When Shy Abby started her internship at a bakery in Paris, she didn't expect to be working for the beautiful, talented, outgoing Gia. Will romance bloom? Find out in A Taste of Paris, a furry / anthro illustrated story with weight gain elements. Includes dozens of shaded, colors pictures and 8,000 words. Excerpt below:

~~~

“I wanted to ask, have you found a place yet, darling?” said Gia, as she locked up the front door.

“Uh…no, I’m staying at a youth hostel until I…”

“Great! So no place? You’ll stay with me, then,” she said, clasping her hands together.

She’d phrased it as a statement of fact, rather than as an offer, I realized. Was talking that way a French thing, or was it a Gia thing?

Oh my God, I then thought – I’m staying with her! It was exhilarating to think I’d be staying with Gia, but the thought that I’d be rooming with my boss seemed like a recipe for trouble.

“How much do you want for rent? Because I can’t afford …” I asked, hoping that might give me an easy out.

“Rent? Rent??” she asked, bursting into gales of laughter. I didn’t know why she was laughing, but it proved infectious, and I started giggling too. It was so unlike hers – mine being high pitched and chortling, like a schoolgirl watching a cartoon, and hers was deep, throaty, the kind of laugh you let out after hearing a raunchy joke.

“You silly girl,” she said, reaching towards me and pulling me into a tight embrace, then planting two air kisses on either sides of my ears. This one felt more like it was a French rather than Gia thing, I decided – but at this point, Gia clearly knew I was shy American, so her decision to do the gesture anyhow might itself qualify as a Gia thing.

“I won’t charge you a…how you say? Pretty penny,” she said as she pulled away.

“Oh…thank you, thank you…” I babbled.

“Come,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the store. I assumed she was leading me to her place, and was surprised when we wandered into an outdoor market.

“You live here?” I asked. I knew it was a stupid question before the words left my lips, so why’d I say it? Was being around Gia making me perpetually flustered, or was I just hoping to get another ‘you silly girl’ hug?

“Yes, welcome home.” said Gia. “My fireplace is that flambe, and my mattress is those loaves of bread.”

I’d become so caught up in my own recriminations that it took me a few seconds to realize she was joking, and by then it felt too late to laugh. So I summoned up a grin, before reflexively closing my lips, on account of how I hated how big my teeth looked.

“Let’s get supper, shall we?” said Gia, who practically danced her way across the aisles, buying this and that unfamiliar foodstuff. She spoke French to every shopkeep, but she spoke it so quickly that I couldn’t hope to understand it. All I could take in was the garrulous raw sound, the inflection, the clearly cheery and pleasant tone with which she greeted the world. Even in English, I realized, she’d be speaking a foreign language to my ears.

Ryan's life changes forever after meeting Carli, captain of the university's soccer team. She invites Ryan to practice with the girl's team, join the sorority, and even gets their nails done together. With the power of friendship and encouragement, Ryan realizes that she wants to join the girl's team in every way, and finds love, acceptance, and joy.

This is a realistic - not magical - mtf transgender transformation story, 7000 words. Excerpt below:

~

“Okay, that’s it, you’ve had your shots,” said the coach, a big, mountain of a man.

“Six! I hit six out of ten,” I said giddily. The goalie was good, but I’d still done much better than I expected.

“Yeah, pretty good. Rudie, was it?” the coach asked.

“Ryan, sir…”

“Well, Brian, we got a real bumper crop this year. I already got 11 who did seven or better. Sorry. Try again next season,” he said, and walked off.

He and the goalie walked off the field together. I could hear them laughing about something, but I couldn’t hear about what.

I stood there, in the field, shaking. Just like that, it was all over. I was nothing. Pathetic. A loser.

It didn’t feel possible, like some bizarre nightmare. I started running up and down the field, kicking the ball blindly as I went, hoping to wake myself up.

The women’s coach, along with one of the female players, slowly walked onto the field, presumably preparing for their tryouts next. I figured it would be disrespectful to take the field from them, so finally, I stopped and kicked the ball over to the women’s coach.

“Woah, you’re pretty fast!” said the pint-sized women’s coach in a squeaky voice, looking me up and down. “Don’t let this one get away, Carli, we need her on the team for sure!” she added to the girl on her right.

