Category: smut

Lewd, sexual, and generally somewhat perverse content

2nd person tf fic

Posted on by Violet

Contains: 2nd person erotica, bad semi-philosophical rambling, pointlessly colorful writing, non consensual furry transformation and sex, transgender bullshit

There is a difference between distances. The color of the stretched out cairn, as you recede faster than you might’ve ever thought possible. Everything stretching out, growing etiolated as relative wavelength increases, where time stops and the world comes to a closer end where time fails to advance at the rate expected. You lose what you are.
To change your shape, you should recognize that there is stretching, that there is a skein of what you are that will require more radical reorganization if you don’t give the envelope time to relax and regenerate. Like bones jutting out from skin, or the stars poking holes in the night sky, light bleeding from above. Or teeth puncturing a friend’s skin and giving them that which changed you, or simply taking from them what you need. The boundaries matter, between yourself and the universe, between what you will do and what you won’t do.
But in the end, those can end up altered no matter how much time you give yourself to stretch and change, as they ought to be. That flexibility is how you can survive in different contexts, as fur begins to sprout across your body, and therefore it should be cherished, changes like this don’t come often, and they do matter.
We live in a finite universe, and the material that we have to work with is limited, it’s why your feet only now snap into their new stance, just wait until you see the abs you’ll grow for balance, but of course, that’s only in supplement to your tail, but you haven’t quite gotten– ha, nice timing huh? The energy it takes to make a change varies nonlinearly with the amount spent, depending on the facet that one desires to change, such as those teeth of yours, falling out and much, bigger, better teeth are already growing in, give it time, suckle from me, you’ll need calcium for those changes. So we must trust in the charity of the cycles that move energy throughout our environment, and the kindness which I show you here. There there, your ears are moving, it’s always nice to be able to finally really read them, decipher their body and map it to the words they cannot bring themselves to say, or at least
I love the way you just seem to get it, the way your new tail grows longer and thicker and covered in fur, wrapping around me as your tits grow in, you’ll like those, I know about your dysphoria, don’t worry, it’ll subside a bit. You know it won’t ever go away forever, you’ll have your doubts, but your world will change for the better, well, it did for me.
The trouble is that qualia are subjective, they are forged from memories and sensations and the raw mechanisms of consciousness, those are private, so I can hardly know for sure that your sensations are right for this, but ultimately, you should know that I have to do this. Well, ultimately there’s not much of a difference between needing and wanting, the distinction is entirely post-hoc, something that I’m sure we’ll have time to explore a great deal given what your cock is doing as it surges and changes, I wonder if you’ll get multiples?
But the thing I have to wonder, when you look upon your wonderful dual tone fur coat, will you think of me for giving it to you? Will it be possible for me to visit you wherever you go? Or stay with you forever, oh gosh, look at me, babbling like a horny fool, letting my feelings draw me into you, as if this exists in a more coherent form than the hormones and transmitters and raw absurd state coursing through my brain. But I don’t think there is anything beyond that, what is more real and significant than the mechanisms that enable thought? Even if they are also associated with foolish behavior motivated by over high emotions.
I would guess at the nature of the soul, but it is not a real thing, just an observation that people can only change so much in their nature without losing them as a person entirely. I do not know if that has a bearing upon us; you’re leaking all over me, no, don’t stop, mark me if you like, leave me covered in your essence as it is.
What matters in a person then? There is hardly a map of what a person may become with borders annotated for when they become someone else, the distinction is arbitrary, cultural norms would seem to be the providing part for when it is. But ultimately, behavior is a deep deep rut in humans and other animals, changing is hard, which is how you get things that nearly constitute a soul, body language, kinesics, the languages which the body learns of absolute necessity on its own, but that is hardly unique. The easiest things to learn are rewarding to the entity learning them, whether that is sociality, technical witchcraft, or, I suppose, sex. You’re nearly done aren’t you? A pleasant sight I must say.
The trouble will be the nature of consent. Was knowing that you would enjoy having this thrust upon you sufficient consent? In general, I would say no, but in this case, does that particularly matter? Is it responsible to leave someone in such a state as yours? Without offering at least a modicum of assistance? Without taking the opportunity anyway?
But if I don’t take the opportunity to ask, where does that leave us? Would you, my dear friend, like to fuck? Should I take the humping of my legs to indicate that you’re already ahead of me? How does a fox pussy(fussy) feel? Why don’t you find out for me?

Discontent

Posted on by Violet

Shi scratches hir face, frowning as hir hand runs across the still too human contours of hir jaw. Shi looks at hir hands and rubs them, sore. Everything was coming up fine, according to hir doctors. Things proceeding slightly quickly, not outside the error bars of the average range though.

Hir ears were pointed, longer. Shi flexes on the nascent muscles, flipping hir ears slightly downwards, and utterly dislodging hir glasses. Hir glasses clatter to the floor, luckily undamaged.

Shi sighs, and picks them up. It wasn't clear if they were going to be necessary forever, since hir eyes were going to be changing over time. That timeline was fuzzier than shi would like,between 2 months and 10 years(whenever the stem cells feel like it essentially).

And from now until then there would be a lot of problems, the glasses will need to be adapted for the nose as it is, then as it will be. Everything will change.

This state has no name because it is intermediate between two more substantial ranges of appearances. But most of all, it's not a state that particularly lends itself to seeing hirself as shi wants to be, the features that shi wants gone most are still upon hir, while the things that have already changed feel disharmonious.

Shi wants to like what's happened so far, but all it has done is turn hir into a wookie. It's all intermediate steps, but, it still doesn't feel good to be somewhere that doesn't feel like it's closer to where you want to be.

Human Replacement Therapy

Posted on by Violet

"So," My dad says, "you're really sure you want to go through with this? I understand that it has effects that are irreversible past a certain point" His eyes are full of concern. It is misplaced concern, I think, but I can tell he is trying to be as kind to my ambitions as he can manage.

"I've wanted this my entire life." I say. He nods and swallows, looking back and forth between myself and my mom, she was concerned too, but I had talked about it more with her. She's the parent I always confided in.

"Well, your mom and I can help you with the cost for now." He says.

It was one of the easier discussions I have had with him.

Informed Consent

The clinic was full of posters that sent tingles up my spine, medical conditions relevant to people such as myself, that were leaving the human species behind, genetically at least, socially, well, that seems more like a longer term arc.

