes my center of gravity and defies the basic proportional logic of all living, cock-having things is decidedly not awesome."

Kneeling down in front of my crotch, he said, "It may not be awesome, but it is impressive."

"My massive balls just turned you gay, didn't they?" I said.

He chuckled. "You wish."

"Darn it, you and Dantich are perfect for each other," I said.

"Trust me, we wish our sexuality was as flexible as our wives'," he said.

"It would be cute if all four of you could share. But being best friends is probably just as good. Sex only lasts, what, like an hour, tops?" I said. "The rest of the time we're just livin' life. Well, as long as we don't have disproportionately-giant horsecocks attached to us!"

Brintac belly laughed.

"Hey! Either you fix this, or you're going to teach me how to incorporate dick slaps into my fighting."

He laughed until he was wiping tears from his eyes. Then he sat cross-legged in front of me and straightened his back. "I can't fix it."

"I don't even know how to sit in a chair, let alone hop with these between my legs," I said.

"Your new equipment is magical in nature, like a centaur's lower half. It's too big to be sustained by your body, so it's being sustained by magic," he said.

"Is that why I don't pass out when it's erect?" I asked.

He nodded.

"So I have a magical fairy dong and you can't do anything about it?"

Brintac said, "Unfortunately. It's somewhere between physical and magical in nature: just like your feral were-dragon form. For me to remove it, I'd have to find a cure for the were-curse."

"Fuck, I'm so screwed." I put my head in my hands.

He said, "Don't get lost in the dark just yet. You learned to control your draconic features and I'm confident you'll be able to do the same with this."

"I already tried that and ended up exploding in front of an audience." I shook my head. "My horny side has always been more powerful than the rest of me. I make lots of money working upstairs, after all."

He grabbed my hand. "Your anger used to be more powerful than the rest of you, but you still managed to find balance."

I squeezed his hand and then let go so I could pull my pants back up. As I fastened them, I said, "Yeah, you're right. It's just, I have people who want to see me tomorrow and classes to teach and taverns to break up fights at. The thought of learning to control this amidst all that is just..."

"Then take time off. Use some of your savings to lower your workload so you can spend some time on yourself."

I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. "I'll think about it."

He pulled at the tuft of fur on the end of his chin. "You know, your work upstairs might not be affected much at all. Sure, you'll have to tell all your current clients about the risk of you sprouting a member that puts even mine to shame, but even if some of them leave, you'll be able to get new clients who love the way you've changed."

Tightness in my chest I hadn’t realized was there, released. "You're right, routine for routine's sake isn't going to make me happy. I gotta accept change and keep moving forward."

"And it might take you a long time to accept this change." He paused. "Do you feel inherently wrong or off having a penis?"

"If I'd lost my girl parts when it came in, I'd feel very wrong. But that didn't happen, so I guess it's mainly the size that's bothering me," I said. "And I feel a bit less like a girl with it there, I suppose? Honestly, I kinda want to get over that feeling, though. I know a few herms that are far more girly than I am."

"Well, regardless of where you end up on all that, if it's like other were-aspects, it'll go dormant eventually," he said, standing up. "Could take a while, though. First time things manifest is always a bit chaotic. Just be patient with it, and yourself and come to me if you need someone to talk to."

I hugged him tight. "Thanks."

He hugged back even tighter. "You're welcome."

After letting go of him, I blushed. "You might want to wash your clothes when you get home, I got some of my, uh, scent on you."

He pulled up his shirt and sniffed. "So you did."

"You should tell Materii it's from you having fun times with Dantich." I grinned.

He smirked. "I can hear her squealing in delight already."

"You're going to have to tell me how she reacts when she finds out the truth," I said.

"You okay with me announcing you're part of the cock-having crowd now?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Half the town's going to know by tomorrow morning."

"When you said you exploded in the tavern, you meant that literally?" he asked.

"Yep," I said, blushing.

He grimaced. "I'm sorry, dear."

"Ehh, at least I won't have to update everyone I know one by one," I said, heading for the door.

"May the spirits stand watch over you," he said.

"May you walk in the light, free of shadows," I said, leaving his dojo.

