(F to Donkey, M to Dog, F to Statue to Tiger)

‘Princess Petra picked a picky pickle, put promptly aside’ was a children’s rhyme often sung when the royal wasn’t out and about. Surprisingly, despite her bad reputation, Her Highness Petravan de Gallia barely seemed to notice and often frequented the local shops… Much to their irritation.

Lorrie was today’s unlucky vendor. She quietly reached behind the wooden counter, petting the head of one of the ice slimes that kept her wares cool.

“-and you’re sure there’s no other origin for these iced creams? While I appreciate the texture and flavor, one can get a cow’s milk from anywhere. I’d rather have something more exotic, you see,” Petra laughed coquettishly, forgetting to watch her dessert cone. A few drops of fruit-flavored cream dropped squarely on her pronounced cleavage, staining a dress that likely cost as much as Lorrie’s shop.

“Ah.” Lorrie couldn’t help herself. She struggled to keep from smiling as Petra squealed twice: once from the cold, and again from the humiliation of it all.

“Why in the world would you serve this treat in such a dangerous manner? And are you about to laugh!? That does it, you clearly need to be punished. I’ll call for the guards, and they’ll have you sent to the dungeons,” Petra intoned lazily.

In truth, the threat was toothless, and everyone there knew it save for two. After the second time a merchant was jailed, the king had quietly come down to inform all the merchants of a secret backdoor exit to the ‘Petra Trantrum’ cell. On the way out were bags of gold –though an honor system had the merchants only take one at a time – and a neatly-written stack of apologies from His Highness.

The only two who didn’t know about this were Petra, naturally, and one of Lorrie’s customers, an odd girl from across the sea.

Said girl was the first to react, reaching into her pouch and hurriedly tossing something directly at the princess herself.

Lorrie stood in stunned, slack-jawed silence. It was like seeing a runaway cart, a disaster in motion that brokered no time to react. However, this ‘disaster’ seemed almost benign. It was a single curled leaf, fluttering with an almost malevolent intent to land on Petra’s forehead.

“What the?” Petra gawped, flinching back and pressing her fingers against the green object. It seemed stuck fast to her, and was oddly unbreakable.

“Cruel noble, your judgment has arrived! How dare you terrorize the locals of this land?” The foreigner proudly jumped atop her table, leaving Lorrie a moment to marvel at someone outside of a penny-novel doing so. “My name is Rikanuki of the Pon-Pon clan, and today you face judgement!”

With that, the foreigner reached to her own forehead. A lead appeared beneath her fingertips a moment before she pulled it off dramatically. At once, her loose-fitting dress poofed out with a thick brown fur. Her tame, slender figure was revealed to be rather curvaceous, including a pleasantly plump belly. A tail burst forth from her backside, perfectly round and nearly as large as her torso.

Lorrie realized why her ice slimes had seemed so afraid when this girl had paid for her iced cream. “You-you’re a sorceress!”

Inwardly, she panicked. Everyone knew of the sorceresses and their casual disdain for humanity. All of them liked to masquerade as the common folk, only to transform entire kingdoms at a whim.

“S-Sorceress? GAWWWrds!” Petra shouted, a beastial bray bursting past her lips. Her face seemed to stretch slightly, but that was all a second thought to the sudden clatter of armor as two of the King’s Chosen burst in.

Marisa Humpfreys was a renowned bladeswoman, who often made a show of dueling volunteers for fun. She’d never left them with more than a few bruises, as well as some coins for the trouble. They’d never left her with a scratch at all, as she danced her way from every strike they’d made. Unfortunately, her skill was no match for magic, and she jerked back as a leaf touched her forehead.

Lucas Combefort didn’t need much of an introduction because he’d forgotten his anti-magic necklace that morning, and thusly immediately turned into an enormous dog.

Lorrie rubbed at her eyes to check what she’d just seen.

Sure enough, the good Sir Lucas was now a drooling, massive animal. His paws were as large as his head had been, and said head was twice the size. Perhaps some of that was an illusion, brought on by the enormous, lion-like mane he now sported. What couldn’t be hidden was the rest of him, which promptly lunged at a nearby stool, gnawing at its wooden leg idiotically.

“Ah… Um. I can pay you for the damages, of course,” Rikanuki stammered, quickly darting over to Lucas’s side and scritching his thickly-furred, floppy ears. It looked like each of his ears was as big as one of her hands. “And I’m not a sorceress, you ass!”

“HAWWWW!” Petra brayed again, and Lorrie turned towards her only to freeze at the sight of Marisa’s changing body. The swordswoman was frozen in place, right hand ready to grasp her sword, left hand on the scabbard. The only thing keeping her from tugging it out was that her skin had seemed to turn to marble.

“What’s going… onnn?” Marisa’s speech slowed, slurring slightly as the marble crackled its way up her chest. Her eyes were furious rather than panicked, and it looked like she’d give anything to reach over and throttle the foreign not-a-sorceress. “Iiiii… caaaaann’t… mooooo-”

With a final crack, her body fully solidified. In some ways, she made a better sculpture than those around the royal gardens.

