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No, but how was I to know it would have unforeseen consequences? Literally not even my fault. At least it's temporary. Now, can someone for the love of GOSH fill my FLUFFING FUN-HOLE\n\n(story below, but first, a content warning: minor mind change, dubious consent, objectification, null)\n\nChoshi had no reason to drink this. In fact, she had every reason not to, at least apparently. To many, the express: “Don’t drink this, Choshi” on the packaging would’ve been reason enough against it, but she saw it differently. It was, after all [i]her[/i] (and her partner’s) fridge, and what it promised was too good to pass up. \n\nIt was coming upon that time of the month, after all (estrogen doesn’t care if you have a uterus, apparently), and her insides were currently trying to clean out an organ that wasn’t there. It felt like a meat grinder. The potion called itself “soft comfort”, which was exactly what she needed. So, she popped the cork out with her paw and downed it. She could apologize when her insides weren’t self-immolating. \n\nThe consequences were immediate: it felt like a towel came to suck every slightest bit of moisture out of her tongue. She tried to retch it out on instinct, but it was already down. For a moment, it seemed horrible enough to force itself back up, but something was off. \n\nHer throat felt tight, dry. Clogged? She coughed a bit and reached for some water to hopefully solve the dryness half of her troubles. As she did, it felt like her throat closed the rest of the way up. The flesh dried and fluffed before constricting to a point right at the end of her mouth. She wasn’t suffocating, though, so it had to just feel like that, right? \n\nShe poured the water into her mouth… and felt it seeping into her throat. The cold wetness it brought felt wrong, too. Instead of refreshing, it squelched into what should have been flesh. A thought, “it needs to be dry, not wet!” flew into her head of its own accord. \n\nThe strange sensations only grew worse in her mouth. While the wetness seemed to drip deeper inside her, she felt her teeth soften and dissolved into her gums, which themselves lost their normal texture. The many complexities of her mouth flattened and threaded from flesh into what felt more like a t-shirt than a mouth. \n\nNo, not a t-shirt. It’s much softer, much more huggable than a t-shirt. \n\n“What the fluff?” she swore, hearing yet another unbidden thought. Her tongue, as it smoothed into pliable plush, retained its movement, but it had a certain awkwardness she couldn’t ignore. She tried to swear again, “Fluff,” to the same result. “Fluff—flu—Gosh!? Darn?!” \n\nShe couldn’t fluffing swear. \n\nHer paw went to cover her traitorous lips and felt the skin morph to… stitching. It could still open, still move, but it was no doubt now fabric. “Soft comfort” was starting to make a lot more sense. \n\nShe couldn’t help her curiosity and prodded a nubbin into her turned mouth. It had the rough, threaded softness of a plushie’s mouth everywhere but her tongue. Instead, her tongue was a delightfully plush satin that was equally soft to the touch as it was to squish—and it felt so good to squish, too. \n\n“Piiii chu…,” she moaned. It felt as good to touch as her cock usually did, and she even felt herself stirring embarrassingly down below. Instead of drifting lower, though, she kept her paw in her mouth and ran her tongue up and down it, into each nubbin’s crevice, each pad’s wrinkle. The soft, wondrous pleasure even started to spread to her paw, a light flex squeezing it just enough to bring about the beginnings of pleasure.\n\nShe pulled it out to inspect—quickly feeling empty—and saw the skin of her pawpads turning just like it had in her mouth. The rough, stitched texture over came them in plush bulges as black felt surrounded them. Why was it changing her fur color, though? \n\nThe beginnings of an answer came when she felt the wet spot seep into the front of her chest. She’d been so infatuated with her mouth that she’d failed to notice the plush spreading down until then, bringing the hearty gulp of water with it. When she looked down, she saw much the same black felt spiking down around her neck. \n\nSo soft, it was so soft to touch. So nice to feel. It was so cute, so soft, so nice to hug. \n\nIt—she shook her head again, trying to pull her mind back. Her paws were feeling the pale-yellow felt folding its way over the fur of her belly. Not only was whatever this potion was making her fur fabric, but it was covering her in a pichu’s features. It was devolving her as well. \n\nThe potion was making her a plush. A pichu plush. \n\nThis should have bothered her more—indeed, it terrified her, but it felt so good to hug. Even its own touch made her feel so nice. It could only imagine how amazing someone else hugging it would feel! Plushies were, after all, perfect for hugs! And that’s what it was! \n\nIt tried to reassert control over its own mind, but it couldn’t take its paws off the spreading fabric. It kneaded away all that pesky fur into the much superior