* * * * *

When I woke up, I was staring at the worktable across from my bed. It had a variable power supply, a lamp, a soldering iron, one wooden tabletop radio, two sheet-metal-encased portable radios, various electronic components in drawers affixed to the wall, and a bunch of vacuum tubes sticking out of the sides of shelves which were held snugly by holes I'd drilled into wood slats. Notably lacking was an oscilloscope because I was my own oscilloscope. While deep in meditation, I could hear the hum of the components and feel the way magic traversed circuits. Then I could figure out what was wrong from there.

This had all started with me taking apart radios, fans, mixers, flip clocks, neon signs, every machine I could get my hands on as a kid. It was the hobby everyone told me I could make money at while I never did more than fixed stuff for friends and relatives. If my cock scared away enough clients, starting a repair business would be the first thing I tried.

Thinking about my prick drew my hand to my crotch, but my hand ran into my pussy with nothing in the way of it. What?

Sitting up and pulling the covers off, I checked all around the area for any sign that I’d ever had a schlong and found none. Brushing my clit with my middle finger, I gasped, finding it was still quite sensitive.

Would my prick come in if I rubbed at it more or could I get all the way to orgasm without it showing itself? I moaned as I laid on my back, using my fingers to spread my nectar across my labia. My other hand automatically went to my breasts, but I stopped what I was doing when I found that they'd returned to their normal modest size. Big or small, they felt amazing, so I toyed with them while I rubbed my clit with my other hand. Soon I couldn't resist the urge to shove something inside me and I took my hand off of my breasts so I could shove fingers in my cooch.

There was some throbbing just above my pussy, but I just let the magic trying to collect there flow out of me. Soon all four fingers were inside me, and though I felt a bit of internal pressure in the area my balls had come from, I got through two orgasms without my stallion equipment showing up.

Then I just lay on my bed, staring up at the underside of my thatched roof as my afterglow settled in.

Huh, I often overreacted to change in my life, so it was possible I'd overestimated how much of a complication my new were-zebracock would be. Part of me wanted to see if I could bring my dick out on purpose, but I had to get ready and head over to the brothel. Sure, I could've cancelled my appointments and taken the vacation that Brintac recommended, but collecting data by seeing how people reacted to the risk I'd grow a zebrataur cock fit my mood better. Plus, I didn't want to take that decision out of my clients' hands.

My chest tightened: most people didn't have a very good relationship with uncertainty and I had no idea how likely it was to appear.

Since I'd basically fallen into bed and conked out last night, my fur was matted and I needed to wash my sheets. Getting out of bed, I pulled my sheets off, drew a few inches of water in my round wooden bathtub which was more like the bottom of a large barrel, and tossed my sheets in with a bar of soap. I jumped in after getting the water soapy and stomped around on my sheets, stirring them up a few times. Then I set them aside, turned on the shower, and cleaned my fur with the fur-friendly soap. Once I was clean, I grabbed the sheets and held them under the water with me, rinsing them by periodically wringing them out until the water coming out of them ran clear.

I found combining my shower with rinsing sheets was rather efficient and wet cloth offered a plethora of sounds and textures that I found meditative: the splash of water as it was rung out, the plop sound it made when you dropped wet cloth or clapped it against itself, its heavy but pliable weight, and the way it squished when it was fully soaked.

Leaving the wet sheets in the bottom of the bathtub, I got out and dried my short fur with a towel. Then I put on my thin house robe and slippers before picking up the sheets and heading down two flights of stairs and out the back door.

Communal clothes-hanging lines sat in front of a grove of banana trees that produced the tastiest bananas I'd ever had. They had a hint of mango in them somehow and it was amazing. Off to one side was a crank-operated wringer and a small garden with all sorts of peppers and some leafy broccoli growing in it.

My wooden slippers clacked as I made my way across the patio's limestone slabs to the wringer. Wringing out the sheets, I sighed happily. Sometimes chores were grounding, an excuse to slow down and relax. My life didn't feel all that hectic right now.

The water pouring out of the sheets made a soft pattering on the patio below, some of it wetting the fur on my footpaws. After using clothespins to hang the sheets, I went back up the stairs to my apartment and got dressed in an airy blouse and a matching, flowing light cyan skirt. I didn't bother with panties.

