Echoen: http://img.lulz.net/src/1329597189.clarisgardens_deer2.jpg
blanchespr: Hmm.  The face rings a bell somehow.
Echoen: A whiff of musk and a quiet bleat later, you have a much better sister~
blanchespr: *blinks!*  Squee?
Echoen: Your new doesister wiggles her chest, and shakes her torn panties off her hooves. "I feel good~" She bleats, nudging up taller, rounder. Four hands patting her rounding tum.
blanchespr: *The squirrel sister takes a step back, surprised at the sudden change, eyes open wide in sheer disbelief.  "What?  What the..."  She catches a wave of this potent musk, the scent catching her nose, the girl wiggling her muzzle until she ends up having two of them, and then two heads.  "...Eep!  What's going on..." she moans.*
blanchespr: (Actually, screw squirrel - how about mousie girl?)
Echoen: "I dunno, but I liiiiike it." She moans, leaning back as her belly swells fuller, spreading her legs as more legs push from her pussy, a full tauric body, and then two, side-by-side. Her breasts bounce bigger and are shoved upwards by the lower pairs, while doe udders fatten between her two sets of hind legs. Her legs split down the middle into four and her birthed body merges with the rest of her, completing the initial change. All her lithe legs wiggling in the air. The bleats at you, spreading both her tauric bodies, two hands squelching inside of her pussy found there, rubbing her juices to flow faster.
blanchespr: *Your sister squeals, sauntering around you to gaze at your new body under all of its angles, unwittingly stepping right into the atmosphere of this musk that affects you so much.  She has a worries, almost terrified gaze at the whole thing, such a change to her steady and daily routine - but in some way it turns her on, and her pussy is sure showing it: dripping copiously with her sweet honey, her panties aren't torn but they are sure soaked, stretched with her soon decidedly pear-shaped body, those hips of hers around expansive thighs, in turn surrounding a puffy, daresay meaty cunny that swells as if pumped up.  She collapses on a chair, moaning, staring at your rumps without blinking, and right on cue her clits lengthen an an alarming pace, turning into a set of massive dicks, pushed
blanchespr: down by her own round, gravid belly.  "Ah... aah~!"*
* Echoen grows a set of paws just for the sole purpose of stroking through your fur and over your curves as they grow, six other hands busily doing the same to her own body, though her four-eyed gaze is on you. The bigger your hips and thighs get, the wetter she gushes, her twin fat bottoms squirming near the floor, bellies rising with more. When you step away she moans, nay, bleats in bliss as a third and forth leg stretch out from each of her rumps, bisecting her cheeks with new cheeks, her pussies splitting to grow in between each rump, giving her three on each taurbutt, replete with three tails too. Her bellies round out like barrels, and she slumps further to the floor, burrowing three entire hands into her forepussy. 
Echoen: She licks her soft, puffy lips dryly, and tenses up, leaking so much. She seems to concentrate, to push...bleating and then sagging in satisfaction as a huge ballsac flops heavily over each of her pussies, fattening up quickly while a meaty pink dick surges upwards. Having successfully hermed herself, she's content to let her body grow a bit, giggling when her nuts inflate with double, then quadruple pairs, each as big as soccer balls. 
Echoen: Her deer-horsecocks gush from the sheer pressure, and she has to grow... no, she just 'lets out'... two more cocks each to help relieve the pressure. Even though you're way over on a chair, a prehensile cock wiggles its way into your pussy to baste your wombs... breifly, as a sudden bleat from her is the only warning you get when her dual quad-taurbodies STRETCH outwards and split in every direction, 
Echoen: duplicating one below, one to each side, and one above, filling half the room! With thirty one cunts, you'd think you have options now... but as her thirty-one quad-stuffed balls bulge into sixty-two octo-stuffed sacs, you still manage to see that all of her pussies are stretching open around muzzles, legs, limbs, breasts, cocks, and bellies of her hermy, pregnant taur-kits. In front of you is just a wall of flesh, obscuring your sight of anything else. And then you see her udders grow. Three different kinds on EACH of her taurbodies - deer doe-udders squished between dual-nippled goat udders and quad-nippled cow udders. Nipples that seem to have milk-loaded balls of their own.
