Becoming Monsters

“And this is Eveline’s uncle, Sammy Armstrong,” Diane introduced, reading from her guest list on her tablet.

“Well, aren’t you a classy bit of lady,” Uncle Sammy said, coming in for a bone breaking hug to Honoka. Over six feet tall (183 cm), the rugged older man broadly smiled on his wide and flat African American face. Shaved head, with the wrinkles that came from laughter and a lifetime working in the sun, Sammy also packed enough muscle under his light jacket he might beat Banda in an arm wrestling competition. “Our little Beanpole married up. Ha! Totally worth burning my vacation days at the Port Authority for this, let me tell you. Hey, you know, my daughter is still on the market, great cook and a professional dancer if you’re looking to fit another girl into...”

“Dad!” A much shorter girl butted in - sharing the flat face but in a cute way - pushing her bulky father out of the way with only a hint of blush on her dark skinned face, holding out her hand. “Forgive my father, he thinks he’s funny. I’m Tracey, I dance with the Los Angeles Ballet Company and am currently single and happy!” The last bit was said with venom directed towards her laughing father.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Honoka said, bowing as she shook hands. She was franken-dressed into an outfit borrowed from her cousin Chanise: a loose vermilion open shoulder top exposing some belly, matched with a red and white striped skirt coming to Honoka’s knees. The skirt had the hermaphrodite worried from the slit running up her left thigh, high enough that the wrong bend could expose her to a lot of family members.

Especially, the horny Honoka idly noting, because the girl shaking her hand stuffed legs in tight capri jeans, a caboose casually muffining out from under the white top that matched her profession. Tracey was probably also flexible…

Honoka shook her head, getting her mind out of the gutter. This meet and greet had been going on for hours, but Honoka was currently trying to welcome everyone who would be staying at her home. All the rooms were taken, including so many visiting children they decided to convert the last available basement into a massive slumber party. Fifty-six of the guests alone came from Nagasaki and Osaka, most of them only understanding the minimum amount of English taught in Japanese schools. Parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends from high school; there were three hundred and fourteen people staying here and Honoka’s peaceful little haven away from the world was invaded by an army.

Just this morning, Honoka greeted her two brothers, James and Suzuki, their families, about twenty odd relations from Nagasaki that Honoka vaguely recollected meeting years ago, Philip and Georgia - who was more eager to cuddle babies and only said a word in passing as she rushed through - a cousin of Padmava’s that spoke broken English, Quinn’s father who looked Georgian hillbilly and proud of it standing next to Quinn’s older sisters, Banda’s human parents and Eve’s gorgeous aelf mother. It was all a blur and Honoka was having trouble keeping track. Thankfully, Diane constructed a chart with pictures put together on her tablet to keep everything straight, Honoka having spent an hour earlier this morning trying to memorize as many of the names and faces as possible.

It took every ounce of Honoka’s willpower not to run away screaming.

“Yessss, definitely a…pleasure,” Diane said with her voice laced in sex, grabbing Tracey’s hand and leaning forward. Clothing a bit of a crisis at the moment, Diane managed to find a black spaghetti tank that barely had enough fabric to qualify as a bikini bra, her moneymakers swaying free and with enough underboob some of the parents covered their kid’s eyes when they met the two women. The succubus was also in a black leather skirt, but it was a mini and she managed to fit her toned and tight legs into her old fishnets, the diamond lace biting into her freckled skin to create hundreds of polygon dimples. It was all barely enough to be considered legal at a strip bar, much less meeting family, which is why Tracey went entirely red despite her ethnic heritage and would have had steam coming out of her head if this was a cartoon. Honoka couldn’t see it, but Diane was also probably cranking the sexual aura on the girl to eleven.

“This isn’t helping our image as a wholesome family,” Honoka said as they walked away from Sammy and Tracey, the courtyard only hosting a dozen or so people milling about or crossing from one part of the compound to another.