fabric. The slightest conflict came as it started to spread beneath her bra, but that problem hastily solved itself. The bra crawled its own way up off her chest and bundled into a rough, much more compact collar. \n\nIt crawled up and wrapped around its neck as it formed, leaving it with a very adorable little tag that read “Free Hole” hanging down to its plushifying chest. \nThe modest lumps she’d managed to grow slightly flattened as they instead filled with fluff. It almost mourned the loss before it squeezed the new fabric and felt the same rush of pleasure it always felt from its tits—only now, it was its entire body! \n\nThe fabric continued to spread, but started struggling as it reached over and around her belly. It strained to reach down, stretching almost to the point of ripping, but it simply couldn’t contain all the extra flab on its own. The fabric dove into her fur and sent out a snake of thread that stitched its way into its fur and flesh with barely a sting. \n\nSaid maneuver formed the most adorable lump that it couldn’t help but paw at—oh, it had lost some nubbins, it seemed. Even though it had five as a pichu, its paw only had three now. That hardly mattered to it, though. It was still so soft, so wonderful to the touch. \n\nAs the fabric started to spread over its face, its eyes were so glassy in distant pleasure already that they hardly changed in countenance as they hardened and dried to shiny plastic. Its pupils turned to little blips of white in a sea of black that had only the slightest hint of its normal blue and gold coloring outside. Somehow, it could still look around, those white blips moving instead of its pupils. \n\nThis pleasure was beginning to grow too much, though. As threads stitched their way into its groin, it excitedly reached down to feel its rod shift. The fabric, however, had different plans. Instead of following the cock’s surface, it billowed over and covered it in one flap of fabric. \n\nFabric sewed itself over its cock and balls tightly enough to leave a very prominent impression of their shape. The cute toy, however, could barely notice. Its bulge felt even better than its other places to touch—almost orgasmic. That’s what it thought at first, at least. The more it pawed at its bulge, though, the more it felt building pressure with no release. \n\nThe need that normally grew its equipment instead ached within. Without its notice, a lock started to stitch over its bulge as satin dove into its hole, sculpting the insides into the perfect little fuck-hole. “Wh-why can’t I get hard?” it whimpered to itself. \n\nIt kept trying to paw at its bulge, but its lumpy arms struggled to reach. They’d grown shorter as the fabric took them over. It jerked forward for even the slightest brush, though, because even such minor touches brought immense pleasure. “Can’t reach… so sensitive.” \n\nThe satin sculpting its way into its asshole brought with it that burning need. “So horny….” Warm plush filled its fresh opening as it spread open its sphincter into elastic. “So….” It pawed uselessly at its bulge, desperate for release. “So….” Each touch only furthered the fire in its asshole, though. \n\nIt huffed the fluff where its lungs would be in desperation. “So….” That fresh hole needed filling, it knew that more than it knew its own name.\n\nIts name, of course, being right there on its collar: Free Hole. \n\n“So….” As its tail finally succumbed with the rest of it, the need grew unbearable. Every touch only made it all worse. Any sensation on any part of its body made it painfully aware of the lack in its new fun-hole. \n\n“SO….” So desperate, it was such a desperate little toy. No one to play with it! A fate worse than death, especially for a toy so cute! So huggable! But no one to hug it, and no one to fill it with their big big stiffy! What was a toy to do? So useless, so helpless on its own, head filled with naught but stuffing and need. It could barely even rub that worthless null-bulge anymore, nor could the stuffing in its head even process what such a thing was.\n\n“SO EMPTY!!” it screamed in impotent desperation. The only sensation it could feel was lack. Lack of hugs. Lack of kissies. Lack of a huge member slamming into its hole until the fabric ripped. Lack, lack, lack. \n\nA paw reached down to grab it; the touch made its vision explode in white hot pleasure. “Dammit,” a familiar voice hummed, the squishy toy too needy to recognize it. “I said… whatever.” The plushie looked on in desperate need at its potential savior. So needy, it needed someone to play with it! It needed to be filled! It couldn’t wait to have stickies seeping out of its chest from all the loads blown into its fun-hole.\n\n\nIt just hoped it was washing machine safe so it wouldn’t stink during round two.\n\n[url=http://www.postybirb.com]Posted using PostyBirb[/url]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Now, should I have drank the potion? No, but how was I to know it would have unforeseen consequences? Literally not even my fault. At least it's temporary. Now, can someone for the love of GOSH fill my FLUFFING FUN-HOLE

