Alchemical Atrocities part 4 (Patreon)

(contains partial feral TF, centaur TF, and adventure)

Previous chapters: 1 2 3

Art by: Jakkal

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Imagine the scope of Karen's anger when Desmond did not make an appearance. Hours of waiting with joints sore or bruised, and then dragging her heavy sack of goods back across town were for nothing.

Also on the day after that…

When she came back to an empty clearing for the third time, Karen was forced to make a stop at the local market on her return trip. Much like any other fish, the wisps were starting to age, poorly. Lucky for her this town had a tanner that seemed to take exceptional pleasure at preserving exotic resources. Between their scales, the meat, and even some of the venom, she earned back a fair amount of coin for the adventure. If her alchemist friend continued to play the vanishing fox, there was the prospect of selling her remaining six doses of venom.

A prospect that became more likely with every passing day. With the only known supplier of azuchroma missing in action, there was little to stop the curse from running its course. Karen even started hanging around the Vomiting Rat with little progress. No one had seen so much as a shade of blue fur in almost a week.

By then there was little choice left but to move on. Karen's transformation was getting to the point where even wearing the black cloak made it difficult to pass for a reasonable human. Judging from the ache in her hips that morning, Karen grimly thought she might not be walking on two legs much longer. Best to get out of dodge and flower hunting while it was still an option.

Dressing at this late stage also became somewhat of a contested struggle between stubborn pride and practicality. Barely being about to fit into the largest pants and shirt anymore did little to stop Karen's resolve. Clothes meant humanity, and she wanted to hang onto that until the last possible moment. Even if that meant ripping apart several golds worth of garments in the process.

The pants clung tight to fat thighs and hips with the button undone. A half-formed horse tail twitched irritably across Karen's exposed upper buttocks while she tried pulling the shirt further down with little results. Karen's torso had elongated so much it left the entirety of her thickened stomach exposed, showing off the brown fur growing over its skin.

That would pretty much serve as attire for the day. Boots had been proven a lost cause very quickly. Karen's middle toes had almost swollen into hard hooves that could no longer slip into the soles. The remaining toes were little more than nubs, gradually feeding into the stretching arch building in her heels. They were packed away along with her vest and pauldrons.

Donning her cloak and checking to make sure all were accounted for, Karen departed the inn with her tail and horse ears curled low. She did not realize it until now, that for all the failures they went through, that anthro had actually sparked a bit of hope deep down. He had proven other avenues could be taken that might not require finding her pendant maker to finally be free. Now there was no way of knowing if all that trouble would have actually worked out in the end.

Trying to leave proved not as discreet as hoped either. Each step was marked with a loud clop reverberating off the varnish wood floor. Not helping was the fact her cloak no longer swept the floor like it would have been a few days ago. Instead, it only came up to her knees, leaving half-hoofed feet collecting a cool tavern breeze. Snout-face down and bright red, Karen quickened her pace upon noticing faces turning to find the source of the noise.

Maybe it was Desmond's reputation that warranted the peace, but Karen was glad to make it outside embarrassed to near death without incident. Her pace never slowed, veering immediately to the nearest exit out of town.

At least until she passed by The Rat. Time may have been of the essence. However, a spark of hope still lingered enough to warrant a glance. In such a dangerous condition Karen felt every reason to check for her furry provider. Better odds than finding Azuchroma out in the wilds.

Perhaps it was fate, or dumb luck, that it was Desmond that came charging out the door before she could reach for its handle. There was little time to react before he struck a head-on collision with the solid bulk of her stomach. It was definitely lucky that all her extra grown muscle mass kept Karen barely flinching from the impact. Desmond, on the other hand, landed on his tail with an alarmed yelp, confused at the cloaked wall suddenly standing in his path.

“Ugh! I...I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sir!?” Karen’s wider nostrils flared watching him stand without offering aid. “How dare you, you little blue jerk! I’ve been combing the whole town for you!”

“Wait! I can...explain…” Desmond backed away desperate for an opening to run. They stared into each other's eyes for several seconds, until a flicker of recognition finally dawned across his face. “K-Karen? Is thaa...wow...uuuhhhh...did you do something with your hair?”

