Vivian Divinfyre's library of the meticulously recorded tales of those who have changed.  Transformations, sex, body horror, and twisted journeys of the mind are contained within.

A Touch of Corruption

Another blurry night of forgettable tasks had passed.  The ride home was always the longest part, if only because the tantalizing light of freedom danced on the horizon.  Streetlight after streetlight filled the car with aged yellow light, the type of light that almost seemed designed to invoke the dreamlike trance of night time autopilot. Each passing streetlight created a tiny glint on a nametag reading “Eric.”

She hated that name. She hated everything about it.  It was, to her, dopey and cringe-inducing. It didn’t fit her.  And yet, every single day, she pinned the nametag to her shirt, drove to work, and clocked in.  Being a wage slave was more crushing than even the name could imply.  She far preferred the name Tam, or, when on voice chat, Kera, which was short for Keralune. 

Her guild was her family these days, and her games were her way of expressing herself.  The last few years hadn’t dealt her a fair hand, but, even so, Tam had found a way to persevere.  Under the loving eyes of the moon, she had plumbed the depths of the arcane and made them to serve her…at least online she had.

Time seemed to crawl as she grew further and further away from the fast food joint she worked every weeknight at.  She just wanted to be home.  Tear open a portal or activate her hearthstone, whatever would get her there faster than driving a worn down old Chevy.  

By the time she turned the corner onto her road, her heart was racing.  She parked her car in the driveway, rushed inside, tore off her clothes without looking in the mirror, and stepped into a hot shower.  Getting comfortable was the second-best part of getting out of work.  The first was diving into the world she loved most.  

She changed into her favorite pair of baggy pajamas, a pair bearing the blue-and-gold crest of her in-game faction.  This pair was reserved for Friday nights – raid night.  She’d found a guild of night owls and late shift workers whose schedules fit with hers perfectly, meaning they were able to raid regularly and had conquered much of the game’s toughest content while it was current.   

Tam powered her computer on, reclining in her chair to avoid seeing her own face in the reflection of blank monitor before it came to life.  The tougher things had become in recent years, the more difficult it had been to deal with her reflection – a reflection that drastically opposed who she knew she was.  

Finally, her computer started up.  She opened the game and, just seconds later, was looking at the softly smiling face of her night elf mage, Keralune.  It was a simple thing, playing a game after work, but it made all the difference for her. She hadn’t been fortunate enough to have the funds to finish college, and, even if she had, she wasn’t entirely sure she would have spent her time any differently.  She just might not be avoiding her reflection like she was if she’d had the money to do more about it.

Tam tapped her foot against the floor impatiently; log in was taking forever.  After two full minutes had passed, she closed the game, reopened it, and re-logged.  Again, seemingly endless loading.  There were no maintenance downtimes listed, her internet was working fine, and everything else within the game’s menus was reacting properly.  Still, the log in seemed at a standstill.

She tipped her chair back, resolving to wait it out.  About six minutes later, an error she had never seen appeared on the screen.

“Unable to reach servers. Re-routing connection, do not close the game at this time.”

Re-routing?  Re-routing to where?

She tried to copy the error code, but when her cursor approached the line of numbers, her computer suddenly dimmed.  Accompanied by a low hum, her screen flickered before springing back to life. It looked just like a power surge, except that nothing else in her room appeared to be affected.  Her clock was still correct, her soft desk light hadn’t flickered.  Strangest of all, the game still appeared to be trying to connect.

Tam couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when, moments later, the screen transitioned to the familiar streets of the great city of mages.  She had no idea how it was possible to resolve a reconnection error so quickly, but she wasn’t going to complain.

Something was off, however, in the game world.  The streets of the city, usually crowded with other players, were completely empty. Her guild roster was also empty.

There’s no way no one is on right now.  Raid’s in ten minutes…

She leaned forward in her chair.  The in-game sky was darkening.  

“What the hell…”

Audio suddenly boomed from her speakers, making her flinch.  It was the sound of a deep, sinister laugh, distorted by what sounded like water.  The laugh made her hair stand on edge.  It was eerie and unreal, as if it had echoed up from the depths of the deepest ocean instead of coming from a video game.

