Becoming Monsters

The following may or may not be a dream. If it is a dream, it is a silly one. If it is something else, it has little to do with the characters of this story. Or it might. Regardless of being a dream or not, I hope you enjoy Honoka In Wonderland, inspired by the works of Lewis Carroll.

While a walk in the woods would have been pleasant and reasonable, a walk amid large rainbow-colored mushrooms was not entirely reasonable and, therefore, not entirely pleasant. Honoka would much prefer a quiet stroll with a gentlewoman caller to discuss the latest fashions and small politics of the locale. Instead, she was required to maintain chaste thoughts to keep her penis relaxed and within the confines of the newly acquired stretchy knickers. The freshly christened hermaphrodite also needed to ignore the not entirely unpleasant feeling of sporting large, hot and pulsing testicles jammed up into her womanly folds, jostling around her with each step.

“There better be a princess in the castle at the end of this mushroom kingdom,” Ms. Mouse said under her breath, gaining the glaring stare of Ms. Dodo. Before the large cow woman berated her, though, another voice spoke from somewhere above them.

“Stay in character!”

When the three women glanced upward, they found a long snake person slithering down to a lower mushroom cap, the entirety of her scaled frame covered in a kind of stocking. Multiple shades of blue, she looked like a caterpillar with the hood sporting two dangling antennae. The hosiery was skin tight, leaving nothing to the imagination that this was a woman, appearing more like the finest layer of paint instead of the stocking that it appeared to be, her womanhood visible where the legs would meet on another, more typical girl. In the side of her reptile mouth she sucked on a giant lollipop, each of her four arms also holding a different flavor of lollipop. In a weird convalescence of illumination, Honoka understood this was some sort of redaction on the part of the author of this dream to keep in line with Honoka’s sensibilities.

“Who is doing this to me?!” Honoka shouted, wildly looking around to get to the bottom of this entire farce, yanking at her fake blond hair. “Are you a Herald? What is GOING ON?!”

The other three women stood there, frozen, when the entire world glitched. Honoka didn’t know another word for it, the forest, the ground, all the women zigged and zagged in a moment of broken disorientation, then…

…it was all as it should be.

“Yeeees?” Ms. Caterpillar asked, for she was obviously an august insect. Else, why would she have antennae?

“Greetings and salutations,” Honoka said as she dipped in a curtsy, though lacking skirts made her feel silly, and she only wobbled a little from the added weight she carried in her chest, corset notwithstanding. When she straightened, she took a moment to think if she should bow. After all, Honoka now owned a penis, and the proper decorum for a person carrying such an appendage was to bow. Nevertheless, she remained a woman, so her eyes glazed over as she tried to comprehend how to combine both a bow and curtsy and still maintain proper etiquette.

“Yeeeeeeeeeees?” Ms. Caterpillar asked again, her voice agitated while she slithered down and gave Honoka a closer look. Her snaky tongue shot out in disdain when she paused upon Honoka’s monolithic boulders being pushed up and together by the white corset, glancing down for a moment at her own large-but-not-quite-as-large pair of tits.

“Oh!” Honoka tried to recover, but she also became entranced towards the jiggling blue breasts of Ms. Caterpillar. With some concern, the lustful girl discovered herself receiving the opening tingles of blood filling into the meat of her fun stick, tight knickers growing ever tighter. “I wonder, do you know of a way I can return to my original size and form, so upon arriving home I will be able to fit into my own clothing?”

“Whooooo says you aren’t hooooome?” Ms. Caterpillar asked, pulling the lollipop out of her mouth and replacing it with another in her lower left hand. “And whoooo says thiiiiis isn’t your foooooorm?”

“That is ridiculous, I think I would remember a forest of mushrooms, huge tracts of chocolate land and a penis more at home on a draft horse than upon a maiden such as myself.”

