Claire stood and let out a deep whinny, that of a thoroughbred racing
mare. She turned and winked at you sidelong. Was it just the lighting,
or did she look much meatier than she had a few moments earlier? Not
every girl packed guns that size, surely.
You put the thought to one side. “Not bad,” you chuckle. “But I'm
pretty sure Pleasure Island is donkey themed.”
“Eh,” she shrugged, sitting back down beside you. “Always been more of
a horse girl myself.”
You look at her as the ride trundles on, eyes drawn to the ears half-
covered by her straight red hair. They begin to twitch, the tips
tapering to a point and stretching upwards, sliding up the sides of
her skull to sit proudly on the top of her head. Coarse black hair
begins to spill from them, until they are both coated with a thick
layer of fur. Claire reaches up and scratches them absent-mindedly
with unusually thick fingers, not really registering the change.
An invisible force pulls at your own ears. They feel warm and fuzzy,
not at all painful. You smile from the sensation as they stretch and
become pointed, sliding up your head. Seconds later, the same warm
fuzz emanates from the base of your spine, urging you to bend over.
You gasp, the faint noise ending in a slight snicker, as the same
feeling rushes to your groin. The front of your pants bulge, matched
by a similar lump in the rear. You begin to slide forwards.
You glance over at Claire. The girl is red in the face and breathing
heavily, clearly enjoying the erotic rush. She slumps forward out of
her seat, dropping down onto all fours. Staring at her rear, you watch
the seat of her pants stretch and tear, revealing first the seams of
her jeans and then a tight purple thong. Your mouth drops as a thick
black horse tail bursts from her underwear, arching over her ass and
swishing from side to side. Claire gasps and reaches a hand down the
front of her pants, whinnying softly.
Something at the back of your mind is telling you to fight it, but it
just feels too good. You put your hands on your knees and stick your
ass out, stretching and straining. Your pants fray and erupt, a brown
tail drooping down and brushing against the back of your jeans. The
giant pole in the front of your boxers bulges in sympathy.
At your side, Claire pulls off her shirt, revealing small, rounded
boobs and a heavily muscled torso. Coarse black fur is sprouting all
over her chest and back. With a snap, her bra breaks and floats the
floor, dark, erect nipples sticking through the hair. She turns to you
and begins fumbling with your belt.