“HGNNEEE!” Petra didn’t seem too bothered by the loss of her guards, too distracted by the swelling of her nose. The only mercy to that was that her bulging nostrils were distracting her from her lengthening ears.

“Sorceress… Why, I never! From my understanding, those sorceresses are wicked indeed! And I’ll have it known that I am her a heroine of justice! I’ve arrived to punish the wicked-”

“HUHWRUFF!” Lucas slobbered.

“-and their, ahm, servants, as it were…” Rikanuki gulped. “The point is, that noble was mistreating the commoners, and I’ll see her suitably punished!”

Petra trembled for a moment, her hands pressed between her legs. “Whuh… HEEEAUUW feel funnnEEEEIGH!”

Two things happened at once. First, Petra’s neck stretched above her shoulders, thickening inhumanly. The veins in her throat had bulged, and her voice deepened in pitch to an ugly, deep-throated bray. Second, a massive set of udders tore through the front of her dress. They were lightly-furred, with long teats, and were an abnormal shade of blue.

“Wha?” “HGGRRAWW!?” Lorrie and Petra exclaimed at the same time.

“You want a flavor more exquisite than a cow’s milk? Well, let’s see how much you prefer a donkey’s!” Rikanuki pronounced triumphantly, her hands on her hips. She nodded to herself. “And as service to the dear merchant here, your udders shall produce the most lovely blueberry milk.”

“Blueberry!?” Lorrie gawped. She’d never heard of such a thing, was that common overseas?

“Ah, yes, well, they’re these little small fruit that grow on… Well, I don’t know, but they’re really very good,” Rikanuki’s eyes widened as she realized she had no idea how to prove that, “and, uhm… Oh! I know!”

The furry girl’s tail waggled as she pranced to Marisa’s form. Her hands – which on closer reflection were much more like paws with big thick pads – kneaded at the swordswoman’s petrified face. And though Lorrie really shouldn’t have been surprised at this point, she was still stunned by how easily the marble moved and flowed.

In mere moments, the woman’s regal figure was… well, still regal, but in another sense entirely. She was some sort of massive marble feline, with a tail thicker than Lorrie’s arm, and at least as long as her leg. Cracks ran along the marble, revealing orange-and-black fur beneath.

Rikanuki looked to the “Not to worry, this animal is called a tiger, and they’re really quite tame!”

Punctuating her point, the marble suddenly cracked, and the feline beast burst forth with a dramatic “GRAAWWL!”

Marisa seemed to still hold much of her grace, and she used it almost immediately to dart towards her former liege, who brayed in panic. Then, to the shock of all save Rikanuki, who’d caused it, and Lucas, who was too busy cowering in a corner from the ‘tiger’ that was nearly his size.

“HAWW! Tongue! Rough!” Petra tried to paw at Marisa’s large fuzzy head with her hands, only for the noblewomen’s hands to stiffen into a pair of hooves. It looked like Marisa’s fur was too dense to suffer much damage from them, as the tiger continued to suckle at Petra’s blue udders.

The more Marisa licked, the more Petra swelled- and not just her udder. Doughy, gray-furred fat burst free of the princess’s colorful dress, and the little that remained of her uncovered skin was soon covered in sweat.

Lorrie actually felt a little sorry for the girl. She was spoiled and a nuisance, but to exist so heavily that she would sweat just from the burden of being! It was a little too pitiable to bear.

Marisa seemed to have a completely opposite reaction. Her nostrils flared a little as she picked up more of Petra’s new musk, and she licked even more at the girl’s udder, actually moving it with each forceful push of her tongue.

Petra’s eyes crossed, and she flung her head back against the shop’s wall. “HEEEAUUWW!” Her tongue spilled past her mouth, and when her head slumped forward again, she began to drool onto her swollen, furry breasts.

Lorrie raised a trembling finger towards the sight, unable to properly come up with words to question what she was seeing.

Rikanuki blushed, a little taken aback herself. “It was supposed to just make her udders a little more pleasurable, but… Ahm…”

“Hwurrf!” Either Lucas had gotten over his fear of the tiger, or he’d found himself too thirsty to care. Either way, he darted past Rikanuki, knocking the poor girl off-balance. As a man, he’d surely have caught her around the waist with a wink and a smile. As a dog, he continued to bound over to Petra’s asinine form, loudly slurping at her udders too.

The stimulation from Marisa’s rough, sandpapery tongue and Lucas’s thick, slobbery tongue seemed too much for Petra to bear. She flailed her limbs, shoulders and hips rotating for a proper four-footed stance. Her face creaked out into a dopey muzzle. She lost all trace of resemblance to the girl she’d once been.

And she didn’t seem to care one bit.

“Duuhhawww! Heeehrraww!!!” Petra brayed like an imbecile, jiggling her belly and breasts shamelessly. For that matter…

“Why… Why does the donkey have to have tits as big as her head?” Lorrie couldn’t help but ask it, though no reply came.

She looked at Rikanuki, finding that the foreign girl was still frozen on the floor, utterly stunned… And stone. One of her own leaves sat neatly on her head, evidently having been tossed when she’d fallen to the floor.

Lorrie took a deep breath, then another. Neither seemed to calm herself, so she settled for rolling her eyes, wondering how ever she was going to explain this to the king.