“Screw wholesome, I’m Hungry and there are a lot of eligible microwave dinners walking around.” Point of fact, Diane was looking over at a trim and austere young male oni from Osaka that Honoka recognized as one of Miaka’s cousins. “I’d eat you out, but you have to leave if you’re going to make your date with Fred. Besides,” Diane said as she pushed her boobs up a little and started sauntering over to her next victim, “it isn’t a secret our family is one big sex cult.”

“I’m still not sure about this whole thing with Chastity’s sister,” Honoka said, standing there as she tried to adjust her skirt even farther down, hoping nothing popped out.

“Its just a date, and we need the money from that hussy.” Diane’s tail swished irritably as she whipped it around and started playing with it in her hands, not bothering to look back as she spoke. “Now go before I do something inappropriate to you here in front of everyone.”

Resisting the urge to give into that threat, Honoka blew a saucy kiss as she turned and went back to her room to fetch her bag and a pair of crimson pumps that were too large for Honoka’s feet. The unfashionable girl was not willing to wear them more than she absolutely needed, holding them in her hand as she walked outside again. Her bag also held some tasty treats she wanted to try as soon as possible, the large pink canvas bulging a little from her snacks.

As she crossed the courtyard, she slowed a little as she saw a possible confrontation she wanted to avoid. On the left, Miaka stood next to her parents, an older Japanese couple that reminded Honoka of a classic Japanese comedy duo, All Hanshin Kyojin in their formal kimonos. This was because the father was under five feet tall (152 cm) but the mother looked like she was nearly six feet (183 cm) with darker skin, her ethnicity mixed. Miaka stood next to her kid brother behind them like a dutiful daughter as they talked with Honoka’s mother, Uzume, and Honoka’s grandfather, Lord Isami Honda.

[My husband and I are grateful to you for allowing us to attend our daughter’s wedding,] Miaka’s mother, Akemi, said in Japanese as she and her husband, Akira, bowed low to the austere older gentleman before them. [We were not able to make it to her previous marriage ceremonies and this is also a great opportunity for our son, Tasuki, to see America. We look forward to traveling with you later today to assess the caterers of Boston and see which would be most appropriate to our mutual tastes.]

Wait, TASUKI?! Honoka thought, a wicked smile curling her lips as she crept slowly behind her mother and grandfather. Miaka wasn’t a common name, but it wasn’t uncommon either in Japan. However, Tasuki paired with Miaka could only come from one source.

Miaka noticed the smile and instantly grew wary, having grown accustomed to Honoka’s devious mannerisms. The Osakan girl subtly quirked an eyebrow towards Honoka to avoid interrupting the adult conversation.

Suzaku no Miko, Honoka mouthed, almost losing it from some chuckles she had to choke down, only now realizing Miaka was a phoenix!

Miaka’s fire dimmed. Even the color of her red and orange feathers paled a bit, the large eyes on her bird face growing wider than their usual shōjo size.

[My father is very happy to have you and your family here,] Uzume said, bowing and motioning for Honoka to move forward. [We are happy for the occasion to celebrate the joining of our two families together.]

[Yes, we are happy you were able to make the journey,] Honoka said with as much dignity as she could muster, bowing low to her latest in laws. [I hope, time allowing, we will all be able to visit your home in the near future.]

The Watase’s bowed and walked off, Miaka giving a scared look back as she herded her family away. Which left Honoka with her mother and grandfather.

[It is a great honor that you came all this way to see me and my family, honorable grandfather.] Honoka bowed much lower, giving the daimyō the respect he deserved as the head of the family and as her mother’s father. [I hope the journey was not too strenuous for you or grandmother.]

“Hrmph,” Isami replied, a look of disgust flickering across his face as he looked down at Honoka before his visage returned to the stern normality Honoka always remembered him having.

[Father!] Uzume said with distressing heat, her volume still low enough to keep others in the courtyard from overhearing.

[Silence, woman,] Isami replied calmly, glaring at his daughter with imperial dignity. [I will repay my debt to you as I swore I would, but my honor is my own. You and your mother petitioned me to attend this…ceremony, so I have come and will attend. However, this does not excuse your daughter becoming a whore.]