I waved at the red panda that ran the wicker hat and basket store I lived above. Most people would have considered her short, but she was taller than me by two inches.

The wooden signs out front all the stores on the street had been painted by the same sign painter: Serchii. His calligraphy was utterly gorgeous and the range of styles he was capable of was astounding. When I'd found out he'd done all these signs, I squealed so loud he thought he'd accidentally hurt me.

Serchii...he probably wasn't going to have much of a problem with my prick, but he had some sort of special plan for me today and I didn't know what it was.

When I entered the brothel, I went up to my room and double checked that it had been properly cleaned. Then, about a half hour later, I got a knock on my door.

Thinking it was just my first client being late, I said, "Come in," and got in a sexy pose, leaning up against the head of my bed.

Eun-Ji poked her head in, her crimson head feathers perking up the moment she saw me. As she spoke, her feathers flattened against her head. "Your first client cancelled his appointment saying you had a cock now?" She blinked after asking the question, tilting her head as she waited for the answer.

I sighed. "Caught a zebrataur's curse."

The feathers atop her head shot straight up. "R-really?"

"Yep," I said, blushing.

"Do you want me to tell your clients when they come in?" she asked.

"I'd rather tell them myself, it isn't always there and might not even manifest," I said.

"I'll just tell them you have something you need to talk about before they start so they're not as blindsided," she said.

"Good idea," I said.

"I have more questions, but I shouldn't leave the desk unattended," she said.

"I'll tell you the whole story next time we hang out, how's that?" I said.

"Sounds perfect," she said. "See you later."

I waved bye as she closed the door.

One client was already gone. Was everyone going to cancel on me? For a moment, I thought I was going to cry. I even started curling in on myself. My legs were up against my breasts and my short muzzle was against my knees. I could smell my body's slight hint of dried apricot and vanilla custard scent. It was quite potent in my crotch, though the apricot got stronger than the custard there. My body was so wonderful. I liked being small, I liked being a woman, I could hear even the faintest sounds, my strong legs let me get lots of air time even without wings, and my fur was the perfect length: not so long it was hard to dry, but long enough to be really soft and pleasant. My body even fit my personality. I was detail-oriented, nurturing, strong-willed, and calming to those around me.

And I loved my dragon side too. Tomorrow, I had a couple clients that always requested my dragon form. Gliding on my wings was wonderful and my dragon tail was a very helpful thing to have when one had a pussy that sometimes refused to shut up.

My cock was the first thing about me that could truly estrange people. Were my negative feelings about it more attached to fear or my sense of self? Some clients came to me to be dominated and I'd thought about what it would be like to have a prick to stick in them. That never seemed bad, it just felt like a fun possibility.

Then why did I feel like crying?

If any of my clients showed up today, I was gonna have some uncomfortable conversations.

Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing until my thoughts became less sticky. The dread I'd been feeling drifted through my mind as I concentrated on my hearing. The same mynah that had been singing outside my window was in a tree on the other side of the street today. The new guy in the room next to me was asking his client to slow down. A couple rooms over, Harriet was talking about sewing projects with a lesbian client that came a couple times a week. Someone downstairs was tapping their foot against the bamboo pole that held up my floor. The vibrations from that tapping were echoing, becoming softer versions of themselves as they bounced back and forth through the stiff bamboo fibers.

Focusing on that detail got me so deep in meditation that I was starting to hear conversations in the bar across the street, feel objects in my room interacting with the static of the universe... Someone was walking up the stairs, walking up to my door.

A knock on my door sounded like a bomb going off. I yelped and nearly fell off my bed. I should have expected the knock, but I'd been meditating so hard, I'd forgotten that people knock on doors.

"Come in," I said.

A small male lemur came in who I'd seen a couple times before, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, before we start, I need to tell you I caught the zebrataur curse and I might grow a prick," I said.

"Does your pussy stay when that happens?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

He dropped his pants, already hard. "It's fine then."

END OF CHAPTER 4

I’d like to acknowledge my $20+ patrons, Arkona Kothe, Navajo Demar, Skrime, UBA, Warialinth, Xaziana Tenebris for helping make all this possible. Thank you! Thanks to all my other patrons as well. Every one of you rocks!

(Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (-----) (Ch. 5)