“Yeah, the pony mane style is in this summer.” She gave a snort that sounded more bestial than intended. True her hair had already changed into a rich mane that grew down in between her shoulders, but that was beside the point. The curse had not spared her face any embarrassment; Her nose had swollen several times in size and now kept slowly moving to merge with her upper lips. The beginning stages of a budding muzzle. Thankfully it was not hindering her ability to talk, yet, though it did drown her pitch into an almost manly territory. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hey, sorry! I just...heh…horse face.” Desmond found it hard to stifle his giggles the more he observed Karen’s changed form. She was awfully tempted to strike him but considering most of her fingers now consisted of a hard black nail a concussion might further hinder getting the next azuchroma. Just the fake out of raising a stubby hoof proved sufficient in wiping that grin off his face. “Look, I’m sorry things went south for us both. Those alpacas turned back, and they weren’t about to leave without a few chunks of me. It took forever to trick them into thinking I had a secret shack in the southern woods. Part of the job in being a stationary felon is making enemies think you’re a nomad.”

“I see…” Karen’s ears perked uncomfortably under the hood of her cloak, having long since grown into large points at the top of her head. Trying to force a smile only caused Desmond to burst out giggling again at her enlarged front teeth. “So our deal is still on then? I have those blasted ingredients you wanted. They nearly got me eaten too.”

“Yeah! Yeah! Sure thing,” Desmond said with a dismissive wave. There was no way he could maintain eye contact with Karen’s half-transformed face. Not if he wanted to live past her rapidly diminishing patience. He pulled a pen with parchment out of his back pocket to scribble something down. “The clearing isn't safe anymore. Got them on you? Great! Let’s go to my new hiding spot and get some science done.”

To be fair, Karen did not expect anything good to come off more ‘sciencing,’ but there was azuchroma at the end of this road. It would be great to have a few of those before completely losing another set of clothes to this blasted curse.

Turns out Desmond’s idea of a hiding spot involved more swamp trudging. Not the greatest of experiences with hooves. After about an hour of being coated in gods-know-what muck, Desmond brought her to the rotting remains of what looked like a mill.

“I guess this area used to be a river once upon a time,” he said while helping Karen get up to the dryer landings on her clumsy limbs. “Gotta love the king's idea of progress; meshing up dams to flood the less desirable regions. Watch your step. A butt that huge might be too much for this old wood.”

“Hey! If you want to keep looking at my ass, you can kiss it right on the…” Karen’s retort was cut off as she took one step and nearly toppled over from the hard hoof splintering right through a molded beam. She quickly wiggled it out while still attempting to pass off an air of dignity.

Desmond opened his mouth, yet wisely decided against commentary. Taking the lead, they made their way carefully across partially flooded rooms to a staircase looking surprisingly well polished.

“Been doing some carpentry work?” Karen horse-laughed trying to hobble up the steps. The planks groaned under her weight but held somehow. That did little to save her having to take them one at a time. Her hips were aching tenfold after the trip, making it impossible to stand without being hunched over.

“Actually this was already repaired, if a bit dusty.” Desmond reached an upper landing before turning to give Karen support up the last couple of steps. There were no outer walls here, just a big open space with a hole where the mill, presumably, used to be connected. “Guess it was someone else’s hideout. Not to worry, I didn’t find any traces of this place being used for a long time.”

“Trust me Desmond; with you around, bandits are the least of my problems.”

“Thanks!” Desmond beamed, nearly bouncing to the tables where he had set up his newest lab. About halfway there his steps slowed to a crawl while scratching his head in sudden thought. With a shrug, the smile returned, and he began a familiar sight of mixing ingredients into a small cauldron. “Well let’s not waste time. Where’s the poison?”

“Wighht herrhh!” Karen gawped having unexpected difficulty forming words. She nearly toppled over squirming to slide the backpack off her shoulders, tearing several holes in her clothes with each motion. Arms were quickly losing their ability to move sideways. “Phwees hurrggh!”

Desmond carefully took up the pack, finding his ingredients packaged on top of Karen’s other possessions. “Trust me, it’s too late for your clothes if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The materials were spaced out across the lab table before Desmond broke a chunk of purple weed. This instantly alarmed Karen until she noticed it was rapidly shriveling up as it’s liquid insides were poured into the bubbling cauldron. Empty husks were discarded to the floor harmlessly while she looked on, becoming increasingly anxious. With each passing minute, her face pushed out more into a horses snout, significantly splitting her field of vision.

“Done!” Desmond said after almost an hour of silent brewing. He scooped up a ladle full into a clay bowl, turned to face her, and nearly dropped it laughing.

