BXBI 2

Tess talks her boyfriend Chris into trying out BXBI and temporarily turning into a bimbo himself. Explicit.

Chris and his girlfriend were in the middle of a trip to the mall, and she was bimboed out on BXBI.

It was both a dream come true, and a bit of a nightmare. Yeah, he'd always been into the whole bimbo thing, but being out in public with Tess like this... Were people staring at him, wondering how he'd ended up with a girl so hot her selfies looked fake? Or worse, could they guess that she was on BXBI? If someone figured that out—

"Hey, you're blushing," Tess said, spearing thin french fries with a plastic fork.

Chris laughed under his breath and sipped some soda to try to cool his cheeks. "No I'm not."

"You've been all bashful all day. Is it cause I'm hot now?" she asked with a wink.

Tess was hot. And she was having fun flaunting it, from her white, pink-trimmed tank top to the pink hair ties she'd picked out to hold her long pigtails in place. She'd never had a ton of fashion sense, but with a drug-enhanced body like hers, she could squeeze into almost anything and make it look hot.

Her shoulders shifted. Her tank top stretched a little wider around her defiantly fake tits.

Chris realized he wasn't looking at her face and sipped his soda again. "No. I'm just...we're in public. It's a little weird."

Tess spread her lips to take a big bite of her hot dog. A knot wriggled around Chris's stomach. No way she wasn't doing that on purpose. She brushed off her fingers with a napkin, then reached down into her purse. "You need to unwind," she said.

Chris looked down at the remains of his orange chicken. "Probably," he said. "This is just really new to me, you know, having it be real instead of..." Tess pulled something from her purse. He looked up. She had brought the bottle of BXBI pills with her.

"You should try one," she said.

Administration (from The Merger)

A corporate takeover includes free mandatory bovinification for all employees. Excerpted from the paid anthology The Merger. Mature.

Stephen sat down at his desk and took a deep breath. The office was hot today, and buzzing with low chatter as people shifted cubicles and rolled their favorite chairs around. He wasn't moving; he wasn't important enough to get shuffled.

Aside from the bustle around him, it was a normal day at the office. His only new email was the one from Mr. Bayer about the merger. That was good, right? It meant he wasn't getting downsized yet. Right? He logged onto the project database and started updating each entry.

And then his chest felt tight. Not like a heart attack, not like something was clutching him, but like the front of his chest was snug against his shirt. It was the same white shirt and blue tie he'd worn a hundred times before, so what was different today? He tugged at the side of the collar and loosened his tie a little bit. A little bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He looked to his right. Craig was in the cubicle opposite his, earbuds in, working away, unfazed by the warmth.

Craig wasn't worried about his performance review. Craig wasn't worried about some new boss coming in and deciding to fire any employee who'd gotten a bad review.

Stephen got up from his chair and brushed back his short, dark hair. Quick trip to grab some water, that was what he needed. Each step, the pressure pushed against his chest, like it was swinging up and down. He folded his arms across his chest to keep it from bouncing as he walked to the water cooler. Was he gaining weight? He hadn't been eating too well lately.

He reached out to push down the blue lever, then froze. He stared at his black fingernails. When...? How? The water spilled over his cup and he jerked back, leaving a small splash on the ground. His eyes darted from the wet carpet to his hand. His fingernails were larger. Blacker. Thicker. A sudden flush ran across his cheeks and sweat prickled beneath his shirt. He shoved his hand under his armpit to hide it. As he rushed back to his cubicle, he tried to ignore the feeling of his skin stretching and his fingernails growing thicker and bulkier..

Craig still had his head down in his computer when he got back. Stephen plopped down into his seat and spun to the side, so Craig couldn't see him extracting his hand from his armpit. His fingers quivered. He tried to move his pointer and middle fingers independently, but they refused to separate. The thick black nails on both fingers squeezed together, and then with a pop of bone and sinew, his fingers had joined. He wiggled his new, broad finger and the bulky black keratin hoof on top.

The Merger

A paid anthology of corporate bovine transformation. Explicit.

"TO: Erica Vale
RE: RE: Change in management
I'm having a problem right now. My hand just turned into a hoof and this is going to sevfcvb"

The Merger is an anthology of corporate bovine transformation, coming in at nearly 22,000 words of TF shenanigans. It's got cow TF, male-to-female TF, lactation, cowtaur TF, bimbo TF, bull TF, and collie TF. (And that's not even mentioning the lactation and breeding.)

Buy it now through Paypal for $5! Comes as a PDF and EPUB.

If you'd like to get a taste of just how milky it is, you can read an excerpt from the first chapter right here.

The Laidly Wyrm

Did you know there's an English folk song about a knight kissing a dragon? Mature.

The black granite walls of the seaside keep couldn't keep him at bay. Sir Roderick, youngest knight of the Order of the Green Hen, had come to fight the dragon. The dragon's crimes were only those of scaring coastal farmers and carrying off several head of cattle, but to Roderick, this was an opportunity to distinguish himself.

