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Hero Rehab: Eepy Hollow
🕑 Added 2023-11-10 14:00:08 +0000 UTCTrigger #113: All Haints Day
Event/Holiday Class: A sacred holiday in the Demon Kingdom of Myrcea where ghosts sleep off their hangovers from the Night Tower Erection Anniversary Party. Woe be to those who wake these spirits from their spirit fuel-ed slumper by walking through the graveyard of the Demon King's border.
Transformation Type: TG, Monstergirl-fication, Decapitation.
Threat Level: Mischievous. The Demon King is a kind ruler who only reforms heroes into their true selves. The ghosts of his army, however, also like to tease their victims with more embarrassing additions.
Subject: Ichitha Crane, Dullahan Centauress, 21, F, formerly Ichabod Crane, Human, AMAB.
The following is a biographical account of events based on the subject's own testimonies and several eyewitness accounts.
Being beheaded was a rather odd sensation, Ichitha decided, but it had its perks.
For one thing, Ichitha had always loved reading on leisurely walks, but burying her nose in her books had been quite terrible for her neck.
But now that her neck was severed from her body, she simply rested her head against her pillowy chest while reading. It was far more comfortable nestling her cheeks against her own soft, warm flesh, though she wouldn't want to be caught dead doing so. Plus, the light of the fire constantly trailing from her neck like a candle made reading in the dark much easier.
Far more alien than that was being half steed. The extra legs she could deal with, and the tail swatted away flies, but she felt MASSIVE. Her rotund rear often bumped into trees and gravestones on her patrols. Once she'd even knocked over a rather large fir tree with only a careless sway of her hips. If a dullahan fells a tree in a forest, but no one is around to hear it, it's still mortifying.
Being a woman, however... felt strangely natural to Ichitha. Sure, her breasts were bigger than she'd have chosen, even bigger than her own mother's, but even so, they rested in her new silken clothes like a warm embrace. Sometimes she'd even hug them close to herself and giggle. Her voice was almost musical now, a rich soprano wafting through the trees as she hummed old drinking songs to herself. Her hair rested along her back like a nice blanket of rich ebony thread, and trailed like smoke behind her. The only real downside was the overwhelming heat of her estrus period, although that was more the equinity's fault than the femininity. Out here in the borderlands between the Demon Realm and the Hollow, she didn't have any real companions to share her bed with, and thus, no real relief from her powerful urges. Regardless, being a girl suited Ichitha just fine. The village boys had called her quite womanish, after all, despite Bromm's warnings to throttle them.
Bromm.
Ichitha paused in her story mid sentence.
She missed Bromm.
She missed his brutish strength, how he would lift whole sacks of flour to save the old miller's back.
She missed his debonaire smile, how he would regale the townsfolk with tall tales and myths he'd heard from travelers and heroes.
She missed how he would always rope her into his mischief, make her a somewhat unwilling, but secretly thrilled accomplice to his pranks.
It had been about a month since she had been dared to venture into the Demons' Graveyard by some of the men of the village. Bromm hadn't been there to stop him, he was off in Foothill helping one of the farmers sell their latest harvest.
They said she wasn't a "real man", that real men weren't "cowards" like her, who refused to fight in the King's senseless war on Demon-kind to teach schoolchildren. She didn't even want to be a man, not really, but for some reason, had still craved their acceptance and approval. If being a man was her lot in life, she wanted to be a good one, a great one, even.
Now, she trudged through the graveyard of sleeping ghost women, her hooves much lighter than her boots had been. She remember them waking up when she stepped on a twig. They took umbrage with her interrupting their beauty sleep, and thus, decided to make an ass of her.
Literally.
She remembered the spirits slinking and seeping inside her body, like a splash of ice water soaks into clothes.
Her skin grew pale, soft, and hairless.
Her frame molded into slender curves like an ornate candlestick.
Her chest melted and ballooned into great big globs of fat.
Her ass grew hairier, and ripped her poor pants into absolute tatters.
She whinnied in humiliation when her manhood was twisted in on itself, molded into her maidenhood.
And finally, the cherry on top. Or rather, the lack of one.
One of the ghost girls picked up an old farmer's scythe, and with a sickeningly clean swipe, cut her head clean off.
Ichitha carried this scythe with her now. It was enchanted, of course, any who dared cross into the Demon Realm with ill intent would become demons themselves with the flick of her blade. But it had been a good long while since that happened. The last time she'd used it, she'd turned a spoiled prince with illusions of grandeur into a humble porcine farmgirl. She mostly used it for trimming the hedges around the cemetery now.