While the cloak had been discarded to spare it an untimely demise, Karen's ever increasing fat and muscle doomed everything else she wore. Pants legs flapped about split into several strips around powerful horse back legs. A gash split down the back of its seat exposing an equally colossal horse rear with a twitching tail. Her shirt had burst in the front when her ribs popped, barreling her chest outwards while the sleeves completely fell off. It was taking the strength of a chair to remain on two legs, as her front limbs lacked little evidence of ever having fingers.

“Wow! That curse must really suck sometimes if a little walk is all you need to speed it up.”

Karen would have protested to a four-mile hike through swamplands being referred to as a ‘little walk,’ but she lacked the capacity for coherent speech. The bowl was held out under her enlarged nose making her snort indignantly. Forehooves shuffled about trying to wrap around it, but the chair chose that moment to give up on life and crumbled beneath her girth. The fall nearly crushed Desmond in the process, reluctantly making Karen accept lapping up another serving of the brew while on all fours.

The bowl was barely pulled away before Karen let out a frightening mix of scream and whinny. With a great heave, her clothes exploded off her body as the transformation rushed to completion in seconds. Her agony did not stop. All her insides churned with a constant burning. Her heart thundered in hard beats in an attempt to escape her chest. Intestines seized up, trying to make her vomit out the brew and only getting dry heaves. She cried out again, trying to beg Desmond for help in frantic animal growls.

The room spun out, and Karen did not even realize she had fainted until she woke up on the floor. The first thing she could understand was that it was night time. Only darkness was visible outside the mill, leaving the room dimly lit by some oil lamps. So great, she had been passed out for most of another day again. That seemed to be a trend with alchemy.

At least she had hands again. Karen giggled in relief wiggling the pink feminine digits before her eyes before using them to touch her face. Human as well, though there was a strange orange ink on her cheeks. Thankfully she had not been sleeping naked either. Desmond must have put on clothes after the potion reverted her form.

Gods would have mercy on his tail if that were all he did.

Looking around she wondered where said furry pervert got too. The room was quite still, disturbed only by the croaking of frogs outside. Hopefully, thieves had not just decided tonight was a great night to come back to an old hideout.

Karen tried to roll onto her feet with a grunt. Immediately she could tell something was off; there was a lot more of her body turning than she remembered having. And even though she was now sitting, at the same time it felt like her stomach was pressed flat to the floor. A glance down explained why, which caused her to shriek in surprise.

Clustered noises came from downstairs followed by a rush of frantic steps. Desmond was on the landing in seconds, nearly hitting himself with the oil lamp in one paw.

“What? What’s going on!? Firefly attack!?”

“What the nine hells did you DO to me!?” Karen was too busy gawking at herself to meet his gaze. Shaking hands felt down the smooth curve of her waist, only to go into a spanning mat of rich brown fur. Instead of childbearing hips, they began groping at the joints of a second set of shoulders. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?”

Desmond nearly toppled back down the stairs recoiling from her death glare. “I drew whiskers on your face!”

“I, YOU, WHa...w-what?”

“I drew a cat face on you while you were asleep. It was boring, and I thought it was funny.”

Karen could feel her brain cells die trying to comprehend his hectic answers. She reached up to touch her cheek again, examining the orange ink that smeared across her fingers. Not exactly the most pressing question that needed an answer.

“I mean this, you idiot!!” Karen gestured back to the horse body that had taken the place of her human legs. It was a dead ringer for her natural transformed body, save the fact her torso was connected to where the head usually went.

“Oh, that!?” Desmond relaxed with a nervous laugh, which only seemed to make Karen want to rush him more. “I believe you’re called a centaur. Met quite a few back in the day, very stubborn race. You might fit in well with them.”

“You...you…” Karen took several deep breathes. A feat that surprised her after having gained two sets of lungs. Front legs slowly bent, pushing Karen up into a shaking standing position. All that time as a horse did little to make controlling four legs easier with this balance. Although it was neat how this made her tower over Desmond. “Any idea WHY your crap made me a centaur?”

“Crap!? My dear, I am offended! The only potion I have that’s crap is the laxatives.”

“...may I have some azuchroma, please?”

“Aw, but sunrise is in a few hours. Don’t you want to get out and enjoy it for a day or two?”

