(Women to llamas)

Name:

Head, Neck , and Shoulders

Description:
A white bottle of shampoo with a blue cap. Logo appears familiar to a popular brand, save for the lettering. Active ingredients list cannot be read through any means. Attempts to read in person result in confusion and slurred speech, with inability to recall. Attempts to photograph appear blurred, regardless of angle. Attempt to reproduce lettering with charcoal and tracing paper resulted in combustion (note: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RECREATE).

Bottles will appear in commercial settings, among nontransformative products. Bottle does not disappear after transformation. Is not capable of moving or attack. Sentience unproven.

Transformation Vector:
Physical Contact

Risk:
Low

Effects:
Upon skin contact, subject will have an irresistible urge to rub their throat. Coarse fur will begin to grow from the subject’s throat over the next minute(s). Transformation appears variable in time but always begins with the neck. Once neck is fully grown and coated in fur, subject will regain control of their body as it changes into that of a llama. Fur color appears to be based on current hair color; natural hair color is irrelevant. Patterning in hair will result in patterned fur.

No cure has been found. Various cleansing agents (alcohol, holy water, murk) have proven unsuccessful. As the change cannot be overwritten, recommend agents dealing with high-class magical entities be permitted a bottle to use on self in event of anomaly contact.

Case A: Lindsay ‘ELinds’ Crane. Accidental self-exposure.

(Lindsay has been streaming for approximately two hours prior, reviewing various commercial products.)

Lindsay: And next up, we have a special treat! Everyone, take a look at this!

(Lindsay shows back of anomaly first unintentionally. Ingredients list illegible. She turns the anomaly to reveal the front)

Lindsay: Oops! Haha, anyways, this looks mostly like just normal Head and Shoulders except the active ingredients are (unintelligible) and (unintelligible).

(Lindsay does not notice she is unable to read the ingredients. She applies anomaly to her hand.)

Lindsay: Oh, wow… This feels… Uhh… Hehe, just gonna…

(Lindsay begins to press her palm against her throat, wrapping her fingers around her neck. She starts to move her hand up and down. Her other hand fumbles for the anomaly. She squirts some onto the back of her neck and starts to rub that as well.)

Lindsay: Uhh…

(Lindsay displays typical transformative confusion. Her eyes glaze as she looks at the camera. Her neck begins to stretch. Multiple notifications from her computer as viewers attempt to reach out to her.)

Lindsay: Hhhguhh.

(Anomaly falls off frame – recovered by staff later – and Lindsay begins to scratch at her throat. Camera quality is poor, but graininess near neck appears to be onset of fur growth. A few seconds later, fur is appropriately thick enough to discern.)

Lindsay: Mlluhhhh.

(Lindsay begins to drool, mouth slack. Teeth appear to show typical lengthening. Tongue appears human-sized. Fur reaches typical length, and Lindsay’s hands fall to her sides.)

Lindsay: Whuh? When did I stand up? Wait, I’m not standWHAT THE FUCK!?

(Lindsay notices reflection in computer window. Stumbles from chair, falling onto rear. Grown of tailbone forces her onto her side as arms and legs begin to stretch.)

Lindsay: What’s happening to me! Someone, help! Heeeh-aaah-aaahwlp.

(Vocal distortions begin. Lindsay panics visibly at this, made worse as her face stretches into a muzzle. Nostrils flare, ears stretch. Breasts slide between legs and darken.)

Lindsay: Aah-aah-aawl. Maahaahammeeee heeh-ehh-ehhghlp.

(Lindsay’s eyes begin to darken. Her protests slow. She gags on her saliva. She spits into a corner of the room. Does not appear to react to stimulus.)

Case B: Angela Harrisson. Intentional monitored exposure. Supervisor: Wanda Pearson, PhD.

So many boring cases in this archive, this will not do at all! Come, let me tell you of how I brought a murderess into her new life.

She was scum. Convicted of murdering her sister and unrepentant in that regard. There was evidently some sort of lover’s tiff. Not my business. What is my business is the matter of taking her fine figure and reshaping it.

She was panicked when I entered. Of course she was, I’d appropriately had her strapped onto an observation table. It made it easier to drop some of the lotion onto her neck.

You see, that’s where some of the fun lies. Her hands were bound to her sides. Her neck was secured by the table. I’d thought for sure she’d try harder to rub at her throat. However, it only took a moment of straining at her bindings for her to go nearly completely slack.

