Sensitivity

CW: Hypnosis, Corruption, Free use, Transformation

The part of her that had once been a student knew the topology behind it. A coffee mug and a bagel were the same shape, mathematically speaking. Extending a surface or adding a depression while maintaining the map of the surface, just with some distortion. Roughly speaking, the nervous system of the human body she had been born with was well described as a two dimensional surface. She had always been fond of being touched on her temples, scalp, over her ears. It made total sense, really. Her new body was more or less the same as it had always been. None of that cool rationalization made a difference when her soft, sensitive horns were being played with in someone's mouth. No thoughts, just guttural moans and animalistic screams. Every time, she thought she would be used to it. Every time, she found some part of herself surprised at how quickly instincts took over.

Blossom logically knew that she had always been a bit of a slut. She had kept a special collar necklace with ornate tendril patterns on her at all times. It was to be slipped around her neck as a silent signal to those in the know that she was in the mood to be used. Those in her circle of trust knew to listen for No, but assume Yes first, and that was how she liked it. Hands grabbing her, thrusting her into laps, bursts of laughter and shared pleasure. Cozy, sweat drenched relaxing in a lover’s arms afterward.

Not when she was studying of course. Sometimes one is busy, and she let her energy out by fidgeting instead of sex. She doodled on her arms with soft markers, loving the look of marked skin. Long, beautiful strokes that mimicked her collar, weaving and spiraling all over her. They were somewhere between vines and tentacles, and they felt magical to her. Her body craved to be adorned and beautiful just as much as it craved to be used.

When exactly had the contract started curling around her body like a gentle vine on its own? She couldn't remember exactly, the memories seemed blotted, faded. Insubstantial and misty. Eventually, just as her lovers did, the ink no longer needed to ask to touch her skin wherever it pleased.

At first, Blossom was surprised when the lines traced the shape of that collar all on their own, but realized she had not taken it off for anything but to bathe in months. She was surrounded by those she trusted. After a few fun encounters with friends who slipped into her showers, she realized she had been missing out by taking it off at all. She always wanted this. That had been when she first felt the strange tingling on her temples and back. Not a painful sensation, but a sort of feeling of growing, extending.

It was a far smoother and quicker transition than the one she took hormones for had been. Each morning for the first few weeks, whomever she woke up with would remark about those cute bumps on her temples. Small, soft, pink skin, and surprisingly sensitive. Longer they grew, jutting out from her messy hair, a visible display of her body’s exciting transformation.

The first time someone grabbed them while fucking her she had nearly orgasmed from the touch alone. When someone first licked one, she immediately leaked clear fluids all over herself. Blossom’s spine curled, extended, and grew new tail muscles shortly after her horns came in, and by that point there was no questioning her nature. Not that she had ever been one to hide what she truly was.

Her studies had grown less important to her with each passing day. She wasn’t exactly sure when she stopped being human and became pactbound. Perhaps it was when she had first heard the soothing voice of the living contract that drifted across her skin? Maybe she had always been pactbound. She had always bounced her leg when she was excited, and now her tail wagged all on its own.

Blossom’s tail may have simply been an extension of structures already present in her body from birth, but it still felt like nothing she had ever known as a human when one of her lovers pulled her by it. The complete submission, the absolute hedonistic release of whimpering and panting like a dog it brought on.

It was funny to think back to those early days when the lines of her binding companion were still made of ink. Back to when her body was still human shaped. So many smudged sheets it had caused! Not that the horns didn't occasionally rip fabrics. It had become easier to wear less and less as the transformation had progressed. Her skin had become so sensitive that anything but translucent linens drove her mad. Why hide a body that gleamed with the ornate pattern of winding marks on soft skin? Why hide the hickeys, scratches, and bruises that reminded her of her most recent escapades?

Eventually, the place between her legs that she had always liked being rubbed, always called her pussy, slowly parted and opened. She knew better than to question how her body knew to reshape itself, and simply flung herself into the new avenues of pleasure it allowed her. There was a special kind of intimacy in sliding herself down some girl’s cock until their balls rubbed against each other with each thrust. When strong hands gripped her by the tail and horns like handles, sensations were beyond description. So she simply didn't bother trying.

The voice of the pact that wound around her body was a constant companion. It kept her safe, reminded her to give her body and her love fully to all who deserved it. To exist proudly as she was without fear, to show her horns rather than try to hide anything about herself. After all, that was what made her happy.

Her pact spoke with her mouth more and more, said things she might have been too shy to admit. She was always glad when it helped her by taking shame out of the equation. What had she been a student of? The memory was insubstantial as sand between her fingers. It didn't matter much anymore. She was finally living the life she had always wanted.