The snake in insect clothing blinked, flicked out her tongue, and said nothing. It seemed for a moment that Ms. Caterpillar was ignoring Honoka, but when the black woman peered closer, she found the blue colored scales of the elongated woman’s snaky form wrapping in on itself. In only the shortest of time, the three women found themselves not looking at a snake person who was dressed as a caterpillar, but instead through the power of magical girl henshin, with massive blue wings unfurling to either side, they witnessed the newly appareled form of a snake woman dressed as a butterfly.

Sincerely, Honoka would find the entire episode more interesting (and, because it was Honoka, arousing), but her mind remained occupied on the curtsy/bowing conundrum.

“Hoooome is where you aaaaaare, form is whaaaaat yooooou are.” Ms. Caterp…Butterfly flapped her wings and took off, hovering for a bit while staring down upon the three girls. “Iiiiif you want toooo change whaaaaat yooooou are, eat the muuuuushrooooooom. If yoooooou waaaaaaant to chaaaaaange where you aaaaaaare, visit the Queeeeen.” And with a final flappity-flap, Ms. Butterfly lifted above the mushroom and disappeared.

“That proved as helpful as non-dairy cheese,” Ms. Dodo muttered, looking around to see if any other insects waited around to give unhelpful advice.

“Or gluten-free bread,” Ms. Mouse added, her whiskers quivering in irritation. “Let me see your bag so I can find a proper magical solution to all this.” Without waiting for proper permission, Ms. Mouse took the bag and rummaged through it.

“Well, as my primary school teacher taught me, problems are only problems so long as you think of them as problems.” That said, Honoka tore off a piece of the multi-hued mushroom and stuffed it in her mouth.

(Never mind Honoka’s brainless bout of forgetfulness about putting anything inside her pie hole; her primary school teacher, Mr. Pompernicklebottom, did not, in fact, say any such nonsense. His actual advice was for Honoka to “stop licking paint, it is full of arsenic.” The forgetfulness was therefore likely caused by strange tongue fetishes and their consequences)

Thus far, Honoka observed various growths and expansions happen to her and others in this land of wonder, all appearing to commence in a symmetrical or, at least, a consistent manner. Whatever would happen to her, for good or ill, in Honoka’s mind, was about to affect her in kind, she reasoned.

Not so.

Oddly enough, it began in her left arm. Specifically, the very beginning of it started in her left flexor carpi ulnaris, though it quickly spread to the flexor digitorum superficialis and profundus. With a mighty spasm, Honoka’s left hand clenched tightly into a fist and pulled itself involuntarily inward, straining against the extensor carpi and digitorum muscles, who joined the fray. Probing intently with her eyes towards her arm, it appeared as if the muscles bloated under her skin, each fiber blowing up like tiny cannons, veins doubling and quadrupling in size to push the blood into every part of her arm. Honoka experienced an intense heat burning under her dark skin, sweat slicking her forearm and moving up her limb like a blacksmith’s forge climbing in temperature from an orange glow to a white burst.

Even while the fervent fire climbed upward, her biceps and brachioradialis pulling her forearm painfully, triceps fighting in the other direction, her arm expanding in size, quadrupling in mass and length and girth. Tipping her entire body to its side, her elbow hitting the dirt, Honoka gasped when she reached over and felt her musculature and grew wet at the hard steel pulsing against her fingers. In the next second, her arm quadrupled again, becoming as large as her whole body, but it wasn’t a simple translation of size that happened. Every growth, expansion and building of her arm enlarged as if she took a super-soldier serum from the penny dreadfuls, then worked out for years at a gym - sped up to happen in moments - leaving her arm like a perfect sculpture of exaggerated bodybuilding power attached to a tiny black woman with bountiful breasts and a hardening cock.

“Aaaahaaaaa! I need to get off!” Honoka screamed, the feeling of growing muscles the most intoxicating thing she ever imagined. Bringing her right hand down to grab her pussy and roughly have her way with herself, the heat spread into her right side, stopping her. Honoka growled in frustration when her other hand clenched up even while her gaze explored the equally mesmerizing power of her right side gaining mass and muscle.

“Leave it to us!” Ms. Dodo and Ms. Mouse shouted as they leaped into action.