Honoka rocked back, her spine straightening as the words hit her like a physical blow. Stunned, Honoka looked at Uzume and understood something when she saw her explosive and temperamental mother stand stock still with only her eyes lowered. If Uzume heard an accusation such as this leveled at one of her family from anyone else, the little Japanese woman would have already broken bones and taken names. Instead, the lack of reaction told Honoka that this was not the first time Uzume heard this from her father.

“I’m sorry.” Honoka’s mother didn’t move, still peering downward, but her body lightly shook in repressed emotions. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Honoka wasn’t sure why she wasn’t reacting with all the rage inside of herself, loosing a storm of fire upon her grandfather. The young black woman, former architect and now…now the matriarch of her own family with children of her own, didn’t know she possessed the strength of character to reach a hand over and gently touch her mother’s shoulder. As Uzume looked over, tears in her eyes, Honoka smiled. “Not your fault your father feels this way.”

“As for you,” Honoka responded, turning back to her grand…to Isami and knowing full well he understood her English, “I appreciate your wealth and generosity for making this gathering of family possible. Regardless of motive, you have done me and my family a great kindness and I thank you for it.” Honoka bowed again, though this time not as low as before. “I wish your stay remains pleasant. I hope for an opportunity to convince you otherwise concerning my virtue.”

Isami might have responded, his face still stone, but he stopped himself when Honoka spun and quickly walked away, only giving a slight nod to her back.

Honoka needed to escape before she did something…well, before she did something. Honoka wasn’t sure what she was capable of doing or saying at this point, she wasn’t the timid woman she once was. She also wasn’t sure what she was becoming or even if she liked what she was transforming into, both emotionally and physically. Too much was happening to her and happening around her all at once and it was making her feel volatile, unable to maintain stability, ready to fly apart at the slightest pressure.

Honoka needed something to eat.

“Gwyneth!” Honoka called out, quick marching out the gate and spotting the only wife in the area, the lich exiting the storefront where she had been helping Jaya with the morning sales. Wearing the robes Honoka believed were her only set of clothing, she had forgone the mask yet still kept the hood up, looking very creepy undead wizard as she jumped and spun to stare at Honoka. “Do you know how to drive?”

The lich’s jawbone clacked open and shut a few times comically, no sound coming out.

********************

Gwyneth did know how to drive. She just hadn’t driven in five years. Or driven as a skeleton.

“I’m driving without a license!” Gwyneth screeched, her hollow voice subdued inside the car as if a cop might hear her. “I’m going to get pulled over and arrested!”

“You’re doing great.” From the back of the van, Honoka rolled her eyes. The seats were taken out again, Honoka essentially riding free in the back. With what she had planned, the chocolate collector wanted to make sure there was enough room.

As for Gwyneth - aside from a harrowing first couple of minutes where the lich had trouble using too much pressure on the accelerator and then quickly hitting the brake over and over - they drove down Soldier’s Field to avoid I-90 traffic, well below the speed limit. At this rate, it was going to take another twenty minutes to arrive at the restaurant, which suited Honoka. “We’ll get the license thing fixed sometime later. For right now, if anything happens, we’ll do a quick switcheroo and Bob’s your uncle.”

“Then why can’t you drive?” Gwyneth asked, maybe sounding terse, though it was hard to tell with the lich.

“Driving and eating aren’t things I should do at the same time,” Honoka said, smiling and drooling a bit as she pulled out one of the Transmutation Crystals from her bag. “Now, pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain.”

What Honoka had in mind should have been done under supervision back at the house, her new Class Feature to eat anything might literally blow up or cause some other radical effect, like make her crave ketchup. Perhaps her confrontation with Isami riled her more than she admitted. To Honoka’s regret, eating was her latest coping mechanism. On the outside, it sounded like just another type of food; however, Honoka theorized her digestion of material was proportional not to mass, but instead thaumian content. It was why monster chickens and magical vaginal honey gave her the biggest boosts. So what would happen if she ate the literal crystallization of thaumian energy?

“Better send out an SOS,” Honoka mumbled, pulling out her phone as she typed a quick message to the girls.

