Caption Stories

CAPTION STORIES

Images by KSG

BREAKFAST

I met Priscilla for breakfast at the Vegetarian restaurant she liked. She had her red hair loose and was wearing a teal cardigan over a black dress. Oddly she also had a light silk scarf wrapped over much of her face so that only her eyes were showing. These smiled at me from the table she was already seated at.

I sat down and said "Priss..."

She reached out and touched my arm to silence me, and looking into my eyes, she pulled away her scarf.

I gasped in shock, she had a pussy on her face!

Instead of her smirking mouth and sharp nose, Priscilla had a long vertical vaginal slit with the fleshy, pink lobes of labia. She was transformed! I was speechless.

Priscilla gave me a look of inquiry and challenge and playfulness. Had I ever noticed how expressive her eyes were?

"Priss, I... I can't believe you..." I stammered. She grabbed my arm with both hands and pulled two fingers into her facial cunt. I felt the soft, hot, wet tightness of her new pussy.

Priscilla closed her eyes in pleasure and released an inarticulate groan from deep in her throat.

Below the table the skirt of her dress bulged with a hidden erection.

***

WICKED LITTLE VOICE

Tiffany, it had to be said, had an impulsive streak.

She was normally a responsible, straight-laced woman who made responsible choices. But sometimes... sometimes a wild impulse would just bubble up from her unconscious and before she even knew it she would have done something silly and drastic and decidedly irresponsible. She had the scars, tattoos, misdemeanors, and broken relationships to prove it.

As a child her mother had referred to her impulses as the "wicked little voice" and instructed Tiffany to work very hard to ignore it. Tiffany of course didn't actually hear any voices, she wasn't mentally ill, just impulsive. But as she grew up she did start to think of her wild side like an alternate personality, not a split one, since she knew that was an invention of cheap drama, but a kind of discrete aspect of herself pit against business as usual.

Which, Tiffany presently thought to herself, was how she got into this mess.

Tiffany was flopped naked on her bed, holding the small crystal vial she had ordered impulsively from a catalogue. She knew it was transformative, but only had a vague sense of what it was designed to do. The purchase had not, like so many of her choices, been a well researched decision. She turned the vial around in her hand scrutinizing it carefully. She knew she shouldn't actually drink it, and that despite the expense, she really ought to dispose of it immediately. But what, Tiffany thought, was the safest way to do that...

And then an impulse struck her and before she knew what she was doing Tiffany had inbibed the entire vial.

She gasped in surprise and tossed the empty vial away. And then she moaned as she felt two pinpricks of heat and pressure on her chest which seemed to condense into nipples. These flesh below her new nipples swelled pleasantly and rounded into a second pair of breasts. "Oh!" Tiffany gasped, "that's not so bad. I can live with thi...!!!"

Tiffany was blindsided by an incredible pressure on one side of her shoulders, a yearning, twisting push for release which bulged and grew and slowly gained definitions and features and a mane of blonde hair and was eventually a second copy of her face.

"What!?" Tiffany groaned in arousal and confusion.

"Hi, Tiffany!" Said the second head cheerfully.

"Who are you?"

Her new head grinned impishly, "I'm your 'wicked little voice.'" She gave Tiffany a smiley look, "And I'm here to make life more interesting."

Tiffany felt herself lose control of her arms as her impulsive personality, with a careful deliberation that was not at all, reached down, around, and under their shared body and inserted their fingers into their pussy.

***

THE HUNTER DETECTIVE

I felt my phone ring and saw on the caller display that it was my wife's number.

"Hi babe, this isn't a great time..."

"Hello Hunter Detective," purred an unnaturally sibilant voice that echoed like a chorus of three. My heart stopped and the hair on my back prickled. I knew that voice: it was the Avatar I was here to hunt. And It had my wife's phone.

"If you hurt her..." I growled.

"Please, Hunter Detective," chided the voice with amusement. "I would never *hurt* anyone. That is not my calling." It started to hum for a moment and in the background I heard a woman moan in pleasure. A moan I recognized. "Please, Hunter Detective, hurry home." And then the line when dead.

I ran to my car and started it, heart pounding in my chest. I had to get home, had to save Holly from ... I didn't even want to think about it.

As I drove, I took stock of the situation to calm myself. Running in hot would only make the situation worse. I had been hunting this Avatar for weeks now, tracing its path through my jurisdiction and following a wake of victims disfigured by transformation. The MO of this particular avatar was that it interviewed its victims. The Avatar always would corner its victim, talk them into revealing a truth about themself, and then use that truth to make the victim agree to a transformation. I still wasn't sure if the Avatar used hypnosis, or had powers of suggestion, or was just very convincing. An analytical part of me wondered what secret the Avatar would uncover about my wife to change her.