Honoka’s cock burst through her third pair of knickers today, leaving Honoka to wonder how many knickers will be destroyed before she returned home. It’s throbbing blackness burgeoned towards the mass of a Roman column, yet the other women were up to task. Ms. Mouse shimmied out of her own grey knickers while Ms. Dodo tore her diaphanous pantaloons off in one go. Lifting a hoofed foot up and straddling the dick like a small pony, Ms. Dodo picked up Ms. Mouse, giving Honoka a face full of cow pussy from their current difference in height.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Honoka said, shoving her mouth into those thick and swollen folds, tasting the waiting juices of a woman in need of a good munching.

“OOOooooo!!” Ms. Dodo lowed, pausing for a moment to arrange the tiny Ms. Mouse into place atop the growing head of a six-foot (183 cm) penis. Ms. Mouse, though definitely willing and eager, still required Ms. Dodo to pull her by the legs downward for her colossal vagina to take in the head and some of the shaft of the massively expanding member.

“YES!!” Honoka and Ms. Mouse screamed together, Ms. Mouse from half a penis roughly the same mass as her own body shoved into her cunt and distending her stomach to absurd proportions, Honoka from her legs blowing apart white stockings when they grew in massive proportion, lifting the two women twenty feet (20 m) into the air, held aloft only by an enormous cock.

This change in height and perspective left Honoka without pussy to gobble, though she remained enraptured while her clam pole entered inside eager goblin pussy and her body expanded with musculature far beyond the dreams of giant green rage machines or Otomo-esque science fiction esper body horror. Her obliques and abdomen muscles pulled her corset apart while pectoralis major and minor ballooned outward. At the same time, her breasts stretched and filled with enough milk to blast them outward in comparable size and heft as five times from what they were. Twitching rapidly, both her nipples girthed rapidly before exploding in a deluge of lactation raining down on the two much smaller women riding into the air atop an erect cock.

Speaking of large cocks, this one at that moment decided to expand into monolithic size, ten times its length and girth in under a second. As Ms. Mouse was atop and riding said cock at the time, even her much larger pussy could not handle the size difference and with a splop!, the small green woman launched both into the air and far into the horizon, her orgasmic screams accompanied by Ms. Dodo’s frantic cries because the larger cow woman held tightly to the small green legs of Ms. Mouse, joining the woman in her unexpected female-peni-catapulting-aeromotion.

This brought Honoka to a frustrating realization: she was much closer to coitus, but could not play the trombone, as her aunt would say. Now of enormous size and towering over the fungal forest, Honoka found herself slowing in her growth and some of her absurd musculature deflating to more reasonable proportions. With a critical eye, in fact, Honoka realized she grew back to her previous height of five feet and two inches (158 cm), though her muscles alone would now place her at least over two hundred pounds (90.7 kg) while her breasts accounted for another seventy pounds (31.8 kg). On another note and brimming with irritation, this placed Honoka ponderously close to being considered overweight. Though she could not see much past her bosoms, a quick check of her body with her hands put her in the realm of 65N-38-44 (165N-97-112), her muscles much of her mass and what little of that weight contained actual fat remained solely inside her tits.

“I would dearly love to explore this lovely female perfection,” Honoka muttered, her breath still heaving from growing and nearly reaching sexual release, “but I find myself with the problem of a four-foot cock (122 cm), testicles reaching past my knees, breast so large and expelling so much milk I fear for another flood and chest muscles so massive as to render me unable to reach my own swollen penis with my own hands.”

It became enough to make a grown woman of chocolate skin and Oriental eyes sit down and cry. Indeed, she would have done just that, but after only a sniffle and the disappointing realization she lacked any embroidered handkerchiefs, Honoka glanced around and saw the lights and noise of some kind of social happening in the near distance.