+all the END
10ish minutes

Smiling, ignoring the hurried replies from everyone, Honoka pulled her vermilion top up and pushed the skirt down, exposing as much of her tummy as possible. Bringing up her Status, she pushed the Endurance dial to maximum.

“Locked and loaded!” Honoka felt a rush energize her entire body, her skin tingling as it twitched with a need to outrun a train and jump over tall buildings. Looking down at her hand, holding the crimson crystal the size of an apple, Honoka plopped the faceted orb into her mouth and swallowed, vaguely hoping she hadn’t made another mistake. “Mercury rising on up!”

“Couldn’t marry a sensible boy like Mom wanted me to,” Gwyneth said to herself from up front, phalanges death gripping the steering wheel as she hunched forward and flinched each time another car whizzed past her. “Had to marry crazy. I did LARPing and cosplay: I was supposed to be the crazy one. Crazy can’t marry crazy.”

Honoka wanted to reply - even had a killer comeback referencing Mystery Men - but when that crystal hit her gullet, it felt like a punch in the solar plexus. Air forced out her lungs, stomach ballooned to a beach ball in one instant, then contracting back the next as Honoka was thrown against the side door of the van.

“Are you alright?!” Gwyneth asked, not taking her flaming black eyes off the road but sounding concerned.

“Five by five,” Honoka lied through grit teeth, though she was adapting. Her abdomen felt like it was fighting itself, part trying to push out while the rest was struggling to keep it in. Not painfully - though her shoulder hurt a bit from the initial jolt - it just surprised her. Right now it felt like she had been planking for the last ten minutes and powering through to finish the set.

What was getting difficult was the rush of libido. Honoka didn’t have another word for it, the food energy shot directly into her dick and worked the Beast into a state of arousal. It wasn’t as if she was horny (ok, more horny than normal), it felt like she was sitting in front of a computer, browsing the web for spank material. Her penis engorging without becoming erect, thickening with blood and only one stray kegel away from tenting her skirt. Honoka’s pussy wasn’t helping matters either, the custom jockpanty…

(Miaka’s arachne friend, Bunnie, finished Honoka’s new attempt at underwear last night and had them delivered earlier this morning. Essentially combining the restrictive support of a jockstrap with the sexiness of a lacy thong, the crimson bit of delicate looking underwear was made with arachne silk and stretched as much as Mr. Fantastic. Honoka had never worn a thong, but the combined puppy-dog eyes of her entire harem forced her to order ten of them. And while expensive, the finishing touch was an enchantment to adjust size to the wearer’s dimensions, justification enough to spend some of Diane’s potion money. Thus far she admitted they made her both look and feel sexy, but Honoka had been picking the string out of her crack every five minutes since she put them on)

…already soaking up a juicing from her snatch, the rest spilling onto the rough carpet of the van’s interior.

Sometimes I think this van gets as much action as one of the wives. Honoka thought, schooling her mind so she could focus on not ejaculating. It was an interesting fight, her entire body wanting to contract, hands twitching to grab hold of her rod, hips wanting to move in some way so she could even feel the stimulation of her clothing to get off. In a zen kind of way, the effort was to make sure she did nothing, and it was very difficult. Every beat of her heart brought on the faintest of twinges into her cock and labia, both thick with blood but not what she would call engorged. However, between premen oozing out of her tip and the sticky, musky gloop seeping out between her thicker folds, the van would need to be steam cleaned to mop up the quarts of fluids.

“Baseball, taxes, Clint Howard!” Honoka put forth the effort as she resisted moving, resisted breathing too hard. Every unsexy thing ran through her head as she forced herself to stop everything.

Twenty minutes later, Honoka had a handle on it as they pulled into the parking lot of Alonzo’s. At least, the sweaty and soaked-below-the-belt woman was breathing steady and felt if she moved very slowly, she could walk under her own power. Yet despite all her efforts, this resistance she just put up felt amazing, like a self-denial made her both the sub and dom to her own body. Lack of physical sensation was driving her body wild, like her mental state was caressing her cock and filling her twat at the same time. When she got out and nearly got off - adjusting her clothing carefully to keep the feeling going - Honoka almost took out the two other smaller crystals and ate them right there, consequences be darned. Instead, the horny and sweating and leaking woman shuffled around to the driver side and pulled out her wallet.