Tam moved Keralune forward, stepping bravely into the darkening city.  A second peal of laughter rang out, echoing down the broad, cobblestone avenues bereft of all life.  She had no idea what was happening, but it was terrifying – and exciting.  

As Keralune continued down the street, her weapon, a glowing violet staff, began to glow.  The spirit within spoke, as it often did.  This time, though, it was a line of dialogue that Tam had never heard.  

Long have I warned you, child.  You may have contained me long enough to use me as a weapon, but you will never be able to resist that which comes upon you now.  Your arrogance has led you astray, as it always does. What you thought was a simple game is so very much more…

Tam’s heart was pounding, and she yelped audibly when her screen flashed violet, then red, then black, then back to red.  Keralune was gone, the streets were gone, her staff was gone.  Instead, there was just her computer screen rapidly flashing on and off, between the colors of violet and red.

Tam felt mesmerized. She stared at the screen as it seemed to blend and meld before her eyes.  Tendrils of glowing red color snaked into the violet of the screen, remaining there even when the screen turned off.  Slowly, the violet color was eliminated altogether, replaced entirely by thrashing tendrils of black and red.  

Louder than ever before, the laughter rang out.  It shook her. It shook the room.  Tam screamed, covering her ears but unable to look away from the thrashing, horrific whirlpool of nightmare her screen had become. It seemed to grow as she cowered back in her chair, utterly lost as to how any of this was even possible.

As the laugher reached deafening levels, she felt her vision narrow.  Darkness engulfed her.  Her head felt light, and she felt herself falling forward, forward, forward against her will.  She was unconscious long before she slipped out of her chair, but her body never hit the floor.

Instead, the shadowed tendrils that had once filled her computer screen stretched aside, allowing her body to plummet into the swirling darkness behind them.  She did not feel it as smaller, more sinister appendages gripped her in the darkness, pulling her deeper and deeper into the cold dark.


Tam shivered awake, recoiling from the itchy sensation of grass against her skin.  A spike of fear shot down her spine, and she tried to open her eyes.  The light was blinding.  Tam snapped her eyes shut, unable to glean even minor details of her surroundings. As she struggled to acclimate her eyes to the seemingly instant bright light, her other senses scrambled for answers. 

She could feel grass beneath her fingers, cool and damp.  Around her,the sound of wind and leaves swirled, and she seemed to be surrounded by birdsong unlike any she had ever heard before.  Her vision adjusted slowly; wherever she was, it was brighter than anywhere she’d been recently.

Tam’s head was throbbing, and her body felt strange.  Every slight motion she made felt off somehow, like her body wasn’t put together the way she was used to.  Cautiously, she felt the ground around her and rolled onto her hands and knees.  In this position, with her head turned away from the light, she could squint her eyes open.  Even still, the light was painfully bright.

The grass beneath her was fine and verdant, healthier than any she’d ever seen in her life.  It shivered with an ethereal flow, coaxed into motion by the breeze.  As her eyes further adjusted, her breath caught in her throat.

My hands…my hair!

For a moment, she felt nothing but panic staring at her own hands.  They were slender and shaped with a grace she never had before.  What was most concerning, however, was the color of her skin.  Her skin was…lavender?  Blue?

Did I drown?

Her hair did not look right either.  Instead of the usual dull brown, her hair was silky and green.  Tam was gasping for breath.

I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.

She didn’t feel okay, though.  She was shaking, nauseous, and half-blind.  If she didn’t feel so bad, she might have thought it was novel to have lavender skin, but, given the circumstances, she couldn’t help but feel blindsided.

Tam steadied herself, then followed the path of a root on the ground in front of her until it led to an enormous tree-trunk.  She struggled upright, feeling even more strange now that she was on two feet again. Covering her eyes, she was at last able to survey the world around her.

Tam found herself in a clearing, encircled by towering trees larger than any she had ever seen.  Tall grass fluttered all across the field, except where she had unintentionally trampled it.  Punctuating the grass before her were flowers of every color imaginable, but one blossom stood out among them all.  On the far side of the clearing, in a small patch of shade beneath one of the trees was a blood-red bloom.