The stroll was short in distance but long in time. Honoka’s muscled form may be a pinnacle of sculpted excellence, yet it made reasonably moving her legs difficult, never mind how hard it became to proceed with cock and balls the size of jubjub birds. This walk not only gave Honoka time to reflect on the kind of dresses she would best wear now with her exaggerated silhouette, but the journey allowed her breasts to deflate a bit as they emptied of milk and her penis to shrink to a much more manageable two feet (61 cm) in length. By the time she arrived at the social, she was as presentable as a black woman with blond hair might be with a two-foot penis, testicles the size of coconuts, breasts larger than industrial kitchen pots, covered in the fluids of female sex, lactation and sweat, all of this displayed upon the fully naked body of a woman with more muscle than three men.

A social, though, it was not.

“Why is an orgy like a rhino?” asked a young woman covered in black fur with the face of a cute otter, wearing only a large green hat displaying the numbers 6 and 9 prominently on a white card. She wore nothing else, her large (proportionally larger than average, unlike the disproportional size of Honoka’s current bazoongas) breasts bouncing up and down while she moved in hypnotic rhythm to the oldest dance in the world atop a foot long and pleasantly sculpted pastel yellow imitation penis stuck into the ground. The otter woman appeared rather enthusiastic and athletic, her much more womanly appropriate muscles outlined under the fur and keeping her body in perfect alignment to achieve the most out of her vaginal hole. Hilting the imitation penis, then pulling out again, the pace racing faster until the otter woman arched her back and spasmed, one hand reaching forward and tickling her clit while she slowed and <em>chulalped</em> off and upon the ground, making pleasing sounds.

“I beg your pardon?” Honoka asked, confused but also aroused, her flaccid penis beginning to grow while her balls angrily gurgling with pain at being denied for so long. Flinching only the mildest of winces, Honoka continued. “Do you mean an orgy in the classical or modern definition?”

“Do you mean an African or European laden swallow?”

“Stay in character!”

Startled, Honoka so caught up in the erotic display of whom she will refer to as Ms. Hatter that the young woman of unusual swollness did not notice it was, indeed, an orgy she walked into and one being officiated in the modern definition. The one who spoke was none other than Ms. Mouse, her size still in the category of tiny, making her the size of an actual mouse. She appeared to have landed vagina-first onto the stem of a teapot and currently moved herself up and down the neck in an effort to reach climax. Honoka’s pink bag lay on the grass nearby, the cat winking conspiratorially towards the black woman.

The one to berate Ms. Mouse’s strange choice of phrase was someone who looked familiar, though this long snake woman with dark purple scales overlapped with yellow chevrons wore the ears and whiskers of a hare (not to be confused with rabbits: Honoka could, at least, discern the difference). Honoka decided she would call her Ms. Hare and put the entire thing out of her mind. Ms. Hare currently plunged a ten-inch, blue imitation penis that appeared thicker than typical into her own scaled snatch and seemed to just begin in her own ministrations. Her long tail, which Honoka found sported a fluffy hare tail attached to the end, wrapped around the area, making it more of an enclosed orgy than Honoka was used to.

(In Mun Zoo’s The Art Of Orgy, pedigrees of orgy are outlined and defined by multiple factors. While orgy scholar Hemwig Harveystine insists Mun Zoo’s statement of there only being two hundred and thirteen possible degrees of orgy, the academic orgy community at large typically sides with the classical definition. Nevertheless, while orgies of the classical description did indeed take place within boundaries and walls, an enclosed orgy in an open space such as this one followed more outside the realm of the traditional and entered into the unrefined strictures of a modern orgy)

“Um, excuse me, but have we met before?” Honoka asked the snaky Ms. Hare while she stepped over the tail, officially entering the orgy without becoming a participant, a significant difference. Honoka was keen to keep proper orgy decorum.

“[Everyone else only needs to play one part, why am I doing double duty?]” Ms. Hare replied with her snake tongue flicking out, though she sounded as if she spoke to someone else.

“Hey, I’m technically the Dormouse here,” Ms. Mouse replied with irritation, her movements becoming rougher on the teapot. “Totally a different character, whatever Walt wants you to think.”