A snapping of a branch underfoot.
Ichitha's equine ears twitched, and pulled her from her story.
There was an intruder.
Whoever they were, they had certainly caught her in quite the state. She had no time to fumble her head out from between her breasts and ready her scythe as the looming figure emerged from the shadowy brush.
Dark, caramel hair. A stone-set jaw, broken nose, and kind eyes. Arms like the trunks of a great oak.
"Bromm...?" the words escaped her lips before she could stop herself. Somehow, the name tasted even sweeter on her tongue now than it ever had before.
She didn't even notice the pitchfork he carried until he lowered it in surprise.
"How do you know me, beast?" he growled, suspicious.
Ichitha couldn't help but take a step back, hooves clicking against the cobblestone path. Beast. The name stung her ears. To be called beastly by such a dear friend hurt to be sure, and yet, part of her was relieved she wasn't immediately recognized. Somehow she didn't want him to see her as the same old "Ichabod."
"B-Bromm..." she managed, quaking slightly, "It... it's me... it's Ichabo-... well, Ichitha, now..."
Bromm studied her face long and hard, until recognition softened his steely gaze...
'... Icky...? Is... is that really you...?" Bromm said barely above a whisper, dropping his pitchfork onto the leafy ground in pure shock. "Gods... what did they DO to you...?"
"Yes... um, it is q-quite the change, isn't it? But p-please don't be afraid, I know I look a bit... out of sorts. But it's not as bad as you'd think! The Demon King found me here after the ghosts had their way with me, and he was really rather kind! He took me in, he even gave me a job and a nice place to live, and all the books I could read! I'm actually quite happy here, all things considered..." Ichitha folded her legs in and sat in the soft grass. She hoped it would comfort her friend somewhat if she didn't loom over him so.
Bromm was hesitant, but after a moment, steeled himself, and sat beside her.
"I thought you were DEAD Ich-...itha. I came back from the city market to find out you'd been sent here by those... BASTARDS at the Tavern... for FUCK'S sake, they didn't even come LOOKING for you, those COWARDS!" Bromm raged in the Hollow's direction, his voice rising.
"Shhh, careful! You definitely don't want to wake the dead around here. Don't go losing your head on me now..." Ichitha smiled softly.
They stared at each other for a moment, before Bromm burst into uproarious laughter.
She quickly pressed her palm to his lips to try and silence him, but his great belly-laugh was infectious, and she couldn't help but giggle along.
Eventually, Bromm collected himself.
"Gods... GODS I missed you, Icky. None one in the village could ever turn a phrase like you..." Bromm sighed, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Well... there were a few star pupils in my class with quite the silver tongue when it came to collecting homework... uhm, speaking of... I've been wondering... my children... are they...?" Ichitha asked fretfully.
"Safe and sound, "Miss Crane", although... they were almost as heartbroken as I was when you disappeared..." Bromm said kindly.
"Heartbroken?" Ichitha smiled wryly, raising a thin eyebrow at him.
"Well, I mean, you were missed, is all...." Bromm said, cheeks burning a nice crimson.
"Indeed... well, I can't exactly trot back into the Hollow like this, can I? The schoolchildren might harass me for pony-rides, and how would I ever get them to pay attention in class again?" Ichitha said with a melancholic chuckle.
"Yeah... no... we can't go back... they'd never believe you weren't some spy or demonic spawn sent to corrupt their children and steal their women." Brom said, sighing heavily.
"Well that's ridiculous, I'm not even interested in women!" Ichitha said with a huff. Bromm looked at her with sudden interest. Now it was her turn to turn red.
"Er, that is... I mean... wait, did you just say 'we'?" Ichitha asked.
"Yeah, 'we'. I'm not going back there without you, Ichitha. So, is the Demon King still taking fresh recruits, or what?"
"But that's your home! You can't just leave your home behind!" Ichitha said insistently, now holding out her head much closer to his.
"You're right. I can't."
"Well then you need to go back! I can escort you as far as the outer forest, and from there you should be safe to-"
"Ssshhhhh..." Bromm pressed a finger to her lips. He took her head in his hands, and she allowed him to take it, and bring it even closer to himself.
"You're my home, Ichitha. You've always been my home... man or woman... horse or human... it was always you. Even if I was too much of a coward to say it, back then..."
The red in her cheeks burned almost as hot as the fire that now roared from her neck. Her body squirmed and wiggled as her head was held perfectly still in Bromm's massive hands.