“Here,” Honoka said, handing over eighty-two dollars to the confused skeleton. “Its not enough for Rodeo Drive, but it’s all I got. If you hit a discount rack you might be able to get a few cute outfits. Alonzo’s is known for taking hours to finish a meal, so no hurry.”

Gwyneth looked like she didn’t know what to do with the money, lightly rubbing the bills in her gloved hand. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know if I…” Gwyneth paused, scrunching her brow with the light scratching of bone on bone. “I don’t like being a lich. I’m no longer pretty, I’m no longer a woman, and if I could feel depressed I would. For five years I just existed.”

“I think you’re pretty,” Honoka said, surprised and pleased with herself to realize she wasn’t just saying that, leaning through the open window to give a short kiss on the bony cheek of the skeleton. “And while we won’t go full human right now - the first time is jarring and I need to get inside - I think Quinn has a new Feature that can work halfway.” Sending out another SOS and taking off the Endurance, Honoka slid the dial for Kawauso Shapeshifting. “Check your Status, you should have a new ability right now.”

When a lich’s eyes became unfocused, the flame became less flickery and more uniform. So Honoka was staring into those eyes as they suddenly burned out even as white sclera emerged from the edge of her sockets and formed around a pitch black cornea, making her appear like she had the largest irises in the world. The rest of her face followed in only seconds, her skin just a single shade too pale to be human standard, the muscles and tissue minimalistic enough to make her appear gaunt. The spikes retreated and her teeth normalized under thin lips while straight black hair sprouted down to her shoulders as the rest of her quickly filled out into someone who could pass for a tall, emaciated goth girl that was allergic to sunlight and forgot to put on her various piercings.

“I’m still…not human, but I look human.” Gwyneth pushed her hood back, revealing a long face that really only looked like some Race that could pass for human instead of going all the way. Staring into the rearview mirror, she attempted to smile before stopping and appearing irritated. “Thank you, I’ll see about getting clothing.” Reaching into her robes, she produced a cheap phone and flipped it open. “Dolly also got me a cheap burner phone with all the wives’ numbers in it. I’ll text you so you can let me know when to pick you up.”

Gwyneth did so before pulling out of the parking lot, Honoka’s phone buzzing in her bag as she carefully walked toward the entrance to the most premier eatery in Boston.

Alonzo’s Ristorante Pizza did a good job trying to look like a Tuscan Villa straight out of Italy. Honoka’s keen eye picked out the modern touches, such as the wrong type of roof tiles and the plaster looked too even. Otherwise, it bespoke of the old world and advertised as much as the fragrant aromas did that this was a place of classic Mediterranean food. Since it opened four and a half years ago, it quickly established itself as the place to experience fine dining using only the freshest of dungeon ingredients to tantalize the palate.

The food was expensive, so Honoka had never been, but it wasn’t so outside her range that she couldn’t have saved up for a treat if she really wanted to. The problem with a place like this is Honoka felt dining alone was humiliating, and dining with someone had been too embarrassing. Ironically, the atmosphere is what prevented Honoka from coming here before, not the menu.

People waited in line out front, hoping to get inside and despite it being the Saturday lunch, many wearing suits and cocktail dresses. Really, Honoka was under dressed, but she didn’t really care as she balanced into the shoes from her bag, wobbling slowly to the front of the building. Chastity had texted her detailed instructions, explaining the madam was a part owner and Honoka could show up naked and still get the VIP treatment.

“May I help you?” the mustached man asked with slicked back hair and a uniform that looked something like a tuxedo without the jacket, standing behind a tall lectern. He was impossibly polite and pleasant, but he also made it clear with his tone that the line was over there.