“What?” I asked, my voice cracking a little in surprise. “No, I’m not, I’m… I’m…” I sputtered. I didn’t think it would be possible to be more humiliated than I was a second ago, but here I was. “I’m a boy!” I finally spat out.

“Oh, oh, really?” said the coach, chuckling a little. Why did coaches want to laugh at me so much today. “Sorry about that. You’re just, you know…” she said, her voice slowly trailing off.

“You run so gracefully, we were just confused at a distance,” offered the player standing to her side, a tall, big-boned girl with piercing blue eyes and beautifully braided hair. It seemed like kind of a lame cop-out, but, hey, a compliment was a compliment, especially coming from a pretty girl.

“I’m Carli, next to meet you,” she said, offering her hand. She had such a booming, commanding voice, that I knew immediately she had to be the team captain.

“Ryan,” I said, accepting the handshake. Damn! Her grip was like an iron vice. I swear I could feel my knuckles popping. I bit my tongue, trying not to wince and appear even more girly than I already apparently did.

“Oof, did I squeeze too hard?” Carli asked, evidently reading the discomfort on my face. “Sorry about that,” she added, finally dropping my hand and then playfully ruffling my hair. The gesture felt strange - both demeaning and endearing at the same time, in ways I couldn’t quite put into words.

“Carli, you’re going to send someone to the hospital one day with that handshake of yours!” the coach scolded her.

“Oh, dear. You don’t need that, do you?” Carli asked, grabbing my hand again with a look of concern.

“No, no, I’m fine…” I said, trying to pull away. But once again, her iron grip wouldn’t let me.

“A little redness and swelling, but you seem okay. Your hands and wrists do look really delicate. I’m mad jealous! A little hangnail, though. When did you have your last manicure?”

Jonathan is devasted when the woman of his dreams, Marcy, turns him down and places him in the dreaded "friend zone." But Jonathan is in for a surprise when Marcy says she wants to be best friends - literally! She transforms Jonathan into a gorgeous chubby chick, just like her, and the two become best friends, forming a bond even more intimate than an actual romance. This is a heartwarming and funny magical gender transformation story with a "male to bbw" transformation, 6000 words. Excerpt below:

~

“Jonathan, while I’m very flattered, I think you should know, I think we’d be…” Marcy began.

Oh, please, I thought. Please don’t say it…

“We’d be better off as friends,” Marcy concluded.

She said it. She actually said it. The words any guy wants to hear least the in world.

“Best friends. BBFs forever! You know?” she added. The words sounded like pity to me, and pity only made it worse.

“Sure, thing. I understand,” I said, bowing my head, defeated. How many times I had hears a similar speech from a girl I’d liked? Far too many. “I’ll… be getting out of your hair, then,” I said, as I got to my feet.

“Jonathan? You’re not leaving, are you?” Marcy asked, with a surprising burst of emotion in her voice.

“Well. I mean… I guess not?” I hedged. “But, I thought you said… you just wanted to be friends…”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Marcy asked. “Don’t you have any close friends of your own? Friends who are closer than lovers?”

“Well…” I hedged. Closer than lovers? How would that even work? “Not… really, no.”

“No?” Marcy asked, pouting a little. Damn, those lips were sexy, I thought. I tried to shove that thought out of my mind – I wouldn’t get to kiss them anyhow, so what was the point? But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Marcy was cute and chubby, with a warm smile, with wavy brown hair, rich hazel eyes, and creamy pale skin. I know a lot of other guys might not have been so impressed, but to me, Marcy was just perfect.

“Guys have… buddies, you know. Not BFFS. We don’t, you know, pour our hearts out to each other and paint each other’s nails or anything like that,” I said with a little chuckle.

“That’s a real shame, you should try it sometime,” said Marcy.

“I… don’t think any of my friends would be up for that,” I said, laughing again, this time my voice sounding a little more strained.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Jonathan. You do have a friend who’d be up for it,” she said, winking a little.

“I… I do?” I asked, struggling to think who it might be.