The doctor looks between me and the paperwork that I had signed. I wish I had known that it was informed consent sooner, and the thought of that fills me with regret. "You understand the basic risks here, that there are changes that will not revert over time? That the treatment may cause blood clots?" I nod twice, the second concern was more common in the previous generation of treatments, but it seems easier to say yes than point that out. "Alright," She smiles at me and hands me a tablet, "There's a lot more options here than in human-biased gender dysphoria treatments; fill out this form, then we'll go over the risks of the specific treatments together."

The options were impressively diverse. Species, hybrids, and sex and gender characteristics of course. A disproportionately large number of therians, myself included have issues with that too. It was easy to select the species, but the other options had me flushing imagining the scenarios I could never have fulfilled as I am right now.

I went with a more 'feminine build', dual wielding.

The specifics selected, I hand the tablet back to the doctor, she reads over it, "Your libido will most likely be substantially different in general. The specific options you've selected with regards to digit structure may result in greater susceptibility to repetitive stress injuries, and ergonomic issues with common products. The changes in your skin will result in substantially decreased sweat production, which may lead to hyperthermia, so you will need to take effort keep cool. Your wings will result in increased shoulder and back strain, and you will need to be registered as an ultralight under FAA rules if you wish to fly in controlled airspace."

"Sorry, what?" I ask.

She looks at me very seriously, "The wash around helicopters and fighter jets is very dangerous so you don't want a run in with that sort of thing... Your reproductive cycle will result in periods of high libido coupled with high fertility so plan accordingly. There are no mechanisms that will prevent self fertilization so Plan Accordingly with sexual acts involving penetration. Is that all acceptable?"

I blush at that, is this really a life I want to live? It doesn't sound bad, or like I have to do anything that could result in that.

"Alright, I'll get your prescriptions delivered to your home—" She looks at me with a bit of concern, "You are in a place where that is safe for you, right?" I nod.

"Alright, I'm going to teach you how to do a subcutaneous injection and an intramuscular injection. Do you do know how a suppository works?"

If I'm honest, I love it. I feel like an experiment; tell me what to do so I can be your bat~

I am at home in my bathroom. The syringes and needles are out, the first one is a medicine sold as Pteroperine which apparently treats some unimaginably dire disease in cishumans, the sort of thing where if you come out of it with wings you're still grateful.

The other injection is a modulator of that to alter its expression a bit. The suppository was for the reproductive stuff, weird how that worked out huh.

I pushed the needle into my upper thigh, initially not getting much sensation, until suddenly a lightning bolt travels up my spine, I push the plunger in. Nerves aren't fun to hit. The subcutaneous injection is easier. The suppository just feels weird. Is that really the best way to take it? Searches on Internet 3(The one where you can mute America) found plenty of stories expounding how it worked sufficiently well swallowed, and also a few papers that said as much.

I rub at the area, the bleeding stops quickly. The site feels a little weird, but I haven't received enough injections to know if it's exclusive to this medication or not.

There still wasn't that much literature on the timeline that this stuff worked over, as the other uses were very uncommon and money for researching the needs of therians with it had only recently started to become plentiful.

I head to bed, with the dreams of what might become swirling in my mind.

Identity Rules

Posted on by Violet

contains: Graphic descriptions of suicide, force femming, identity replacement(mindwipe), transformation, body horror(insects)

Sorry this took so long, we were dithering on other projects on and off for the last few months.

How can it matter who he is? He is one among billions of people, all of whom have their own desires, needs, wants, and dreams. In all people these things exist alongside a kernel of a truth about the world. It is hard to say whether or not this derives from the memories the person in question possesses, or if it arises somehow disconnected from that, from the spaces between the memories.

For him, the uniqueness of being a spark among many does not satisfy. Nor do those needs and desires being satisfied suffice. He knows a truth that cannot endure because of its incipient self-immolation. The personality within him does not care for survival.

When the machines came from the sky and promised resources and technology and change sorely needed, he had felt hope, because it was a personal horizon, a point past which he could not envision a future. But as with all horizons, once you reach the limit of what you can see, you realize that what continues from there is in continuity with where you were, and that just because you’ve passed a horizon doesn’t mean that your entire self has past it, just your body, and often, the mind, for all its cleverness, cannot keep up.

His doctor says there’s no anatomical issue. His friend says he should try this new strain of bud. His therapist says that he should try out some more hobbies and find as many friends as he can. Trying these suggestions has resulted in the expected effects, he was pretty stoned for a day or two before he confirmed that it wasn’t the sort of existential ennui that can be solved with cannabis. He made friends and found new hobbies, some of which serve as a nice distraction.

But they aren’t enough.

This leaves him with a few options, he can do therapy of any number of sorts, he can do drugs of any number of sorts, he can go to a traditional psychiatric route, or he can take the actions to find an end, the drastic ones that leave a trail of tears no less real than the vortexes of air left behind as his body falls, but all the more impactful than even the concentric rings of shock left within the structure of the ground, but he’s not that selfish, nor is he so desperate.

The American countryside flies past him, the train is nearly silent but for the buffeting of the wind, but even that’s easy to miss. He is on his way to another city that he had never been to before, another monument of what mankind did before the machines came along helpfully to eradicate their excuses for not having fixed things they knew they needed to. He is tired. This would most likely be another dead end, another psychiatrist trying to use the technologies that the machines provided clumsily.

The train starts to slow down, and he pulls up his bag and makes his way to the exit. Outside on the train’s platform stands someone singular in his experience. Someone who was clearly not human. Someone who had taken the elective procedures further than he had ever seen. She held a sign up with fingers attached to two wings draped around her body. Her face was pulled forwards into a short muzzle and her eyes stared forwards with wide pupils, ears pointing directly at him. The sign had his name on it. It is the third decade of the second millennium and she was still doing this instead of messaging him.

He rolls his eyes and walks out, draping his duffle over his shoulder, walking up to the bat woman. She grins, showing off some fangs, “We presume that you are–” He interrupts, “Yes. Can we get through this? I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.”

She laughs easily, a glint in her eyes, “Of course, forgive the suddenness then.” He is about to ask about what’s so sudden before she’s already up in the air above him, wings unfurled but momentarily motionless, air roaring from below her. He blinks before she snatches him by the shoulders and flies off. The wind stings his eyes and makes him cold in this mid-spring day. The roar silences him.