(story below, but first, a content warning: minor mind change, dubious consent, objectification, null)

Choshi had no reason to drink this. In fact, she had every reason not to, at least apparently. To many, the express: “Don’t drink this, Choshi” on the packaging would’ve been reason enough against it, but she saw it differently. It was, after all her (and her partner’s) fridge, and what it promised was too good to pass up.

It was coming upon that time of the month, after all (estrogen doesn’t care if you have a uterus, apparently), and her insides were currently trying to clean out an organ that wasn’t there. It felt like a meat grinder. The potion called itself “soft comfort”, which was exactly what she needed. So, she popped the cork out with her paw and downed it. She could apologize when her insides weren’t self-immolating.

The consequences were immediate: it felt like a towel came to suck every slightest bit of moisture out of her tongue. She tried to retch it out on instinct, but it was already down. For a moment, it seemed horrible enough to force itself back up, but something was off.

Her throat felt tight, dry. Clogged? She coughed a bit and reached for some water to hopefully solve the dryness half of her troubles. As she did, it felt like her throat closed the rest of the way up. The flesh dried and fluffed before constricting to a point right at the end of her mouth. She wasn’t suffocating, though, so it had to just feel like that, right?

She poured the water into her mouth… and felt it seeping into her throat. The cold wetness it brought felt wrong, too. Instead of refreshing, it squelched into what should have been flesh. A thought, “it needs to be dry, not wet!” flew into her head of its own accord.

The strange sensations only grew worse in her mouth. While the wetness seemed to drip deeper inside her, she felt her teeth soften and dissolved into her gums, which themselves lost their normal texture. The many complexities of her mouth flattened and threaded from flesh into what felt more like a t-shirt than a mouth.

No, not a t-shirt. It’s much softer, much more huggable than a t-shirt.

“What the fluff?” she swore, hearing yet another unbidden thought. Her tongue, as it smoothed into pliable plush, retained its movement, but it had a certain awkwardness she couldn’t ignore. She tried to swear again, “Fluff,” to the same result. “Fluff—flu—Gosh!? Darn?!”

She couldn’t fluffing swear.

Her paw went to cover her traitorous lips and felt the skin morph to… stitching. It could still open, still move, but it was no doubt now fabric. “Soft comfort” was starting to make a lot more sense.

She couldn’t help her curiosity and prodded a nubbin into her turned mouth. It had the rough, threaded softness of a plushie’s mouth everywhere but her tongue. Instead, her tongue was a delightfully plush satin that was equally soft to the touch as it was to squish—and it felt so good to squish, too.

“Piiii chu…,” she moaned. It felt as good to touch as her cock usually did, and she even felt herself stirring embarrassingly down below. Instead of drifting lower, though, she kept her paw in her mouth and ran her tongue up and down it, into each nubbin’s crevice, each pad’s wrinkle. The soft, wondrous pleasure even started to spread to her paw, a light flex squeezing it just enough to bring about the beginnings of pleasure.

She pulled it out to inspect—quickly feeling empty—and saw the skin of her pawpads turning just like it had in her mouth. The rough, stitched texture over came them in plush bulges as black felt surrounded them. Why was it changing her fur color, though?

The beginnings of an answer came when she felt the wet spot seep into the front of her chest. She’d been so infatuated with her mouth that she’d failed to notice the plush spreading down until then, bringing the hearty gulp of water with it. When she looked down, she saw much the same black felt spiking down around her neck.

So soft, it was so soft to touch. So nice to feel. It was so cute, so soft, so nice to hug.

It—she shook her head again, trying to pull her mind back. Her paws were feeling the pale-yellow felt folding its way over the fur of her belly. Not only was whatever this potion was making her fur fabric, but it was covering her in a pichu’s features. It was devolving her as well.

The potion was making her a plush. A pichu plush.

