LlunaBlue Is just a blue fuzzy creature, going about her day (and whatever activity that may be,) so desperately unaware of the incoming storm that is the meeting of this incarnation of her multiversally-intertwined corruptive squirrel. Or perhaps these particular two have already met, and it is merely a matter of moments before they reach critical corruptive capacity together... Balros There's just, something, about mice girls. Short, cute, sweet, thin in some ways, so deliciously thick in others. Looking at a mousegirl can lead one to make many assumptions. She's so short and cute, she must be young. She's got a bigger butt and thick thighs, though, she must be a breeder. There's this big squirrel guy holding a leash tied to her collar, she must be his girlfriend. The collar itself is snug around your thoat and serves a lot of purposes. All the mass, growth, breeding and corruption within you is kept condensed, restrained within your cute form. The ass and assets of someone four times your age is as much as you can reveal; straining as hard as you can only makes your breasts grow to C-cups and your butt to two sweaty soccerballs. It also kept you somewhat quiet - voiceless, only able to speak in squeaks and soft sounds and softer facial expressions. It also kept your errant mutations under check. "Come along, Lluna." Balros murmurs, tugging your leash as he steps onto the public transit bus. Pushing past people, giving everyone a good look and grope'n'grind opportunity to your sweet body. All the way to the back of the bus, where there's still no seats and little space to stand. Every time someone touches you, your tum fattens and swells; Balros stands there with one hand on your blue-furred belly, slowly stroking and kneading the plush gut on his favorite girl. LlunaBlue The mousegurl didn't have any memory of how she'd met him, and she didn't much care for trying to remember... practically the only thing swirling around her pretty head was "my boyfriend... my boyfriend... must please my boyfriend... must do as he demands... must... must grow..." She feels the energy of those stranger's prying fingers soak into her body as she passes them. Each brush makes her ovaries heat up and throb. Every squeeze makes all of her eggs burst into four copies. Every little tug on her leash reminds reminds her to hold it all in as best as she can until her wonderful squirrel boyfriend says she may let loose. She is a bomb of corruptive energy waiting to explode, and every quivering inch of her is DESPERATE. Balros A pretty little head sloshing with hormones and fucklust was all you needed; he gave you more than that, of course, to fully enjoy the depravity of your own thoughts and body. Brainmeats to process the sensitive nerve endings that electrified your hot and tight, plush mousebody. Enough knowledge to understand all the different facial expressions on people when they look at you - and enough corruption to take pleasure from all of them regardless. Around you, pants are tenting and cheeks are blushing as busriders behold the ball of belly you're sporting at the back of the bus, the apparent weight of it meaning little to your svelte frame. Inside, your ovaries are huge, big as your fists; how much of you is fat or womb is indescernable. The blue furred potbelly has pushed forward far enough that your shirt has lifted and your navel revealed; still an innie, still so soft. To onlookers eyes, Balros briefly lifts your swell to show off the fat camel-toe of mousepussy in your shorts. LlunaBlue So much more brain capacity and intelligence had been crammed into her head, and all of it still dedicated to the whims and desires of her beloved. She clenches her thighs together as her plump cunny is shown off, partially out of a need to make every move of herself alluring and sexual, and also possibly a remnant of when she were capable of feeling embarrassed to do such a thing. Every bus parton she makes eye contact with feels their brains grow more dense with neurons- synapses dedicated to processing and appreciating what's in front of them. More energy flows into her from every ogling direction, and she softly squeakmoans as her ovaries inflate further, punching against her fat gut that's dense with eggs that vibrate like supercharged atoms. Every second she's made to wait before releasing feels like another mile is going to be caught in the ensuing shockwave... she places a paw on your shoulder and squeakmoans pleadingly, the noise both a begging for sweet release and a submissive reassurance that she shall wait until your allow it. Balros With your thickened thighs and widened, birthing hips, that thigh-clench does a lot to squish your sex against the fabric of your shorts and show off your enriched fucktunnel. Your legs have plenty of padding and plenty of people stare, their gaze gratifying your gorgeous mind. That faint blush on your cheek, showing off a hint of original personality; Balros gives a sliiiight adjustment to your collar to let you feel the fiery flames of crimson cheeks, cranking up the humiliation aspect of being shown off. Especially, especially when you make eye contact with anyone and you recognize what you're doing to them, the winces and eye-fluttering of their minds being adjusted with just a look. Soon they begin blushing back out of embarassment, too. Balros gives a long, slow swipe across your swollen middle as it punches forward an inch, two inches bigger in every direction, a jolting leap of jiggling size akin to failed compression. Gasps and whimpers and shamed whispers flush through the bus as more people realize they -want- you and don't know why. Some squirm because their bodies want to fuck and breed more than their mutating minds can hold themselves back. The soft squirrel smiles so, so sweetly to you as you place your paw on his shoulder and whine up at him. Pulling on your leash to bring you even closer. Your belly bounces like it has a watermelon inside it, then expands slowly larger still over the next block. LlunaBlue Her hips glorp and shudder as they grow alongside her