“Of course! It’s me you big silly,” Marcy said, playfully slapping at my leg. The skin tingled a little where she had touched me, and I shifted the way I was sitting. If she touched me again, I was worried I’d start to develop a visible…

Cassie Diamond, a fading Hollywood starlet, has been given a chance to reprise her most famous role: an Ogre princess. But after an ill-fated encounter with Bruce, a thief who stole an enchanted artifact, Cassie finds herself transforming into an Ogre for real. She finds herself becoming bigger, stronger, taller, fatter. Even her personality is becoming more monstrous, aggressive, and dominant. Will she and Bruce find a way to return to normal, or will she embrace her new dark side? From Actress to Ogress is a steamy monster transformation erotica story, 14,000 words long.

Rat Romeo and Mouse Juliet are star-struck lovers, kept apart by the cruel bigotry of their societies. When Juliet is threatened with an arranged marriage, she decides to take matters into her own hands, seeking a potion to transform herself into a rat. But Juliet quickly discovers she's becoming something far more than just an ordinary rat...This is a furry / anthro weight gain tale, illustrated with over 40 pictures.

This is an excerpt from Transformation Park

“Twenty minutes to magic time!” squealed Katrina vivaciously as she pressed her hands against her cheeks. “I’m so excited, feel my goosebumps!” she said, running over to Landon as fast as her white chiffon dress would allow.
 
“Wow, those are really…uh, there…” said Landon, a shy, shrimpy geek. He was careful not to let his hand linger long on her arm.
 
“You’re going to do fantastic, hun, I just know it,” she gushed.
 
“If you say so,” Landon said with a disinterested shrug.
 
“Hey, you never got to go to prom – now you’ll get to see what you missed out on!” said Katrina.
 
Landon gazed down at his feet, kicking a little pebble instead of speaking up. He hadn’t gone to prom because he’d only ever liked one girl – his best friend, Katrina. But she was a couple of inches taller than him, with a gorgeous, statuesque figure, a 4.0 GPA, and personality so overwhelmingly outgoing that Landon felt like lump on a log by comparison. He’d never had the courage to ask her out, and the few guys that did were always politely refused.
 
“Hey, why the long face?” Katrina said, grabbing his chin and pointing it upwards to look her in the eye. Feeling her warm hands on his face brought back a little smile, at least, temporarily, but he knew he still owed Katrina an answer.
 
“I know you say teaching me to dance will be a snap,” began Landon, his voice shaking a little. He hated lying to her. “But…but maybe you’d have more fun with somebody that already knows their stuff,” he concluded. It was as close to the truth as he could get.
 
“Trust me, Landon,” Katrina said. “I’m definitely going to have a good time. And so is everyone, right?”
 
“Yeah!” cheered the other two women in their troupe, the redheaded artist Daphne and Melissa, who’d had a brief stint as a professional gymnast.
 
“Sure,” their boyfriends Hikaru and Simon agreed, their tone thoroughly disinterested.
 
While Katrina, Daphne, and Melissa took selfies together, Landon trudged over to where their beaus were seated.
 
“Oh, man, I don’t get why Melissa wants to do this again,” said Hikaru, a mountain of a man who was attending college on a football scholarship. “It was bad enough at prom. If she wasn’t so…you know, graceful and all that…I would have knocked her over like three times!”
 
“Is dancing really that bad?” Landon asked, feeling more nervous than ever.
 
“Of course!” said Simon, a student from France who spoke with a distinct, lilting accent. “Why don’t girls just go dancing by themselves? I don’t think there’s a…how you say? There’s not a…straight man alive who really likes dancing.”
 
“Well, at least for you two, you’re actually dancing with your girlfriend,” Landon pointed out.
 
“You going to finally ask her out?” Simon asked.
 
“I will…I will…when it’s the right time,” Landon replied, feeling no compunction about lying to Simon. The truth was he’d delay that day forever if he could, since he was certain what the answer would be.
 
“She asked you to come to this dance, right?” asked Hikaru. “You never know, man, maybe that was her way of asking you out.”
 
Landon let out a feeble laugh. “Yeah, right. In my dreams! She’s turned down the best of the best, I’m sure she’s just gagging for a guy like me.”
 
~
 
“One, two, three. One, two three,” Katrina counted. The inside of the Digital Disco looked like a classical Victorian ballroom, with shiny wooden floors and an ornate, golden chandelier where the disco ball was supposed to be.
 
“Ok, now you step forwards as I twirl, ok?” said Katrina.
 
“Ok,” he said. Landon stepped forwards, but froze as he gazed upon Katrina’s beautiful dress swirling around her as she twirled – and subsequently, he forgot to step back, and Katrina stepped onto his toes.