The flower seemed to glow with an inexplicable light, and its stems were so dark that they contrasted almost painfully with the red of the petals.  She felt herself drawn to it.  Despite the warmth of the sun shining down on her, there was something…comforting…about the flower.  She wanted to pluck it, to make it hers.  

Leaning against the tree, Tam took her first step and almost fell down immediately.  She felt too light, too tall, too…different.  Her head spun, and she moved her oddly-colored hand to her forehead, which was surprisingly cool.  She massaged her temples briefly but soon found herself tracing her fingers across her face.  

Tam’s skin was smoother than it had ever been, and her face didn’t feel at all like she remembered it. Her brow was softer, her cheeks higher, her chin less heavy, and her eyes were shaped differently.  Her greatest shock came when a lock of her now-green hair blew across her eyes.  In an attempt to brush it behind her ear, she discovered that her ears were nothing like they once were.  She felt them extend far back, tapering to a point.

When her fingers reached the tips of her ears, her eyes shot wide open.  The light burned her eyes, but she was far past caring.  She looked down at herself to see that not only was she naked but that her body was not the one she was used to.  Two full breasts hung from her chest, tipped by dark purple nipples.  Her entire body was the same color she’d seen on her hands, a shimmering, light lavender, and she was slimmer than she had ever been in all her life.  Her legs seemed almost impossibly slight, but she could see – and feel – powerful muscles underneath her purple skin.  

Tam gasped audibly as a wave of recognition hit her.


For the first time since she woke, excitement filled her.  She was in the body of a…she had become a night elf.  As new as every movement felt to her, it was undeniable that she felt right. Quivering with happiness, she ran her hands across her slim belly to her hips, then upwards, cupping her breasts before covering her mouth as she cried out in joy.  She felt tears slip down her cheeks.

Overcome with a wild joy, she found herself bouncing on the tips of her toes, savoring the feeling of her graceful feet patting in the grass and the gentle jiggle of her breasts. Her mind was spinning.  Whatever had happened before didn’t matter; she had become who she’d always wanted to be.  The beating of her heart seemed in tune with the sounds of the forest around her. The world was beautiful, she was beautiful, everything was just so damn beautiful!  Tam danced across the clearing.

Minutes later, she leaned her uncovered back against the mossy bark of one of the trees at the edge of the clearing.  She was barely even winded.  She wanted to laugh aloud, but a realization struck her as cool wind blew across her skin. She felt coolness between her legs.

Tam’s eyes went wide. She slid her right hand down across her belly towards her waist.  She stopped when she felt soft pubic hair.  The possibility that her crotch was not the same as it had been paralyzed her.  She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to finally have…

Her attention was torn away from her body by a noise so horrible that it felt like ice had pierced her chest.  She threw herself to the ground, hiding from whatever could make such a monstrous screech. Following the scream, the forest fell silent save for the rustling of fleeing critters in the branches above her.

Immobilized on the ground, Tam strained to keep her breathing under control.  She was so scared she couldn’t even bring herself to crawl away. Her ears could hear much more than she was used to; she could hear twigs and branches snapping somewhere nearby. There was another sound, too.  It was a hoarse, ragged pattern of breathing that frightened her nearly as much as the first scream had.  She could tell that whatever was breathing that heavily was enormous in comparison to her.

The sounds grew closer and closer until she could hear the falling of the creature’s steps.  The footfalls slowed to a stop.  The creature sniffed the air once, twice, thrice, then let out a low growl.  The frequency of the noise was so deep that it felt like Tam’s bones were shaking. The noise went on and on, growing deeper and deeper until she could hear it no longer.

Squinting her eyes, Tam lifted her head ever so slightly to scan the field, hoping she would not reveal herself to the source of the noises.  She stared at where she thought the sounds had come from, catching a shimmer of movement at the edge of her vision.  Her heartrate skyrocketed.  Far too quickly, she glanced to her right.

The red bloom was…moving.  The vines beneath the flower itself were writhing unnaturally, and the bloom itself was rising up.  The vines lifted themselves up above the bloom and seemed to heave it up out of the ground.  As the plant uprooted itself, moving like some sort of bipedal animal, it seemed to turn it’s glowing, flower-head around.  Then, it made a noise.  