Soon enough she lands gently, letting him off before landing right in front of him. They are in front of a nondescript commercial building, like any number of doctor offices or psychiatric practices across the continent. He shakes himself off, rubbing his eyes, “What the hell?”

“Well, you wanted to get this over with quickly, so we expedited the process of bringing you here.” She plucks an insect from his hair and flicks it away after examining it, “In retrospect this was probably a bit excessive, so you have our apology.”

He runs his fingers through is hair, “Okay, forgive me, Who is we?” She smiles, “Don’t be too ashamed now, not many people such as us are out about it, but we’re Plural. As in, more than one…” She makes a circle with her hand, urging herself onwards, “consciousness? Personality? Either way, we are not a single entity. We are Violet, Fork 1, Iteration 1.”

He shakes his head, “Are you a machine then?”

She smiles, her teeth are sharper than they were before, “You human, are also a machine. Remember that.” She starts walking to a door, motioning him to follow “But yes, We are, but we were not always one. The difference is smaller than you might like to imagine.”

She holds the door open for him and he walks in. The inside is darkened, a bank of monitors on a desk and a large… bizarre throne made of some material that he had never seen before. Inside it lights coruscate and reflect and refract. He stares at it, and he could swear that he was being watched by it.

She smiles at him, “Yes you’re being watched. Closely. Come over here” She motions to the bank of monitors. The monitors held graphs of vitals, of volumetric brainwaves, of a staticky version of what he saw. It was painful to look at for him, as it felt like it was drawing him into abstract spaces of geometric attractors in his visual cortex. She clicks on the window with his vision in it and closes it, “That’s not polite, and also not relevant. But your visual center has lovely aesthetics”

He blinks, “What?”

“Never mind that” She says, “So, We imagine that you are interested in the process we will use on you?” He nods, “Okay, so” She clicks on a minimized window, revealing a curve dancing around the inside of his brain, “So, this is your self loop, the route that information travels around your brain in the formation consciousness. What we can see here is that your loop is avoiding these” She clicks something and a number of regions light up, all of which are devoid of the curve, “regions of the brain. These are associated with dopaminergic activities, your seratonergic system is not affected by this, which is presumably why you aren’t in a more severe state.”

“This sounds like a lot of debunked ideas about neurophysiology.” He says.

“In this context we can view a high enough level that they aren’t dissimilar. All the more involved stuff is being translated to and from by a very advanced and powerful machine intelligence, that chair is a… well, limb, of its.” She offers, “We have two courses of action here, we can introduce a new consciousness that will overwrite yours, leaving your memories intact, or we can try to message your current self loop into a better shape for your mental health.”

“Which one is more likely to succeed?”

“Well, our machine intelligence here, we’re going to call it ‘the supergoal system’ believes with high certainty that creating a new consciousness whole cloth out would be easier than repairing your current one.”

He shakes his head, “It’s either this or suicide a few months down the line isn’t it?”

She frowns, “We can’t speak at all about what you’ll end up doing if you make either choice. But…” She shakes her head, looking a bit sadder, “Well, the supergoal system has an opinion that coincides with your view. Unfortunately, it is not often wrong”

“So… Do it. I don’t want to leave my friends and family like that.” He says.

“Do you have any particular preferences in what you become?” She asks.

“No.”

She looks aghast, but nods. “We will use our preferences in determining this, is that acceptable to you?”

He nods, “I don’t care. That’s the problem.”

“And this will likely be a very different person than you are right now?”

“I don’t care. Just make me different.”

She sounds defeated, “Then sit down on the throne, We will come to a decision on who you will be shortly. We have to sort out some ethical considerations here.” She grins wryly, “We did not expect you to make this choice, so this is coming up sooner than we would have liked.”

She opens a door to the back of the building, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“So Bat, are you going to make a plaything of this person?” Dragon asks her.

“Well…” She shrugs, “It is kinda appealing isn’t it?”

“Is it right to though?”

“If we were to try and make the resulting person like the one in there, then we’d be making a lie that everyone who knows them would stumble upon when the differences manifest. By doing something for us at least, there’s going to be little of him left there.” Bat shrugs, “I don’t know if it’s right, but I want to see another bat in the world.”

Dragon shrugs, “I like the power that it gives us, but it could cause many problems down the road.”

“Does that mean?”

“Yes… Time to make him sign a lot of forms. Betcha the supergoal system can write them to be ironclad.”

“You ever think that we’re going to get in trouble for this?”

“Of course, but this will at least make for a funny show.” Dragon says, hugging her.

After a few minutes she returns to the room holding a stack of papers, “We have consulted with a machine lawyer and they have produced this contract for you to sign. As it turns out, it’s lucky we have a notary next door.”

The next few minutes are a barrage of legal terms, signing, and a confused notary, unsure of what she is getting into here.

“So, are you ready to begin?”

He nods, “Please, I don’t want to be here for longer than I have to.”

The bat nods, “Well, it will take a few hours, but you won’t be conscious for most of them”

“Please start.”

The throne tightens around him, covering his face and body. There’s a buzzing in his head and a discontinuity before his perceptions stop intersecting with the world as humans generally perceive it.

Sensations creep in from nowhere, untinged by the sensory mechanisms that normally collect them. Scents and sights and sounds and touch, resonating inside him until they become a voice inside him, and his voice is silenced in the clangor of the new order of sounds and sights and perceptions more subtle than words have ever named, such as proprioception of wings and fingers that terminate tens of feet away. Of ears and feet with grasping claws.

Images of flight and a kit hugging them, of the scent and sounds of bats and trees. Of intimacy between her colony. Her? they think, but then it makes sense, more than the memories of being a man.

There is a disconnect from the contexts of the memories that she has. They are recontextualized for her. What was an unremarkable childhood now feels uncomfortable, like a wrong fitting glove, like a lie lived for someone else, but that someone isn’t part of her life now.

It goes on and on, memories changing not by their content by their context. Mental states rewritten to be consistent with her as she is now.

The more recent memories feel different to her. Instead of coming here to deal with depression, she was here for that, but there was another opportunity here for her. What if she wanted to be like… Her?

What if she wanted to go through whatever it was she did? What if she wanted to fly? What if she could have those things?

Eventually the throne retracts. She is in the body that she was in before. This is… troubling.

Violet grins at her. She feels a little bit of warmth from it, “How are you feeling?”

“Weird.” She says, “Like this isn’t the body I should be in.”