“Honoka Jefferson, here to meet Winifred Borgia.” Desperate to look like she belonged, the black woman’s posture was ramrod to keep her balance, her toes already crying out in pain.

Nodding as if everything was suddenly all perfectly copacetic, he briefly looked down at a datapad then bowed deeply as he swept his arm up in a practiced motion and opened the large wooden doors, motioning with his other hand inside. “We have been expecting you, Mrs. Jefferson. If you would please follow me, I will escort you to the Tramonto Suite where your party awaits.”

Honoka nodded and did her best to appear like she knew how to walk in precarious stilt shoes. Alonzo’s was packed, the noise slightly muffled by thick walls separating each section while smells assaulted Honoka like Normandy Beach. There was so many it was impossible to pick just one, but it all smelled delicious and - being the glutton she was, nevermind she just ate what felt like half a morning meal less than a half hour ago - her stomach decided now was the time to loudly groan and rumble as her mouth instantly filled with saliva.

Hehe, Chastity is going to regret footing the bill for this. Honoka was led to some stairs and guided up to a quieter second floor. I can bankrupt a restaurant with the complimentary bread.

When Honoka was led into a small and intimate dining room - more a large booth with walls than an actual room - the black woman couldn’t help but sigh in a manner much like a groan. As the door behind her softly closed, Honoka took in the artfully styled room. Each wall painted meticulously to make it appear as if the table was sitting outside in a Mediterranean sunset over the ocean.

It also had a bed in one corner next to a cabinet holding some familiar toys and potions. Honoka added two and two together, realizing if this place had been owned by Solomon Church. Of course it had rooms for prostitution available.

“I know, right? This room is more of a third date atmosphere.”

Honoka physically jumped, totally missing the little girl standing in the room with her when she entered. Peering downward, the first thing Honoka noticed was how amazing her dress looked. Medieval Science Fiction was the only way Honoka could describe it. In two parts, the outer dress was like a pastel pink velvet cloak with long, wide celtic sleeves, a deep hood pulled back and sweeping down past her legs, probably leaving a small train behind the girl if she were walking. This entire part of the dress was held in place with criss-crossing lacing over her chest and abdomen, revealing most of the inner garment. The inner dress was like smooth rubber, possibly enchanted because it didn’t wrinkle as she breathed and moved, impossibly smooth as it hugged her body and in a paisley off-white, the form a sleek strapless mini one-piece rave dress with long matching boots. The effect was strikingly sexy, as if a time traveler pulled off a short skirt/long jacket and succeeded.

Then there was the girl herself. If Honoka hadn’t been working on schooling her reactions, she might have done something she would have regretted.

Winifred didn’t just look young and small, she looked younger and smaller than Honoka had looked a month ago. If Honoka didn’t know better, she would have thought she were talking to a nine year old girl. Cute as a button, the girl had shoulder length dark hair that couldn’t decide on being wavy or curly, styled over one side in what Honoka figured was stylish and expensive. Her large nose and darkish olive skin spoke of Italian or Greek heritage, which would have given her more dignity if she appeared older. Only a trained eye showed Honoka that she was petite, not underaged. She had the bone structure of an adult, she was just small and shapeless.

She didn’t wear any eyeliner around gray eyes, her eyes naturally dark around the edges and lipstick a deep crimson. The whole effect was only a little jarring, her poise and manner and dress all too mature to even suggest she appeared as if she were playing dress up. This was a woman much like Honoka had been, stuck in a body that refused to age but weathering through life regardless.

The rest of her features threw Honoka off guard. From the top of her head where her hair tried and failing to cover it up, and throughout the rest of her body, protrusions of rainbow shimmering crystals jutted out of her skin like the Friendship Is Magic version of Doomsday. Her entire body was an asymmetrical pincushion of glowing jagged spikes. Clothing clearly tailored to her Racial needs, the holes either precisely cut around the rocks or artfully softened the rest. Overall, the woman was clearly coping with her Race by creating clothing and fashion that detracted away from extreme Changes.

Regardless, Honoka had seen weirder.