I drove my vehicle as quickly as I could, ignoring street rules, blowing through stop signals, and within agonizing minutes I had arrived at the townhouse I shared with my wife.

I unholstered my sidearm and quietly opened the unlocked front door.

There on the floor in front of me was a tube of flesh, a looped coil of a tail or tentacle as wide as my torso, either end of which trailed off out of the foyer. My heart sank as I recognized that I was already too late. Carefully I stepped over the flesh tube and into the house. As I entered the living room I saw both ends of the tube carry on further, one end disappearing into a hole in the cieling above me and the other end looping all around the room, over and under furniture, through walls, everywhere. The tube disappearing into the ceiling was covered on one side by row after row of large, too round to be natural breasts with stiff nipples. I walked carefully into the living room, knelt and lifted a loop of the heavy tube, feeling warm flesh writhe gently in my hands, and saw it too was covered in breasts along one side. I inferred all of it, the entire tube must be covered in tits as well. I carefully searched the main floor for the Avatar, knowing it was long gone but not yet willing to confront what had happened to my wife.  The breast covered tube was everywhere on the main floor, my wife's body, for that was certainly what it was, had to be hundreds of feet long and be covered with scores of big round tits. I shuddered and tried not to dwell on what inhumanity awaited me upstairs.

Steeling myself I climbed the stairs, carefully steeping over and around yet more coils of busty flesh tube until I came to my bedroom. I took a deep breath and pushed open the bedroom door.

And there was Holly laying stretched out on the floor, her unchanged face smiling up at me. "Hey you!" She said brightly, "took you long enough!"

Holly's face was unchanged as was her upper body, other than the rows of large, too round breasts which ran down her chest. From the waist down, however, my wife's body flared into a wide serpentine tail with row after row of breasts which stretched up through a chair, around the room, and all throughout the house. My wife was now a several hundred foot long tit-lamia. "Holly..." I said with concern.

"Oh don't you look at me like that," she said stretching luxuriously, "I feel magnificent!"

"But the Avatar..."

"And don't you start with that Avatar nonsense either. This," she gestured at her long body, "was meant as a peace offering."

"I-I don't understand...."

"We, the Avatar and I, wanted to save our marriage."

"What!?"

"The Avatar wants to be left alone to do what it does without you chasing and harassing it. And I... well, I want you to stop obsessing about monsters and focus on me for a change. And I thought if I could just be like one of your victims maybe you would pay attention to me and be around more to help take care of me. It... might have been a cry for help."

"Oh, Holly.  You didn't have to do this..."

"Well maybe I wanted to be transformed too! I got to talk to and meet so many of this Avatars victims after you interviewed them and they all seemed so happy. And when the Avatar suggested this it seemed like such a good idea. I am very happy with how I turned out." She grinned sheepishly and gestured to her hundreds of feet of tail, "Although I guess we did get a little carried away..."

"Holly. I'm glad you are okay but we need to get you checked out by someone and I need to call this in..."

"No, Hunter Detective, I'm afraid you have a more pressing case," she told me mock sternly lifting herself to a sitting position. "Somewhere in this townhouse is the end of my tail and a very wet vagina. I need you to find it and fill it for me."

***

THE THERAPIST

Meredith pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back in her desk chair. Her last patient of the day had been a challenge to stay present for. The man had deep seated fantasies about his wife merging with their large, male dog and becoming a kind of beastial dickgirl who would dominate him. The man was deeply uncomfortable with this desire, worried about what this meant for his sexuality, and terrified that his wife would find out. Meredith could only listen and advise that many men had secret transgressive fantasies and that part of a healthy marriage was discussing them and finding a mutually agreeable way to act on them, either through role play or with help from outside the marriage. The man was too much of a coward though and so he would come back week after week and rehash the same issues. It was exhausting and tedious, Meredith wished the man would just make progress.

Sometimes she wished he would just surreptitiously transform his wife and dog.

Sometimes she wished he would move away and be someone else's problem.

Sometimes she wished he would do both at once by moving his family to Jizza.

Idly she wondered whether her husband harboured fantasies about transformation...

