@Background Pony #BDC3
exceptional work as always – really looking forward to the next part

Part 1 Content: Implied transformation, mind control, lactation, weird

Ash pointed to her open mouth as if it would help anything. “F - O - O - D, food? This body you stuck me in hungers for fuel, capisce? Hello? Still not talking, huh? I don’t know what you want from me but if you’re not going to let me go home, you gotta take care of me, understand?”

The writhing mass of physical chaos did not answer. It hadn’t said a single word for the last two days. Not since luring Ash into the glowing portal with the only word it had said:

N͠E̴̴̸̷̶̡̎ͬ̇ͪ͑ͯ̍̚͟҉̡ÈD̢̛͢͏̡̛̛̖̺͖̤͙̞̜̰́͠

Well now that she needed food it was apparently content to sit there bubbling dumbly, unresponsive. The skulls had ceased to be intimidating, especially since she’d watched so many pop into and out of existence. The old lab equipment was the only structure that seemed to stay the same, forming a sort of scaffolding upon which the oozing mass of ever-shifting protoplasm dwelt.

She looked up at the portal, an indeterminable distance overhead atop a heap of the stuff. She had been avoiding her obvious route of escape so far for fear of touching the living slime again. Her first contact with it, after falling through the portal, had done something to change her. Given her this strange body, though she was only dimly able to recall that her old one had been different. Her memories had apparently been affected by the stuff just as her body had. Even her name seemed corrupted somehow, like it was only a dim shadow of what it used to be. But she knew that almost nothing about her was the same as before.

Ash brushed an obscuring curtain of long, soft hair out of one eye and tucked it behind a shoulder to free up more space to see. She looked down and saw only chest, her bulbous bosom hogging all her lower field of view and selfishly demanding so much of her strength to carry around. As was certain she hadn’t been burdened with those before the change.

What she couldn’t see below them, she had felt gropingly after her transformation. A bulging belly, soft and smooth thighs, a substantial rear end. With no reflective surfaces it took her a good deal longer to realize something was wrong with her face. It wasn’t a normal shape. It was longer and pointy, and her ears were big and soft and fuzzy. Then there was the horn. She figured this stuff had turned her into some kind of bloated monstrosity and was almost glad for the lack of mirrors. At least her searching fingers had confirmed she didn’t have extra eye in the middle of her forehead, but beyond that she couldn’t tell what she looked like.

She didn’t need a mirror to see the tip of her tail, though. A thick, muscular appendage that jutted out from the lower end of her spine, just above her butt-crack, from which grew the visible part. Hair. Long, lustrous, and purple, just like the mass of stuff draping her head. She was dead certain she never had a tail before, but it was surprisingly not awkward. It mostly remained behind her, lifting out and back and only twitching a bit when she let herself feel nervous or anxious. And sometimes she flicked it just for something to do.

Ash licked her parched lips. No food was bad, but not having anything to drink was miserable. Thirst would get her before anything else, she decided. Taking a deep breath, despite the heavy resistance of her oversized bust weighing her chest down, she looked again at the portal. There was no sense putting this off any longer, she decided. She had to risk climbing up the wriggling mass of chaos jelly to reach the way out, and hopefully leave this nightmare behind.

She walked up to the base of the sloping heap and nudged it with the toe of her shoe. No visible change in its behavior, just the usual bubbling and uncoordinated pulsations. She reached out and quickly poked it with a fingertip, withdrawing as fast as possible and cringing.

Nothing happened to her, and the thing seemed not to notice her contact. She reached out again and left her fingertip in place for a five-count before removing it. Aside from the weird thrum that permeated the substance, nothing out of the usual.

Bracing herself mentally, knowing there was no other option, she leaned forward and put a knee into the squishy matter, then both hands. It was warm, it moved and flowed, but it supported her weight as she unbalanced herself and leaned forward more, gradually increasing her reliance on the thing for support, until she picked up her other foot and knelt fully into it.

It was like being on a water bed that sloped up, and was full of eels and balloons, or something, but it supported her weight. She shifted her legs, pulling one knee past the other (and driving it into her right boob, but that was unavoidable), then pushed herself up. She reached and laid her hand on a higher patch of goop. It was soft and yielding, but not quite fluid. She didn’t sink into it, and it seemed scalable.

“Okay Ash, just crawl out and you’re home free. Probably be back to normal on the other side. Just keep climbing,” she said to steel her resolve. Another deep breath, and she began hoisting herself up the slope. The tips of her breasts were dragging against it, but she literally couldn’t hold herself far enough away to avoid that either, just like she couldn’t keep from driving her knees into them from below as she went. Boobs sure were an inconvenience, and their weight was the worst. Her shoulders and arms were already getting sore and she had barely gone ten feet from where she’d started.