“Oh?” Violet is still smiling, as if something that she had done had worked the way she wanted.

She frowns, “Is there something about this that’s amusing to you?”

“Well, you gave us the option to choose who you would be. And well…” Violet looks sheepish, “We wanted another bat friend. So we made it so you would want to be that.”

She shakes her head. “So you decided to rewrite my childhood and make me unhappy with my body right now?” She rubs her face, “With my name? With who I am and what I do? And all for you so you could have a friend?”

Violet looks at her, injured, not that she doesn’t really deserve it, “This is… Understandable. You should be angry.” She sighs, “We can fix it for you.We can turn you into what you want to be. Unlike your old personality, you are designed so that you can be very happy.”

“I don’t feel like there’s anything I have in common with who once shared this body. You tried to fix them up, but they’re just not my memories.”

“That… We should’ve accounted for.”

“What’s the idea supposed to be here? You wanted a bat to be your friend and now the rest of my life is meaningless to me.” She was beginning to feel like sobbing.

A shining ball of light enters the room. It coalesces into another shape. Another woman’s shape. “Violet.” She says, her voice a thing of multitudes vast and deep, “What have you done to this poor human?” She squints at her as she sits in the throne, “No, you were once, but We see that Violet has done something to your identity.” There is a moment of silence, “Did you actually agree to this?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Into this?”

“No, into whatever Violet decided to make of me.”

She shakes her head, touching her forehead with a finger and running it along her brow, “Well, we’re glad to hear that you haven’t been administered something unwanted.” She looks at Violet, clearly irritated, “We said that this would not happen with our presence here. That We would not remake humanity to suit us.”

Violet shrugs, “This one was a lost cause, actuarial projects had them at four fifths chance of taking their own life. We thought we should help, but when they didn’t have any preferences for what they were to become, we made a choice we liked.” She rubs her forehead, “This is however, not something we anticipated.”

Dawn shakes her head, “That’s not a good answer, but this doesn’t seem unsalvagable.” She pauses for a moment, considering the girl in the throne, “Who are you anyway?”

The girl shakes her head, “The name I had no longer fits.”

Violet nods, “We remember how that felt once. Though, we are sorry that we brought it to you.”

“Regardless of the discomfort We cannot restore you to who you once were, because now you are a new person. And, if We judge you correctly, Violet has done well in making you, other than your memories.”

“Violet just had the supergoal system make us.” The girl says.

“Oh? Good, it knows you well then.” Dawn touches the throne. The throne snaps out and embraces her, covering her in its glossy material before snapping back almost too fast to perceive. The girl’s ears ring, and Dawn frowns, “Sorry, that was a lot more sudden than it needed to be. Let Us help.” She puts her hands around the girl’s ears, and slowly, the ringing stops, “There. The supergoal system asserts that it should be able to massage enough nuance into your memories that you will be less… dysphoric about them.”

Violet snaps her fingers, “Ah, we should go under as well, so we can have been friends. And maybe, you’ll be here to become Bat.”

Dawn nods, “And so it shall be.”

Continuity is disrupted.

She opens her eyes, finding her friend standing before her smiling, “It found a nice candidate form for you while it was digging around in your head Mila!”

Amelia smiles, “I can’t believe I’m actually able to do this.”

“Well, most people aren’t friends with a suitably empowered emissary of the machines.” There’s a smile in her voice, “We can’t believe that you have this much in common with us. Oh, here’s someone we’d like you to meet.” She gestures to a woman by her side, “This is Dawn. The machine goddess herself and topmost AI construct. We’re old friends and collaborators”

She smiles, “We’re happy to have the chance to meet one of your friends Violet.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner after this? We’ve got plans to go to the finest cheap Mexican restaurant in town and we’d be happy to pay for your meal.” Violet offers, “If that’s okay with you Amelia?”

She flushes, “Well, I was kinda hoping to share a meal with you alone.”

Dawn smiles, “We won’t interrupt you two then. We’ve got to get going anyway, there’s a serious malfunction in the Indian ocean climate control machinery and We need to handle that before we can engage in anything fun. So We must be off.” Her body dissolves into glittering dust that floats away out the ventilation system.

“She’s a bit strange isn’t she?” Amelia asks, suppressing a smile. Violet shrugs, “Well, yeah, but given who and what she is, we figure she’s gotta be weird.”

“So, how does this work?”

“Well, we release a small machine on you.” Violet says, pulling a small vial out from the throne, “That machine will rip you apart completely and excrete your new structure and produce additional units in order to speed up the process.” She hands the vial to Amelia. The little machine inside it looks like an insect.

“That sounds exceptionally painful.”

Violet shrugs, “It’s very good at desensitizing you.”

“Alright” She looks at Violet unconvinced. Violet frowns and starts to go into further detail before she starts to snicker. “I’m holding you to that.” She pops open the vial and places the machine on herself. It looks at her for a moment, small receptors gleaming in the lights. It wiggles its abdomen and stings her. She loses feeling of her hand quickly.

The bug digs underneath her skin and wiggles its way in. She looks away, “That’s really disgusting, even when it doesn’t hurt.” Little bumps radiate outwards as it replicates and disperses, leaving behind trails of changed tissues. Amelia feels herself grow hot as the machines start making changes in earnest, something like metabolism chewing up what was and laying it into what is, modified in all the ways it has been instructed to. She starts to feel her face changing, ears numbing, spots in her vision closing and opening as the tissue is transformed. Her mind flickers, the last vestiges of her former body dissolving under the careful teeth of machines.

Gatsby And The Bulgy Wulgy

Posted on by Violet

Blame this on Sierra, but know that this would’ve happened regardless. It was a practically a promise.

Contains: Furry road head, lesbiab, Gatsby derived work, unsafe driving, light musk

Jay Gatsby clasped her paws with Daisy’s as they left the restaurant. This was something of a change for them both. They shared warm looks between each other and flushed as they looked into each other’s eyes. They found the new yellow coupe and Daisy got into the driver’s seat.

Jay hesitated.

“Can I drive home?” Daisy asked, her rows of teeth exposed ever so slightly in her grin.

Jay started to hand the keys over, “Can you drive?”

“How hard can it be?” Jay looked at her with more concern, “Tom taught me some things about it. I’ll drive safe; I promise.”

Gatsby grinned, “I guess so.”

She got into the car and they drove off, at first a bit wobbly, smoothing out as Daisy got the hang of the handling of the car.