Getting inside the keep was a challenge all its own, but high walls couldn't stop him. A rope tied to his sword, thrown like a spear through a small window, let him scramble up into the guard tower. From there, he picked his way through the wide corridors of the keep. His footsteps echoed against the steady roar of the waves as he sought a path to the courtyard.

Eventually, he found a set of double doors, bolted with a thick iron bar. Sunlight glared through the cracks from the other side. He took a moment to ready himself. He tucked his blonde hair back, slipped his helmet onto his head, and then placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. With the other, he threw back the bolt and pushed open the doors.

In the courtyard, the high walls cast shadows against the thick flagstones. In one corner, the floor had crumbled away entirely, leaving a hole straight down to the rolling sea below. And in the middle of the courtyard was the dragon.

Its powerful, sinuous body stretched out along the stones. It sat like a great regal cat, with its forelegs tucked under its chest and back legs extended. Its scales glistened in the sun; they were a shade of blue richer than a nobleman's coat. A pair of smooth horns curled from its forehead, first sweeping back, then arching forward again in a lazy, serpentine curve. Its yellow eyes fixed on Roderick. Lean muscle rolled beneath its scales as it rose to its feet.

The dragon's voice reverberated through the stone. "At last!" it rumbled. Roderick watched its teeth. They were not like daggers. Daggers were thin and meant for slicing. The dragon's teeth were stout and jagged and meant for tearing meat from limb and armor from knight.

Roderick had practised what he would say the whole way from the nearest town. "Remember the name Sir Roderick, dragon," he said. The tip of his sword traced a line straight to the dragon's head. "Because it's he who'll slay you."

"Wait," the dragon said. It held out a taloned claw as big as Roderick's rib cage. "You're here to slay me? You mean you don't know?"

In Character

A late Halloween story: Morgan pieces together a last-minute costume and really gets into the role. Mature.

It was one in the afternoon on Halloween. Costumes were splayed on the ground, hanging off the hooks, and half-stuffed back into their bags. Morgan wasn't the only person in the store, but the clutter and high shelves left him feeling alone as he searched for a suitable costume. Maybe he shouldn't have waited until the last minute, but he hadn't known that Faye was going to be at the costume party.

All of the good costumes were gone by now. What were left were the things no one wanted to end up in-character as. A cheap gorilla suit listed to one side on its hanger; he'd have a hard time flirting as a literal ape. An angel costume with halo was slowly shedding its foil stars onto the floor; good if he wanted to be a total goody two-shoes. If he was going to be stuck in-character for the night, he wasn't going to settle for a gorilla or an angel or a cop.

Morgan rounded the corner of the aisle and stopped in front of a tall barrel, big enough that he could have sat inside it. A hand-written posterboard sign was taped up behind it. 'Grab Bin!!' it exclaimed, 'Build a unique look from these assorted accessories. Pick out three for $10!'

Maybe he could piece together something Faye would like. Morgan leaned forward over the thick rim and tried to peer into the barrel. He stuck his hand in, grabbed the first thing he felt, and lifted out a pair of shiny black pumps. The shoes had slim heels and chunky soles and a cheap, plasticky-gloss surface. He was not getting stuck in-character as a girl for the night. He tossed the shoes off to the side and bent over to keep searching through the assortment..

Up on his tiptoes with his head in the barrel, Morgan couldn't see the black heels moving.  They quivered, then inched across the floor. Once they were close enough, the black shoes reared back onto their heels, lifting their toes into the air right behind Morgan's feet. In unison, they stomped down on the back of his sneakers. His shoes popped right off his feet and the black plastic heels wriggled their straps up around his black socks.

After Hours

Working late at the office, a young man catches a bit of contagiously garish fashion. Mature.

Mitchell had one arm in his jacket when his boss stepped into his cubicle with an apologetic smile on his face and a thick folder in his hand.

"Hey, Mitch. Can you work late today?" Andy asked.

Mitchell searched for an excuse and came up with nothing. "I guess so, yeah," he said with a small sigh. He hung his jacket on the back of his seat.

"Great. Julie was going to put in these reports, but she took off." Andy hefted the folder. "Said she was taking sick leave. Anyway, just make sure they're all in."

Andy tapped the folder against Mitchell's chest. Paff. A cloud of glitter puffed against his button-down shirt. He pursed his lips and leaned away from the flecks of sparkle.

"Sorry, that stuff's all over her desk. Maybe she's got a glitter cold." Andy grinned at his own joke, then stepped back into the hall. "Right. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you," Mitchell said. The glitter clung to his shirt. He put the folder down and blew the sparkles off as best he could. Then he slumped down into his seat. His computer said it was three minutes past five. All he wanted was to go home so he could lie down and pretend he didn't have work tomorrow. Maybe if he hurried he could be out of the office by six.