The slope was steep, and its rubbery, shifting texture was tiring to work with. Her breathing was labored and she was feeling her dry mouth burning with the exertion. “Need a drink,” she said hoarsely.

The weird protoplasm suddenly quaked and quivered beneath her, changing shape even where she touched it. Round masses started to inflate and swell, bulging heavily all around her. Soft, squishy orbs grew and jiggled everywhere. At the top of every jiggling dome there rose a budding knob, a raised button growing in the center of the sagging spheres, throbbing and expanding into little cones of whatever this stuff was, then filling out.

Tits. She was crawling over a slope of big, naked, tits. Tits poked up around her knees, tits cushioned her shins, tits were pushing up her tits, and her hands were groping big, lewd, pleasantly plump tits. Breasts on the cob, she thought as the disorganized collection of lady-bumps reminded her of kernels packed into an ear of corn.

N̸̰̾Ȇ̵̜Ę̵̈D̴͈̊ ̴͔̓.̸̨͊ ̶̥̄.̵͍͌ ̴̋͠.̷̯̊ ̶̞̾D̴͙̏Ŗ̶̚I̴͖̔N̶̪̆K̸̼͛

Need. Drink. Yes, she needed to drink. Luckily for her there were all these breasts around, jiggling and swollen and full of… of… Ash shook her head, causing her ears to flap painfully against her face. What was she thinking? No way she was going to put her mouth on this corrupt stuff!

N̴̡ͯ̅͋͛̈̔͛ͩ͏̷̴̡̖̗̻͇̥͉̙̕͟ͅĘ̸̨̒̌̐͐̂ͨ̿ͩ̀͡͞͝͏̗̪̮̜̗͙̜̟É̶̡̲̼̥̺̯̜̠̹͌̓͌͛̋̈̚͘͢͡͡͡͞Ḋ̸̢̢̢̧̖͙̦̰͕̺̮ͮ̿ͮ̊͊͐̇͡͞͞ͅ ̷̶̷͖̩̮̻͎̪̜͕̓́͌̓̍͐̄̏́̀̕͜͡ ̧̛̤̠͎̜͉̭͍͈̈̓̎͑͗̄͑̒́͘͢͝͠͠ ̶͂͊͌ͨ͑̾͂̒͘͜͜͏̶͈̠̦͚̖̞̰̙͜͡ ̢̗̩̝͈̞͍̺͔̎͊̎ͬͬ̅͊̉̀̀́͘͘͞͞ ̧ͮͮ͐͂͑̅̏̅͘͞͏̶̙̜̬͉͚͇͍̮̀́͞ ̴ͭ̎ͩ̊͋͗̃̓͏̶̷̸̷̛̖̯͇̥͚̩̭̱͡ ̋ͮͯ̓̏͋͒͒͡҉̨̡̝̼̜͇̩̺̼́͢͟͟ͅ ̸̨̨̼͎̫̣͇̟͉̝̽ͯ̍͒̅̓ͤ̌̕͢͟͠͞ ̶̢̒͐͛͌̍̈ͣ̂͏̵̴̧̨͎̤̝̬͔̥̘̼́ ̴̵̛̈̑̿̊ͭ͑͛͐͟͏̶̭̣͈͖̺̬͈̲͟͝ ̴̡̢̡̖̦͈̗͓̠͇͉̏̓̒̿͌ͭ̍̚͘͢͠͡D̨̐ͫ̈́ͪͮ̋͑͌͘͘͢͟͠͏̝̳̳̜̻͔̼͡ͅR̴̴̿ͣ̄̿̽̀̑̋̕̕͜͏̴̖̫̗͔͎͉̻̬͞I̡͑̒̋ͫ̅̋ͧ͑͡͝҉̦̳̟͉̹̲̤͘͢͝͠ͅN̴ͭͭͩ͆̈ͨ̑̾͏̷̸̧̹̜̫͔̥͔̳̯̀́͘Ķ̸̷̵͈̖͖̞̞̙̮̼͊̉̉̋ͫ͛̂̚͘͟͟͠

Yes, she needed to drink. Luckily for her there were all these breasts around to drink from! Jiggling and swollen and full of good stuff she needed to drink! She gave the boob in her right hand a squeeze experimentally, and the nipple on it beaded up with fluid. A trickle ran down to her hand. She released the mammary structure and brought her hand up, giving it a sniff. Didn’t smell like anything. She touched her tongue to her wet skin, and tasted… milk. Sweeter than she remembered, but maybe that was her lack of sustenance these last few days. Licking her hand eagerly, she adjusted her posture and lowered herself down, squishing her own breasts into the wall of tits below her and feeling patches of warmth spreading over her shirt from below. Her bare thighs felt jets of hot milk spurting onto them as she laid herself into the inviting wall of breasts for a drink.