 
“Terribly sorry,” Katrina said.
 
“Oh, no, no…my fault,” Landon puttered. “Guess I’m not very good at leading.”
 
“That’s something I’ve always wondered – why is it that men always are supposed to lead?” Katrina asked.
 
“I…I…hmm…” Landon paused. “Tradition, maybe? The expectation of men taking the initiative…”
 
“Not all couples are the same. Maybe some couples would have better rhythm with the woman leading, right?” Katrina interrupted.
 
“Yeah, I guess,” Landon halfheartedly agreed. What she said certainly made sense on its face, but was this Katrina’s way of trying to gently tell him he wasn’t man enough to lead her?
 
“But if guys aren’t leading, they’ll have do the girl part,” Landon reminded her. “I mean, what am I supposed to do? Your twirl?”
 
“Why not? I’d love to see you try?” Katrina said.
 
Landon rolled his eyes, but Katrina pursed her lips. “Oh, come on. Pretty pretty please?”
 
“Alright, alright, just once,” Landon agreed. It hadn’t been a difficult concession – he’d have run across hot coals if she’d asked him to like that.
 
“That’s a good girl,” said Katrina, under her breath.
 
“What?”
 
“Nothing, nothing,” said Katrina. “Come on, let me twirl you!”
 
Katrina stepped forwards, a determined, confident glint in her eye. Landon stepped back a little, and she grasped his left hand and the right side of his waist – precisely how he’d been holding her a moment ago. She took a step backwards, pulling him with her.
 
“See…isn’t this nice?” she said, as she leaned in and whispered his ear.
 
Feeling her breath on his skin would have made any experience nice in Landon’s book. But that aside, he had to admit that, yeah, he was enjoying himself. Since he’d started following her lead, he hadn’t made a single footwork mistake.
 
Finally, Katrina leaned forwards and raised her arm around his head. Landon stepped back and did the twirl.
 
It felt great – enchanted, even – but Landon could have sworn he’d seen the strangest thing as he spun around. Were Hikaru and Simon twirling with their partners, too?
 
When he glanced back towards Katrina, she seemed a little taller. Was she standing on her tip-toes? No, she wouldn’t do that while dancing, would she?
 
“Katrina?” he asked, his voice sounding a little pinched. “What’s going…”
 
“Shh…” she started, abandoning the Waltz pose and rushing forwards, pulling Landon into an embrace so tight and so unexpected that it nearly knocked the wind out of him. “You did beautifully on that twirl, Landon. You’re really a natural.”
 
He was a natural? Landon didn’t know what to say to that. He rested his chin on her shoulder – which somehow were the perfect height for him to do so – as Katrina calmly rocked him back and forth.
 
Landon glanced to the left, towards the large mirror on the wall, in hopes of getting another glance at the other couples.
 
Instead, the first thing he saw was Katrina dancing with someone, a girl, who he didn’t recognize.
 
“Is that one of those funhouse mirrors?” Landon asked, his voice sounding less nasal and more girlish.
 
“No, honey. Just a regular mirror,” said Katrina.
 
“What…? What’s happening to me?” Landon asked, attempting to break free of Katrina’s embrace and run towards the mirror and get a closer look.
 
But Katrina didn’t budge, and Landon wasn’t strong enough to break free. For a few seconds, she simply held him place, leaving Landon to futility squirm.
 
Then, she let go, saying “Of course, let’s get a closer look.”
 
When they’d made their way towards the mirror, Landon could see that he was indeed shorter, with longer, wavy hair and a more feminine jawline.
 
“Oh…oh my gosh…” Landon said softly.
 
“You think that’s something, check this out!” said Katrina. She grasped Landon’s hand firmly, then restarted the waltz.
 
Landon kept his eye on the mirror as they did the basic three step. He could see himself growing shorter and shorter, until he was barely five foot one, while his hair grew longer still, fluttering around him even at the smallest movement.
 
As Katrina pushed forwards and Landon did a big dip towards the mirror, he could see eyeshadow forming on his eyes and rogue on his cheeks, and his glasses had vanished. Katrina leaned into the dip and planted a kiss on his lips. When their smooch ended, Landon could see glittering lipstick on his lips – though he could see by its much lighter shade that it wasn’t rubbed off from Katrina.