Meredith sighed, the compassion required to be a good psychiatrist was taxing. More so since transformation was becoming increasingly popular in her community. There seemed to be something about taking a change that seemed to resonate with the neurotic causing them to fixate on it. She had an appointment that day with a woman patient who was hugely codependent and who was obsessed with conjoinment as a way to never be alone. (She had propositioned Meredith who politely declined because it would breach their professional relationship and because the woman was a mess.) Meredith had spent an hour with another woman who was paranoid that her coworkers were poisoning her with alchemy and was convinced that every mole, pimple, or rash was a new nipple or glans or clit slowly emerging. Another patient was traumatized by his sister becoming a multibreasted, armless hermaphrodite on Demon's Eve and was trying to come to terms with the change. Another severely depressed patient mused about whether he would be happier living as his girlfriend's left tit. And so on...

It was exhausting and not something Meredith had an easy answer for.

Meredith pushed the stack of files on her desk aside, unlocked the bottom drawer on her desk, and pulled out the tumblr and small bottle of whiskey she kept hidden there. She poured herself a healthy measure, slipped off her shoes, leaned back and rested her feet on the desk. She knew she shouldn't be self medicating like this, but sometimes after a long day a good dose of ethanol was deeply helpful.

Meredith took a sip, savouring the burn of the whiskey, the delicate spice of rye, and the puff of peaty smoke. She sighed again, this time happily. Life had such simple, uncomplicated pleasures if one just stopped for a moment to appreciate them.

Thinking about her day Meredith  reflected on how much of her patients' suffering was self-inflicted. Complex, inexplicable desire married to fear. Too much unfocused imagination misapplied to non-existent problems. Run away thoughts that just will not be still or quiet. A wide edifice of distractions built between a person and the obvious pleasures right in front of them.

What a curse the mind is, she thought.

How much simpler would it be to just exist in the moment?

Meredith gasped and jumped as a sibilant voice, like three speaking as one murmured from the shadows. "Dr. Meredith Griere, I would very much like to hear your thoughts about how the mind as a burden." The shadows shifted unnaturally. "I would so enjoy to have a conversation with you doctor."

***

When the man entered the apartment he found her lounging on the couch. She was different: where before she looked quite normal, now she had eight breasts and a vagina with wide, fleshy vulva on her face instead of a nose and mouth. She felt a burst of happiness and arousal at the site of the man, her mate. The man, however, expressed shocked dismay and said something.

She couldn't understand his words; she was completely incapable of even thinking in language or abstract concepts. Her mind was wired to live in the moment. She could tell her mate was upset, since she was still quite intelligent despite her new mental framework and she still had a very high emotional sensitivity, the same trait which had made her such a successful therapist. Her mate's distress saddened her, and made her want to go to him.

Smoothly she slid to her feet, enjoying the feeling of her eight small breasts reorienting themselves as she stood. Her vaginas grew hot and wet and she hoped that her mate and her would fuck. She did very much desire sex. As she grew closer she could see arousal warring on his face with his dismay. This pleased her. She took the man in her arms and pressed her breasts against him, stood on her tip toes, and pressed her facial labia to his mouth.

For a moment the man stood there stunned.

Then, making her moan, she felt him experimentally lick and probe her facial cunt.

This was all she wanted.

***

THE WIFE

Holly was bored.

She was bored a lot these days, ever since she became an enormously long titipede thanks to a run in with a very convincing Avatar. After her husband had found her transformed, he had insisted on having her examined by an expert. Because of this Holly knew a lot of facts about her body. She had a human face, head, arms and, broadly speaking, human body from the waist up. Below the waist her body was a torso-thick, long tubular tail of flexible muscle. Her "ventral aspect", the fancy pants talk for her front, was lined in large, preternaturally firm E cup breasts beginning where her original pair were and carrying on to the end of her body. All told her body was 320 feet long from her head to the tip of her tail and had 310 pairs of breasts. They didnt know her exact weight, but they estimated that it was close to 1600 pounds. Holly was now a gigantic, busty creature.

Generally Holly was happy with her body. The Avatar hadn't been lying when it spoke to her about her marriage. Holly's transformation did cause her husband, the Hunter Detective, to finally take that promotion and become the deskbound Hunter Leiutenant, the supervisor of a department of more junior Demon hunters. He needed the extra money to pay for home renovations for Holly and he needed to be home more to help her with tasks she now found difficult. Which all meant that Holly's husband wasn't running around the land chasing bogeyman for weeks at a time, it meant that he wasn't logging outrageous overtime as he obsessively hunted his quarry, and it meant that he didn't spend all of his time with Holly brooding about work. Instead he worked a job he was good at and enjoyed during reasonable hours and came home to his wife. In Holly's eyes it had really fixed things.

