Of Wives and Wyverns Pt. 01

My wife grimaced and clutched her stomach. I gave her room, and she would need it. Despite her dress, the changes were obvious. She rocked side to side on her shortened legs, widening her stance, and her pelvis broadened with a muffled creaking. Her thighs swelled under her dress, lifting it from her ankles to her knees. Hollow popping signaled a lengthening of her back, and she regained the inches that had been stolen from her legs. Finally, her midsection, which was already a tad rotund, swelled like a water balloon. The floral pattern on her dress distorted as the fabric stretched far beyond its limits.

Fiona's expansion halted, and for a moment it seemed the dress would hold. Then there was a loud ripping, and it gave way. It didn't just tear along a seam, either; it practically disintegrated. She yelped in surprise, and shot her arms out to cover herself. Despite her expansion, she still wasn't fat or flabby. "Rotund" would be a better word, like a dragon from a childrens' cartoon. One arm moved to cover her crotch, but, with her elongated torso, she had to bend to reach. The other arm slapped over her chest. My wife had always been well-endowed, but now her arm easily covered her breasts. Were they smaller, or had her chest simply broadened?

The passengers reacted viscerally. An older woman gasped and covered her mouth. A father turned away and told his children not to stare even as he caught a couple glances himself. A teenage boy furtively pointed his phone's camera in our direction and began to film.

I dropped to the floor and scrambled to gather the shreds of Fiona's dress, but she placed a hand on my back to stop me.

"It's okay, sweety."

I looked up to see that she'd relaxed her other arm, revealing her nudity.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, and I stood up. True, it was perfectly legal, even normal, for transformed individuals to go nude, but I hadn't considered that Fiona might someday do the same, let alone that it would happen so suddenly or so soon.

Her face was calm, but her cheeks burned pink. In fact, her whole belly seemed to be blushing. The skin on her lower body had changed since the last time I saw it. Everything up to her navel was completely smooth and hairless, and the skin between her legs had split into a carpet of bright pink, pebble-like scales. The scales around her pussy glistened with moisture, bringing further attention to her privates.

We waited patiently for our stop. At one point, Fiona bent over, acting like she was gathering the few remaining threads of her dress, but I was in a position to see her grinding her rampantly wet vent against an unused armrest. The musky, exotic scent of her arousal filled our section, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who smelled it.

Fiona's body had none of the graceful strength I'd pictured in my fantasy, but there was power behind her movements nonetheless. At this point, she could have beaten me in a wrestling match. The thought sent a flutter in my stomach.

Fiona's hips got caught in the doorway to our apartment. I placed my hands on her ass cheeks, pushed, and she came loose with a jolt.

She sighed. "Thanks. To think, after all these years of watching my figure, I'm going to turn into a fat wyvern." Fiona turned and embraced me, her bulk pressing me against the door.

"Thank you for coming clean today, Martin. I'm so proud of you."

"I'm glad I did," I said, honestly.

She caressed my cheek and guided my face into a deep, romantic kiss. Despite the shortness of her legs, she was now as tall as me.

"So, if I'm turning into a wyvern, I guess I'm going to lose my hands."

"We don't know that for certain," I said, reaching my hand down my pants to readjust my dick. "The doctor said anything could happen."

Her hand slid sensually down my cheek. "Well if my arms do transform into wings, I'm going to need a human to help me out with all sorts of tasks that require a more delicate touch."

I shrugged and started to squeeze past her. "Well I suppose-"

She braced her arm against the door right in front of my face, blocking my escape. "Suppose? What if I insisted? I already outweigh you, and I'm only going to get bigger. Would you rather see me angry, or pleased?"

That fiendish, playful smile was back. The window's light glinted off teeth that had reshaped into little pointed cones. It sent a chill down my spine and into my groin, causing my penis to flex between us.

"Pleased?" I peeped.

"That's a good boy," she cooed, dragging her hand down to my belt. "If you're really good, maybe I'll let you use this." She punctuated the sentence by flicking button of my pants open and gasping my cock.

I gasped. "Oh, I- I'd like that."

Fiona scoffed, pulling her hand away. "That wasn't a free offer. You have to earn it." She took two steps back and crossed her arms. "First, take off all those silly human clothes."

