(People to Various, F to Monkey to statue)

Eliza gripped the pommel of her sword a little tighter, hearing the effects  of Rhovalle’s continued rampage. Another loud shriek devolved into the harsh quacking of an avian, and Eliza watched a duck scamper past her hiding spot, clothing falling from what was once a woman’s frame.

“How pitiful you are,” the sorceress said to a pair of town guard. Eliza recognized the two, the married couple who’d barred her entry to this town. They seemed to be capable enough, and even in the face of their overwhelming defeat, the two maintained some illusion of dignity.

Still, Eliza could see it was just that—an illusion. The couple held swords, true enough. But they also held one another’s hands, as if to comfort each other until the end. Perhaps that’s why Rhovalle started with their hands.

She smirked, watching as the two’s fingers forced themselves apart. The guards looked to their palms in horror to find hooves greeting them, and swords clattered uselessly to the ground in their horror. The man stood to shield his wife, and grunted as his back arched, new breasts straining at his tunic.

He shrieked like a woman, then fell to all fours. His body barreled out, growing larger, wider, equine in nature save for the coloration of its fur. Eliza watched curiously, as his hair lengthened to feminine proportions, then dragged to the back of a lengthening neck like a mane.

Wails of horror soon dwindled to grunts, as white-and-black hairs striped the former man’s body. Eliza recalled seeing the creature before on a safari, in years past. She didn’t want to reflect on how Rhovalle knew about zebras.

The zebra’s wife changed quickly, once allowed a moment to realize that her husband was a dimwitted mare. Then she too fell to all fours. Antlers sprouted from her forehead, long and curved and sharp. They looked almost like tusks, and again Eliza was reminded of the safari.

The guard stomped down on her old sword, snapping the metal beneath her antelope’s hoof. Her eyes were wide as they slid to the sides of her skull, and her change was violent enough to scare the zebra from her. It seemed to scare her too, as she turned and pranced away, still changing.

“Really, is there not anyone here who can pose half a threat?” Rhovalle called out loudly, magic carrying her voice from the center of the town’s square to every nook and cranny within the village.

Eliza realized her hiding spot was nowhere near the witch’s path, and she moved accordingly. The church should prove and ideal vantage point, and allow her to add gravity to her opening strike. She prayed her sword would guard her against the threat.

“Anyone at all?” Rhovalle had to raise her voice, to be heard over the sound of her latest victim’s wail.

It started as a girl’s shriek, but soon enough changed in pitch: “EEEIIGHHUAAW! HEEEAWWRR!” A frantic clopping of hooves echoed in the din of chaos, further mocking whoever had the mispleasure of suffering this latest curse.

No more. Eliza reached the spire of the church, her leather boots light on the tile. She looked down, and found the sorceress just below her, arms outstretched. The woman faced a naked amalgation of human and cow, scraps of clothing littering the ground around the animal-to-be.

Eliza leapt with a yell, driving her blade downwards. It would be a perfect strike, one to cleave the witch from shoulder to hip. Her blonde hair trailed behind her like a halo, framing a beautiful face twisted into a snarl of hatred.

Rhovalle’s head turned like an owl’s, immediate and jerking. Her hands flicked up, and magic poured into Eliza, to no avail. The runes on the warrior’s blade held strong, and triumph lit her features.

“Die!” Eliza cursed, and her blade made bone-jarring contact. It did not so much as nick the sorceress, feeling for all the world like Eliza had just tried to split an anvil with a spoon. The blade wrenched from her hands, and she realized she’d made a truly fatal miscalculation: though the blade was proofed against magics, her foe was also proofed against blades.

“Oh? You have spirit,” the sorceress chuckled, clicking her fingers. Behind her, the changing cow milked herself into a feral state, hands clutching an oversized udder and tugging at it until they were little more than hooves.

Eliza didn’t have time to reply. Her blade was lost, and with it her protection was no more. She lunged for her fallen weapon, only to stiffen, paralyzed. It was her worst nightmare, being helpless but to watch as Rhovalle circled around her, appraising her latest conquest.

“I like that. In fact, you might amuse me enough to spare the rest of this town,” Rhovalle said, trailing her digits along Eliza’s cheek.

Eliza hissed by way of response, then fell forward onto her chest. She looked up for her sword, but found little other than a clutch of yellow fruit arranged before herself. Her heart pounded with dread, and she turned back towards the villainess.

“Surprised? Enchantments like that only work as long as you’re holding the sword, you know. It doesn’t just apply to you, but to your blade as well,” Rhovalle explained slowly, as though she was talking to a child. “It works both ways, you see. You release the blade, and I can change both of you freely.”