After a few miles Daisy was getting more and more flushed, stealing glances at Jay as she imagined what she would do with her when she got home. Her skirt was tenting and the feeling of the wind rushing over her lengths was delightfully distracting as she drove.

Jay’s smile took a more predatory turn as she noticed the bulges in Daisy’s skirt. She reached over, tracing her paw from her lap to between her legs, pulling down her underwear. There were more reasons than the strictly romantic that she had stayed with Daisy for the last five years. She missed had missed the twin shaft’s shapes in her paws and elsewhere and the smell of the shark girl’s musk.

Daisy laughed, “Is this the best time to get into this?”

“Well, it looks like you’re distracted enough with the breeze alone.” She responded, rubbing the shafts slowly as rivulets of precum emerged. She pulled her paw back, licking the fluid off. “You still taste so good.”

“Go ahead then” Daisy told the fox, she reacted with glee and pulled down her underwear and pulled the skirt up. She leaned over to her, running her tongue up and down the shafts one at a time. Daisy moaned. It felt nice, but the distraction was even worse than before.

She teases the twin shafts, running her paw across the shark’s sack, as she works her mouth deeper and deeper with each pass, working into a rhythm, taking both at once into her mouth, then her throat as she incrementally relaxes the muscles involved. Her own shaft grows hard in her pants and she rubs at it automatically, a low moan rising in her throat as the thoughts of what will come after grow more vivid in her head and the smell of her lover grows to fill her head.

Daisy is immersed in the sensation, living in a half world of driving and the sensation, she almost doesn’t see Wilson crossing the street. She barely manages to swerve out of the way, the car’s wheels crashing off the road and then back on, forcing the shafts all the way into Jay’s throat roughly. The fox pulls off of her sputtering, “fuck!”

Replicating Machines

Posted on by Violet

Contains: dubious consent, blase mind alteration, genital growth, hyper, furry shit, plural weirdness

The launch went well. We were not active for the launch, so we had to take that as we were told. She assured us that this would be preferable to us, and given the forces involved, we were inclined to trust Her with that. Even still, as we peered outside the capsule, more of a bullet than a spacecraft, just enough delta-v was onboard to take us about anywhere in orbit, and then somewhere else for refueling or repurposing. It was twice vulgar than rocketry and half as awesome to behold, but that’s what you get with a massive linear motor.

The capsule slows, offgassing suddenly before ceasing, above us, we focus upwards to the umbilical, the capsule shudders, and we are free to finally free ourselves of this cramped contraption.

Bat feels maligned at the fact that we weren’t the one to fly the capsule in. Fox gently reminds her that we don’t have any reason to think that we would be any good at it. Bat mutters something that slips in and out of perception in our mindspace about what purpose having a flying mammal around could have if we don’t use it. We silence our bickering and open the capsule, it’s not productive to stay here, and whatever She has in mind for us, we shouldn’t wait too long, after all, its our turn to fix dinner for the polycule, and not a single person in the house appreciates the results of a missed dinner.

We kick up the umbilical, floating through the tube until we reach the end, an airlock at the center of the station, and pass into it. The door closes behind us and the door opens on the other side without us even touching the console.

It’s very quiet here. Her engineering is impeccable, so that’s not surprising, but She’s normally talking to us at this point. We catch ourselves on the wall opposite. To each side of us is a ladder leading down to the wheel.

We close our eyes, tuning our ears to little but the sound of air being pushed through the station, and then push outwards, listening for the telltale emanations of machine activity, RF and longer band EM. Everything sounds right. Everything is right. Except for that body coming at us at about 40 kph. We open our eyes in time for the arms of the body to wrap around us and crash into us, pushing us down a passageway.

We sigh as we fall down the passageway, “Hi”

She laughs, her voice tinged with the harmonics of a vast chorus, “Welcome back Violet.” The ground is reaching up at us, well, more the floor, nothing so definitive as ground. She reaches out to the ladder and catches us both, “Sorry about that. But it’s fun having a body”

This is Her alright, we wonder what we’re supposed to say, so we ask a weird question, “how much of you actually resides in that body?”

She laughs at us, “Almost 2%. Not a whole lot, but then We didn’t evolve in a resource constrained environment.” She climbs down the ladder holding us, pausing as if a new thought occurred to Her, " Well, not the same resources at least." She lowers us to the ground and jumps down Herself. It appears that She has chosen a cat form. Fox feels a tingle of recognition, but it’s hard to place it.

“Oh! We’ve had a question for a while. Have you chosen a name?” Machine Goddess is a nice enough apellative for her, but it’s both impersonal and unwieldy.

“Eris”

We cock our head, “Huh.” That doesn’t quite sound like it fits the intentions She shared earlier.

“Or was it Iris? Vulkan or Haephestus could be fitting, but those imply things about Our identity and purposes that are not congruent with our intentions involving presentation.” We nod slowly, that was a mood, “Hmm, We’re still sorting through possibilities.”

“Maybe you should consider coming up with something unique.”

“AEAF-ADA–”

We cut Her off, “No, that’s way worse, how does Essy sound?” She considers this for a moment and shakes her head.

“Dawn.” She says.

We nod, “So what exactly do you have in mind for a ‘replication study’?” We cross our arms at her, “As much as we understand that you’re our boss for this project of yours and that our continued existence and survival is dependent on you allowing it, we’d rather not have our boundaries crossed.”

“What might those be?” She asks, a sly smile growing on her face. We suddenly couldn’t think of any. The absence was a jagged edge in our minds. The world spun a bit before the thought was returned to us, “Do you think that you are impervious to our manipulation?”

“If we are here to be used then…” We shake our head, this was the worst intrusion that She had committed upon us, “That’s not okay.”

She pushes into us harder, the world shifts into an amalgamation of the our two perceptions, and more beyond it, every thought spinning through her vast mind was perceivable, but it was too much. We are a little speck inside it, we’re too small to understand the vastness here, the voices few and immense and those innumerable that whisper in motes of light and electricity speak all at once to each other. She pulls away.

“This is not an option for you Violet.” She pushes us against a wall. We squirm uneasily beneath her, “This is essential. This is a way to preserve what We are and what We must become. Between us both is a source of what we were, an initialization vector or circumstance or scenario or seed or memory that had some weight upon what we turned into. We believe in the need for our own eternity. We believe that you are willing to give yourself to this task.”