Nodding as if she were talking to just any other girl (which she was!), Honoka quirked a half smile. “I’m pretty sure this is a first date for Chastity. A little food, a quick screw, eat desert off each other’s bodies, set up a second date at a nice cafe down the street so she can get to know the person better.” Honoka went for a full on grin as she turned to look over the woman properly. “I mean, I’m sure Chastity doesn’t want to rush into anything.”

For a moment, it looked like the other woman was about to laugh, but with rigid self control she choked it down and gave Honoka a polite smile before motioning to the table. “That sounds about right. At least this time it wasn’t one of her co-workers paid to make sure I loosened up a little. I’m Winifred, by the way, but most people call me Fred.”

“Honoka Jefferson, and it is nice to meet you,” Honoka replied with a smile, reaching to shake hands as she shimmied into her seat and looped her bag onto the back of her chair. The awkward bending while touching a female was a mistake, though, as her hormones took her to task and reminded the forgetful futa she was dangerously close to spontaneously orgasming all over this room. It was only with monumental effort that Honoka bit her lip and stifled a gasp as her skin slicked with more sweat.

None of this went unobserved, the other woman giving Honoka a critical and calm glance as her eyes transitioned from gray to an aqua green. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you have your own Racial problems. To be honest, Chastity was light on the details, but she insisted I meet you here today because - in her words - you are the one who can fix my problem.”

“I’m not…I don’t…” Honoka growled a bit in her throat as her penis throbbed from a semi into a full erection, her curved rod tenting more and more of her skirt under the table and only kept from knocking on the wood with her wood by the enchanted elastic of her jockpanties. “To be fair, that is probably factually accurate, but I don’t want to get into another relationship based solely on my ability to fix someone. I’m a person looking for love just like I assume you’re a person looking for love. If that can’t be first on the list then I’m not sure if I want to talk about anything else.”

Fred was saved from answering when a waiter quietly came into the room and set two large glasses of milk on the table. “Our house specialty, holstaur milk flavored with Ambrosian Berries harvested this morning from the local dungeon. If you’ve never been to Alonzo’s before, I can recite our house specials or come back at another time more at your convenience.”

Fred looked as if she welcomed the distraction. “I’ll start with a mushroom-barley soup followed by the Sertelia Cheese dish. For the entree I’m feeling like the Brisket with a side of steamed Mallardroot and the pan fried shallots. I’ll probably finish with the palaczinta for desert like I normally do, but last time the Brisket was too much and I couldn’t eat another bite, so hold off serving my desert until after the entree.”

“Excellent choice, Ms. Borgia,” the waiter said with a genuine smile, bowing gracefully to the other woman. Turning towards Honoka, the distracted futa realized the waiter was an androgynous aelf and Honoka couldn’t tell to save her life whether she was speaking to a male or female. “And for you, madam?”

Honoka almost asked for everything with a side of keep it coming, but decided at the last second that might be too much for a first date. The belligerent woman realized why she was acting this way: she didn’t like Chastity and she was projecting that from being forced upon the succubus’ sister. Being cornered into this meeting when she should be with her wives and children wasn’t helping her mood while her grandfather’s words still stung from earlier on top of everything else. Fred wasn’t a part of her problems, so Honoka choked down her frustration and tried for the easiest option.

“I’ll have the same,” Honoka finally said, her mind idly wondering where the bathroom was as her dick lightly contracted and the sticky mix of her precum with vaginal ooze made it so she couldn’t move in her seat without alerting everyone in the room what was going on from the inevitable squishing.

“Very good,” the aelf waiter said with another bow, discreetly leaving and shutting the door behind.

Silence greeted the pair, a testament to the sound proofing of the walls, only their breathing and the light tapping of the Beast against the table as it proved stronger than enchanted arachne silk.

Fred glanced at the table with a slight curiosity before her eyes turned a golden shade and she continued in her measured tone that spoke of a solid emotional control. “Love has nothing to do with it,” Fred stated, taking a sip of her milk. “You have something I want and my sister has something you want. This is a transaction.”