Echoen: (You dont gotta reply, this is my gift to you)
blanchespr: (But what if I want to? :) )
Echoen: Hee!
blanchespr: *If the initial musk has gotten her started, what follows up shoves her forward.  She breathes heavily, feeling under a powerful influence even though you claimed the most of it to yourself, the girl shuddering in delight, crying out in bliss with the cock wedged into her, again when she watches with a truly shocked expression on her face the way you go from two to ten incredibly sexy doebutts all by yourself.  She's still wondering where to even get started with you when her womb starts acting up, a presence passing through her stretched-out birth canal, hugging your cock in the process, clinging to her leg along the way before settling on the floor.
blanchespr: She gets up, and she blinks in confusion, the new mousie a completely identical girl to her would-be mother.  It doesn't take long for her to figure out what just happened, and as a third of her push out of that rounded womb, the second sways and swaggers her wide body over to the front of you.  She closes her eyes, having trouble walking, her cunny stretching wide and huge when a pair of legs presents itself just like it went with you, that set followed by a whole torso and another set of legs - but then nothing.  The girl rides on top of her own tauric clone, her pussy as wide as her own waist, cooing all the way.
blanchespr: She gets to the front of you, gliding hands down from your hips and along your many, many shoulders, another set of hands doing much the same to your sets of tits, before she snuggles up against you and looks into your eyes with her triple heads.  She's got just four breasts to rival your own but oh goodness, what lush globes they are, endowed with four fat nipples each, dribbling with an excess of milk.  "Hmm... sorry... sis... but I got to..."  She grins.  Behind you, her other self walks right up to your wall of rumps, choosing one side, one set of them, and she goes to town.
blanchespr: Claiming three of your pussies with her tongues, fingering four more with her hands, thrusting into both the cunny and ass of your very center, she pants and moans with delight, enjoying the excess of your body, falling in love with your new abilities, catching your daughters along the way in an attempt to soften their landing - but it's no use: whatever doesn't have many extra legs to simply float down just lands onto a high pile of them, daughters with arms open to receive their own sisters.
blanchespr: But there's a third mousie.  A still simple one, still gaining control of her senses, waking up, taking you in from her own angle.  She walks oh so slowly around you, as if undecided what to do.  While the mouse-taur in front of you lunges in for a deep French kiss, the other sways in front of you and shows off the extra-wide hips that accommodate her four long legs.  That's four round, pert asscheeks.  Three tails.  Three pussies maybe - oh if only there'd been just one between each set!  Makes for even more clitcocks of equine proportions to enjoy.
blanchespr: Yet she fools around, dilly-dallies, reaches into her dresser and finds a set of panties.  She slips them on.  They almost sink between her middle two rumpcheeks, miss the mark on her sexes and slip between both pussies there.  She looks at herself in the mirror...
blanchespr: ...Yet she can't resist the urge.  She scurries back with urgency in her step.  You feel her hands taking the outer two tails of one rear of yours, and a bundle of her dripping cocks slamming haphazardly into you without much care for anything else.  Unlike the others, loving and lovemaking respectively, this third mouse is outright fucking you.  If you'd been any less endowed, she'd have been fucking your brains out - but three out of thirty one?...  It's a tickling drop in the ocean.*
Echoen: Howevermuch of you there is there is simply TOO MUCH OF HER! For as your third self dallies about, slow and steady and meandering even as she multiplies, she's nudged along by another surge of multiplicious growth that barrels out from her and gives her... seventy.  She doesn't just duplicate up, down, left, and right, but to every diagonal as well! And not just her quad-rumped bodies, but the entire five-body CLUSTER is popping out in each direction, and since she had two... it's such a dizzying array! Seventiy bodies makes for countable legs and pussies, but -uncountable- balls, and who knows how many wombs she has stuffed up in each one. 
Echoen: The ceiling and roof are kicked off by dozens of pairs of doelegs, revealing a swarm of deercocks and udders, breasts, all leading to a single point - one very happy upper half of a double deertaur, arms and arms and arms and arms and tongues wrapped around a mousetaur frenching with four of her heads and nuzzling with six more, and probably conversing with the other three dozen heads. When that panty-wearing fuckslut of a raunchy, ungentle multimouse finally chooses a cunt and buries in, she'd catch a glumpse between the hundreds of deermice slipping from Shirleen's pussies - at the house right next door. How the windows and doors are... bulging with brown-furred doe flesh? T
Echoen: he house creaks and explodes apart, revealing a fountaining ball of Shirleens that had been crammed into every corner of that building. And with them, come more kits... but these hybrids are deerponies? You see a dozen black stallionherms rutting and pounding with her. That sneaky doe, she must've multiplied herself while you were dazed and confused with your own transformations, and paid a visit to your neighbor! That thought lasts until you witness each and every other house that you can see creaking, groaning, bulging, erupting... blasting apart with deer. Always a different variety and with new species. 