 
Katrina pulled him back up, and then took another step forwards, lifting her arms and pushing Landon towards another twirl. This time, he saw he saw the hem of a blue dress flaring up around him, and when he stopped, his suit was gone. In its place was a blue and white sink dress, which clung to a petite set of curves. Landon cupped his small breasts in the mirror and noticed that he now had pink fingernail polish as well.
 
“Don’t you look gorgeous,” Katrina purred.
 
“You don’t exactly seem surprised,” Landon replied.
 
“I told you I going to have a good time, didn’t I?” she said, reaching out and twirling her finger around a few strands of his lustrous, flowing hair. “Let’s call you…Lindsay, does that sound good?”
 
The name danced across Landon’s ears like music. It wasn’t so much that she liked the name, it was as if she was finding out what her name already was. But the thrill of being designated with such pretty name didn’t eliminate the rest of Lindsay’s questions. “You…you wanted this to happen?”
 
“Of course! What girl wouldn’t?” she asked incredulously. To illustrate that point, she pointed behind them, towards the other couples.
 
Hikaru leaped forwards into the air towards Melissa. She caught him and started spinning him around, and with each rotation, his massive girth became smaller and smaller. When Melissa put him down, the top of his head barely came up to her breasts. He had the puffy, pink cheeks of a Japanese schoolgirl, and his hair was done up in braided pigtails.
 
“So kawaii!” said Melissa. “Aren’t you, little Haruka?”
 
“What did you call me?” Haruka asked in an impossibly high pitched voice, as her suit transformed into a pink petticoat.
 
Meanwhile, Daphne was dancing behind Simon, her arms wrapped around his waist, which was rapidly shrinking and becoming more wasp-like. Simon’s chest was swelling as well, making an obvious indentation in his suit, before that melted into a red sequined gown with a plunging cleavage. At least an E cup, Simon’s new figure was an impossibly curvy hourglass. As he blinked, staring at the strange person ahead of him in the mirror, his eyelashes grew longer and thicker, and then were augmented further by an overabundance of mascara.
 
“What do you think...Simone?” Daphne asked. But Simone was speechless – she couldn’t stop staring at her new breasts in the mirror.
 
“Now that we’re ready, group photo!” said Katrina. She set her phone down on a chair, and then pulled the six of them together. She, Melissa, and Daphne all stood behind their new girlfriends, as they were all taller now.
 
“Say cheese!” said Katrina, her voice as cheery as it might be on any ordinary girl’s night out.
 
The picture was taken, and the couples resumed dancing.
 
“Don’t be so nervous, Lindsay,” said Katrina, stroking the back of her head. “We’re an item now, you and me…just like you’d hoped.”
 
So, Katrina knew. She knew all along and…and…this was her way of making her wish come true.
 
“Come on, Lindsay…isn’t that what you always wanted?” Katrina pressed, squeezing Lindsay so hard the breath was forced from her lungs.
 
“Yes, yes it is,” said Lindsay, tears of joy running down her cheeks and smearing her makeup.
 
“Let’s go to the bathroom together and I’ll fix that face of yours,” said Katrina, as soon as Lindsay stopped.
 
“Okay!” Lindsay agreed, and hand in hand, they left the dance floor.

Over a dozen sexy transformation stories await you in Transformation Park! Get the ebook today on Amazon!

In Transformation Park, every ride and concession stand can transform reality. Get fattened up on the Hansel and Gretel Ride, attend a gender-bending ball, or watch your crush steal your muscles in the "Test Your Strength" booth. Over a dozen erotic transformation tales of all kinds await you inside...

You can read the first section of the book, "Hansel and Gretel," free on this site. Hansel and Gretel (spoiler alert!) contains weight gain, age progression, and gender change.

This is an excerpt from Transformation Park

Fairy Tale Land: The Journey Begins

Jim made his way down the winding cobblestone paths of Fairy Tale Land, past the ornate castle and the giant trees, towards his destination: The Hansel and Gretel ride. It hadn’t opened yet, but he dutifully planted himself down at the start of the rope line, twiddling his thumbs for what felt like an eternity before another soul arrived.
 
“At last, some company!” Jim exclaimed. “I guess I’m not the only fan, huh?”
 
“Fan?” Emily asked, tucking a few errant tresses of her short, dark hair behind her ear as she spoke. She had bright green eyes that were hidden behind glasses, and a plain, green dress that displayed her modest, slender frame.
