To: "Fursize" <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Subject: [FurSize] Story - Titanias Toys: Changes, Chapter 1
Date: Saturday, January 19, 2002 8:55 PM
by Silussa (email@example.com)
[DEFINITELY adult material...if you're not allowed access to sexually
explicit material in your jurisdiction, don't read this.
This story is based in the Tomorrowlands Universe, based at:
It will be available there once the story is complete. If you wish to
archive this story or repost it elsewhere, please inquire of
firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com
Thanks to Kaijima for feedback, comments, suggestions, information on
magical spells, etc., and Baxil for suggestions and guidance. Additional
thanks to SteveZ of the TSA mailing list, for additional editing and
Additional note: thanks to Morphy, who does think it belongs on the
list; otherwise, I would have never posted it!]
The tall, ebony-skinned female slips inside the Italian restaurant
quietly, barely causing the bell on the door to ring, despite her seeming
awkwardness. Normally, the restaurant was bustling with business, but now,
a few minutes short of closing time, it was deathly quiet, with only the
muted sounds of the storm outside.
She slides lightly into a booth, rewrapping the soaking wet bedsheet about
herself as she settles into place. In a self-conscious gesture, one hand
reaches up and rubs her forehead with a slight squeaking noise. Looking
about in confusion, she gains some confidence as her solid pink eyes take
in the dimly lit establishment. Her gloved hands slowly slide across the
booth and table, the long, delicate fingers seemingly allowing her to take
comfort in their solidity.
Hot air begins to blow from the vent above, as the heating system kicks on
in response to the cold air which entered with her. A moment later, her
hands come to a stop as she stiffens slightly, then gives a quiet moan of
pleasure. The sheet around her slips slightly, revealing an abundant
amount of cleavage and breast, swelling slightly with a creaking and
squeaking. Booted legs shift position as they lengthen and thicken; gloved
hands reach to gently rearrange the sheet, even as they also swell and
Awkwardly trying to cover more flesh with the same amount of sheet, the
mysterious visitor shifts about slightly; while still sitting lightly, the
space which was acceptable for a woman over six feet tall is now becoming
distressingly tight for one who is almost seven feet, and still growing.
Bracing her hands on the table, she takes a deep breath. With surprising
strength, her arms snap outward, flinging the table against the opposite
side of the booth. At the same time, she is flung out of the booth,
seemingly in slow motion, as she flies several feet before landing on her
back, the sheet left in the booth with the somewhat battered table.
For a moment, she lays spread-eagle on the floor, latex-like bustier
creaking as her body swells yet a little larger and curvier, her skin
taking on a very slight shininess where before it had been matte. Then,
clumsily, she rolls herself over and staggers to her feet, tottering
slightly on the high heels, a tail-like appendage lashing out behind in an
apparent attempt to help balance the massively top heavy woman.
Finally securely upright again, the lady sighs as the tail rubs gently
along one of the red boots, from the mid-calf up to the tightly covered
crotch. "What the hell..." she begins, her voice strangely lyrical, even
soothing, yet arousing, before she comes to a stop in seeming surprise.
Looking upward at the very close ceiling, her unblinking eyes express the
classic "what next?" look.
With a brief sigh reminiscent of distant church bells, she strides across
the room to a water fountain, near the kitchen door. With each step, she
seems more confident, with that gentle sway, intended to attract the
attention of any male, becoming more prominent.
Leaning over, she tries a couple of positions until she finds one where
her breasts allow her access to the water. Most of the fountain's cold
water goes into her mouth, with a sound vaguely like that of a plastic bag
in the early stages of being filled. The rest, she sprays across her face.
Gradually, her tail settles down, relaxing behind her instead of rubbing
against her taut flesh.
Straightening back up, she eyes the figure the strapless outfit shows so
well, and sighs yet again. "I hope I'm right about the owner," she quietly
murmurs to herself. "I don't know what else I can do, and
those...feelings...just now..." A slight shiver of fear races through her
frame; then, she takes a deep breath, calming herself even as her bosom
swells slightly in response to the intake of air.
Much calmer than a minute before, she strides the short distance to the
kitchen door, stiletto heels clicking softly on the floor, the subdued
swish of water lending emphasis to the bounce she shows in each step.
Pausing in front of the door, she begins to intently examine her own
reflection. The woman's face reflects complete shock as her head moves
upward and downward, repeatedly reviewing her reflected image from neck to
heel. Slowly, she turns, eyeing herself from all possible angles.
Tentatively, she reaches with her hands, very lightly touching herself.
The gloved hands gently slide downward, the woman leaning over awkwardly
as they continue to move from breasts to hips to waist, then downward
along the legs. Eventually, she is completely bent over, as her hands
reach the impossibly tall heels, eyes watching closely.
Slowly, sensually, she reverses her course, hands following a different
route as she gradually straightens up. The eyes do not blink, but there is
a very, very gentle shaking of the head; a shaking that any human would
recognize as meaning "no".
Taking a few steps back, the humanoid sprawls backward across a table.
After the long near-silence of merely the heating system and the gentle
squeaking of her own movements, the sounds of containers falling off the
table is incredibly loud; the salt shaker shattering, even louder. The
ebony female visibly winces at the last, as if realizing attention will
come to fall on her momentarily, whether she wishes it or not.
Nervously, she quickly settles back onto her feet, looking in the
direction of the kitchen door, seemingly waiting for the inevitable. After
a long moment, though, the ebony female settles into a pose more
reminiscent of a Playboy centerfold foldout, her face relaxing from
nervous to expectant.
After a few more moments of nothing, she takes a deep breath, glancing
behind herself at the small mess on the table and the floor. With a slight
shake of the head, she moves forward, gently opening the door to the
kitchen, and glancing about inside.
Seeing signs of activity, but nobody, she carefully moves inside, pausing
briefly to smell deeply the contents of the several pots and ovens still
cooking in the broiling hot kitchen. Taken with the incredible aromas that
her nose brings her, it is several minutes before the ebony female
realizes the effect the temperature is having on her.
Trying to grab the handle of a large pot, she finds her hand barely able
to close on it, the pressure of the gloves on the swelling hands making it
hard to move them. Moving clumsily toward another door, she examines
herself from the busom down, noting quickly that the formerly tight
clothing has become all too constricting. Awkwardly, she tries to get at
the various clasps, even as her tightening flesh swells around it,
becoming more frantic as her outfit grows tighter, her movements more
restrained and awkward.
The door suddenly swings open, knocking the pneumatic female across the
kitchen, bouncing off several items of cooking equipment before finally
coming to rest, downward facing, leaning against a set of shelves at a
sixty degree angle, feet high, like an inflated air mattress.
She would blink if she could; looking downward at the floor from an upside
down position is odd, to say the least. Moving, at the moment, is out of
the question; her increasing pressure against the heavy latex clothing has
rendered her almost immobile. Instead, she allows her mind to analyze the
strange feeling of being knocked through the air and bouncing like a
After an unknown amount of time, she finds herself firmly grasped and
flipped over. The physical contact brings a gasp in reaction, as her
almost painfully taunt body responds pleasurably to the physical contact.
A brief glimpse of a fair face, framed with dark hair, with a look of
stunned surprise, then she finds herself falling again.
The fall, as before, is gentle, the water sloshing around as she bounces
lightly. Looking upward, her eyes lock onto the young woman, still looking
shocked. "Could you...please cut me out of this?" she finally manages with
great effort, the tight bustier making it almost impossible to speak.
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