Every few minutes your already unsteady gait falters, thighs rubbing together as a wave of pleasure rolls through your changing form. Infuriatingly, it never crescendos, but always stops short of satisfying you. You are left gasping and quivering, straining to remain standing before shambling onward in desperation with a fresh change each time.
Your foggy head lolls. The hat atop your dark locks grows heavier, firmer, and you can feel the air on it as if it were part of you. Its ruffled edge creeps lower, covering your forehead and offering your eyes a small bit of welcome shade from the sunlight, if not a reprieve from the heat. Your vestigial arms have continued to shrink, they are barely even nubs to wiggle anymore.
You reach a fork in the path as another fit of pleasure overtakes you. A minute passes before it fades, your viewpoint reeling as your impossibly soft white legs stretch out longer by a few inches. The white petticoats beneath the skirt seem denser and fleshier, becoming part of you like the rest of your gothic outfit. A feeling of anticipation seems to sit about them, a tension that is awaiting release. You rub your soft thighs together again, but it does nothing as the latest tremors fade.
You regain what senses you have left and groggily examine the fork in the maze before you. Both paths seem identical, but a slightly cool, almost damp breeze blows from the left path. It makes you shiver in delight, and you quickly pad down it, ignoring the sensations emanating from your needy cunt.
As your softer, longer feet slide along the grass, you begin to notice the light overhead dimming as the cool air becomes more present.
You dare to glance up, finding the sun in a lower position, the sky pleasantly darker. On the other side of one of the hedge walls, the trees of what appears to be a forest rise tall into the air.
You look ahead of you and think you can see an opening farther down the path! Your first steps toward it falter as another damnable spasm shoots through you. You stumble, moaning as pleasure pools in your breasts. You gasp as they swell, flesh gurgling outward, pressing against the bodice of your dress. The swelling doesn’t abate however, and you find yourself gasping unsuccessfully for air.
The top of the bodice begins to flow downward, receding from your new D-Cup tits and leaving them free, their pitch-black nipples tingling in the cooler air. The nubs that were your arms finish receding and round off, leaving bare shoulders behind.
As the latest changes and tingles fade, you stride resolutely forward. The cooler the air gets, the more the sky above darkens, the more the uncomfortable headiness fades.
Cool. Dark. Dank. Spores. Safety. Glade. Home.
The words are clear in your mind, and it aches to make them a reality. You practically fly towards the exit to the maze, trying to reach it before any more changes or spasms overtake you.