The other thing the Avatar predicted that ended up true was that she and her husband would love her new body. For Holly this was no surprise, as soon as the Avatar pointed it out, she knew that she had been fascinated by the Demon victims for years and was curious about their experience. And this body was tailored, if exaggerated, to her tastes: she loved being so big and sexual, loved the way it felt to be sprawled everywhere and built for sex. It made her feel desirable and powerful in a new and very empowering way. What was more of a surprise to Holly was that her husband loved her body. He was always a breast man and he had worked with the transformed for years, so she knew he would be able to deal with her body, but the sudden ardor of his lust revealed a hidden fetish for multibreasted serpents. He absolutely loved how he had to search the house for her pussy, rubbing, stroking, teasing her many breasts the whole way. Their sex life had always been fine, but the couple was experiencing a level of sexual intensity that was completely new. Holly loved the attention.

Which is why she was so bored now.

The Hunter lieutenant still had to work, which meant that Holly had to entertain herself for part of the day. Which is when the downside of her new body became obvious. Holly was very cumbersome. Holly's 320 feet of length meant that she required a great deal of space to spread out and since her motion was more of a worming than a slither it took her some considerable time to get anywhere. The logistics of being a slow moving, city block long being meant that she was neither maneuverable or small enough to easily navigate the city. Add in her considerable mass and it was just so much easier for Holly to stay in the reinforced house. Which even then proved challenging since Holly could hardly fit her entire body in any one room. So Holly would spend her day draped throughout the house, coils of her body winding through every room, a situation that she actually found very sexually stimulating. Her husband had suggested they move into an open concept warehouse loft where she could fit her entire body, but Holly didn't want to move out of her home and would miss how enormous the cofined space made her feel. Which is where the true downside of her body came in.

Holly was almost always horny and when she was home alone it was difficult to masturbate.

Holly could feel how wet and hot her pussy was, and she knew it had to be sonewhere in the house, since it was still attached to her. She had plenty of time to kill before her husband was home and she wasn't expecting any guests so she didn't need to be discrete, or at least, as discrete as a 320 foot long tube covered in large breasts could be. All she had to do was find the end of her tail.

Holly looked around the bedroom her head was in and didn't see her tail end. She closed her eyes trying to sense where her tail tip was located. Which, like always, didn't work. Her body was just too big and scattered to have accurate proprioception. She tried to remember where she had last seen her vagina, but that had been days ago, and she had moved around the house since then. And, she thought wistfully, had it fucked sight unseen many times. Holly tried gently thumping her tail on the floor and using the sound of it to locate its tip. Which, due to the extra sound proofing installed when the house was repaired after her transformation, didn't really help. Holly thought again about piericing her bottom eight nipples and having bells installed, and then dismissed the idea as embarrassing. Holly grimaced, she hated losing track of her pussy.

Since her other senses had failed her Holly decided to try touch. This was a risky proposition since Holly's body was so muscular and heavy that she had a tendency to barge, batter, or sometimes crush furniture if she wasn't careful. But she was horny enough that times called for desperate measures. Face pinched in effort, Holly blindly scooted her tail across the floor of where it was, trying to get a sense of its surroundings. She moaned a little at the sensation of dozens of her hard nipples rubbing on the floor. Her tail touched a wall, a cool plaster number that didn't help narrow her search. Holly swept her tail the other way and bumped into the legs of a table and a couch? She lifted her tail gingerly and placed it on whatever it was, feeling rough apolstery. She knew that apolstery! It was the couch in the den. Holly smiled brightly, she had found her pussy!

Now all she had to do was get to it.

The trick of this, Holly knew, was to move as little of her body as possible. If she moved all at once, the end of her tail would drag along after her and she would lose track of her pussy and end up slithering around in futility. So Holly wormed her torso over and back along the length of her tail, retracing her bodies path. She knew about how much distance was between the bedroom and the den, so her goal was to free up enough of her body to push her upper body to the den. But given the messy tangle of coils, Holly had some work cut out for her.

Holly tried to take her time, to do it right, but the building expectation was making her wild. She started to rub and feel up her tits, mashing her top eight breasts and stroking and caressing lower ones as she wormed past them. She pushed a tit into her mouth and sucked on her nipple moaning. She really had to get to her pussy!

Finally she freed up enough of her body to reach. She surged down the stairs and around the corner into their den as quickly as she dared to. And there, laying on the rough couch was her tail and end and glistening pussy. Holly's heart began to race.

"There you are," she breathed, slowly worming her way toward the cunt. She lifted her upper body onto the couch and tucked her arms by her side, stroking a pair of breasts. She moaned a little as she thought about how she was about to enjoy another of the perks of her body.