I nodded eagerly and pulled my pants down, freeing my erection to stand proudly in the air. I hadn't been this hard in years. Fiona licked her lips. I pulled my shirt over my head, kicked off my socks, and stood naked and exposed. My hand started idly stroking my penis.

"Ah! No touching yourself until I say." Fiona ordered. I immediately stopped. "Good. Now stay put and don't move a muscle. I'll know it if you do."

She turned and sauntered over to the couch. After puzzling a moment how exactly to use it, she turned and let herself fall backwards into the cushions. By curling her back, lifting her legs in the air, and gripping the edges for support, she was able to "sit" facing forward. Her tail extended between her legs and rested on the floor below, leaving her underbelly and crotch exposed. She shifted to get comfortable, and the wooden frame of the couch groaned a complaint but held.

"There," she said. "Now come here."

I approached obediently.

"Kneel."

I did so. Her exposed crotch was within arms reach, and the scent of her sex once again filled my nose. Her asshole was now a plump, horizontal slit that pursed and shifted with each twitch of her tail. The opening was covered in thousands of delicate scales that had a darker, reddish color than the others. Just above, her pussy was nothing more than a subtle crease in the scales between her legs, only noticeable as the source of the clear fluid that ran in little rivulets down her tail onto the couch cushions below.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" she rumbled impatiently. "Pleasure me!"

I reached a trembling hand to her pussy, but the tip of her tail slapped it away with startling quickness.

"I still have hands of my own. This time, I want you to use your mouth."

And so I did. I straddled her tail, lowered my face to her dripping-wet vent and went to town. The taste was different than when she was a human. It was the flavor of roasted mushrooms, sweat, and raw sugar. My tongue flicked between her smooth, scaly folds, and Fiona let loose a sigh that sounded very much like a pleasured hiss. I kept my hands off my desperate erection but stole a sliver of relief by humping her tail. If she noticed, she didn't mind.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked between gasps.

"Oh yess," I moaned, only lifting my face enough to form the words.

"Then beg, little human."

The look in her eyes was one of diabolical bliss, and I could no longer tell whether she was acting dominant for my benefit, or if the days of intense lust had finally cracked her. This made the situation even sexier.

"Please, Fiona-"

"Mistress!"

"Please, Mistress," I begged between licks. "Please let me fuck you."

"Yess. . . Do it! Do it now!" she barked impatiently.

I stood, maneuvered the tip of my cock into position, and penetrated her. She was so slick, I hilted myself inside of her on the first thrust. To my surprise, despite her increased size, her pussy was tighter than ever before. It clenched and pursed powerfully around my cock.

"Harder!" she moaned, "faster!"

I obeyed as well as I could, shifting my stance so that I could really plow her. My balls brushed against her swollen asshole with each thrust, and each time it pursed as if to kiss them in thanks.

We were in such ecstasy that it's difficult to remember how long our lovemaking lasted. It couldn't have been more than a minute. Fiona's climax was intense. Her tail lifted between my legs and pressed against my back, forcing me close. She threw her head back, mouth and eyes fixed open in shock. Her passage clenched around the base of my cock with such strength that I'm not sure I would have been able to pull myself free even if I wanted to.

My climax started halfway through her own, and, to this very day, I believe it was the best orgasm I ever had.

We remained intertwined, slack-muscled and panting, for a few moments before sliding onto the carpet below. There we laid together, steeping in the hot wash of our afterglow, letting our emotions wordlessly intermingle. The tender, caring touch was back in Fiona's face, and I was relieved to see it.

"You're really good at playing the 'big, dominant dragon,'" I said.

"It helps to have such an excellent costume," she giggled. "And besides, you're not the only one who dabbles in a sexy fantasy from time to time."

I propped myself up on an elbow and looked at her. "Is that so? You fantasize about dominating me?"

"Oh no," Fiona's eyes bashfully dodged mine. "I just had a good idea about what you wanted because it's similar to what I'd want."

"You're going to have to do better than that."

"I know, I know," She sighed. "I like to imagine being a pet."

"A pet?"

"Yeah. You know, just lazing around the house all day, waiting for my master to get home, throwing myself at his feet when he finally arrives. He takes care of me, and in return I do anything he wants." She bit her lower lip and looked me in the eyes. "Anything."

"I see."

She buried her face in my shoulder. "It's silly, I know."

