TF and Feminization Erotica By Heather Graham
I wish
that I had wolf feet.
And I can tell you why.
I could race through forests in wolf feet.
Without a soul nearby to spy.
I think it would be very good
to feel my bare toes change.
Black claws slicing through tennis shoes
until wearing any clothes felt strange.…
A newborn princess is given a gift by an old crone – a gift that expresses itself violently on her wedding day.
“And on this, the occasion of our daughter’s birth, we call forth the three fairies to be her godmothers. Wise beyond even their own years and powerful beyond our knowing, we offer our finest jewels to thee.”
The king stood atop the dais, arms raised. His staff of office was held in one hand with the other bare to show his good intentions. Before him, a select crowd of nobles and rich merchants applauded politely. The queen, so fresh from a harsh childbirth, smiled thinly from her seat next to her royal husband.…
At the conclusion to the story, Heather succumbs to her thirst and learns what happens when she loses control.
Heather lost track of her dreams, memories and reality. She thought Teri tried to wake her up twice but she wasn’t sure whether she was dreaming it or remembering the morning before. She dreamed she was flying and it was as glorious as she remembered. Wind buffeted her face and fur and she spiraled down to the ground before swooping back up. Catching prey in flight. Claws rending flesh. The smell of blood filling the air. The rush of excitement from the chase and the kill. …
Part 3 of 4. Heather begins to change as night approaches.
“Heather,” Teri whispered. “Are you awake?”
Bright morning light peeked around the edge of the thick, red curtains of their east-facing window. Heather groaned as her eyes fluttered open. Her body felt heavily and useless, as if she were buried under the thick, old quilt. Her freckles stood out in harsh contrast against her pale skin.
“It’s almost noon, Heather,” Teri continued to whisper. “I’ve already had breakfast and explored the town a bit. Do you still not want to get up?”
Still? Heather thought wearily. Speaking seemed to take too much effort. …
The sounds of the city’s nightlife greeted Robert as he stepped from his apartment complex. He stopped, eyes wide and watching as an increasingly small part of him worried about how he looked. He frowned at himself, unsure of why he’d be worried yet the feeling didn’t fade. A warm breeze caressed his soft, hairless cheek and he shivered in pleasure. Goosebumps rose from his arms and the young man hugged himself, hands rubbing against his arms.
An older gentleman walked by and Robert watched him pass. Behind the man, two young women walked, laughing and talking about a movie they’d just watched together. …
A very quick, very messy wererat story with an alternate “sexy” ending. I haven’t done a rat TF before so, here you go!
“No, listen. Listen! I’m telling you, the goddamned cab driver dropped me off at the wrong place.” The young woman stalked down the desolate street, shoulders hunched deep within her suit jacket. Her black high heels clicked-clacked on the broken sidewalk. Rows of old brick houses lined the street. The buildings were built in rapid development decades ago but now most lay empty and boarded up. A few children played basketball in the street ahead of her and several adult sat in front of their homes, relaxing on the wide, dark gray concrete steps.…
Karyn hummed to herself as she closed her apartment door. She wore a pair of old, white running shoes along with her bright pink scrubs. A light black jacket and small backpack completed her outfit. She walked down the hallway to the stairs, skipping steps gleefully until she reached the bottom. The sun lay low on the horizon, half-hidden behind the taller buildings downtown. Karyn raised her face to the sun with her eyes closed, smiling for no other reason than happiness at being outside.
The walk to the local bus stop was short and Karyn nearly danced the entire way. …
I am enormously thankful for fetishists.
The things I’ve ordered from various websites are mostly harmless but, all together would paint quite a bad picture of me. Chains. Metal cuffs – not handcuffs, mind you, actual proper thick metal cuffs. A little like you’d see in old movies (old England or France or wherever) when they throw a prisoner in the deepest dungeon with his hands chained to the wall until they lead him out to be beheaded.
Which, to be honest, is pretty close to what I’m doing.
—–
The murders started about eight months ago. Grisly things. Bad enough that you wouldn’t really call them ‘bodies’ anymore. …
Senator O’Neal stepped lightly into the hallway, her luggage bumping along behind her. Paul stood to the side of the door. His hands were loose against his sides and his eyes roamed ceaselessly along the hallway. The young woman looked up at him and smiled.
“I’m ready!” she chirped and then turned to her right as Paul turned the opposite direction.
“Senator, the elevators are this way,” he told her.
“I knew that,” she answered. A pretty red blush crept up the senator’s cheeks. Her smile deepened and the faint hints of dimples appeared. Turning, she walked toward her aide and continued down the hallway while he followed behind her. …
The agent’s target begins to change, her intelligence fading as her body undergoes transformation. However, she’s not the only one dealing with sudden new thoughts and desires…
The muted chirp of Senator O’Neal’s cellphone brought her up from the depths of a bright and sunny dream. She clutched at the dream as she woke; rarely were they as happy and simple as the one she was waking from. Usually, she dreamed of huge, dark figures moving slowly across a shattered landscape. She was nearly always being chased by something in those dreams while, around her, people screamed in pain and terror. …