Something like the creaking cry of a hatchling bird, the sound the plant made assaulted Tam’s ears. The unseen creature growled in response, finally stepping into the field.

Tam dropped her head, praying to every divinity she could imagine that the creature had not seen her. In her brief glimpse of the monster, she had seen what was undeniably and enormous, twisted satyr.  To her surprise, her memory of the creature was almost photographic.

Black, unkempt hair trailed off of his head, parted by two twisted, coarse horns.  His eyes were glowing with the same deep red that the flower had, as were the strange markings that wove across his deep purple skin. His lips had been curled in a scowl that revealed two long fangs.  His arms and legs were impossibly large.  

Like her, the satyr had been stark naked, and his entrance into the field had revealed that he possessed an immense, equine member that swung between his legs with each of his steps. She shuddered at the thought of it. The final detail she could remember was an arrow protruding out of a fresh wound on his shoulder.  

Tam was wracking her memory for every bit of information she could remember on satyrs.  They were the enemies of the Elves, stood in opposition to druids, and…

In the name of the moon…

They served the Old Gods.

As if the Old Gods had turned their eyes upon her simply for thinking of them, Tam’s blood ran cold. She could hear the heavy breath of the satyr just a few yards away, and the chirping of the strange plant rose above the sound of the wind moving through the forest.  They were talking.

“Ahhh,” the satyr growled, “an elf? Unarmed and inexperienced?”

The Satyr’s voice was so deep that it almost sounded like the creaking of an old tree.  He laughed.

“Well,” he said, “perhaps it is time that I teach this little elf why the world trees will fall to the Nightmare in the end.  Come out, little elf, and I’ll make your end a swift one.”

Tam was shaking on the ground.  She had no chance.  In only a few minutes, her joy had turned to horror, and she found herself screaming internally, praying for help.  The satyr was moving closer; she could hear his hooves crushing the heavy grass of the field.  Tam was unable to stay still anymore.  She rolled to her side, pulling her grass-stained knees to her chin.  She had no weapons, no armor, and a monster was about to kill her.

Tam began to shake as she saw the satyr’s twisted face come into view.  His mouth twisted into a smile, and his eyes glowed with the terrible red color that matched the flower.  As she stared in horror, she saw vines snake around the muscles of his left arm, topped by the very red bloom she’d been transfixed by before.

“Oh my…” he said in a mocking tone, “the little elf shrinks away in fear.  Wiser than she knows.  But not wise enough.  Her blood will make a worthy tribute to the Master.”

He towered over her, grinning sadistically.  He pulled his right arm back, and his clawed fingers began to glow red.  Vibrant, ethereal claws materialized, crackling in the air.  The satyr lifted his hand up, savoring Tam’s fear, then, in the blink of an eye, his claws raced toward her.

Tam screamed out loud, lifting her hands in the wild hope that they would protect her body from the nightmarish claws.  For a moment, Tam heard her own voice distort, slowing down.  Through squinted eyes, Tam saw the world around her slow down. The satyr’s brutal claws moved towards her slower and slower and slower until, finally, they stopped, just a hair away from her hands.

She felt a jolt of energy surge through her arms, like the feeling of getting goosebumps but hundreds of times stronger.  It moved quickly from her heart to the tips of her fingers, and before she could even react, something deep within her took control.  

A flash of multi-colored light exploded from Tam’s hands, sending a ripple of distortion outward. The satyr howled in pain as his claws glanced off of a barely-visible, prismatic barrier.  A shimmer in the air above Tam’s fingers followed.  Fractions of a second later, a sphere of distortion exploded outward from around her.

The satyr was thrown away with enough force that his hooves left the ground, bowling him over into the clearing.  Howling in rage and pain, he flailed in the grass, kicking his hooves with audible force. It didn’t take him long to rise to his feet.

Filled with sudden determination, Keralunestood up off the ground, brushing the dirt from her bare skin without so much as a thought.  Above her, she heard the distinct, deep call of an owl.  Tapping into some previously-unknown power, Keralune made a gesture with her hands, whispering Elven incantations.  As the final words left her lips, tendrils of ice-blue light wove around her arms, before leaping forward into conical projectiles.

