After a few minutes, you feel your strength returning. You push yourself into a sitting position on the floor. The new weight of your larger breasts and belly resists your attempts at movement, and you find that, once you have risen shakily to your feet, you are still too weak to stand upright. You plop back down on the hard floor. It's a fall that should have broken your tailbone, or at least bruised your butt, but it isn't painful at all.
You pant from the exertion it took to stand up, trying not to be distracted by the pleasant feeling of warm chocolate syrup seeping down your chin and dribbling on your breasts. Are you ever going to stop drooling? The length of tongue flopping around on the floor seems to mockingly reply, "Nope". It flies up like a whip to lick your chest clean.
At this point you realize the machine is still making mechanical churning noises. Why hasn't it shut off yet? You slide yourself closer and peer up at the dials. You see the five-foot-tongue setting, and the chocolate lactation setting, and the caramel ejaculation setting...but there are more dials than what you've experienced so far.
Suddenly, the bottom of the machine opens up like a garage door and two mechanical tendrils grab onto your legs. You scream a sequence of "No!"s while more chocolate spits out of your mouth. The tendrils pull your legs back inside the machine with them, but it stops before the rest of your body follows. With your upper body free, you push desperately against the machine to no avail. Odd twisting sensations come from your legs, and you hear ominous grinding and whirring coming from within the boxy cavity that half-swallowed you. You thank whoever is responsible for this horrid contraption that nothing it's done to you so far is painful. Maybe being chocolate through and through has relieved you of the need for pain. Chocolate was malleable, soft and definitely not alive. You could probably fall from a ten story building and survive. You'd probably be nothing more than a puddle, but you could always be reshaped.
Your legs stop their twisting and you are violently expunged from the machine, tumbling over and over across the floor. Your breasts and belly ache as they squash against the marble. As you slide to a halt, you hear the machine's door ratchet shut.
You roll onto your back to take the pressure off your chest and stomach. You're afraid to look at what that thing has done to your legs. Mustering up the strength and the courage, you sit up once more. Then you gasp.
Your once human legs now look like the hind legs of some hoofed animal. They're proportionately sized for your body, and they look thick and powerful. You shakily bring yourself to stand on them, and they bend at the knees and ankle naturally. They seem built to carry the extra weight of your upper body, allowing you to stay upright easily. This development doesn't comfort you, though. With every change to your body you are becoming more and more freakish. "Fthupib matheen," you sputter. "Theez, I canth effen talk viff thish thamn tongue."
Before you can test your walking skills, you hear more clanking from the machine behind you. Before you can react, something grabs your head and pulls you back toward the unforgiving contraption. You clutch the two tendrils plunged into your forehead, knowing you can't free yourself, but trying regardless.
With the sound of a vacuum, the hose-shaped tendrils pull upward. You resist the pulling, with the help of your heavier body, and the tendrils rise on their own. You quickly realize, however, they are pulling at the chocolate on your forehead to create two cylindrical protrusions.
Suddenly, another pair of mechanical arms grabs onto your ears and starts pulling at them. You try to shake your head free, but it's held firmly in place by the four forces at work.
You feel something else attaching to your back right above your butt. It begins to pull there as well. In a few more seconds, the arms pop free of your head. You turn around to see a long chocolate "tail" being forced out of your backside. You pull yourself away from the machine, slowly getting farther and farther, and finally the machine lets you go and you sprawl once more across the floor.
There's no time to react to the pain in your breasts and belly, as these same five arms grab you and pull you back. You claw at the marble floor, leaving ten thin chocolate streaks as your nails grind away to nothing. It props you up and turns you around so you are facing the machine. A funnel-shaped nozzle larger than the one that filled your mouth with syrup plunks onto the lower part of your face like a gas mask. It pinches your protruding tongue against your chin, not painfully, but annoyingly. More suction sounds indicate that your face is being pulled and distorted. You muffle into the nozzle, pleading for it to stop. It does, quickly retreating into the machine, but you know it didn't stop because you asked it to.
You feel your elongated face, realizing that you can plainly see the muzzle extending in front of you with your own eyes. Your tongue continues to lash out, still much too long to be totally contained within it.
You try to cry out, "What the hell are you doing to me?" What escapes your mouth, however, is an inhuman jumble of grunts, moans, and hisses.
There's no time to mourn the loss of your speech. Another set of hoses flies out and sucks your hands into them. You flail your arms, wishing at least once you could free yourself before something even more disgusting happens.
You loose feeling in your fingers. It's like your hands have been reduced to simple wads of chocolate. Your eyes widen in horror when you suddenly start being able to taste the inside of the hoses.
The hoses finally free your hands...what used to be your hands, anyway. In what is undoubtedly the freakiest metamorphosis yet, your arms now end in circular maws. Extending out of those maws, writhing like tentacles and oozing chocolate syrup, are glistening three-foot tongues. You bring your shaking left arm up to get a better look. The hole at the end of it lacks obvious lips and teeth, but its opening is slightly puffed, and you have the ability to open and close it like squashing the end of a straw. Its tongue, obviously, can't be retracted into it, so its only purpose must be to provide constant lubricant to the freakish protrusion.
The machine sputters again, and you brace yourself. You can't bear to imagine any more horrible changes, but you know there's no point in resisting. You shut your eyes and prepare for the inevitable.
Suddenly, the machine finishes sputtering and goes completely silent. After an agonizing ten minutes of hearing it in operation as it mercilessly disfigured you, the total silence feels utterly deafening. You try to speak "Hello" just to make sure you haven't gone deaf, but what you hear instead is an animalistic "MMRRROOOWWW?" You wince. It's like a cow trying to swallow a goat while being strangled by a moose.
You realize this may be only a temporary reprieve. Who knows what other settings that machine had? Fearing it might come back to life any second, you start moving toward the entrance. You want to run, but your body is much too clumsy. You hear your hardened chocolate hooves clacking on the polished floor. Your three tongues lash about, slapping obnoxiously across your body while your breasts and stomach sway heavily. You continue lumbering, rocking from side to side as you get used to walking on the hooves and dealing with the offset weight of all your new features. Your tail aids your balance somewhat, and for that at least, you are thankful.
You pass another large mirror, and catch a glimpse of your form in the side of your vision. You're so shocked at the sight, you stop in your tracks and stare at the monster you have become.
You're painfully aware of the alterations to your body below your neck, but this is the first time you have seen what the machine has done to your face. It looks much like a large goat's head, or possibly a cow. You have two long horns curving upward out of your bare scalp. Two big flat ears flop down the sides of your head and twitch instinctively. Your long muzzle is tipped with a flat nose and is pierced with what has to be a large ring made out of chocolate.
What frightens you the most is how human your eyes still look. They are wide and pleading eyes, hinting at the human woman trapped within a beastly creature. Your tongue, resting against your chest and dangling between your crooked legs, slowly drips chocolate onto the floor. You raise your arms, twisting your new tongues around pathetically. You shiver and hug yourself with them. They wrap all the way around you like tentacles, smothering your torso in syrup, but the sensation isn't disturbing enough to keep you from feeling comfort in the embrace.
You lift your head to the ceiling. Chocolate tears stream down your wide cheeks. You let out a bellow that echoes around the high walls, a heavy cry that embodies the anguish and sorrow of a beast mourning the loss of the most important thing she took for granted: her humanity.