 
“I figured anybody else standing in line for Hansel and Gretel before it opens has to be a fan of the story,” said Jim, who had a gangly frame and a tight fitting, black leather jacket. “Right? Right? C’mon,” he said, playfully elbowing her.
 
“I’m more of a student of literature,” Emily replied. “My dissertation is on cultural tropes of women in modern representations of traditional folklore, so I wanted to see how accurately the depiction of…”
 
“All aboard the Hansel and Gretel adventure!” a witchy voice announced, as the doors opened. “Remember, good little boys and girls must keep their arms and legs inside the cart at all times…”
 
“Come on,” Jim said, as they made their way to the old-fashioned looking wooden cart. “Wouldn’t it be tempting to live in that gingerbread house?”
 
“Tempting – that’s the problem,” said Emily. “Being surrounded by junk food like that? That would make it hard to count my calories…”
 
When a single cart arrived, Emily demurred, saying “you go ahead.” Jim got in, but the ride didn’t start and a second cart wasn’t arriving.
 
“I…I guess it wants us to ride together,” said Jim, and reluctantly, Emily sat down next to him.
 
The ride started to chug to life. At first, the cart drove past the woodsman’s hut, and the witchy narrator explaining the dire state of Hansel and Gretel’s family, and the evil stepmother’s plan to abandon the children in the woods.
 
“Stepmother sure is a bitch, huh?” said Jim.
 
“Actually,” Emily began, “the depiction of stepmothers as villains is due to the social pressure to uphold familial lineages, as well as a pernicious attempt to de-legitimize women who have…”
 
“Whatever,” Jim mumbled, rolling his eyes as he tuned her out. 
 
But when the ride took them into the forest, it suddenly lurched to a halt. Jim and Emily sat silently for a moment, wondering if the unexpected stop was supposed to be part of the ride.
 
“Hey!” Jim finally called out. “I think this thing’s broken!”
 
Nobody replied.
 
“No cell phone reception…so I guess we just have to wait…” Emily said.
 
“Just wait?” Jim said incredulously. “You mean stay trapped in here for an hour while they fix it? No thanks!” he said, unclasping his safety belt.
 
“They said not to put your arms or legs outside of the cart!” Emily called out as he left

~
 
When Emily finally left the cart too, it had been over an hour. She didn’t want Jim to have been right all along, but she couldn’t very well wait around forever.
 
It didn’t take her long to reach the gingerbread house. Ordinarily, she’d have avoided it like the plague, but it was the next stop on the story, so it might be the way out.
 
“Hello?” she asked, when she walked inside.
 
“Hello, my dear,” said a woman, as she hobbled down the stairs. From her black robes, her hook nose and sagging, plump figure, Emily assumed she must be the woman playing the witch. “Won’t you stay for a nice cup of tea?”
 
“Oh, thank God! An employee! Look, my cart broke down – any chance you can escort me to the exit or something?”
 
“Your cart broke down, did it?” said the witch, stroking her pointy chin. “I seem to remember instructions saying good little boys and girls aren’t supposed to put your arms and legs outside!”
 
“I waited for over an hour!” Emily protested. “Jim just left right away! So like a man, to just take off like that and then expect the world to accommodate him.”
 
“Yes, men can be…reckless on occasion,” the witch ruminated.

Hansel and Gretel: Up in the Attic

One Hour Earlier
 
Jim only had to walk a few feet forwards before he was greeted with a powerful scent – one which unmistakably let him know he was on the right track: gingerbread. Like a cartoon character whose nose was ensnared by a smell tendrils from a cooling pie, Jim raced ahead through woods, eager to find the source, his earlier plan to find an exit all but forgotten.
 
He had to stand in awe when he finally came upon the gingerbread house. A veritable mansion, the place was festooned with every kind of candy imaginable, from frosted coconut “snow” on the red licorice roof, to graham cracker sidewalks to a gumdrop strewn front lawn.
 
But though the sight and smell of the sweets made Jim’s stomach noisily growl, they weren’t what he wanted to see the most. Where was the witch, he wondered? Was she going to be a model or puppet of some kind, or would they hire a real actress?
 
He couldn’t resist a peek inside – who knew what he’d find?
 
“Hello?” he called out, as he pulled the candy cane doorknob and stepped inside. “Anyone here?”
 
Nobody answered.
 
Jim glanced around anxiously. There weren’t any tracks for the cart, so Jim knew he wasn’t intended to enter the house, but the lights were on inside. 