The satyr threw up his arms, blocking one of the missiles only to be pummeled on either side by the other two.  Though he roared in pain, he didn’t show any other sign of weakening, instead barreling toward Keralune.  The muscles of his monstrous forearms rippled as he threw his claw towards the night elf. 

As if she’d been practicing her entire life, Keralune envisioned herself on the other side of the field, reached out with her mind, and, feeling a slight sensation of spinning, found herself looking back at where she had stood moments ago.

“DAMN ELF!” the satyr screamed, “No more dirty tricks!”

The monster spun around with terrifying speed.  As he turned, he flung a handful of glowing red, oblong objects toward Keralune’s new location.  

Are those SEEDS?

Keralune again summoned her prismatic barrier, reflecting the seeds with surprising ease.  She smiled, a flicker of confidence lighting in her heart.  Again, she fired back at him, channeling the arcane to beat him back.  This time, though, the satyr deftly reflected all of them with his claws, rushing toward her.  She turned to run.

Keralune screamed as she felt her bare feet catch on something sharp.  Pain radiated out from her legs as she lost her balance and tumbled forward.  Horror chilled her blood.  She kicked her legs frantically, trying to free them from whatever had entangled her. She loosened her feet enough to roll onto her back, from where she could see that red-and-black vines had wrapped around her feet.  Thorns had dug into her legs, making it almost impossible to escape without further injuring herself.  

The satyr, realizing his prey was caught, slowed himself as he approached.  He was breathing heavily as he stepped over her, straddling her comparatively miniscule form.  His mottled equine cock hardened.

“Nothing as wonderful as an elf who has a little fight in her,” he growled, he motioned to his enormous, veiny cock, “maybe if you do a good job, I’ll simply enslave you instead of offering your blood to the Master.  Slaves with magical sensitivities are rare, indeed.”

The satyr took a deep breath, reached down, and gripped her by the neck.  His hands were rough, and his claws dug into her as he lifted her off the ground without even exerting himself.  His face curled into a dark and sadistic smile.

“I am going to enjoy…”

His words were interrupted by a soft flurry of thwips, and his expression suddenly changed.  The sadistic pride was swept away by a pained look of surprise.  Keralune felt his grip around her neck falter for the briefest moment, before his eyes flashed with anger and his voice bellowed out of his chest again.

The satyr threw her to the ground, cursing in some perversion of the druidic tongue that Keralune could hardly understand.  He turned away from her, and that was when she saw what had caused him to drop her to the ground.  Three arrows protruded from the fur on his back.  Corrupted blood trickled down the shafts of the arrows, staining the owl-feather fletching black.  

Keralune spotted movement in the forest on the far side of the clearing:  slender humanoids weaving between the trunks of the trees.  Her sharpened vision allowed her to catch the glint of the sun on the tips of their arrows.  Even as she watched, the light pouring in from above changed, shifting from the warm yellow of sunlight to the comforting blue of moonlight.  There were eyes glowing in the woods.

“I’ve got one of yours’ here, cowardly elves.  A young little mage.  If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me be,” he shouted into the trees, “though, it would be just like your kindto put a helpless elf to death just to catch one monsterlike me!”

The satyr circled around Keralune.

“Let me go and I’ll leave the elfling,” he shouted at them, “step any closer and I’ll tear her throat out.”

Keralune was paralyzed. At her feet, the barbed tendrils lashed and writhed as if to threaten her, obediently awaiting their master’s command.  The sudden darkness that had settled on the grove brought a chill to her skin, where beads of sweat had gathered like gems against her lavender skin.  

She saw an armor-clad figure step from the shadows on the far side of the grove.  The darkness seemed to peel back like a curtain from around the newcomer’s form.  The skin of her arms was violet, and she carried a circular hoop of metal, punctuated by vicious blades.

“Stand down, demonspawn,” the voice was undeniably female, but rough and harsh, “One move and you shall meet your maker once more in the nether.”

“Ha!” the satyr spat, “I should have known the pitiful jailer would come looking after me.  Out of work now that the Prophet and the King of Diamonds saved the day?”