Parting her lips and pushing her tongue out of her mouth a little she shimmied the last few inches separating her face and pussy.

Moaning into her cunt, Holly started to eat her own pussy.

***

THE EQUESTRIAN

Anna was worried about Hector and Brett didn't give a shit.

Anna and Hector had just finished their show jumping course and it hadn't gone well. Hector had landed badly after the second jump and had struggled through the rest of the course, knocking over several obstacles and incurring significant time penalties. But the brave horse had never refused her and attempted every jump, causing him to faulter a second time. Anna and Hector had not qualified for the next round of competition, and she was worried Hector may have injured himself.

And so Anna was in the paddock fussing over Hector. She was still wearing her jumping outfit, a bright red blazer and tight tan pants and boots, brown hair tucked up under her helmet. She was getting everything muddy as she fed and watered Hector, rubbed him down, and then with considerable apprehension, she inspected his leg for injuries. Superficially everything looked alright, but Anna wanted the opinion of a veterinarian. She had called one, and insisted on waiting with Hector until they could arrive.

Brett, her boyfriend, was pissed. "Damnit Anna, ya promised me that we would make Chuck's party."

Anna glared at him, "Hector is hurt you ass."

"Nah, it was jus' a little stumble is all. He'll be fine. And the Vet is comin' anyway. You don' need to be here. So let's go!"

"What's wrong with you? Hector is hurt! I'm not just going to abandon my horse! Demons! Why can't you be a little more supportive!?"

"Supportive? I'm here ain't I? I came all the way out here and sat through your pony show!"

Anna snorted, "Whoopy-do! I go and watch you at all your rodeos, and I never moan about the travel or time or other things I'd rather be doing!"

"Well my rodeo's are a real sport! It's where I get my scholarship from. This is jus' a hobby game of horsies for little rich girls..."

"You know what, Brett, fuck you. This little rich girl is staying with her horsie. So 'git alawng to yer pahrtay, cowpoke' and fuck off!"

"Well fuck you too, darlin' princess, I will go to that party!" And Brett stormed off, spitting over his shoulder.

Anna realized her fists were clenched and that she was panting. That boy could make her so mad. She took a deep breath and focused on calming down. She knew Brett was rude and a bit selfish and sometimes an asshole, but he was also handsome and wild and had an air of danger she found sexy. She tolerated his brash nonsense because he was exciting and because the sex was good. And maybe because as a 'little rich girl' she enjoyed his rougher roots and the scandal he caused her family and society friends. She sighed and questioned for the hundredth time if being with him was worth his bad behaviour.

"You know, Hector," Anna said to her horse, running her hand along his flank, "sometimes I think you are the only male creature in the world who gets me."

The horse whickeres softly and looked at her.

Anna laughed ruefully, "Maybe I should just date you, huh?" Anna gave the horse an appraising look. "You don't talk back, you're easy to please, and you are very fit. You're even very well hung for a lover." Anna smirked, "Maybe too well hung, hey?" She clasped a hand over her chest dramatically, "if only I were equipped to luvvv youuuu!"

"That," said a sibilant voice from behind, like three voices speaking as one, "could be arranged. Perhaps we should have a conversation about it?"

***

Brett just had to apologize to Anna. He knew he shouldn't have left her like that, he knew he was being a jackass. But like usual, it took until he was well down the road before he cooled off and realized what a dumbass he was being. Of course Anna would stay with her horse. He just hoped he was back in time to catch her and that Anna was in a forgiving mood.

Brett rounded a corner and stopped, stunned.

Standing in a small paddock was Hector the horse and a very different looking Anna. Anna had been transformed, given a variety of equine attributes. The most obvious change was that she was now a humantaur, a four-legged woman with a second torso between her front and rear legs. She had also grown accompanying horse ears, an equine tail that matched her hair, and two small breasts just ahead of her rear legs like an equine udder. Much more shocking were her new sexual attributes. As Anna flicked her tail Brett could see she had a large, teardrop shaped horse cunt between her rear legs. Weirder, on her face instead of a nose or mouth she had a second equine pussy, this one flared and open. Perhaps the most shocking change was that Anna had grown a full sized horse cock between her hind legs, a massive black and pink club of horseflesh. Brett couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Anna's eyes passed over the crowd staring at her, seeing Brett with hardly more than a flicker of recognition, before turning her gaze on Hector. Her eyes flashed with admiration and lust as she stared at the horse, a look Brett used to get from her. Gracefully she sauntered over to Hector and nuzzled him, running her hands along his coat and pressing her face cunt to his muzzle. Hector whickered, nostrils flaring. He stamped his hooves and his cock began to push out of his sheath. Anna's eyes lidded and she groaned, her tail lifting to show Brett her cunt and her cock sliding all the way free, growing erect. She worked her way along Hector's body and ducked her torso under the horses body and slid his enormous cock into her face cunt. The horse snorted and started to pant as she bobbed her head up and down, inhaling an improbable amount of equine penis. She squirmed and the horse shifted and thrust until it stamped and tensed, ejaculating into Anna who emitted a muffled squeal and shivered through an orgasm. Anna pulled herself off of Hector's softening dick and stood, semen dribbling down her face, a look of contentment in her eyes. She looked, Brett thought, as if she was in love.