Eliza listened intently, searching for a way past the woman’s guard. Sooner or later the arrogant bitch would provide an opening. As she plotted, the blonde’s jaw worked. A light and fruity flavor filled her mouth. It took her a second to realize she’d peeled one of the fruits, and had begun to snack upon it.

“What? What have you done?” Eliza gasped, looking down to find that her body was dropped into a low stoop. She looked positively simian like this, with her knees bent and her knuckles trailing against the ground.

“That’s not quite a fitting question. A better one might be: what am I doing?” The sorceress cackled heartily, sweeping her hands to her sides. The townsfolk gathered around the square stiffly, as though their motions weren’t their own. “The answer, if you were curious, is: ‘Humiliating you.’”

Eliza glowered, her cheeks burning crimson as she lifted her left arm. She dug her nails into her hair, even as her right hand scratched at her exposed underarm. “Are you expecting me to beg you for mercy?” She flushed harder as she spoke, catching sight of her expression in a nearby mirror. Despite her words and tone, her face looked dopily content with the current state of affairs.

“Hardly. Besides, we both know that I wouldn’t grant you any. No, what I want is for you to admit that you’re a furry, stupid monkey. Admit it to all the good people you so tried to save, and see if you can get a good laugh out of me.”

The blonde didn’t know how to responde to that. She looked to the crowd, then to the sorceress. Then simian instinct drove her to grab another banana. She peeled it and shoved it into her mouth, loudly smacking her lips as she chewed with her mouth open.

“Nothing?” Rhovalle tilted her head, bemused. “Well, perhaps that’s simply because you don’t seem to look the part. Why don’t we fix that?”

“What—no!” Eliza tried to fight her arms as her fingers curled around her tunic. She couldn’t keep from undressing herself, exposing her endowed frame to the world. A look of primal terror settled across her features, and she tried to cover herself.

A second later, she realized just how much of a mistake that was. For once, her body did as asked. Her right hand clapped to her breasts, and her left grabbed her crotch so hard she thought she might bruise. “OOK-KEE!” She hooted instinctively, grinding her hips against her fingers.

“What a shameless, lewd monkey,” Rhovalle laughed, looking to the townsfolk. “You know, it’s fine to join in. She’s changing for your benefit as well.”

Slow, anxious laughter joined the sorceress’s chuckles. It was strained and forced, but it was laughter nonetheless, and Eliza’s heart clenched in shame. She couldn’t keep herself from digging her fingers into herself, huffing hotly as a purplish hue spread across her vagina.

It wasn’t the only change to her body. Her frantic rubbing became more and more pleasurable as her fingers swelled. She let out a shameless squeal of delight, pinching her breasts between fingers that felt coarser, rougher.

Something pressed between her breasts, and she fell onto her back, waggling her buttocks at the sorceress as her head dipped down to get a better look at it. A second later, she wished she hadn’t. It was fur, thick and brown and coarse.

“Stop! End this, or end me! Don’t make me embarrass mEEEEK!!! EEEK OOKOOK!” Eliza hit a particularly pleasurable spot midsentence, and lost her words to a contented babbling. She pinched at her nipple harder, oafish fingers clutching her breast hard.

At that, there were a few genuine laughs from the crowd. The people couldn’t help it, there was just something funny about seeing a monkey acting like a person.

Naturally, Rhovalle basked in their mirth. “I’m sorry, but since when do I care about the opinions of a simple monkey?” She chuckled lowly, shaking her head with a smile. “Remember our terms, dear. You need to admit what you are to the world.”

That was the one thing Eliza couldn’t manage. It would be more than a humiliation, it would be a betrayal of herself. It would mean that she’d been broken. Tears dewed at her eyes, though whether they were of delight or shame she couldn’t tell which. “Never! That’s the one thing I cannot dooOOOK!”

“AHHOOK-AAH!” Eliza wailed, rolling onto her breasts, squishing them against the town cobblestones. She pulled her hand away from her needy sex to grab at another banana, frantically peeling it and shoving it into her mouth.

Her spine ached as she moved, and she girl looked back to it, horror gripping her heart as a tail uncoiled from just above her pert cheeks. Fur covered it, and fur spread from around it like wildfire. She watched it flick and dance even as the itchy hairs passed over her ass and thighs.

She scratched them, but for a moment. Her wet fingers didn’t feel right against the new fur. Her human mind realized that, and her simian mind moved to accommodate before she could correct herself. Her fingers slipped into her mouth one at a time, and she wetly sucked them clean.

“Mpphnnff!” She protested around her monkey’s paw, groaning as she felt her teeth change against her fingertips. They were growing thicker, and her jaw moved to accommodate. It distended into a monkey’s muzzle, distorting her features into something alluringly simian.