I kissed her neck. "Oh, I don't think so. I wouldn't mind having a pet wyvern from time to time."

She looked into my eyes with immense relief. "You're serious? Oh, thank you so much, Martin." she gushed, wrapping her tail around me and hugging tight. "You'd make a good master. It's going to be a lot easier to embrace these changes knowing you'll be there for me, wherever they lead."

"I'll always be here for you."

We sat in silence for a moment, then a smile tugged at her lips. "Maybe you could have me on a leash for my change party?"

At this I bolted up. "Change party? You didn't say anything about a change party!"

"I am now. Come on, we can have it in the park. It won't cost us a dime."

I felt sick to my stomach. "When?"

"Soon. The day after tomorrow? I don't want to be too. . . far gone when it happens."

I begrudgingly agreed. The thought of having a change party filled me with profound dread, but I pushed the worries aside. After this evening's excellent sex, I was confident the worst was over. No matter what happened in the coming days, we would endure it easily.

I was wrong.

- 3-

"I told you. I don't need it," Fiona said. Her annoyance was on the edge of anger.

Nevertheless, I waved the bedsheet toward her once again. "No one needs clothes. We still wear them. It'll be fashionable, like a gown."

"For the last time, no. I count the right to go nude as a silver lining in this whole affair, and I'm not going to let you steal it away."

She crossed her arms over her chest. It would be inappropriate to say her breasts. As of that morning, she no longer had any. Pecs perhaps, or generously 'moobs,' but not womanly breasts.

"Now stop wasting time," she continued. "There's a lot of work to do."

"Fine." I tossed the sheet back into our linen closet with a resigned sigh.

I had made peace with the body Fiona had last night, but the changes were relentless. It wasn't the loss of her breasts that was putting me on edge, it was what replaced them. The pecs, like her legs and stomach, continued a disturbing pattern. They were humanoid and draconic, and yet they were completely out-of-step with a transition from one form into the other. Whatever she was becoming, it certainly wasn't what I had been envisioning on that fateful birthday night. I wracked my memory, desperately searching for stray thoughts which might hold some clue as to what form she- and I- would be stuck with for the rest of our days, but all that was left were vague images, like sand drawings on the beach that had endured a wave.

I hoped with all my heart that the potion had run its course, but the steady creep of pink scales up her torso threatened that these wouldn't be the last unwelcome transformations.

"Are you all packed?"

"Yup!" I sat on my floral-print suitcase and zipped it up. This was the luggage we'd bought for our original honeymoon to the Island Provinces. Now the collection of like-new bags were stuffed with enough clothes and comfort items to last our month-long stay in the Bureau's temporary transformee housing.

The closest bus stop to our new building was only a kilometer away, but with our heavy bags, it was still quite a trek. I stopped halfway, set my backpack and suitcase on the ground, and stretched my aching shoulders.

At this, Fiona was surprised. "Why are you stopping? We're almost there."

"Let's take a break. No need to injure ourselves."

"I'm not tired at all. Here, let me help."

I laughed, assuming she was making a joke. She unhooked one of her pack's straps, leaned over, and hoisted my own backpack onto her free shoulder. Ropes of muscle in her lower back bulged with a casual strength.

"Careful!"

"I'm fine," she smirked. "Next time I'll use the 'for him' set, and you can carry 'for her.'"

I gave a mirthless chuckle, and we continued.

Our government-provided apartment was larger than our actual home. It had the same number of bedrooms and bathrooms, but everything was, well, bigger. Bigger sofa, bigger toilet, bigger bed. Fiona rushed from room to room, delighting in how easy it was to pass through the doors.

"And look how little clutter there is for my tail to knock down!"

Like the Bureau's office, the whole place was done in easy-to-clean, waterproof materials. The floors were rigid foam mats that reminded me of gym class. Our bed had been spared plastic sheets and was instead outfitted with white linens for which there was a twice-daily laundering service, free of charge.

"I feel like a queen!" Fiona squealed, dashing to meet me in the kitchen. She picked up quite a bit of speed, and each heavy footfall rattled the silverware and plates. "You know they have a cafeteria that offers free delivery three times a day? It's like we're already at a resort!

"I'm sure food in the island provinces is a lot better than whatever government-sanctioned slop they'll feed us here. And don't get too carried away. We're only here for a month, and then we're going to be back in our old apartment until the lease is up."