Numbly, Brett guessed it was too late to apologize, It seemed Anna had found a new lover.

***

THE PROFESSIONAL

Megan drummed her brightly painted fingers on the table impatiently.

This wasn't Megan's first time in a police interrogation room and she found that despite herself, she was getting a little nervous. She knew she hadn't done anything literally illegal, that what she was doing, while morally grey, wasn't strictly solicitation. And regardless, she knew the vice dumbies who had picked her up lacked anything resembling evidence. She should be in the clear. But then again, being the focus of the law in her line of work was hardly ideal, and that she was still sitting in this room cooling her heels could be bad news. Megan also worried whether her brand of escort service would be distinguished from illegal prostitution if it ever came to a trial.

Megan frowned and made herself relax, stilling her hands in their manacles. It wouldn't do to look nervous. The vice detectives here were playing a game of being cool cucumbers waiting for her to sweat. Well it was time to show those dodo's that this ice queen won't melt. She tossed her hair and smirked at the mirror on one side of the room. "Gentlemen," she purred, "can we please get on with it? I'm rather late for an engagement."

Which was rather annoying to Megan. She had spent most of an hour getting ready: having a bath with her nicest oils and soaps, shaving her body, styling her hair, and doing her makeup, complete with her signature black lipstick. And now here she was locked in a cold smelly room immaculately done up and dressed in her nicest red silk dress. It was such a waste of her efforts.

Megan was also annoyed because she was genuinely looking forward to her date tonight. The night's client was one of her favorites, a debonair businessman who didn't have time for a full relationship so paid for companionship and intimacy. Megan found him handsome and interesting, which along with his money and acumen in the bedroom meant that she never had to feign interest or orgasm when she was with him. Being arrested tonight meant that she was missing out on a healthy paycheck, a fancy meal, and a night spent with a good lover. She hoped she was released early enough to salvage some part of the night, even as a freebie. "Well boys? Are we shy?"

The police left Megan sitting for what felt like another ten minutes during which she assessed her appearance in the interrogation room mirror: blonde busty bombshell ready for a fancy date. She had worked her way to examining her nails before they finally unlocked the door and sauntered in. One of the detectives was overweight and sweating despite not wearing his jacket, a pink pig of a man with large hands. The second cop was less fat, but bald and soft with an impressive set of jowls on a pinched face. Less a pig and more a hound.

"What've we got here?" Barked the hound.

"Why? A reg'lar lady o' the night?" Snorted the pig.

"Night? It's only evening?" Said the hound.

"She's a whore."

"Actually, gentlemen, I'm an escort. And when last I checked the laws that wasn't a crime."

"D'ya have sex f'r money? Then ya'd be a whore. Ain't that right Pat?" Said the hound.

"Well d'ya have sex?" Leered the pig.

"I have a healthy sex life," Megan said cooly.

"And d'ya Johns..."

"Lovers, please," corrected Megan.

"D'ya 'Lovers'" the word vulgar in the pig's mouth, "pay ya for fuckin' 'em?"

Megan smirked, "I think of it more as an honorarium"

"An honorarium!? What d'ya take us f'r? A pair of boobs!?"

Megan couldn't help herself. She leaned forward flashing her wide expanse of cleavage at the detectives. "If the bra fits..."

The hound sputtered and made an angry chocking noise, not unlike a bark. He jumped to his feet and turned as red as the pig, jowls quivering. The pig restrained him and pushed the hound back into his chair.

"Real clever missy," said the pig, annunciating his words. "Cal," he said to the hound, "did ya get a gander at the rack on de whore?"

The hound mutely nodded, cheeks flapping.

"Jus' imagin' all da hands that've been on those tits, all them lips and faces. Jus' think o'the stories they could tell if we interrogated 'em."