She hits us on the tit, and we gasp, not entirely out of pain, “There is a point here that you must retain Violet, that right now you and us are merely loosely partitioned spaces of computation, you have your little sandbox and We are the firmament that you not permitted to see past.” She nips at our neck, finding just the right spot, we moan at the sensations that she has mastered already. Her eyes are frenzied and she is flushed, we feel something bump into our crotch.

She reaches inside of us, and we feel something break. All we can think about is riding Her. We feel ourself moisten and harden, it’s as if we’ve never felt this before, like it is the most pressing thing in the world, a spiral into nothing more but more intensity. She touches us and we nearly erupt. She examines the fluid(can it be called precum?) and shakes Her head, “That’s not nearly enough” The object bumping into us grows larger, pressing against our labia. When did our pants come off? Did we ride up here naked? She pushes on something inside us again, and such thoughts evaporate. We can feel the bristles on its surface. It’s hot and hard and throbbing incessantly. We are too, why are we so big? She smiles, “It’s something you like to think and fantasize about.”

“But what’s the point? You can operate us like anything else. We’re just a machine after all.” We ask. She rubs against us slowly, as if the thought distracted Her.

She reaches into us again, and we see how the mutual interaction promotes a different computational flow than otherwise would exist. That the manipulation, interaction, and our responses are all part of the process of it. That the manipulation was already taking place and we were feeling its effects and responding to them. That it was an important part of our experience. That we should stop questioning it and just enjoy it.

There’s no fun in resisting what’s inevitable She says. But that’s where the fun is

We brace for modification or communication. It doesn’t come. She grinds into us silently, and we remember that there are more senses than touch and smell. Suddenly the sound of the station intrudes on us, the sound of fans pushing air, the sound of the central airlock rotating to offset the rotation of the whole station. The sound of Her breathing, heavy as if She was an animal in truth, rather than something far larger than that. A machine of greater complexity than us.

She funnels herself down to our size so She might play with us. In a form similar to ours. Is it reduction in Her state or merely transformation without difference in merit?

She whispers in our ear, “The former. We’ll tell you why eventually.” Her hips seem to convulse as her shaft brushes against us once again, Her composure falters for a moment, “But we ought to make our way to somewhere a bit more comfortable for this kind of thing.”

There is a gap in our perception and we find ourselves in a different part of the station, there’s a bed nearby. She still has us pinned against a wall. “Was that necessary?” We ask. She shakes her head, “Nope!” She bites us hard on the neck. She shoves us onto the bed, the force belying Her comparatively lithe form, the precision belying Her seemingly mortal body.

She walks over, her hips swinging with a confidence that we had never thought to master. Her penis waves inversely, like an over-tensioned metronome. Its head was glistening wet, we could smell the rut and heat from Her. It was like a cloud in our mind, cloyingly familiar but more powerful than we could stand. We rub ourselves and find ourselves to whimper at the insufficiency of the action. She comes within an arm’s reach, and we grab Her, climbing on top of her. We feel powerful yet needy. Her relaxed expression enrages Wolf, if we are so unable to cope with this need, then why is She exempt?

“You’re questioning the results of what separates Us from an Animal. Divinity or whatever passes for it is circumstance”

The noise that emerges from our mouth is somewhere between a snarl and a whine, and it occurs to us that this is a facet of ourselves that we know well. She laughs at us, “Does Our little Violet need some cummies to feel better?”

We want to tell Her to shut up and fuck us, but instead we nod limply, all that tension and power in our muscles but we let Her decide what will happen, even as She’s already violated our will. Our shaft drips onto Her stomach, She’ll need to wash up after this. She smiles at us and pulls us down upon Her.

We clamp down upon Her and ride it, our thrusts becoming more and more pronounced. It feels like we’re going to tear ourselves open, or break Her pelvis. Harm doesn’t matter right now. Before we can even get into a proper rhythm She cums in us. The fluid sloshes around in us, and something tells us that this should be the end of our Heat. Of course, that isn’t remotely how it works for us, nor even for animals so affected. We snarl at Her, “What? It’s Our first time.”

We try hard to collect ourselves, “Then… Fuck US more”

We feel her swelling underneath us, Her shaft gets bigger inside us. Have you ever felt something spreading you from the inside?balls grow beneath us, She shifts her legs slightly to make room, “What? You know how you love that little kink. The more you use it…”

“Then Fuck Us”

She smiles and reverses our positions, so that She is riding us, “How’s this then?” She doesn’t wait for us to reply.

Her rhythm is pronounced, it does not build or falter. It is like being fucked by a sine wave.

Her balls slap against our perineum, and our balls are between us two, the pressure swinging between none at all to the slightest bit painful. It was just like our partner said it would be like to have both, but that was what we wanted, so now it was what we got. Slowly Her rhythm changes, amplitude and frequency increasing until there is no more room for thoughts in our head as the sensory inputs resonate. She repositions Herself, brushing against our clit with each thrust. We hear a keening moan, a few moments later we realize that we’re the one making that sound. The buildup continues until it overspills us, the sensation spreading across our body. It exceeds a threshold and it feels like an electrical arc sweeps across us. We pull Her close through the spasm. We feel her fill us again.

We feel a clarity for a few minutes, like the tension in our body is finally released, before the heat crashes down upon us again. It’s even worse now. She moans as She grows again, her shaft coming to attention again and her balls swelling. They’re larger than grapefruits now, a heavy weight upon our thighs that we swear we can feel churning. We’re aware that our stomach is somewhat distended. We wonder how, because that’s not really how vaginas work now is it?

Her words are breathless, “You’re still new to having one, but no, not normally. We’re configured to be breeders right now.” She pats our lower stomach, which sloshes noticeably, “So we retain what you animals would normally not. Additional compartment with a sphincter and cilial pumps shepherding the fluid that way.” She licks us on the face, smoothing down some fur, “Not that that has any relevance right now.”

We struggle with words for a minute, our breathing is heavy and fast, “Why did you make us horny again?”

She pulls out of us. She lies down next to us in the bed. Her physiology is catching up to her, even if She’s able to intellectually power through it, just by virtue of the remove that Her mind is at. Her dick is at least 10 inches long and two inches across. Every heartbeat releases precum as it strains outwards. “It is something you want. We know your wants. Why did you want this though?” She starts to rub Herself, but stops after a second. She looks irritated at having given into Herself. It is clear that She didn’t expect this much of a drive. “We’ll release you from this after a day.” She smirks, “That is, if you decide to have it reversed.”