The girl rolled back onto her back to crane her neck upwards, seeking the mirror behind her. She wasn’t fully feral in appearance, still sporting her beautiful blue eyes and her heart-shaped face. But all the same, she did have a thick-lipped muzzle, with a nose that was both flatter and broader on her face. Fur covered her lips as she pursed them, popping her fingers from her mouth with a wet sound that echoed across the courtyard.

“Nuh… No…” Eliza protested feebly, feeling her tail curl around her legs, as though it was heralding what was next. She looked down to find that in her haste to undress, she’d left her fine leather boots on. They were a work of craftsmanship, perfectly tailored for her petite feet and allowing her to creep stealthily along any surface.

They were creaking in protest, as something pushed against them from within. A prominent bulge formed along the arch of Eliza’s foot, and she realized it was her big toe. A second later, said toe burst through the dimpled leather, a perfect mirror of her thumb.

“NUHOOK! NAAH AAH!” Eliza didn’t have words for her horror and humiliation, so her new body expressed itself for her. The rest of her toes burst free of the leather, and she kicked the tattered remnants of her footwear to the side, staring in shock at her changed feet.

They were disgustingly simian: a pair of monkey feet whose toes curled as they tasted the air. Then her feet turned towards her, like vipers sensing prey. They darted towards her chest, footpalms clapping against her breasts, roughly groping and kneading them. “Nuhh… NOOO!”

At the same time, her hands both dipped towards her backside, shamelessly scratching her furry butt. Locked in an inhuman pretzel of pleasure, she ooked and chattered and wailed—and the crowd guffawed with amusement. “STOP! FUH-Feels good! OOOK!”

“Well, if she looks like a monkey, acts like a monkey, and sounds like a monkey…”

Eliza wept, arching her head back. “I’m a monkey!!! I’m a furry, stupid, monkeEEEK!!!” She could see her furry snout in her peripheral vision as she finally broke, her tail whipping behind herself to punctuate the moment.

It was like a tension was released, cables let loose. Her body sprung back to a relaxed posture, and Eliza rolled

“Much better,” Rhovalle cooed. “And quite well-performed. I think I’ve had my fill of you.”

For a moment, hope filled Eliza’s furry chest. She clambered onto all fours, the stooped posture of a dimwitted monkey belying the intelligence that lurked behind her eyes. “R… Really?” She could find a way to live like this, she was sure of it. There were plenty of dogmen in a nearby baron’s employ, so she saw no reason for them to disallow a monkey-woman. “Just like that? The village is safe, I can go?”

“Half right, my dear monkey,” the sorceress said with a wicked grin. “I can’t just let you go free after trying to kill me, can I? No, I think we’ll need to make you a more permanent reminder of what fate befalls those stupid enough to try.”

Eliza’s body began to move of its own accord, clambering towards the center of the town’s square. They had a simple fountain there, a pedestal from which water jetted skywards. The monkey-girl clambered atop it, though her fur remained untouched by the water’s stream. “Wait… No. What… What are you doing?”

“Commemorating the occasion.”

With that, Eliza dropped her fat monkey butt near the fountain, letting it spray against her privates. She screamed in pleasure and horror, her toefingers and tail curling around the pedestal, keeping her there even as her hips ground against the aquatic bliss.

As before, her left arm curled above her head, so she was scratching at her hair like a buffoon. Her other hand pawed fruitlessly against her crotch, separated by the fountain’s flow. Then something clicked within herself, and she felt a pressure build within her breasts.

“GUUUHHH!!! AAHH AAAH OOOKEEKAAHHOOK!” Eliza hollered, insensate with pleasure. She was humiliated by the fact that she enjoyed this so, and by the stupid, pleasured look on her face. “Muh… My monkey tits are so fullll!” She whined.

The dam burst, and water gushed from her pert nipples, relief flooding her form. Eliza smiled dopily, a look of relief plain on her features. She remained like that, squatting on the fountain’s pedestal, itching her head and pawing at her crotch, even as water gushed… From her?

She felt confused, but couldn’t change her expression to match. She couldn’t ask what was happening, either. Terror gripped at her heart at the realization that she was petrified once more, water flowing from her nipples, from her nethers.

Stone creaked, like rocks being pushed against one another. The sound filled Eliza’s jug ears, and she mentally wailed in horror. With her head lifted in bliss, she could only see her muzzle—but she could feel her body hardening. Slowly, marble overtook the fur on her features, leaving her as naught but a fountain.

“I think that’s a fitting reminder of those who’d betray me, don’t you?” Rhovalle looked to the town with a twinkle in her eye. “And, while I’d like to have more fun with you all, I am nothing if not a woman of my word.”

With that, she left. The townsfolk mourned their losses, wrangled newly-made animals, sold many to nobles interested in exotic faire, kept the rest as livestock. Life resumed, grief passed, generations went on. After decades, The Reckoning was even joked about, often at the expense of a fountain whose name had long been forgotten.