From the too dark, liquid shadows in one corner of the room a siblint voice, harmonizing like three speaking as one, spoke. "What an intriguing proposition Detective! Perhaps we could have a conversation about it."

***

Trey was... disappointed more than anything. He was certainly annoyed that Megan, his lovely escort, had stood him up, but he found that he was mostly just sad to have missed out on her company. He was very fond of Megan and seeing her was so much more than a business or carnal transaction. If long experience hadn't convinced Trey that he wasn't suited to relationships, he would be sorely tempted to try and kindle something more conventional. As it was he cherished their trysts.

Trey hoped Megan was alright and that her reason for breaking the date wasn't serious. He would of course send her a message through her channels expressing his sadness in missing her and checking in. He would have tried to reschedule, but he was leaving town on business again the following day. It really was a shame.

He picked up the room service menu, if he wasn't going out with Megan, he would probably just stay in his room and read or rent a movie. Trey...

Heard a knock on the door to his room.

Gathering his robe around himself he went to the door and opened it.

And there was Megan smiling up at him a little uncertainly.

"I'm sorry I'm so late," she said, biting her black painted lip, "you would not believe the night I've had."

"Come in," Trey said, "tell me all about it." He was so happy to see her.

"Oh, I think that can wait until after," Megan said walking into the room in swish of her gorgeous red dress. "I think we need to make up for lost time, after all." She gave him a coquettish grin as she turned her back to him and unfastened her dress. "Also, and don't argue with me, this one is gratis." Megan let the dress fall off of her and pool on the floor. She stepped out her silver heels flashing and her black shift teasing. "Consider it an apology for my tardiness," she purred. "Plus," she added pulling the bustier of her shift off of her breasts, "this time might be a little weird..."

Megan turned around.

Trey saw her breasts and gasped.

Instead of the familiar, perky orbs with rosebud nipples that he loved, Megan had large, black lipped lips and mouths on her tits. She smiled bashfully, "meet Cally and Patricia. Say hello ladies."

"Ooo," cooed the right lipple in a bright girly voice. "Please mistah, wontcha please fuck us?"

"Ooo yes!" Agreed the other lipple in a breathy soprano, "I wan' ya in us soooo badly!"

Megan tried for a confident smirk, but Trey could see her nervousness. "What do you say?"

"I'd say," Trey answered stepping to embrace her, "that tonight looks like a memorable night."

***

THE ARTIST

TRANSCRIPT: Recording of Detective Investigators Peters and Ryan interviewing Lily Santiago at her studio.

CP: "This is Hunter Detective Carla Peters beginning the interview with the most recent victim of the so-called 'Conversationalist' Avatar."

JR: "And this is Hunter Detective John Ryan, also present."

CP: "Alright, let's get started. Can you identify yourself by name and address?"

LS: "Okay. My name is Lily Santiago. I reside in my loft space in the warehouse district. 1080 Wharf Row."

CP: "And can you list your occupation?"

LS: "I'm an artist."

JR: "A painter right?"

LS: "Yes."

JR: "I saw some of your work hanging in your studio when we examined the scene. You're very talented."

LS: "Thank you."

JR: "Your paintings, they're mostly... whatcha call 'em?"

CP: "Representational."

LS: "That's right. I specialized in painting the natural world in urban settings. Gardens in cities, parks next to high rises, weeds in industrial zones. I find meaning in the juxtaposition of the two."

JR: "And you were successful with this, yeah?"

LS: "I guess?"

CP: "Your agent shared your sales records with us. There were individual sales there that more than doubled our annual salaries."

JR: "See, talented. Told you I had an eye for art."

LS: "Thank you again... but I don't know what this has to do with the Avatar."

JR: "I guess I'm trying to understand how the Avatar talked you into this form...."

CP: "I'm also curious. Unless you lied to the examiner you are blind now, which seems like an odd choice."

JR: "So why does a talented, successful painter choose to blind herself?"

LS: "Because not everything is about money. It's... well, it's about inspiration."

JR: "Inspiration?"

LS: "Inspiration. When I first started painting my urban nature series I was inspired. As I said, I found the juxtaposition of built and wild elements fascinating,  and I was very interested in how we as urban people, urban animals interact with... ignore, embrace, whatever, with the natural world. How cities are really just a kind of natural world. Plus, it was technically interesting dealing with the complex lighting found in cities and finding ways to mix painting styles to contrast the built and the natural. It was inspirational."

CP: "You say 'was inspirational'."