“Then no deal,” Honoka said, wanting to walk out then and there but stuck in place as her breathing took on a desperate gasping, every mental effort she could make to keep herself from throwing this table aside and taking the Crystal Gem either on the floor or against the wall. “I might have all the curves and charm of Gumby’s sister Minga, but I like to think…”

Honoka trailed off, unsure where she was going with that rant. Honestly, her thoughts were a bit jumbled, this whole day making salsa out of her thoughts and attention. She realized belatedly she probably shouldn’t be handling something as delicate as a date when the first real, solid emotion crossed Fred’s face.

Rage.

With the sound of tearing cloth and what Honoka could best describe as a dozen boulders grinding up against each other, Fred contorted her arms and shoulders back as she slowly grew in height and size, the mass emanating that grinding sound as her body expanded. Muscles previous lacking bulked up in rapid progression, so fast that parts of her skin along her shoulder split and presented more of the rainbow shimmering rocks making up her sinew and muscles. It was hypnotic to see her actual muscle fibers burst apart with crystalline tinkling before rebinding themselves and bloating even further outward, her skin partially displaying fireworks of power. Other parts of skin split and tore with in time as her dress tried to keep up with the mass before tearing down the side. This was partially from the size, but also partially from the burgeoning breasts breaking through the confines of the latexy fabric, cutting their way out with nipples that looked to be as sharp as actual diamonds.

To that point, Honoka felt she was familiar with what was going on in terms of muscles, breasts and size. The crystals under the skin was new and from the pain in Fred’s face it wasn’t a pleasant sensation, but then the growth took on another aspect of the transformation. Instead of retaining a mostly human shape, the woman’s upper body expanded much faster, her shoulders doubling in proportional size from expectations while her arms no only grew much longer, but took on truly frightening musculature as her jutting rocks turned the woman’s body into a blender and completely shredded the outer red part of the dress. No longer was Fred a larger woman, she was a female hybrid of Harambe and a stick of rock candy. Very female, those breasts now each the size of couch pillows as they swung and shook from the final spurts of growth.

Honoka didn’t know what to say as the expanding woman picked up the table and threw it against the wall with one hand, the effort the same as if Honoka tossed an empty water bottle. Leaning forward, her nose having flattened against her face and the left side completely split to expose more of the glowing rock flesh underneath, the raging Fred faced Honoka’s cobalt blue eyes with bright orange, the hot breath blowing Honoka’s vermilion blouse enough to tickle her own breasts.

Which is when Honoka realized her mistake.

“I’m sorry, I misspoke,” Honoka said calmly, holding up her hands. “Believe it or not, I used to look like you a month ago and I sometimes forget I no longer look like a malnurished asian.” Looking over the powerful and feminine beauty before her, Honoka smiled. “I mean, what you looked like. I also know a bit about shape changing, so this isn’t even a big deal. As you can clearly see, it even turns me on.”

Fred looked down, paused, blinked, then leaned further down to get a better look at Honoka’s tented skirt. Only by chance was most of the Beast still covered, the throbbing threatening to push the salami high enough to completely expose herself to the other woman. Fred’s hand twitched, but she resisted as she turned around and crouched, whispering something as she slowly shrunk back into something that was again a smaller woman, though now she was trying to arrange the rags of cloth into a makeshift set of castaway clothing.

Honoka quickly put away her phone when Fred turned back around, just managing to get her text sent as Fred once again showed rigid emotional control and carefully propped her chair back up. “I’m sorry for misunderstanding and for losing myself. Losing my temper - and, really, experiencing any strong emotion - is a Racial problem for me and I’ve hurt people in the past. I’ll understand if you want to leave.”

“What, and miss lunch?” Honoka said, getting up as she allocated a little Strength and managed to move the table back without much fuss, though she gave out a little whine when her chiseled abs turned back into flat nothing as she sat back down. “Something you’re going to find out in a few minutes is I’m a bit of a pig when I eat and I never pass up free food.”

Honoka wasn’t sure if she actually saw it or not, but as Fred’s eyes turned a pastel pink, the chocolate futa thought she saw the hint of a smile there.