“Stay in character!” Ms. Hatter admonished, pulling up along behind Honoka and doing her the service of a reach around while she pressed her soft, furry breasts against the bulging muscles of Honoka’s backside. The padded paws of the otter woman proved quite skilled, driving any other thoughts promptly out of Honoka’s head as the young black woman leaned into it. Within only a few seconds, Honoka became again as hard as the steel of a battleship and over five feet (152 cm) erect.

“Can you…[yes, oh yes]…tell me how to find the Queen?” Honoka asked, grinding her glutes into a willing Ms. Hatter.

“What day of the month is it?” Ms. Hatter asked.

“The eleventeenth, I believe,” Honoka replied.

“Two days wrong!” Ms. Hatter shouted in Honoka’s ear, coming around and holding a large jar in her hand, eyeing Ms. Hare. “I told you water-based lubrication wouldn’t suit a penis of THIS size!”

“But oil-based lubrication would ruin the dildos!” Ms. Hare replied, holding up her own jar of lubrication.

Dumping the lube onto Honoka’s erect cock, Honoka shivered when the cold viscous fluid coated her. With a glare, Ms. Hatter raised her padded foot over the long rod and sat in the middle of it like she was riding a horse. Not riding a horse, which would be anatomically tricky for any average woman, but straddling the veiny throbbing rod and smoshing Ms. Hatter’s own labia into the oiled, slick skin. “Have you guessed the riddle yet?” Ms. Hatter asked while she used her hands and thighs to move up and down the middle of the shaft seductively.

Whatever Honoka may have lost in flexibility and agility with her newly acquired muscular girth, the black woman more than made up for in strength. Despite a six-foot (183 cm) cock, erect and growing with a woman of moderate weight astride said cock, Honoka experienced no trouble keeping upright aside from the jelly-legged spasms of someone approaching orgasm. So it was with only a little breathlessness and imbalance that Honoka replied. “Is it that an orgy and a rhino begin and end with a big O?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Ms. Hatter answered, laying her chest upon the turgid meat now that there was room, sliding her whole body up and down the ever-expanding pork sword. With substantial breasts and fur tickling Honoka into a building finale, she required herself to sit down, lest she be overcum with the vapors.

“You should have some rootbeer,” Ms. Hare offered Honoka.

Honoka looked around and didn’t find any, which disappointed her because she did find herself a tad parched. “I don’t see any rootbeer.”

“There isn’t any rootbeer,” Ms. Hare replied.

“Then it wasn’t very civil to offer something you don’t have,” Honoka replied, this whole affair of carbonated beverages distracting her from hopefully getting her orgasm sometime today!

“But we do have these.”

If Honoka retained more presence of mind, or if her mind wasn’t presently upon how good it felt to have her giant penis massaged from an entire woman slathered in lubrication, she might have taken note of Ms. Hare picking up the pink bag and passing around multi-colored tinctures. Nevertheless, as in all things sexual, what was being stimulated now became more important than anything else that can happen later. It was with detached curiosity that Honoka watched the various women chug down their offered vials.

Because size does matter, Honoka watched the tiny Ms. Mouse. Her bottle was as large as her whole body, but the diminutive green woman drank the crimson liquid entirely like a champ. Finishing it off, the little woman slumped downward, still containing most of a teapot stem inside her pussy. With a mighty hiccup, her body wracked when an exact duplicate of the little green woman - mouse ears, nose and tail included - fell to the ground. Before she recovered from this development, another hiccup hit the tiny woman and another copy fell on top of the first copy, causing both copies to squeal while they scrambled together.

*hiccup*

*hiccup*

*hiccup*

*hiccup*

In a matter of seconds, there were a dozen Ms. Mouses, and it seemed like it wouldn’t end any time soon.

“I wonder if this will be permanent?” Staring curiously at her two right hands, Ms. Hare flicked her tongue to lick a quickly creeping pink color engulfing her body. Even as Honoka focused on the bright pigment, it took on a translucent sheen. Wherever the pink traveled along the snake skin of Ms. Hare, it brought with it a distorted view of the grass and grounds around them, like gazing through tinted spectacles not quite right for a particular person’s eyes.