Moving in took less time than expected, and I started to regret using my last sick day at work. My next absence would be unexcused. Tomorrow was the change party, and I couldn't miss it. Fiona spent the next few hours sending out invites. The day was practically boring until I heard a yelp from the bathroom.

"Martin! Get in here!" I was on my feet before I knew it. I dashed into the bathroom to find Fiona standing in the center of the room, tears streaming down her face.

"What's wrong?"

"It's gone!" she sobbed.

"What? What's gone?" I said, glancing around

"My pussy! I. . . I can't find it!"

I leaned in for a closer look. I ran my fingertip along the scaled crease that had marked her sex yesterday, but there was nothing. The only trace of her opening was a patch of quickly drying lubricant. It would be washed away with her next shower.

"You're right. It's closed up."

"What the fuck, Martin!?" she shrieked. "You didn't say anything about this! How in Freya's name am I supposed to deal with my insane libido if I don't have a pussy to rub? How are we going to fuck?"

I laid my hand on her bulbous belly. "Try to calm down. You're probably getting your cloaca."

Fiona sniffed. "My what?"

"Your cloaca. It's the kinda junk wyverns have. That's what I was picturing when I was fucking you."

"They don't have pussies?" she asked, her voice calmer but still quavering. "What's a cloaca like?"

"Their assholes do double duty. They use it for, you know, doing their business, but they also use it for reproduction. I can't believe you haven't heard of this."

"You're the kinky fucker, not me," she snipped. "Sorry. I'm a little freaked out right now."

"It's okay," I said, standing.

"So how does it work? Do I consciously 'change modes,' or is it automatic? Or are both paths available all the time and you have to aim carefully when we're fucking?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. You're the one with a cloaca. Why don't you bend over and we'll see what we can learn?"

Fiona smiled a sultry grin. She turned around, braced her hands on the toilet seat and lifted her tail. "Alright Doctor Swan, proceed with your examination."

I knelt behind her. There was no missing her remaining opening. It had taken on the cartoonish proportions of her tail and hips. Her scales grew smaller and darker as they neared the center, becoming delicate enough to be mistaken for maroon-colored flesh near the center. The opening itself appeared as a horizontal fold, but the knot of flesh stood proudly from the area's elegant curves. Her pucker had about as much muscle mass as one of my biceps, and it twitched powerfully in anticipation.

I popped my finger in my mouth to lube it up, touched it to the wrinkled skin of her opening, and paused. "Um. . . Do you need to use the bathroom before we start?"

Fiona blushed. "That's why I came in here. I haven't felt the need to go in days. I'm starting to get worried."

Demon-cum potions had a tendency to alter the drinker's metabolism in strange and mystical ways. Many transformees subsisted by absorbing mana from the atmosphere and neither ate nor excreted waste. Of course, this was not always the case.

"Well then, let's hope for the best. Try to relax."

She unclenched, and her asshole dilated to nearly double its size. I took a deep breath, squinted, and pressed my finger into the center. For some reason, I was surprised at how easily it slid in.

"Ready when you are, babe," Fiona said.

"Um."

I pulled my finger loose, half expecting a torrent of filth, but thankfully, there was none, only a small dollop of clear, viscous lubricant. I gathered it with my fingers, and pushed two inside, then three.

My wife gasped. "Oh! There you are."

"How does it feel?" I asked, inserting my fourth finger with little resistance. Her lubricant coated my hand in a slick film, and I pushed easily into her silky depths until only my thumb was left outside.

"It's different. I kind of feel like I'm taking a crap."

I folded my thumb and pressed it in to the second knuckle. "How about now?"

She gasped once again. "How many fingers do you have in me right now?"

"Five," I responded.

"Five?!" Her opening clenched shut with surprise, pulling my hand all the way inside with a wet slurp.

Last week, if you had asked, I would not have expected myself to end up elbow-deep in a wyvern's behind, and I certainly wouldn't have expected that behind to belong to my wife. I used my fingers to gently prod around at her insides, trying to figure out what was going on. I didn't feel any "forks in the road" so to speak, or encounter any unpleasantness.

"Does this feel like your pussy did? At all?"

"Not really," she said through clenched teeth. "It feels weird, not really pleasurable."