Echoen: Deerskunks, tigerfawns, even exotic red-shelled lobster-does with far too many arms. A few of these homes even erupt with single or only a half-dozen macro Shirleens, riding and being ridden by similarly macro-growing neighbors and birthing worrisomly big kits. Out in the streets, it's a different story... as swarms, hordes, armies, gangs, and cadres of offspring meet to carpet the streets and lawns with an orgy of further breeding, multiplying, and growing, sharing DNA and spreading genes, creating apocalyptic-scale numbers of half-deer half-everything multitaurs. 
Echoen: And then all at once, everyone's eyes are on you. Not all of you, not even some of you, the original you. The single mouse at the center of it all, shoved between a mile-high wall of thousands of deerrumps cascading rivers of kits and pussyjuice and cum and uddermilk and the ever-growing population of offspring. Billions of eyes upon you. And then in a flash.... your mind, your soul, your essence propogates across every single one of them. There are suddenly billions of Blanches, taking the forms of all these offspring. Leaving billions of you.... with trillions of Shirleens to fuck.
blanchespr: *At first, the spectacle is enough to make her freeze in place.  One of her at least.  The one that's not making love with you, not fucking you, not kissing you.  She has enough presence of mind to gaze at whatever remains of the city and at the number of you entering her field of vision as it goes up, up and up some more, the girl's torso longer and longer, her mind dizzy from such sudden movement.  When things settle down, she's three stories high.  She moves her new arms, randomly at first, blindsided by the rush of sensations, the dozens of hard nipples dripping with her milk, landing on your kits, feeding them, further changing them, hybrids of all sorts going through a second puberty that makes them blossom even more.
blanchespr: At first, the concept of two of you is just a flutter in her heart, seeing as there's four of her and she's managing somewhat decently, if increasingly in a haze.  A dozen?...  It's... doable... imaginable...  A hundred?  A thousand?  A million?  When the confusion undoes itself, when you land all those pretty, sexy hooves on the floor and you stand around her in that fashion, she nearly loses it.  Only the surprise keeps her going, the girl having jumped over the edge and still flying up within her own soul.
blanchespr: Such a flood of your potent musk, it collects her and sweeps her off her feet.  Before she knows it, the first of her spasms deeply to push out this mousietaur, only for triplet sisters to follow up and get stuck in the same fashion, but not before several dozens of legs push out of the girl's lewdly stretched-out pussy.  It doesn't merely drip: it showers, it rainfalls, clitcocks soon accompanied by proper shafts with their own sheathes and balls, volleyball-sized orbs within well-padded sacs that bounce around as she walks and staggers on her feet, trying to keep up with you.  A dozen heads on elongated necks is not even enough, and she closes her eyes with a fierce blush when you whisper love words into her ears.
blanchespr: More of your scent penetrates her very being and changes her.  One mouse finds herself double-taured out as if in homage to you.  The next, just the same with a doe's lower body.  And the next, once again in equine format.  And they all simultaneously split once, twice, just the same as you've done.  Backing up to regain her balance, the mousie-doe brushes rumps against yours and moans, her labia extending into a set of tendrils that begin testing your own sensations.  With four pairs per set of cunnylips, she can sure grope and tease, slip inside to touch your walls, circle your pussy, give one of your cocks a good pumping, or cup your balls and ever so gently squeeze them.
blanchespr: She's obsessed with dressing up, with trying to make herself presentable, seeing an anchor of normality among all this.  And the attempt is cute in and of itself.  Putting two more pairs of panties on to cover all three crotches - remember the four-legged mouse?  Finding ten sets of matching bikini tops only to find herself with twice the tits by the time she puts them on.  Laying hands on your very personal, very customized one-piece for double deertaurs that got four legs at the rear.  Oh, and that beautiful evening dress.  It should've ended just above the ankles but instead it rides on her like a miniskirt and the neckline is showing off four pairs of her now K-cup tits.