 
“Jim…come up to the attic…” came the raspy voice he’d heard on the speaker.
 
“Oh, boy!” he said excitedly, barely cognizant of the fact that she’d said his name. He leapt up the stairs two at a time, flinging the attic door open when he arrived.
 
Inside was a small room, covered in cobwebs and smothered in dust. There was a vanity mirror in the center of the room, the desk of which had a few strange looking bottles and an old, black pointed witch’s hat.
 
Something about that hat seemed to draw Jim in; he just had to feel it, touch it, try it on. As he crept forwards, he saw a witch’s face in the mirror. She was old, but had a fiery spark in her eye, and her lips were pursed into a lusty-looking grin.
 
“Go ahead Jim, try it on!” she urged. Entranced, he did just that, without giving it a second thought.
 
“You wanted to find a witch, Jim? You’ve found her!” she said, concluding with a terrible cackle. Then, her visage vanished from the mirror, and Jim was left staring back at himself.
 
Or, at least, he thought he was. Those bags under his eyes certainly weren’t there this morning. Must be the mirror, Jim thought, taking a corner of his shirt and wiping away the dust.
 
In the clearer reflection, Jim could see even more features which looked out of place: His nose was longer, and slightly curved forwards. As he watched, a tiny little wart bloomed near the tip, growing larger. The hair at his temples looked a little silvery, and his eyes seemed to yellow. What was going on?
 
Maybe it was the hat, he decided, and took it off. As Jim did so, a mess of long, oily hair tumbled around his face, like shadowy tendrils.
 
Meanwhile, Jim’s transformation continued unabated. Harsh lines burrowed their way into his face, creasing his forehead with years of worry and his cheeks with the signs of a perpetual sneer. He glanced down and saw that his shirt was starting to change into a dark shroud. As he reached down to feel the fabric, he could feel his flesh was becoming softer and larger beneath it. His chest grew two ripe breasts, which sagged considerably from a trifecta of aging, weight, and bralessness. His hard-won washboard abs vanished beneath a middle-aged woman’s fleshy gut, which poked out beneath the bottom of his robes. Jim reached down between his legs, and felt his cock and balls shrink and wither away in his hands.
 
When he looked back into the mirror, there was no denying what he’d become.
 
Jim thought about what the witch had said, that he’d “found” a witch in the attic. Did that mean he was the witch now? He’d had always sympathized with witch in the story and, later on, he’d developed a preference for older women.  Now, he’d become the very type of woman he’d once lusted over.
 
As a finishing touch, the image of the fat old witch blurred before his eyes, as Jim’s vision dimmed. As it did, the reality of the situation finally flooded back into clear focus. As a witch, what the hell was he supposed to do now?
 
Jim heard the door open downstairs. “Hello?” Emily called out.
 
A crooked smile slowly crossed Jim’s dry lips. He knew exactly what to do.

Hansel and Gretel: Tea Time

“Won’t you please stay and have a cup of tea?” the witch asked. “Being a witch is pretty lonely, you know…”
 
“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to chat about the effects of acting in a fairy tale re-creation. In most entertainment mediums, women are objectified as passive sexual objects, but you’re instead you’re serving as the recipient of different form of misogyny, right?” Emily asked, as the witch boiled water.
 
“You’d be surprised at how many men find old witches like me attractive,” came the witch’s coy reply.
 
“What? Really? I guess age is no escape from the perils of the male gaze,” Emily said with a chortle. “At least we’re safe when we have our girl time, right?”
 
“Right, right…you want some honey in your tea, my child?”
 
“Oh, no, I don’t eat honey unless it’s been certified organic, and even then the hypoglycemic counts are…” Emily began, but the witch already started stirring it in.
 
“Drink up,” the witch said, pushing forwards a mug, which bore an image of an angry, anthropomorphic tree on the side.
 
Emily had done her best to resist the sights and smells of the gingerbread house, but when the aroma of that cinnamon clove tea reached her nose, the last shreds of her willpower faded away.
 
“Just a sip,” she told herself, “just to show I’m a good guest and to know what it tastes like…”
 
It was the most sumptuous tea she’d ever had. Emily couldn’t help but gulp the rest of it down noisily, the heat from the drink causing her puffier-looking cheeks to become flushed.
 
“Wow – that’s…that’s…” Emily sputtered.