“plllbl?” Ms. Hare tried to ask, but it emerged as bubbles in thick liquid, every movement of hers taking on a wobble and jiggle. Any motion she took dripped and oozed while parts of her form lost cohesion and other parts regained it. Right then, a circular pudding of immense dimensions surrounded all the women there in the grass, slowly constricting in upon itself.

The whole affair proved rather mesmerizing but, alas, there was a girl upon a phallus, and Honoka’s etiquette teachers always instilled her with a duty towards those astride said phalli above anyone else.

“It would appear, my good woman,” Ms. Hatter said, pinching her cheek and stretching it out a few feet from her face before letting go to snap back, “that I have become as rubbery as a pirate in a straw hat.” Reaching down with both her hands and pulling her snatch open wide enough to push a person through, the furry woman gave an ottery grin and looked at the top of Honoka’s engorged glans. “If only I garnered some assistance reaching your peak and maybe obtained some water-based lubrication...”

“WE HELP!!”

Ms. Mouse had been busy. They spoke not as a person but as a crowd. Spread out like a horde, there were hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of the little green women piled atop one another. To better describe them, the tiny greenies appeared as a writhing mass rather than a group. When they spoke, they rose up, grabbing onto themselves to create a giant hand made of tiny people, towing upwards at least thirty feet, the index and middle finger parting into a mighty V for victory.

From underneath that hand swelled a glepping and shlurbing wave of ooze, Ms. Hare’s face forming in front while she slowly wrapped her hot, sticky yet viscous, bright pink form all around Honoka’s ten foot long and two feet wide penis, completely engulfing Ms. Hatter inside herself. The furred woman did not struggle long, as the titanic hand shape of all the Ms. Mouses plucked her out of the slimy mess and promptly placed her vagina atop the tip of Honoka ginormous chocolate knob.

Then the hand made of tiny goblin women pushed the rubber otter woman downward and used the lubrication of the goo snake woman to bring a penis that was longer and larger than Ms. Hatter’s whole furry body inside her elastic snatch.

“Finally,” Honoka emphasized, immobilized by the oppressive weight of her penis and the gargantuan girth of her testicles, “the time has cum. Thick and fast, I can cum at last!” Honoka was in euphoria. In fact, more relieved than any other emotion, but euphoria remained a quality descriptor.

And long it would not be, all the almosts and nearly theres thrusting Honoka into a state where she already felt the boulders between her legs shoving themselves up into her body and what felt like a torrent of semen building up at the base of her cock. The last twitches, those final contractions leading up to the point of no return, squeezed themselves out from her massive urethra, her penis growing to a size unheard of except in only the lewdest of mythologies. Ms. Hatter, little more than a rubberized sheath, frantically moved up and down the top half of the shaft by a hand of tiny women and propelled along by the slickness of another woman’s oozy body.

*SPLOOOOOSH!!*

In the ultimate example of cock blocking, the entire grassy knoll suddenly became drenched in the coldest of ice water.

“NO!!” Honoka cried, her penis quickly shrinking as she tumbled and stumbled while being tossed like laundry in a river, the other women in no better shape when they collectively shivered from the claws of the coldest of waters.

It took a few moments for the water to dissipate, women to collect themselves and lastly, for everyone to gain a sense of mind to search around themselves. Above them all, towering in the height of five hundred feet (152.4 m), likely weighing nearly one hundred thousand tons (90,718 mt) - three hundred tons (272 mt) in her breasts alone, each the size of a quaint cottage - more massive than any single building or structure Honoka ever witnessed, was a young woman with the upper body of a maiden and the lower body of a cheetah. She wore regal velvets and lace, wearing a large crown on her head and glared down on everyone with rage and disdain. In her hands was an enormous bucket and a scepter, her tail swishing back and forth like an irritated cat.

Bending down, the giantess Queen studied all the gathered women, sniffed with the power of a gale, and announced with regal authority:

“OFF WITH HER HEAD!!”