blanchespr: She stops at some point.  She gazes all around herself and sees herself positively outnumbered.  Clutching a minimalist tanktop betwee the seven fingers of one hand, she casts an awestruck, almost submissive look about her.  And that's when you look at her.  For a moment, it's like nothing happened.  But then, it kicks in.  Like a wish come true.  All those new eyes, those heads, those limbs to control and feel.  Those bodies, all that variance.  She imagines possibilities at a breakneck speed.  All those positions she could take with you.  All the ways she could make love.
blanchespr: The perfect picture of multi-taur her, tangling legs and cocks with multi-taur you while breasts snuggle between each other, with arms drawn around long bodies, with heads doing every trick in the book from spontaneous poems to tongues shoved as far as the taurjoin and then some.
blanchespr: It's too much for her.  Way too much.
blanchespr: ...In a good way.
blanchespr: Recognizing her is easy.  She's everyone that isn't a deer-taur.  And better yet, she is everyone that's cumming.  Bodies collapse to their knees.  Cocks fire away with continuous, powerful streams, some cockslits becoming two, three or even four from just trying to keep up and express her love.  Cunnies gush with rivers of girljuice, purified and potent estrus, outer lips leading to two or three sets of inner lips most frequently, button clits at their smallest, bigger than some cocks at their largest.  And among this, daughters upon daughters almost flying out.  First from her cunnies.  Then from her cocks, amidst torrents of seed.  Pregnant already.  Birthing moments later.
blanchespr: And she does that for a whole hour without stopping.
blanchespr: An hour of unresponsive wives.  An hour of her just breathing and letting go.  An hour of her passion laid out so intensely that she is frozen solid and all one can do is stare on, watch our daughters catch rainfalls of milk within their open muzzles.  Whatever of her was rutting keeps rutting.  No way to stop her.
blanchespr: By the time she gets her wits back, she exists all over the planet, in millions upon millions of distinct bodies, only to make a quick count and realize she is still outnumbered billions to one.  At least.
blanchespr: Doesn't matter.
blanchespr: Gathering around you, where everything has begun, several lushly-endowed, partially-clothed mousies kiss at your cheeks tenderly.  Casual rivers of seed, of milk, of estrus and daughters line the landscape below.  Taurselves ride on top of taurselves as she experiments what it feels being much like you, for the first time.  You feel so many legs playing with your own.  Her hands intertwine with yours and she giggles when she realizes our finger count doesn't match.  Other hands grope at your breasts.  Eyes close, lips meet.  She kisses and kisses and kisses.  Some of her with twin murine muzzles because you had twin cervine ones there, and so she kisses in two ways at once.  In many places, she stares lovingly into your eyes.
blanchespr: She's still erect.  Always ready for more at the drop of a hat.
blanchespr: She can only think about this new life of love, where everything is an excuse to be naughty in some way.  She's got enough mind to do that even though she's still utterly hypnotized by the wall of your multi-rumps.  In a few cases, it takes her a while to realize she's mistakenly staring at her own.
blanchespr: A deep shudder.  A jiggle coursing through her columns of breasts in a shockwave.  Sometimes they're four-wide.  Sometimes they're also on her back.  Sometimes both.  Pick your measure, be it mild or wild today.  A wife for every mood.
blanchespr: But more importantly, there's one perfectly normal-looking mousie head nuzzling at one perfectly normal-looking deer-head.  You and her at this vantage point.  Basking in a magnificent afterglow, high above the shallow ocean of potency, the complex cocktail of our fluids combined.
blanchespr: And with this head, she says only three words that mean the whole world.
blanchespr: "I love you."*
Echoen: You couldn't let me win, could you? :)
Echoen: You had to make us BOTH win?
blanchespr: I am drunk and inspired.  I could see myself living life like this.  And I so... so... SO wanted to have so many rumps and rumpcheeks too, and imagine myself with them all, and snuggle you with them~
blanchespr: The imagery of adapted - and much misadapted clothes.  The modified daily life.  The wonderful-looking snuggle as two lovers sleep.  The kinky, exotic little details hidden among bodies so used to obvious and blatant.  Two who tease one another with constantly reinvented looks, seeking ways to catch the other by surprize and make the other finally give in and say "Why didn't I think of that?"
Echoen: I just wanted to give you your dreams come true
blanchespr: :x  I hope I gave some dreams in return too~
Echoen: That and more.