belly, swelling with muscle and fat that piles utter widthness upon her frame which helps to support her belly's swelling of pure potential. The teen dalmatian sat on the back seat had been treated to the best show of burgeoning mousegurl ass for some time now, staring at it transfixed and more erect than he'd ever felt in his life. The more her ass grew, the harder he felt, despite how he'd thought he'd achieved the upper bound of erectness five agonising minutes ago. He places his paws on each cheek and begins weeping for how perfect and ass it is, and for how badly he needs to cum his brains out... and is as yet unable to. He is simply one of the many examples of building potential on this bus, one of the many people forced to push the absolute limit of restraint. As the bus continues its travels, every eye outside feels drawn to peer within, each person unthinkingly and reflexively glancing needily at the girl who's going to be at the centre of the corruptapocalypse. Balros Gods, your slow and delicious growth turns the squirrel on so goddamn much. Every second stretched into its own eternity as your shorts strain to fit all of you, all of mouse, within them. The curves of your bubble butt push out of the cutoff legs of your shorts to make them wedgie between your asscheeks. Your shoes are bulging outlines of large toes and big mousepaws. Everyone can see. Everyone is staring. The dalmatian was under a double whammy of corruption as he sat not just next to you and affixed by you, but from inhaling the squirrel's scent too which only twisted him further into fervor for mouse. The spottypup's tenting boner just kept getting harder and harder, -more- erect than ever, knot fully fattened and balls churning with too much. His white furred cheeks were as flushed crimson as your blue face, the embarassment as contagious as anything. The humiliation of openly groping the sweaty bubble ass of a cute girl on the bus brings more than tears to his eyes - he can see so many other people also staring at him now too, judging him, muttering under their breaths the shame he must feel, their own jealousy, what a fucking pervert... he begins to cum his pants, spurting ropes of dalmatian seed into his tight shorts again and again. As ropes of his cum push through the fabric of his shorts and land on your butt, you feel a tight heat clenching in your belly and push down through your hips. It takes another block of travel time, but you give birth to a dalmatian puppy just like him but with your hips and ass, stretching you deleriously wide as he sliiides right out. He seems just like his dad, whimpering and whining, but pushing you out of the way so he can sit on his teendad's lap and take your place, get fucked. LlunaBlue Her first birthing was like a hole having been borne into floodgates. The envious mutterings resonate within her core, causing one of the millions of eggs she's holding in her uterus to burst into a fat-hipped, fertile and hermified copy of one of their fellow travellers. She squeaks and moans like a slut each time one forms, clutching her belly as it pushes out like she's a popcorn bag full of cooking kernels. She squats as she clutches, her moans and screams only getting louder and louder as she pushes out child after child from her overworked snatch, and yet the relief in pressure this provides STILL amounts to nothing more than a tease. Her need to produce MORE only grows stronger and new eggs only continue form at multiply at a rate magnitudes faster than she is able force them out! The hole in the floodgates might as well be a pinprick in the wall of a dam. Balros It was like white hot lava melting through your brain. The heat, shock and pressure of such a -rapid- impregnation, growth and birthing of but a single hyperfertilized egg left your mousebody wracked with orgasms that would never really stop. THe fat-butted dalmation clone you've birthed is a boy - but the second clone is a girl, and she arrives so quickly that she's shoved up /into/ the new pup and they merge into a single hermaphrodite before Balros can give you a sharp tug on the leash. The collar clenches, quieting your screams and squeals to only throaty squeaks, and closing your channel to condense all the other dalmations that desperately want to detonate your body to escape your internal confines. Only the first, double-dense herm pup has escaped you, bouncing in her daddy's lap and making him cum and cry as he breeds her on the bus. "Keep it in your pants, slut." Balros casually calls, holding your leash snug. You can't give birth. Your beachball-sized belly feels like it's full of hot lead, but still jiggling as if light as jello. Your squeaks have only 'mildly' corrupted the rest of the bus, many folks holding their throbbing heads and slightly enlarged skulls. "Do you want us to walk the rest of the way?" The squirrel chastises. Gives your leash a little tug as he walks off the bus with you. With a slight adjustment of your condensing collar, your size was 'reset' again, so it appears he's got a half-naked little mousegirl as a pet he's taking for walkies. Bare C-cup breasts and a tum only as big as a volleyball now. Still in shorts, and sneakers that haven't yet burst around enlarged mousepaws, toes. The bus drives off. LlunaBlue The reversal of her size barely did a thing to change what she was feeling. Her volleyball tum still felt as dense as it had before, and her feet felt completely stuffed on those shoes, like they were ten sizes too small to contain such massive toesies. Still, despite everything that had happened thus far, the only shame that stung at all was when her squirrel bf - her Master - had chastised her for losing control and giving birth. Her blushing face as she peers at all of the confused and lustful oglers has a twinge of determination to it; resolving once more that she WILL obey her Master's wishes. Balros *When you had finally stepped off the bus, the whole vehicle practically bounced and rose a few inches off its shocks. All the mass of your growth never went away, he just kept pushing your molecules closer together to keep you cute, keep you sweet, keep you in a somewhat 'socially acceptable' size. Of course, anyone that even looked at you began to feel an itching in their brain as what they felt was 'socially acceptable' was being changed by your cuteness, your sweetness, your hotness. New lusts and fetishes and desires melting their minds as they beheld too-cute mousegirl. Occassionally you would see skulls simply thrust upwards to make room for more brain, more mouselust.