"O-Ooh... Are... you... SURE...? Surely you can do far better than m-mmphf?!"
Bromm raised her head and brought her lips to his.
Their lips curled against each other. They shared one breath together, each tasting the sickly sweetness of the other.
They both came up for air.
"Still think I'm not sure?" Bromm smirked mischievously.
"I might yet need some convincing, keep going." Ichitha smiled back.
Bromm brought her lips back to his and they rolled in the grass together, giggling between long, deep kisses. There was something deeply comforting about letting her head rest in another's hands for a change. She trusted Bromm with her life. Surely she could trust him with her head.
He held her close to his chest. She felt as if she could lay on his breast forever. But then, a rich musk from just below Bromm's belt wafted up to her.
Something wet matted the fur between her legs. Her breathes were deeper, greedier now...
She looked up into Bromm's deep, kind eyes.
"I want you. I want to feel your cock in my mouth." she begged.
"Are... are you sure...?" Bromm asked, excited, but careful.
Ichitha smiled coyly. "Who's the unsure one, now?"
"Okay, okay, just... remember to take breaths, okay? And, um, if you're choking at all, just uh, fuck it, just bite me or something, okay?" Bromm winced, carefully untying his belt with her head on his lap. Ichitha knew such precautions were unnecessary, but appreciated the thought none the less.
The massive, thick sausage link Bromm called his cock slapped onto his thigh near Ichitha's lips, already half hard. Gently, Bromm raised her lips to his member. She puckered, kissing the round mushroom cap sitting on his shaft, before opening wide and taking the thing on whole.
Ichitha didn't quite know how her esophagus worked, quite yet. There was nothing below her head far as she could tell, no hole for food to fall through. When she ate or drank, food always ended up right where it needed to be despite there being no bridge between the two. She could only guess it was teleported or tethered by magic.
Regardless, this meant she basically had no gag reflex. She could let Bromm in for as deep and as long as she wanted. She let the tip of his cock squish against the roof of her mouth, drag against every ridge of her gums, then pass down whatever shadowy corridor lead to the rest of her.
Bromm was grunting like an animal in heat, like a wild boar pressing into its mate.
"Hnnng, fuck... yes.... fuck... YES... YES... ICHITHA! I'M GOING TO-!"
A salty sweet ichor gushed down her throat like aged wine mixed with warm honey.
Bromm swore and apologized, raising her head for her to spit it out. She swallowed instead, despite the taste being rather peculiar and new to her. Bromm chuckled and brought her to his chest again, laying back in the grass to catch his breath.
"Fuck... Ichitha... that was amazing... you were amazing... now then... what can I do for you...?" Bromm asked, staring deep into Ichitha, waiting like a loyal soldier.
Ichitha rubbed her legs together and heat radiated from between them. She decided they could figure out an arrangement for her new anatomy later.
"Right now? Just kiss me again. Although if you'd prefer, I suppose we can wash my mouth out real quick first if you have a flask or-MMMFH?!"
Bromm brought her lips to his and kissed her long and deep, sharing his on taste on her tongue.
He pulled back and grinned.
"What kind of cowardly fop makes his wife suck his cock without the decency to kiss her afterward?" Bromm said.
"W-Wife?!" Ichitha sputtered, her cheeks burning Bromm's hands.
"Shit, sorry, that just kind of slipped out. Don't wanna move too fast and spoil things. We can give it some time, take things slow for a bit, if you'd prefer?" Bromm said, his turn to go red.
Ichitha stared into Bromm's deep, wonderfully brown eyes in quiet astonishment, and smiled, her hoofs pawing at the ground.
"If you insist... although, you'll find I'm not exactly equipped to 'take things slow' anymore...
...why don't you hop on my back and I'll show you?"
From the desk of
Mira Alcott
Head-Mistress of Transformations
(Special thanks to Smoke Midlands for the suggestion, to my Test Readers, and to all of my Patrons for your support!)
Comments
Andrew Harding
Hmm. You know, that plot point about the prince becoming a farmgirl pig could make a pretty good story in its own right. Hint hint.
Matthew Force
I’m glad to see a return to this setting, but I miss the original style of sequences.
TashaTheWitchQueen
Hehe “Oh no now I’m an adorable horse wife with a massive ass that bumps into things! >///<“ I know you enjoyed writing that, very nice Mira. Seems like a happy ending except for the kids who lost their beloved teacher, hopefully someone stepped in.
BlackCat1989
I wonder what severed head blowjobs feel like... I can't believe I wrote that sentence
