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Ms. Feb 23: Fine Irish Lass
🕑 Added 2023-03-10 14:00:04 +0000 UTCTrigger #106: Leprechaun's Irish Blessing
Creature Class: A traditional leprechaun released from S.L.A.Y captivity by the recent earthquake in Sala City. Like other fey, she likes to play tricks on unsuspecting folk, especially those not wearing green on Saint Patrick's Day.
Transformation Type: Transformation of Gender, Breast and Ass Expansion, Language change.
Threat Level: Benign. Mostly harmless, all things considered. Just likes pulling little pranks.
Subjects: Connie Bradford, 22, F, formerly Connor Bradford, 22, AMAB.
The following is a biographical account of events based on the subject's own testimonies and several eyewitness accounts.
"May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live. May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent. May God grant you many years to live, for sure He must be knowing the earth has angels all too few and heaven is overflowing. Here's to a long life and a merry one, a quick death and an easy one, (being) a pretty girl and an honest one, a cold beer and another one!" -Old Irish Blessing
Connor believed himself to be the unluckiest man to ever walk the face of the earth. He'd lost his wallet no less then 12 times. Deep puddles of mud tended to attract his foot like magnets, or cars to drive by and soak him head to toe. He often found himself in the most ridiculously unfortunate circumstances possible. Locked out of his house, naked. Trapped in an elevator for 12 hours. Trapped in a revolving door for three hours. Trapped on an ESCALATOR for two hours (don't ask how that one happened, it's a sore spot for him.)
Flat tires. Banana peels. He'd even almost been flattened by a piano for fuck's sake, but was pulled out of the way last minute by his friend.
Worst of all was Connor's luck with women. He'd been harshly rejected, cheated on, and stood up more times than he could count on one hand. He really couldn't catch a break in the romance department.
Connor believed in his heart of hearts he was born unlucky. There was roughly speaking a 50/50 shot of him getting what he'd always secretly wanted at birth... but it was no use.
So when a Leprechaun literally cursed him on Saint Patrick's day, he was surprised to be sure, but deep down he wasn't really surprised at all. All because he'd spilled pasta sauce on his one green shirt and had forgotten to clean it...
He'd had a date at a nice bar with a cute girl that day. Of course, he ran into traffic, had to save a cat from a tree, and fell down a manhole, so by the time he got to the bar she'd already left in frustration. So Connor decided to get drunk. Very drunk. Pour another pint and forget you have work tomorrow drunk.
The bar cut him off eventually of course, so in a stupor, he stumbled out into the street, last drink still in hand, and headed home, humming sea shanties under his breath.
It was just then, just his luck, that he bumped into the short, stout Leprechaun woman who had, unbeknownst to him, just escaped from a high security MOM facility.
The Leprechaun, wandering around town on this luckiest of days, was handing out clovers to anyone not wearing green. It was a simple spell, the three leaf clovers simply dyed their clothes green with a glamour. The four leaf clovers, on the other hand...
"Sh-Shorry about tha' lady..." Connor slurred, swaying back and forth, a big doofy grin on his rose red face. "Cool coshtume, by the way..."
"Ah, no need to worry yerself, lad. Can't help but notice ye aren't wearin' any green, tho. Are ye still sober enough t'know what day it is?" the leprechaun asked in high pitched, irish brogue.
"Oh yeah, shorry about tha'... jusht... didn't haf anything green, y'know...?" Connor said, trying, and failing, to take a step around the little woman.
"Oh, I can fix that for ye, lad. Here's a little gift for ye. Take yer pick!" the leprechaun said, lifting a hat full of clovers up to Connor as an offering.
"Gee, thanksh!" Connor stuck his hand in, and drunkenly pulled out a clover.
Four leaves.
The Leprechaun smiled.
"Looks like yer a lucky one, 'lass'" the Leprechaun said with a knowing grin.
"What do you mean by las-" Connor started, before the clover glowed and seared his eyes shut like a flashbang going off in his hand.
Warm light trickled its way down his body like running water. Everywhere it touched felt prickly as every stray hair under his eyebrows pushed its way out of his body entirely. Legs, arms, chest and face were as smooth and supple as carved marble, save for some tasteful freckles that dotted his chest, thighs, and cheeks.
Speaking of cheeks, they burned red hot on Connor's face, and that wasn't the alcohol talking anymore. The flash had sobered him up instantly, and he was keenly away as some force crawled its way under his skin, raising his cheekbones, smoothing his brow, shrinking his nose and plumping his lips. He blinked, something was in his eye. A stray eyelash? He was half right. His eyelashes were growing, curling, like his eyes themselves, growing more cute and feminine. And that wasn't the only thing.
Connor was half Irish on his mother's side, but not Irish enough to get the beautiful flowing red locks she had. Until now. The color bled into every strand until his muddy brown hair was long, silky, a flickering red-orange like firelight. There was a murmuring, bubbling sound in Connor's chest. Heartburn from all the drinking earlier? No, it didn't hurt, it wasn't acid, it was... fat. Great pools of fat and adipose tissue billowed out from some unknown faucet just under Connor's skin. His ribcage and shoulders bended and twisted to better support the new shape of his plump breasts.
A giant, invisible hand squeezed Connor's waist in, squishing all the remaining fat down into his chest, hips, and thighs. The last change was the most drastic. Connor felt his cock harden with pleasure. The part of his mind not paralyzed with shock was unbelievably turned on by the newly swollen weight on his chest, and the quiet swaying of his massive hips. There was a last, desperate growth spurt out of the unwanted appendage, before it receded inside Connor like a gopher returning to it's den, leaving a brand new burrow in its wake.