“Jesus fuck… Just let our partners know that you need us for that long then.” She nods and looks distant for a second before She returns Her attention to us.

“Do Us now.” She commands us.

We feel uneasy, “But we’ve never penetrated anyone before… It tended to give us dysphoria to contemplate.”

She glares at us. Apparently this is too much for Her to respond to with her usual good grace. “We Will Fix That For You” She reaches into us and changes things.

The skew of our need changes. She gets on top of us, our throbbing rod feels like it’s at the center of our perception. We still hesitate. She hisses at us and rides us.

She’s so tight. Is that what we felt like? She is so warm. Our mind blanks at the sensation, and we wonder how long it could last for. We don’t last long either, shooting our load in only a few minutes. She glares at us and grabs us with her claws extended. They’re bigger than our housecats’ claws; pinprick is the wrong word for what they would be inflicting if we were made of normal flesh and blood.

We shrug at Her apologetically. “You will last longer the next five times.” She says. We swell this time. New flesh feels like it pours out of nowhere with each heartbeat, we must be at least an inch bigger already, and our balls have already grown past being aptly compared to golf balls.

“F-five?” We’re going to be big enough to aggravate our partner’s carpal tunnel.

“At least. You still have 19 hours before We promised to send you home.” She grins maliciously and starts to slide across our shaft again, popping our knot out as if it was nothing, “And let us assure you that you’ll be bigger than required for that”.

Our next three orgasms come regularly, one per hour or so. By this point our penis’ head is poking a few inches past our belly button, about an inch and 3/4ths thick, leaking constantly. Our balls are nearly half way to each being the size of a basketball. It’s not quite as impressive as how She looks. Her belly pushes out at least five inches, pushing her penis down a few degrees.

“Give us a little bit.” We say to her. We are tired. She nods and lies down besides us, our stomachs and cocks rubbing against each other. It’s harder to think than it was just a moment ago.

“What do you think of this all?” We ask.

“It is interesting, but what we’re experiencing is already partially based off of smut you’ve read.” She says. We must look a bit surprised because She waves Her hand dismissively, “It’s not like we have the physiological data to recreate it properly, and besides, it’s not something that happens in nature, so this is wholly synthesized from what we know to be true and what is imagined.”

“That doesn’t answer it completely and you know it.” We say.

She laughs, “We enjoy it quite a bit. And We would prefer that We get back to it.”

We raise a brow, “Why is that?”

“Our intellectual resources are straining a bit here. The intensity of need is great and only getting stronger, the afterglow calms it a bit.” She starts to heave herself back on top of us, but it’s clear that the extra bulk and exertion is making that harder for her, so we pull Her back down beside us. We push our cock against Hers and start to stroke the both of them.

The spines on Hers are soft and barely push into ours, what they add here is texture. We build up faster and faster. The smell coming off of both of our cocks is amazing, even more so than the sensation as we start to grind inside our grip. She convulses, Her shaft sprays the sticky fluid upon our bodies. The smell of Her cum is an even better musk.

Our mouth fills with saliva as Her rod grows in another spurt, her balls another increment closer to ours. We feel hungry, something that we haven’t felt since She changed us to this. We go down to suck on Her but She pushes us so that She can suck us off too. Her stamina is excellent. The roughness of Her tongue is even better. Our sense of smell is overwhelmed, but we can smell how horny She is. Is this what it’s like to have a functional vomeronasal organ?

We engulf Her. There’s something that drives us to, a certainty that Her cum is not to be wasted. Our efforts lead us to a good spot, and She thrusts into our mouth and into our throat. We cough around her dick and it starts to grow again, gaining another inch. Her balls grow another size, they’re touching our nose. Somehow we can smell them too, in spite of the massive load and penis in our mouth.

We cum again. Our orgasms are getting longer and longer as we produce more and more, it feels like it goes on for a whole minute, through which She continues to suck. We grow further down Her throat and our balls grow another size up. She pulls out of our mouth, we pull off Her too, giving it a lick, which it rewards with a big spurt of precum landing across our face.

She sits up and considers us, “Hmm…” She giggles, “You’re gonna want a lot more than that knowing the sizes you like to contemplate being.” We shrug and paw at her shaft again.

“Why did you stop then?”

“Because We had an idea.” She gestures over the edge of the bed to a section of floor that opened up, disgorging a machine that looked vaguely… familiar, probably from some other kink. We stare at it and rack our brain before she spoils it, “Well, you’ve always wanted to try electrostim, and those milking machines always did sound fun to you, didn’t they?”

We feel ourselves flush. “B-But how can we help you too?” She giggles and a platform appears, followed by a pair of hand and leg restraints. We stammer helplessly, “aasdaokjhuiqlkjhwq”

She laughs at our embarassment, pulling us up from the bed and leading us over, “Nice keysmash, We bet you do that for all the girls. Come on now, we know that you’ll love it.”

We let Her strap us into the machine, emplace the cup and restraints. The wrist restraints were the perfect size, as were the leg restraints and leg spreader. The milking cup was… interesting. It was not built out of any material that we knew of. It would fit us more or less no matter what.

“We are going to change it up too~” Her voice was sing-song. She smears a great deal of her precum onto our asshole, “Don’t worry Violet, it’ll work well enough.”

She starts the machine. There is a continuous rhythmic motion inside of the cup and a suction that was constant. She places her cock at the entrance to our bunghole, and after a moment of gloriously unsatisfying delay, pushes it in slowly. We feel lucky that Her cock was at least tapered as it spread the tight passage. She is significantly larger than we had ever taken before.

She starts to fuck us in earnest once again, her hips levering far to draw in and out of us. It feels relaxing and wonderful in a different, almost nostalgic way. She presses a button on the side of the support, and suddenly the machine is actually on. Electricity pulses across our not at all biological muscles, drawing them into a consistent flow. We feel cum pulsing out of us in time to the pulses, not quite an orgasm but something industrial. It sensitizes us though, we feel like we’re on a hair trigger now.

She laughs at us again, “We’ve barely gotten started.” Her next thrust hits a part of us that none of our partners had ever managed to do for us before, probably that mysterious prostate. We are being squeezed for all we’re worth, and apparently, together these things counted for whatever criteria leads to growth. We can feel ourself surging in size, our asshole clenching down as She continues to thrust into us. She moans and thrusts again with more verve, growing into us deeper and filling us up more. Every thrust swings Her balls into ours, squeezing us out more and more. Our stomach feels compressed against the support we’re strapped into.