“Well, I guess…” Karen looked over her shoulder at the extended equine back. A hand ideally brushing the chestnut fur with growing admiration. It was a more majestic form than usual, she would give Desmond that. Heck with two sets of organs she could probably run for...days. “You have another fetch quest, don’t you?”

“The ex-knight is too smart for me, once again!” Desmond pulled out a scroll that was an extended map of the county. “There’s a cave rumored to house some coral that is exceptionally potent if a little toxic. Unfortunately its very far out of the way at least ten more miles from here. But in your condition, and a stamina potion, a full gallop would have you there and back before dinner.”

Karen took the map for a quick study. If the read was accurate, the swamp only lasted another two miles towards the area marked in orange ink. The rest seemed to be sparse forest perfect for long distance running. “What’s the catch?”

“Just a minor, sorta, hitch that the cave is rumored to have become the home to a lamia.” Desmond’s ears folded when Karen peeked at him from over the map. “I’m sure the whole myth about eating babies is false. They’re actually a pretty pleasant and solitary race.”

“What are you basing that on?”

“I might...possibly...still owe her money.” When Karen burst out laughing, he added with a furious blush. “Hey! Those monsters are also fortune tellers, so I’m sure that card game was rigged.”

“I swear, my little friend, the stories you tell.” Karen rolled up the map still giggling. The wood echoed her clops as she took a few practice steps around the room in search of her packs. “But if that’s true she’ll probably see me coming on your behalf already.”

“Pfft! I wouldn’t put it past that freaky...wait, you’ll go!?”

“Sure!” Karen found her sword propped up against a bookshelf. The strap nested surprisingly well against her forehoof shoulders without getting in the way. “I mean, I’m hoping she won’t pick a fight when I’m like this, but admittedly I am getting the urge to go out and test my legs a bit.”

“Can...can I ride you?”

Karen stopped dumbstruck in front of Desmond, meeting his soft blush for several long seconds. Without warning, she bent down to give him a sharp smack upside the head.

“Ow! I was just asking an innocent favor.”

“Actually, that was for painting my face.” They both broke out into stupid grins. “The answer is still no. Where’s my gear?”

“Oh, that! I took it downstairs when the water receded for cleaning and air dry.” Desmond shrugged at the surprised look in Karen's eyes. “What? Told you I got bored watching you sleep. Come on, let’s get you suited up and fed.”

Karen giggled, pensively patting her horse lower half for a few more seconds. If she ever recounted this strange adventure to friends, this part might be worth keeping in. Although watching Desmond descend the stairs made that grin gradually vanish with it. Cautiously approaching the landing, she stared at the wooden steps wondering why every transformation had to have a painful drawback.

Once she made it downstairs, via the ancient art of tumbling, Desmond was more than happy to treat her injured pride to a rousing breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. He failed to mention where such eggs could be found out here, but free protein was not worth arguing over. There also came an exciting lesson in having two stomachs. Karen needed three helpings, plus half the rations in her pack before finally feeling some semblance of fullness. The other half could have been easily scarfed without Desmond insisting she kept something for the journey back.

He proved to be a suspiciously credible anthro again when he presented Karen her newly polished gear. Gone were the dents and stitches from hard battles fought, or periods of scarce azuchroma. The harness smelled to be freshly tanned, while all her pauldrons gleamed in the candlelight. They might have been easily mistaken for new material.

“What did you use for these?” she said while tying her vest. There must have been some added upper body strength to her transformation, cause its laces need to be left looser than she remembered.

“Just a simple mending spell I managed to conjure into a varnish. I even coated your guards in a new wax I was experimenting on before your arrival.” Desmond laughed at the panicked glance that received. “Relax, it doesn’t do anything with direct skin contact. The essence I infused should make you a bit more resistant to magic spells. Although I would still recommend trying to dodge them. I’ve only seen it take two direct hits from a lightning bolt, or an energy beam before melting off.”

“Duly noted, thank you.” Karen sniffed a waxed pauldron curiously, enjoying its honey apple scent so much she ended up licking it on instinct.

Once the bitter taste had been spat out enough, she set off with a face redder than the sunrise. Desmond's barks of laughter still fresh in her ears long after their temporary lodgings laid out of sight. No surprise wild horse instincts were present in this form. Those could always be a problem if not kept on a tight leash.

It was only after she had left that Karen pondered what circumstances lead to Desmond being struck by lightning bolts. Then again, she was heading straight into the lair of a lamia. If Desmond had made past dealings with them, her empathy almost lied with the monster.