Disclaimer: This story is a work of adult fiction that includes a lot of graphic sex and descriptions of a bizarre physical transformation. Please read away if you're of the proper age, but don't come crying to me if the subject matter flips your stomach in a bad way instead of a good one!
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I suppose the most appropriate place to start this story would be with the panic attack I had in my apartment's parking space. It was my 30th birthday, and I had made a big mistake.
I am of the firm opinion that people should get their 30th birthday off of work. Better yet, they should be restrained so that they don't bring harm to themselves or others, the same way we do with the criminally insane or werewolves on the full moon.
For those who have not yet had the pleasure, the big 3-0 is the day you realize you're running out of runway for fuckups. It's the day to assess the current state of your life and wonder how you 'ended up' this way. How did I end up less successful than all my friends? How did I end up coming home to this slum of an apartment complex? How did I end up trapped in a loving but utterly sexless marriage?
These were the exact questions that had been rattling around in my head all day, driving me mad. I had to do something to change my lot in life, and rash, impulsive decisions were made. Decisiveness had met impulsiveness, and I already regretted what I had done. Now it was time to march up to our apartment and break the news to my wife. Daydreams of my wife embracing me as the romance of our marriage was reignited gave way nightmares of her flipping out and holding me to task. After all, her thirtieth birthday had been just last week, and she hadn't made any big, irresponsible decisions.
I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and made my way to our front door.
"Honey! I'm ho- oh, hello."
Fiona was waiting inside. She was wearing leggings and a sports bra. The way her athletic wear lifted her breasts and accentuated her curves made it, in my opinion, one of her sexiest outfits. But it was odd that she should be wearing it at this hour, and there wasn't a drop of sweat on her.
"Welcome home, handsome!" she said cheerily, greeting me with a kiss on the lips. She handed me a glass of red wine, and before I could get a word out of my mouth, she lifted her own glass and made a toast.
"To Martin: my birthday boy and the love of my life."
I clinked my glass against hers and took a polite sip. Fiona took a much larger one.
"Thanks, love, that was very sweet," I said, nearly choking on my anxiety. "Listen, there's something I need to tell you."
She nodded and took my hand. "Here, let's sit together as you say it."
Fiona led me to the couch and sat close beside me so her hips and leg pressed against my own. The end table had been cleared to make room for a trio of flickering tea candles.
"Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me?"
I swallowed. It was time to come out with it.
"I bought us a vacation to the island provinces."
She furrowed her brow as she processed the information. "That's where we were going to take our honeymoon."
"The one we couldn't afford? Yes."
I braced myself for the coming storm, but it never came. Instead, Fiona raised her hand to her heart. "Martin! That's so romantic."
I shook my head. "We still can't afford it. Even if I could find a few more weddings that needed a photographer this month, you would have to pick up another three or four Boober rides each day. . ."
"We'll figure it out. Don't worry about it."
This was not right. I knew my wife. We had always been open with each other about our worries. It was one of the great strengths of our partnership. At the very least she should have shown some hesitation, some anxiety, but there was not a hint of worry in her eyes.
Shee laid her arm around my shoulder such that her breasts pressed against my arm. "Let's just focus on having a good time tonight."
"But-"
She silenced me with a kiss. This one was deep and intimate, and it caught me off-guard. We hadn't kissed like that in months. I caught a whiff of the perfume she'd worn on our wedding day. She broke the kiss and gazed at me with half-lidded eyes decorated with eyeliner. She never wore perfume or makeup.
She was trying to seduce me.
This was odd. Our love life was on the rocks. We hadn't been intimate in over a month, and neither one of us tried to initiate anymore. I would have thought it was a forced attempt at a birthday gift if not for the husk in her voice and the way she drew her breath through her lipsticked lips in rapid little gusts. She was genuinely horny. Somehow, that made her behavior even more unsettling. It was as if she'd been possessed by a succubus.
"Honey I'm not-" I started, but she interrupted me with another kiss. Her hand dropped to the crotch of my jeans and squeezed a pulse into my penis. The situation was ringing alarm bells in my mind, but I was still a man. I allowed my lips to mingle and return her romantic gesture. Soon our tongues began to play, and our hands slipped under each other's clothes for a chance to feel the touch of skin. Before long, touching transitioned into groping and fondling. She pushed down the front of my jeans and wrapped her slender fingers around my stiffening penis. I slid my hand between her bra and her breast and cupped its supple flesh.
She broke the kiss and stared at me with a look of desire so intense it was frightening. "Let's go to the bedroom."
"Yes," I whispered, and she pulled me to my feet only to embrace me once again. We stumbled toward the bedroom, awkwardly kissing and undressing each other as we went, catching our balance against the walls of the hallway. She skipped pulling off my shirt and went straight for my zipper, freeing my cock and fondling it as we went.
When we arrived, she slipped out of her pants in record speed and laid face-down, with her shapely ass raised high in the air. Her plump ass cheeks and thighs made a gorgeous frame for the delicate frills of her pussy. She was very attractive.
For a human.
What would I turn her into tonight? I stroked my dick absently as I approached her, and my imagination kicked into gear. Something reptilian would be nice. Something powerful. I pictured a thick, substantial tail sprouting above her heart-shaped ass, twitching as it grew long enough to obscure her privates, then curling upward and flopping forward, revealing her altered genitals. Her pussy was gone, replaced with a scaled, horizontal cloaca. It twitched in anticipation as her tail wagged back and forth over her head. \n\tFiona had no idea the fantasies I conjured when we made love. I kept my obsession with transformed girls locked deep in the depths of my own imagination. It might sound silly, considering how commonplace alchemical transformations were becoming in certain parts of the empire, but it comes down to the way I was raised. Every time I pictured coming clean, I felt sick with terror. And if I did tell my wife, what would she hear? That I didn't find her delicate, painstakingly maintained, wonderfully-proportioned human figure attractive? That I wanted her to change everything, her body, her lifestyle, her very role in society to satisfy my bizarre fetish?