The woman appeared unphased. She slowly raised her blade.

“I will give you one last chance, Xilivir,” she said, the gravity in her voice palpable to Keralune, “a quick and just death, or a dishonorable and proloned one.”

Keralune heard a deep growl rise from the creature behind her.  As the growl turned to a roar, he dug his claws into the ground next to Keralune. The vines writing around her flew into a flurry, tearing across the ground toward the armored woman.

With lightning reflexes, the woman vaulted into the air, leaping over the vines and whipping her cloak forward in a single, fluid motion.  Light glinted off of metal that had seemingly been concealed in her cloak. A wave of throwing knives flashed toward the satyr.

Keralune saw her opportunity.  As other warriors entered the clearing with bows drawn, she rolled to her right and jumped to her feet.  She could hear the pained howl of the satyr behind her, but adrenaline pushed her forward without so much as a glance back.

She heard the rumble of hooves against dirt as she scrabbled to make it to the treeline.  Just as her feet fell at the edge of the field, her gait faltered.  She was falling forward again, but, this time, without a hint as to the cause. She fell down to her knees to see two of the bow-wielding women drop their weapons and rush to her.  She felt cool, graceful hands on her arms.  

Her vision was blurring. She glanced back to see the satyr riddled with arrows and knives on the ground.  His head was turned toward her, and the armored woman had her blade at his neck.  There was a twisted smile on his face.

Keralune looked down at her body.  Protruding from her shoulder was a glowing red shard.  Her vision shrunk as she saw the veins around her wound blacken.  The last thing she felt was herself slipping to the ground.


Keralune was awakened by the sharp and sudden call of a bird in the distance.  She shot upward, instantly stricken with terror.  She was not in her home, nor the field, nor anywhere she recognized at all.  Instead, she was laying in an enormous bed with an ornately-carved, oak footboard. Dappled sunlight poured down on her from above, interrupted by a thick canopy of leaves that formed the roof of the room.  

She soon found that movement was impossible.  Pain radiated outward from her chest when she tried to move any further than a sitting position.  She looked at her hands.  There were minor scabs on her palms, which were still lavender in color.  Her lower body felt heavy, and her upper body radiated with a dull pain.  There was a poultice of some sort bound to her chest.  Even without moving the cloth, she could see that her wound had been bad. 

Black veins spread out from beneath the cloth, reaching almost down to her right breast.  Curiously, she ran her hand across her breast.  Even in the disorientation, the weight of her breast in her hand was greatly calming.  She could survive a wound if it meant getting to keep the body she knew was right for her.

Inspecting the room, she saw that there was a wooden pitcher on a table nearby the bed.  Assorted bookshelves and chests of drawers lined the walls of the room, the walls of which seemed to be made out of tightly-woven tree branches.  There was a body-length mirror on the far corner of the room, framed with gold-painted wood.  The last item she noted was a small scroll on a bedside table to the right of the bed.

She reached for the scroll, bracing against the soreness of her injury.  Unfolding the scroll, she words in a text she had never seen before. To her great surprise, she understood them clearly.

Young one,

We do not know from whence you came, but we are glad to have found you when we did.  The monster who kidnapped you was a vile satyr by the name of Xilivir.  Should he have gone unstopped he may have not only stolen your soul for the Dark Ones, but the souls of many others.

While we were able to save your life from the injury he meted upon you, our druid healers were unable to completely undo the wound.  You will live, but you will bear the scars of the encounter indefinitely.  Even our greatest arcanists and keepers do not yet know how to overcome the corruption of the dark, though we can contain it.

I only wish we could have caught him sooner.  Preventing the satyr’s curse in full would have been our greatest aspiration in this event.  When you awaken and have healed, we will help you find your way back to whichever village you were abducted from, else you are welcome to stay here at the world tree with us.

-High Warden of the Moon

Keralune found herself staring at the word curse.

What could this mean?

She laid back down in the bed, glancing down at her bandaged wound.

I don’t really mind a scar so much…

Something told her there was more, though.  She needed to see her body.

Slowly and surely, she carefully slid her feet out from beneath the blankets, gritting her teeth through the pain.  When she let her feet fall to the floor, the movement sent a spear of pain shooting through her torso.  But she was okay.

