To: "Fursize" <fursize@lists.integral.org>

Subject: [FurSize] Story - Titanias Toys: Changes, Chapter 1

Date: Saturday, January 19, 2002 8:55 PM

Titania's Toys

by Silussa (silussa@digital-dragon.org)

(silussa@hotmail.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:

http://www.tomorrowlands.org/story/

It will be available there once the story is complete. If you wish to

archive this story or repost it elsewhere, please inquire of

silussa@digital-dragon.org or silussa@hotmail.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

suggestions.

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

lengthen.

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

balloon.

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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