 
“What’s life without a little indulgence once in a while?” asked the witch, as she poured Emily a second cup and added even more honey than last time. “Go on, you deserve it.”
 
Emily nodded, but before she could take another sip, the witch placed her bony hand over the top of the mug.
 
“Wait, this time I’ve got to give you a snack! You can’t have tea without cookies, can you?” said the witch.
 
“I…suppose not,” Emily agreed. Cookies were strictly a no-no, but she’d just skip dinner to compensate, she promised herself.
 
The witch darted outside, and then returned with chunk of the gingerbread siding, topped with a few fistfuls of coconut snow and a giant gumdrop.
 
“Hope you know I can’t eat all that!” Emily protested. The witch just dropped the stuff onto the table in front of her, the impact causing the tea in the mug to slosh back and forth a little.

“Just have a few bites, my child…” began the witch, and Emily happily obliged. “So, I suppose a woman like you must have lofty career aspirations?”
 
“Maybe I’ll become a professor of humanities, something combining comp. lit and gender studies,” Emily began, dipping a tiny sliver of gingerbread into her tea before munching it down.
 
“Sounds like an awful lot of work,” said the witch, smiling a little as she saw the flabbiness of Emily’s arm increase with each dunk of her cookie. “Why not try something a little more slow-paced?”
 
“Maybe…just do stuff on social media, you know, to raise awareness about the consequences of stories…” Emily suggested. Now she wasn’t bothering to dunk each bite, instead she was stuffing her face as fast as she could. “That slow paced enough?” she said with her mouth full.
 
“I was thinking more…just lazing around and eating all day,” said the witch.
 
“Wait…what?” Emily asked, before letting out a little belch. “Excuse me,” she added quickly. She looked for a napkin, but being unable to find one, she attempted to discreetly wipe her newly-plumped lips on the edge of the tablecloth.
 
“No need to apologize, my child. Just eat your heart’s content,” encouraged the witch. But Emily, embarrassed by her behavior, sat in her chair, frozen in place.
 
The witch slowly got to her feet, her old hips creaking a bit as she stood upright. Slowly, she shuffled towards Emily, her arms outstretched.
 
Finally, she made her way behind where Emily was seated, placing her fingers on her shoulders and gently massaging her. “You’re so tense, my dear. Just relax and enjoy your sweets.”
 
Emily had spent most of her life somewhere between shy and standoffish. It had been years since she’d had so much as a hug, let alone a shoulder rub. The human contact felt kind and reassuring, and it was just the push she needed to resume her gorging.
 
Of course, getting Emily to get back to eating wasn’t the only motive the witch had for giving Emily a massage. Without good vision, copping a feel was the only way the witch could verify the results of her handiwork.
 
As she lifted the big gumdrop to her face and started chowing down, the witch could feel Emily’s shoulders growing rounder and broader. When she moved her hands down a little further, she could feel love handles beginning to force their way free of her top.
 
The witch leaned forwards just a little, and moved her fingers down, feeling the warm, soft, spongy texture of Emily’s tummy poofing out further and further with each bite. “Let’s give this thing some more room to grow,” the witch cooed as she undid the button on Emily’s jean shorts.
 
Emily would have objected, but the witch’s gentle ministrations were certainly helping ease the pain of her overstuffed gut. When the only thing left to eat was the frosted coconut, she grabbed it by the handful and threw it into her gaping maw, which only highlighted her developing double chin. A few pieces of coconut missed her mouth, tumbling down onto her developing bust and falling into her growing cleavage.
 
Those big breasts were thrust against the side of the table as Emily leaned down and licked up the last few grains of sugar that clung to the table’s surface. Her growing rear end stuck out further and further as she did so, nearly knocking the witch over.
 
When at last Emily had eaten everything, she leaned over onto the table, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep with a dull snore.
 
“Sleep tight, Emily,” said the witch. “When you wake up, I’ll really get started fattening you up!”

Over a dozen sexy transformation stories await you in Transformation Park! Get the ebook today on Amazon!

After a medical intervention gone wrong, meek and mild Ciara is transformed into a muscle-bound, monstrous giantess. Her new appearance inspires fear and horror from those around her, constricting her efforts to use her strength to help others. Meanwhile, she rescues and falls for pint-sized Mikey, whose small stature complicates his own quest to find his place in the world. This is a anthro / furry illustrated story.