This should have bothered her more—indeed, it terrified her, but it felt so good to hug. Even its own touch made her feel so nice. It could only imagine how amazing someone else hugging it would feel! Plushies were, after all, perfect for hugs! And that’s what it was!

It tried to reassert control over its own mind, but it couldn’t take its paws off the spreading fabric. It kneaded away all that pesky fur into the much superior fabric. The slightest conflict came as it started to spread beneath her bra, but that problem hastily solved itself. The bra crawled its own way up off her chest and bundled into a rough, much more compact collar.

It crawled up and wrapped around its neck as it formed, leaving it with a very adorable little tag that read “Free Hole” hanging down to its plushifying chest.
The modest lumps she’d managed to grow slightly flattened as they instead filled with fluff. It almost mourned the loss before it squeezed the new fabric and felt the same rush of pleasure it always felt from its tits—only now, it was its entire body!

The fabric continued to spread, but started struggling as it reached over and around her belly. It strained to reach down, stretching almost to the point of ripping, but it simply couldn’t contain all the extra flab on its own. The fabric dove into her fur and sent out a snake of thread that stitched its way into its fur and flesh with barely a sting.

Said maneuver formed the most adorable lump that it couldn’t help but paw at—oh, it had lost some nubbins, it seemed. Even though it had five as a pichu, its paw only had three now. That hardly mattered to it, though. It was still so soft, so wonderful to the touch.

As the fabric started to spread over its face, its eyes were so glassy in distant pleasure already that they hardly changed in countenance as they hardened and dried to shiny plastic. Its pupils turned to little blips of white in a sea of black that had only the slightest hint of its normal blue and gold coloring outside. Somehow, it could still look around, those white blips moving instead of its pupils.

This pleasure was beginning to grow too much, though. As threads stitched their way into its groin, it excitedly reached down to feel its rod shift. The fabric, however, had different plans. Instead of following the cock’s surface, it billowed over and covered it in one flap of fabric.

Fabric sewed itself over its cock and balls tightly enough to leave a very prominent impression of their shape. The cute toy, however, could barely notice. Its bulge felt even better than its other places to touch—almost orgasmic. That’s what it thought at first, at least. The more it pawed at its bulge, though, the more it felt building pressure with no release.

The need that normally grew its equipment instead ached within. Without its notice, a lock started to stitch over its bulge as satin dove into its hole, sculpting the insides into the perfect little fuck-hole. “Wh-why can’t I get hard?” it whimpered to itself.

It kept trying to paw at its bulge, but its lumpy arms struggled to reach. They’d grown shorter as the fabric took them over. It jerked forward for even the slightest brush, though, because even such minor touches brought immense pleasure. “Can’t reach… so sensitive.”

The satin sculpting its way into its asshole brought with it that burning need. “So horny….” Warm plush filled its fresh opening as it spread open its sphincter into elastic. “So….” It pawed uselessly at its bulge, desperate for release. “So….” Each touch only furthered the fire in its asshole, though.

It huffed the fluff where its lungs would be in desperation. “So….” That fresh hole needed filling, it knew that more than it knew its own name.

Its name, of course, being right there on its collar: Free Hole.

“So….” As its tail finally succumbed with the rest of it, the need grew unbearable. Every touch only made it all worse. Any sensation on any part of its body made it painfully aware of the lack in its new fun-hole.

“SO….” So desperate, it was such a desperate little toy. No one to play with it! A fate worse than death, especially for a toy so cute! So huggable! But no one to hug it, and no one to fill it with their big big stiffy! What was a toy to do? So useless, so helpless on its own, head filled with naught but stuffing and need. It could barely even rub that worthless null-bulge anymore, nor could the stuffing in its head even process what such a thing was.

“SO EMPTY!!” it screamed in impotent desperation. The only sensation it could feel was lack. Lack of hugs. Lack of kissies. Lack of a huge member slamming into its hole until the fabric ripped. Lack, lack, lack.

A paw reached down to grab it; the touch made its vision explode in white hot pleasure. “Dammit,” a familiar voice hummed, the squishy toy too needy to recognize it. “I said… whatever.” The plushie looked on in desperate need at its potential savior. So needy, it needed someone to play with it! It needed to be filled! It couldn’t wait to have stickies seeping out of its chest from all the loads blown into its fun-hole.


It just hoped it was washing machine safe so it wouldn’t stink during round two.

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