* Balros seemed to pay attention to none of it. He tugged your leash again as he began to walk down the street towards his destination, heedless of the insanity pumping into passerbyes at just a glimpse of you. For now, at most they would all struggle with their new thoughts, feelings, emotions and skull matter, and make him need to step around them and pull you along after. Your breasts and belly bounced as you walked, D-cups by the end of the block and DD-cups at the end of the next. He would occassionally pause and look at you, sometimes openly groping a boob, giving your tum a pat, your ass a smack, or your lips a lewd french kiss. LlunaBlue Each small, lovingly lewd gesture he gave her was like a week's worth of constant orgasm condensed into that one moment. She shudders each time as her cunny quivers and squirts between her legs, forcing her to bite her lower lip and clench to keep from letting one over her densely-packed sons or daughters slip out of her. If it weren't for the gentle-but-firm tugs on her leash, she'd likely be left completely directionless. Exuding such impossible beauty forces anybody who sees her to grow more brain matter as a futile bid to even fully comprehend her. Attempts to save any pictures of her instantly overloads the phone's memory. Security cameras burn out and start visibly smoking as soon as they point at her. One person's attempt to livestream her as she's walked by overloads the entirety of Furbook's servers. The only choice her followers have is to... follow her, and to have the inside of their skulls growing more and more and more. Balros With you having on just a pair of shorts and your sneakers, it's also like your ass and pussy are on a display of their own. Round and fat buttcheeks. A big bulge of girl stuffed into straining and damp fabric. Sometimes the outline of your girlsex gets a little strange when they can see a mouseface pushing against the threads before getting sucked back into your hyperdense womb. No birthing allowed. Everything about you was just, too, fucking, perfect. Violently growing additional brain matter and headspace was sometimes the only option left to anyone who looked at you. Popped and smoking screens and devices were left in your wake, though the least of anyone's concerns. Popped and leaking pants and panties followed those who followed you, in turn. THe squirrel keeps walking, his destination near. An ocelot mom pushing a stroller heedlessly walks up next to him, and you, to wait for the light to turn. A moaning mewl-squeak from the carriage draws her attention down, eyes widening and pupils shrinking to pinpricks as she beholds a daughter suddenly very different than moments ago - as if years of size and growth were pumping into her, outgrowing her outfit. The mousifying kitten arched her back and pushed her rising, inflating belly up into the air, packing on fat and pregnant weight. She looked up at her mom with such sweet and innocent eyes while her original pair of eyes just below squinted with fear and overwhelming pleasure. The carriage creaked as the girl's pregnancy pushed up out of the basket. The walk sign dinged and Balros tugged you forward again to cross the street. LlunaBlue Only the squirrel and the mouse obeyed the walk sign and continued on; the ocelot mother remains locked in corrupting eye contact with her daughter's, the combined maternal love for her daughter and eternal love for second-hand mouseness elevating her child's power to almost the level as the original. The ocelot mother can't help but grope at herself and moan at how fucking BEAUTIFUL her daughter's becoming, and even moreso the longer and more intensely her head throbs! A passenger in a car waiting for the mouse and squirrel to move by each suddenly grips his steering wheel as his mind insta-wrinkles, filling his ears with a sound like crumpling paper and then just forces itself against the confines of its walls. His wife on the other side of his hands-free cellphone listens, shocked, as his punctuating screams start to cause a weirdly pleasurable headache on the side of her head that she's holding her phone to... Balros All around you, personalities are being scrunched, stretched or squished aside to fulfill the ever-growing lust and desire for mouse and mouse-bourne corruption. The way the driver squeak-screams into his receiver makes his wife on the other end hold a hand to her head - her head pushing back against her paw as it's moved to one side of her neck and shoulders, a second face pressing out from the side of her head as her mind splits. The two-headed wife's new, mousier face seems turned on by the fevered squeaking and shouting on the phone - new words spilling up from her gullet as she sinks into her seat to masterbate. "H-honey, I... please, please fucking birth for me, you sound so sexy. Give birth. Give birth right now. I need to hear... I need to hear our daughters. Put them on the phone. Put them on the.. the phone right... right FUCKING now!" When she swears, her original head starts screaming too as her whole body begins to orgasm. A second pair of mousey arms start to rip off her clothes and masturbate her expanding breasts, fattening belly and engorged cooch. She can still hear her husband screaming and gurgling on the other side of the phone call as her second head starts screaming back. You see the car's occupant become occupants as mice clones begin to shove out from the poor driver's body, filling the car. He can't stop cumming and the locked car strains to keep them all in as they keep multiplying. You make it to the other side of the street.