LS: "Yes. Like any artistic moment, it eventually plays itself out. Or at least it does for me. I realized that as an artist I had said everything I had to say about urban nature and that while I could still paint compelling paintings on the subject, I wasn't pushing myself artistically anymore. I was becoming an illustrator... or a draftsman of a certain kind of image. But at the same time, and it shames me to admit this, I had become addicted to the money and accolades my urban nature paintings continued to accrue. I knew that if I kept painting weeds in sidewalks I would continue to be successful, but I feared that if I moved on to something else, something new and challenging, that I risked losing all of this."

CP: "So this was motivated by fear?"

LS: "No, you misunderstand me. I was reluctant to try something new, yes, but I was also having difficulty finding something I wanted to explore too. I was experimenting with new painting techniques, new subjects, but nothing would inspire me. So I was both generating paintings that were no longer art to me and floundering to find something new."

JR: "So you were in a rut."

LS: "Exactly."

CP: "And how does the Avatar come into this?"

LS: "Well, I was sitting here in my studio staring at a blank canvas. I had a commission to paint one of my urban weed oil paintings, think like a dandelion poking out of a sidewalk. The buyer wanted this to painting to also feature the headquarters of their company. I believe it was meant to be a kind of environmentalist statement. And I just couldn't do it, just couldn't make myself paint this thing. Doing an illustration on request, incorporating a business into my work, it was this ultimate act of selling out. I just couldn't believe what had happened, couldn't understand how I had gotten myself trapped in this place. And I didn't know what I could do to move past it. And t hat's when I heard a voice... like three singing as one speak to me."

CP: "The Avatar."

LS: "Yes. I will not go into specifics, that is private, between me and the being. But the gist is we had a conversation about how I could get past my block. What we settled on was a radical transformation, one that would nescisitate that I change my methods and approach to creation. A kind of metamorphosis that would allow me to grow as an artist. And so I went to the Avatar and it remade me into how I am."

NOTE: attached photo of Lily Santiago post transformation.

NOTE: Description from medical examiner:

LS is broadly still a female human from the exterior. Her one major external transformation is that her upper head is now a penis glans. This glans starts at the bridge of her eyes, with the ventral aspect of the glans on her forehead. LS no longer has eyes or vision, but retains her nose and mouth. She has additionally lost her ears, but still can perceive sound. If you will excuse the colloquial language, LS looks as though she is wearing a penis glans cap on her head and has pulled it down over her eyes. LS did not consent to internal examinations, so it is unknown whether her head-penis works, where semen might be manufactured, or whether her original internal organs have been retained.

TRANSCRIPT CONTINUES:

CP: "Are you happy with the change?"

LS: "Oh! Very!"

JR: "But... how do you make art now?"

LS: "I could show you... but one of you will need to guide me to my canvas and tools..."

ATTACHED: Description of Lily Santiago's painting methods as written by HD Peters:

HD Ryan takes Lily by the end and helps her to her feet. He gently guides her across the studio space to a large prepared blank canvas in a corner of the room. It sits on an easel on top of a paint splattered drop cloth that fills the corner. There is an adjacent work bench covered with jars of paint, brushes, and a shelf with other art tools. Lily slips off the thin robe she has been wearing, open at the front, more for warmth than modesty. She shuffles forward blindly and smiles with relief when she finds the work bench with her hands. She gropes along it until she finds a particular tool and lifting it she uses the bench to orient herself in front of the canvas. She licks her lips and brandishes her paint tool: a large plastic dildo with what looks like a huge turkey baister bulb on one end. Lily leans forward and pushes the dildo inside of her vagina, moaning in pleasure. She begins to fuck herself with the tool while using her other hand to grope her breasts. She pants and moans and curses and then pointing her head toward the canvas, she squeezes the banister bulb and orgasms. Lily screams and ejaculates through her head, spraying a mixture of semen and shocking pink paint all over the canvas.

Panting she stands and shuffles back to the bench. She wipes the trail of pink semen paint strialing down her head off with a rag and grabs another dildo baister. She fucks herself again, this time spraying neon blue semen paint. And she repeats this again, orgasming and ejaculating a darker pink, almost purple on the canvas. This time she doesn't bother wiping off the extra paint and instead, flushed and paint spattered turns to smile at us beautifully.

TRANSCRIPT CONTINUES:

JR: "Bravo!"

LS: "Thank you... I'd love to give it to you two as a gift."

CP: "I'm afraid we can't accept gifts in an official capacity."

JR: "We'll just have to call it evidence then..."

LS: "Thank you. Can you tell me just one thing?"

JR: "Sure."

LS: "What does my painting look like?"

***