Her head remained focused ahead, not shifting to either side. It remained this way even as her neck began to stretch. Despite the bindings, her neck grew well past the restraint beneath her chin. Slight abrasions were made on her skin, but these were soon covered by wondrous fur.

She was, of course, unaware that I’d taken the liberty of dyeing her hair in a rainbow pattern. This pattern appeared perfectly along her throat in a matter of seconds, returning her wits to her. Surprisingly, she noticed how stretched her neck had become. It didn’t do much to change her disposition.

She continued to struggle for a few moments. Lamentably, her stream of increasingly inventive expletives grew far less intelligible. She began to bleat, a slight chirping bray. At this point, her voice was much her own. It would not last long.

But first, her hands and feet. Absolutely marvelous! I watched with rapt interest as the nails on her hands darkened, thickening to wrap around her digits and bind them. Her muscles shifted as well, thickening on her body, bones reshaping.

By this point, it was clear the humanoid shape of the bindings were no longer suited for her. Of course, I released her. Llamas are docile creatures by nature, and at worst I still had a tranquilizer. It proved unneeded as she found herself rolling to her new hooves, a tail bursting from her backside.

More than anything, she seemed confused. I called her name out to her, though for the life of me I can’t be bothered to remember what it was. She barely turned at that. A shame she’d lost the ability to speak, I’d have loved to interrogate her and determine the exact amount of mental diminishment.

Case C: Tammy Horton. Accidental self-exposure. Supervisor: Martin Horton.

Before I begin my recollection, I would like to make it clear. I am not into intercourse with llamas, and I do not appreciate the nicknames. You need to understand that this was my wife during the change and have some maturity.

It started with a kiss. Tammy smiled at me in that devilish way I liked so much. I remember thinking it went wonderfully with her blue hair. “I found your secret project,” she said.

Regrettably, I wasn’t sober at the moment. Otherwise, I might have stopped her. Instead, I followed her into the bedroom, watching as she picked up a small bottle.

I should have labeled it, though I’ve no idea what good that would have done. At the very least, she’d have assumed it wasn’t a… Lotion? Cream? I didn’t have a chance to ask her. Instead, I simply watched as she applied it to her throat.

It is, of course, at this point that I would like to remind my more adult readers that our organization encourages savoring the last moments of our loved ones should they change.

“Mmnhh… So… Huhh… Nice… Uhmm…” Tammy blushed. Her fingers roamed about her neck, and my hands found their way to her hips.

“Is it?” I asked, careful to pull away every time she dipped her neck towards me. At the rate she was stroking at herself, it wouldn’t be long until it was fully dissolved into her skin.

“Izzwut?” Her eyes crossed slightly. Her neck started to stretch. So close to it, I wanted to kiss it. I settled on kissing her lips instead, squeezing the warmth of her sides and enjoying the touch.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Mmmkay.” Tammy didn’t seem to really notice much, other than how wonderfully soft her neck was becoming. I risked an indiscretion, rubbing my own hands along the sides of her neck, where the lotion hadn’t fallen. To my surprise, I found the fur to be as soft as her hair. She’d always prided herself on her conditioner and diet, but to think it would apply to a transformation!

I grabbed her chest, fondling her breasts while she had them. She replied with a hitched moan, my name coming to her lips for a moment before she noticed her newfound height. Of course, that’s why I married a woman with a similar fetish. Rather than panic, she wrapped her hands around the back of my head and pressed them into her now-fuzzy chest.

Tammy’s breasts were still devoid of fur, likely because her teats wouldn’t share the same blue hair as the rest of her. It left me with an odd sensation of feeling her cool fur and her warm, soft bosom. As an aside, it was thanks to this that we noticed the thermal discrepancies of this particular anomaly, you’re very welcome.

Anyways, they weren’t nearly as hot as her… On second thought, perhaps you don’t need to know that. However, I would like to note potential research into transformative uses of udders into marital affairs. I’d imagine the feeling was quite like one of those novelty mousepads, though I’d never deign to using one.

Regardless, I’d like to think she retained her intellect until the moment of completion, as it was at that moment that her kissing transitioned into an attempt to suffocate me with her tongue. Still, I’ll share the memories we had before that moment, and not after.

For obvious reasons.