She focused on the nipple closest to her face and opened wide. She flicked the nipple with her tongue, wondering what would happen. Nothing much, as far as she could tell. She lowered her face closer and let the nipple slide into her lips, then tickled it with her tongue from inside her mouth. It got wetter, and the delicious milk moistened her lips. She sighed, relieved to find something that would slake her thirst.

She worked her cheeks to make a vacuum and a few drops of milk spurted into her mouth. She lapped at the wet nipple, she squeezed it with her lips, she massaged it to coax more and more warm, sweet nectar from it. She filled the space in her mouth and sealed her lips shut as she pulled her face away from the helpful breast, dispatching it would several swallows to let her throat get lubricated. Warm, rich, satisfying hydration soothed her and prompted her to go back for a second helping.

She pushed down on the breast with her face and even more of the milk gushed into her waiting mouth, almost hitting the back of her throat. Careful not to trigger a coughing fit, she returned to suckling instead of pressing and went through her second, third, seventh mouthful before coming up for air. She gasped and licked her lips, pulling her sticky, wet shirt away from the mattress of mammaries below as she let her lungs fill up with as much air as they wanted.

Still she needed to drink. She lowered herself again, laying fully prone on the carpet of knockers that squirted her in return, drenching her clothes even more with their excessive refreshments. She suckled a different breast, feeling her aching muscles relaxing and softening. She reveled in the feel of a hundred nipples rubbing her skin all over. She guzzled milk the entire time, time she’d already lost track of. She drank from the bounty of bosoms until her belly felt full, then she licked a few more for good measure.

The slope beneath her was slippery and wet, and she felt the same way even though her shirt clung to her skin tightly and her diminutive shorts were heavy with saturation. She rolled into her back, stretched her limbs, and snuggled into the welcoming bed of generous, nurturing tits. Her need to drink had been satisfied, and she felt the same way. She laid her palms onto two random breasts and kneaded them gently, sighing in contentment. It was hard to keep her eyes open, so she let them close and relax with the rest of her. Only her torso was working hard now, pushing upwards against her twin masses to fill with air, then subside to let them press her breath out, then again, and again, and…

Ash’s first clue that she’d fallen asleep was jolting awake with the sensation of falling, one of those dreams where you slip and topple over and then kick yourself back to awareness violently trying to prepare for a hard landing. But she was already on her back, pinned beneath her own heavy breasts and breathing hard.

She struggled to put her immediate past back together. Boobs. She was laying on a bed of boobs, right? No, the … whatever it was underneath her back was firmer, and the surface more irregular and finely textured. It swelled and subsided below her randomly, rocking her limbs and body without rhythm. The only milky tits around here were her own, which had started leaking in front and staining her shirt with rapidly cooling patches of dampness. Her clothes were otherwise dry. That didn’t seem right, somehow. Not her lactation, but the lack of soggy clothing everywhere else. Hadn’t seen been drenched with milk from… something she couldn’t quite remember. A dream, probably.

Ash hoisted herself up onto her elbows to look past her milkers and saw that she was still only about a dozen feet up the slope from the bit of bare tiled floor and sighed. Must have been from going so long without much rest or food, she decided. But she was no longer hungry. Or thirsty. That seemed odd, but she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. With a grunt of effort, she tipped her bosom over to one side and its momentum helped turn her onto her hands and knees again, the front of her breasts pressing onto the slope of chaotic, fleshy matter that was her ticket out of this place. She tossed aside a lock of long, purple hair and set her sights on the glowing, swirling portal that was still so far from her. Arching her back and giving her tail and limbering shake, she took a few deep breaths and then set herself the task of dragging her body up the amorphous hill that bubbled and roiled around her.

It seemed more difficult to pull her breasts along than she remembered it being before her nap, and her nipples were rubbing the ‘ground’ with each lurch forward, sending erogenous shudders through her copious flesh. The stimulation and alternating pressure on them liberated more milk from her sore, swollen glands, adding some relief she hadn’t even known she needed. Were they always this bad before?