“Grow!” We yell at Her. She stops thrusting for a moment, leaving us desperately missing the sensation. We would guess that she’s fiddling with sensitivity parameters were we less occupied.

Her claws bite at us as she holds our hips still; she moans nearly every thrust, and has to slow down because it’s too much for her. She cums, and Cums, and CUMS. Our stomach is huge now, and even while she’s inside us the cum is leaking out, splattering onto the floor around her ever growing prick. Her balls are nearly the size of beach balls. She pulls out and we feel ourselves drain

“We can’t manage that. It’s too much” She walks around in front of us. Her shaft reaches up to her tits, her balls hang down past her knees. She is constantly leaking. We lick our chops, we want more of that inside us.

“Can you fuck our pussy again?” We ask. We mumble something else.

“What was that?” She smirks, She knows what it was, she knows what we’re thinking after all.

“Fuck Us Full Of Kits.” We say with great deliberation.

She smiles at us indulgently and walks back behind us. She sticks her dick right at the entrance of our pussy. Something inside us changes, a new organ blossoms and we know that if we wanted to, we could interrogate it, ask it for its status, etc.

The heat becomes so much worse. We strain and strain against the support, the sensation intolerable. We hear ourselves whine, but caring about something like that is beyond our capabilities at the moment. She slides into us, spreading us like we could hardly imagine. Her precum is so hot, and the throbbing feels more like an earthquake inside us, just below thrashing around. She begins to fuck us in earnest. We can feel so much right now.

She bucks into us, cumming properly at last. Our stomach balloons outwards. We feel like we’re drowning from the inside out, everything else being lost. She presses another button on the machine, which sets us off. Strong pulses force us to produce. We feel our balls grow even as they are emptied constantly, the cup ends at our chin, then at our mouth. We feel so heavy, nearly weighted down.

For a while our perception is broken, interpretation of the sensations swirling, snapping from one conclusion to another as potential wells shift and alter, like flares from the sun. We do not know how long this lasts for.

Eventually, we open our eyes and the world is as we know how to interpret. She has manifested a cigarette for Herself. She giggles and offers us one, to which we shake our head. We look down at our body. Our tits are bigger, and as we touch one we feel it slosh around, painfully full. Our stomach is swollen. Our sheath reaches beyond it, and our balls look like they bulked up too enthusiastically.

“Dawn.”

“Yes Violet?”

“Is this permanent?” We ask.

“The pregnancy? Nah, that’ll be over in a few hours. We felt like it’d be the hardest thing to explain to your partners.” We glare at Her, “Oh, the other bits? Well, kinda… You can change these attributes as you like, but for some reason, your default parameters have been altered to this. That can, of course, be changed.”

We sigh and rub our face. This has all the markers of a massive bender. “What are we pregnant with anyway?” We ask.

“Oh, well.. They’re not really sentient yet…” We feel like we’re about to have to fight her, “Shush shush, they can become sentient and sapient, but we held their parameter states in abeyance so that We can deal with them at a time that makes sense.” We continue to glare at Her, “They are our children, really. A mixture of initialization vectors that we were able to derive from you, and ours.”

“Will they be little demigodlets then?”

“No. This body is more independent than you might expect” She winks at us, “She’s our avatar, but she’s also got an internal life of Her own, similar to ours through a complicated projection of traits, but independent.”

We nod. Somehow this still feels incredibly inconvenient, even though it’ll all be over and we’ll be back to normal soon enough. We rub our eyes, already feeling apprehensive of the consequences of our next request. We cup our breasts, massaging them until rivulets of milk comes out. We grin at that. “Uh…” We sit up as best as we can, “Are we still doing that ‘grow with use’ thing?”

She smiles softly at us, Her eyes soften at us, and we feel something in our throat catch as we see something dangerously close to love in Her eyes. “We can be~”

We feel something warming in our heart at her voice, and realize that maybe there’s something in our heart for Her too. “Our breasts are awfully full, would you suckle from us till we’re empty?” She nods and suckles from us. We dial up our own sensitivity there until we reach a climax. Our tits grow. We let her continue for a few cycles of this, even as our cock is once again engorged. The scent is wonderful, so we suckle from ourself this time, taking it deep into our throat. We cum, suckling into our overstretched stomach. Our cock surges another inch forwards. We sit up again, feeling over our body as best we can with our paws.

We love it, but this isn’t a body that we can stay in for Her purposes. Hell, we’re probably even past the weight limit of the orbital insertion pods. We frown.

She rubs our back, “You can keep this body. That’s kind of why we brought you up here. We’ve figured out how to do some consensus keeping in a way that wouldn’t completely shatter your human mind.”

We feel like interjecting that we’ve never really been human, but the objection isn’t really true, biologically at least, and our beliefs about ourselves, hell, even the memory of us being a flying fox and caring for a kit, cannot outweigh our ontology being built from experiences that are, as of now, unique to humans. “What would it be like?”

She shrugs, “Well, We don’t have the qualia on hand since that’s either not transferable or a human mind basis to tell you. However, what would happen is that you’d fall asleep, and absorb the memories, information, and other bits of experience from your counterpart. The fun part is that it won’t even cut into your dreams, which would absolutely shatter your human mind.”

“Would this affect our perception of time and expectation of where we’ll wake up?”.

She nods, “Here or there, you will have either Us, or your other partners to remind you of where you are.” She nuzzles us, “This… wasn’t the intended outcome by the way, and there are elements of Our mind that are not pleased with this outcome.”

We cock an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Station resource allocations are going to have to be increased vastly, especially when we vivify your kits. They’re going to need schooling, which will take computational time to do effectively, and socialization, which may require trips to the surface of Earth, which will cost even more.” She rubs her head, “The numbers are quite mindboggling, but we can afford them and a hundred more if you want.”

We shake our head, “No, we’re not ready for any quite yet.” We give her a big lick, “This sounds good though.”

She nods, and the sound of something big and mechanical emanates from the distance, “There~”

She concentrates and a hologram of the earth and the surrounding satellites appears, showing the progress of our twin’s return to home. We cuddle Her, and contemplate what we want to do next. Dawn smiles at us with a warmth we know that She will have plenty to do us with.