And just like that, Connor was now Connie.
When she finally snapped out of her stupor to speak, her voice had gone up a few octaves, and mimic-ed the leprechaun's own accent. "My hair! My voice! W-Wha the hell didja do to me, ya wee gobshite?!" she groused indignantly.
"Jus' doin' ye a favor, lass. You looked like you could use a little luck o' the Irish, sister..." the leprechaun teased, pulling out a pipe and admiring her good work.
Connie looked at her reflection in the pint of Guinness she forgot she was carrying. She was enamoured with the girl trapped inside the glass for a moment. Then the wind fluttered at her skirt. Wait... her skirt?!
Connie looked down and realized to her horror all her clothes had changed in the blink of an eye. No longer was she wearing a grey tee shirt and skinny jeans. Now, she was adorned in a tight green and white dress that barely covered her naughty bits. The only protection from the frigid New England air she had was a pair of thick white thigh high stockings that only really served to accentuate her new legs.
"Ay mean, jus take a look'it these knockers! Ay look like a fookin HOOR!" she said, her legs squirming as she tried in vain to cover herself.
"Aye, that ye do. Yer welcome fer that, by th' way. Happy Saint Paddy's Day, Lass." And with a smirk, the leprechaun blew a puff of smoke into Connie's face. And after waving and coughing it away, the leprechaun, and any chance of Connie getting her old body back, was gone.
Connie sighed, and put the cup down on top of the nearest recycling bin.
"Well, ain't this jost me luck. Stuck luggin' these baps across the moor. Fookin' leprechaun... can't even walk straight in these sober let alone buckled... gonna end up arse over tea kettle- ACKK! Can't talk straight, neither... Fook..." Connie grumbled as she staggered home in her new high heels, struggling to carry the two new weights on her chest.
Eyes firmly on the ground to keep from tripping over herself, she hadn't noticed the handsome young man she'd bumped into until her face was buried in his chest. He smelled like boy. Something stirred under her skirt as she looked up at him apologetically, chest squished against his.
"Er, sorry 'bout that, mate. N-new shoes an' all..." she mumbled apologetically.
"U-Uh, it's no problem, miss! I, uh- HEY, LOOK OUT!!!" the man shouted, wrapping his arms around Connie and spinning her away from the street. A truck ran across a large puddle, and cold water splashed across the man's back instead of all over Connie's face, like it usually did.
He ignored the cold and looked down at her again. "You ok...?"
Her face was almost as red as her hair. "A-Aye... thanks... sorry bout that, I'm just a wee bit unlucky, you know..." she apologized.
The man was very quiet, still staring at her, transfixed.
"O-Oi? You all there, mate?" Connie squeaked, snapping him out of it.
"O-Oh! I'm so sorry! It's just... you have really pretty eyes..." the man said, releasing her from his warm embrace and rubbing his neck in embarrassment.
That warm feeling swirled around in Connie's stomach. Her heart beat just a little bit quicker. She wasn't used to taking chances, chance didn't favor someone as unlucky as her. Still, she took it nonetheless.
"L-Listen, mate... if ye aren't busy or nothin'... think you could walk a girl to the bus station...? 'S a bit late, and... well, y'kno..." she stammered, combing her hair behind her ears.
"Huh? O-Oh, yeah, sure! Of course! I'm Nolan, by the way," he said, offering the lady his arm.
"Con...nie. Ay'm Connie..." she said, taking it.
"Well Connie... are you busy tomorrow? I'd love to see you again... maybe go for coffee or something...?" Nolan asked, timidly.
Connie smiled warmly.
"Aye... Ay'd like that a lot, I would..."
Maybe her luck was finally about to change.
From the desk of
Mira Alcott
Head-Mistress of Transformations
(Special thanks to Texbot for the suggestion, to my Test Readers, and to all of you for your support!)
(also special thanks to VTSparks for the livestream request that inspired the leprechaun design!)
Comments
Mars Shadow
The luck o' the Irish is strong.
Smoke Midlands
The Pogguers
Dungo Brain
IVE BEEN WANTING A TG STORY LIKE THIS UR THE BEST
Scott McHugh
"Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig!" That's how you say "Happy St. Patrick's Day!" in Gaelic!. My favorite Irish Blessing goes like this: May those who love us, love us. And if they don't love us, may God turn their hearts. And if He can't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so we may know them by their limping!
Kachopper9
Man, I've been wanting to do a TF like this for St Patricks day for a while now
Kitsuie
Also… I fucken love this… my heart flutters for a fine Irish lass like herself
Kitsuie
“she likes to play tricks on unsuspecting folk, especially those not wearing green on Saint Patrick's Day” On one hand I wanna be festive… on the other… big badonkers…
VV
Cute and sexy as always Mira!
Cossaiki
She's so freakin cute! 🥰🥰🥰 Got great Irish cutsy vibe!
Rose Graham
This is soooo cute!
James Raymond
Did tha lass getta wee bit short'r too? Seems like she did.
Violet Velvet
This is absolutely adorable! What a sweet little TG! Freckles are a 10/10 Fun fact: I have Irish ancestry, my deadname is Irish. So this hit a bit home for me. <3
TashaTheWitchQueen
Ahh this Irish Lass’s heart flutters! 💚 Connie is absolutely adorable and I love the dialogue change! Great work as always Miss Mira! 💕