A great sense of serenity rested over her heart.  No matter what bad news this curse could bring, it would be nothing in comparison to the fact that she had finally become Keralune.  She had the body her mind had always yearned for, and she had found a world far more inviting than the one she’d previously called home.

Keralune shakily stood to her feet.  Her lower body felt so stiff, and there was an odd sense of heaviness pulling down on her hips.  Slowly, she stepped in front of the mirror, gasping at the full sight of who she was.

Her face was slender and smooth, with graceful lips and a slight brow.  Her cheeks were high, speaking of her elven ancestry.  Her eyes hardly had irises.  Instead, they glowed softly with a silver light.  Her breasts, tipped with dark purple nipples, hung naturally in a way she’d only ever envied in others.

Keralune ran her hand gracefully across her flat belly, her gaze coming to rest on the first out-of-place feature she’d encountered outside of the black veins of corruption-stain that expanded from her wound.  Just below her belly, her skin changed color.  Her crotch was pitch black, lightening slightly as it neared her waist.  At her waist, the night-black color broke into spots of interspersed lavender and black.

What was stranger still was the foreign part that hung between her legs.  Instead of a feminine vulva or a familiar penis, there hung only a heavy, sack with two large orbs within.  The skin stretched downward under the weight of the stones she now had attached to her body. There was an odd opening just above her dark sack, a scrunch of skin that looked something like a foreskin, but almost as if there was nothing inside.  

It was then that she noticed just how wide her hips had become and how strange her legs felt. Her legs looked further apart. Turning, she saw that her ass had grown considerably, even since her first entrance to this world.  Beneath her ass, she could see large muscles flex as she moved.  Following her muscular legs downward, she realized why she’d felt so heavy, strange, and clumsy.  Her legs now bent backward, digitigrade, ending with heavy hooves.

The sheer amount of bodily discoveries Keralune was experiencing threatened to make her faint, but the beauty of her lavender skin and the femininity she now possessed kept her mind centered.  She gingerly felt the muscles of her new thighs, moving her fingers over to the thick skin of her crotch.  The sensation of touch on her new parts sent arousing heat into her.

As arousal spread upward from her crotch, she felt a foreign shifting between her legs.  Staring into the mirror, Keralune was transfixed on what her new body was doing.  Carefully touching the skin around her balls, she watched intently as something rose steadily out from the sheath above her balls.

Hardening into a long shaft with a flared tip, her new cock rose to full length with ease.  It was nearly as thick as her slender arms. Mottled and equine, she realized with shock the extent of her corruption.

In the mirror before her stood a slender night elf woman with slim, strong legs and a monstrous black-and-pink cock.  She shuddered.  Running her hand across the almost unbelievable organ, she couldn’t help but tighten her muscles, causing her equine organ to flex upward.  The pleasure of her fingers gently sliding across the hard shaft, rolling across the preputial ring, and resting on the soft sheath near her crotch almost made her black out.

Awkwardly, she stepped back away from the mirror.  Though walking had been easy before she realized what she was doing, the feeling of digitigrade steps was confusing now that she was consciously aware of it.  It took her a bit to reach the side of the bed, but she finally made it, sitting down on the soft bedding.  She was drained, and she realized her body must still not be fully healed.

As she sat on the bed with her inhuman cock stretching out in front of her, she was shocked to realize that she was aroused.  Not just physically, either.

Do I like this?

Keralune’s thoughts drifted as she climbed back into bed, kicked the blankets down with her hooves, and gently reached down to cover her body with the blankets once she was in position.  The sensation of soft blankets touching her flared head was maddening in the best way.

Rolling to her side, she stared at the wall.  In most ways, she had the body she’d always wanted.  She knew spells!  She never would have to go back to the life she’d hated so much.

But can I really live being a corrupted freak with a horse cock?

The question went unanswered in words, but, with a sigh, Keralune slid her lavender hands beneath the covers and wrapped them around her newfound corruption.

Maybe corruption isn’t all that bad…

Climbing the Dialogue Tree

Climbing the Dialogue Tree

The Misfire, Chapter 8