Potions 6 – Staying Positive

Story by toucanplay on SoFurry

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#6 of Potions

I liked this one better. Displacer beasts are cool.


In the prologue, our ten adventurers discovered a strange vial inscribed in an ancient language.

In Part I, Connor the barbarian sampled it, finding its effects made him an even more bullish fighter than before.

In Part II, Stefan the fighter drinks from the vial in desperation; he regains perhaps a little too much vitality, and a change of focus onto a bigger picture.

In Part III, Elwin the mage discovered a new source for the contents of the vial, and decided that he was very into hanging around what he considered the new, improved Connor.

In Part IV, Robin the cleric tried to bring order to the chaos that followed from when Elwin was abducted, only to add further chaos when he exploded into a great tentacled being.

In Part V, Sir Paul the paladin and Brent his squire fall for the lust they have for each other, their bodies corrupting themselves and each other until they part ways as an owlbear and a fox.

Which leads us to...

Part VI - Staying Positive

Marcus panted, leaning up against a tree and panting, as he had done several times before. The thing that had burst out of Robin, whatever it was, hadn't been in sight for a while, but he wasn't going to take any chances: you didn't stay out of the hands of the law for as long as Marcus had - at least, in his profession - by being careless, and his body was so practised for caution that he did it without thinking.

With his chest heaving uncomfortably, he needed a chance to catch his breath, and this seemed like a good spot. Trying to whisper, but wanting to hear the sound of his voice over the fearful racing of his heart, he spoke to himself possibly a little too loudly. "Should have just stayed in the city..." Catching the familiar roar of a waterfall - at least he hoped that's what it was - he headed towards the source: a small stream that opened up into a large pool. Smiling as he wiped his face, he tested the chill of the water with his hands; he was going in regardless, but wanted to know how what he should expect, temperature-wise.

"Gah!" He muffled his grunt as best he could; the water was even chillier than he expected, but there was nothing for it. He needed to get this stuff off of him before it was too late - assuming it wasn't already - and that meant a full-on bathe in this icy water. Splashing the freezing water over his face, he meticulously scrubbed his features, leaving them stinging red.

Marcus had a few moments to plan as he pulled off his sweaty, fluid-coated clothing. He shuddered, not wanting to touch it but needing to in order to undress. "Steal some clothes next chance I get. Follow the stream; there's bound to be some farmhouse or hunter's cabin somewhere near to a stream like this. Grab some gold along the way. What a fucking shit-show this job turned out to be..."

Surprising himself with how fast he undressed, Marcus looked at the pile of clothes, the goo on them still glistening. He considered burying them; considering what it had done to men, he'd rather not have some kind of horny transformed animal chasing after him. Hoping that none would come along as he bathed, he plunged into the water.

Marcus's profession had led him on a number of occasions to taking impromptu swims. The water in those cases was usually several degrees of foul, or so salty that it left him feeling dried out and thirsty. He never usually left cities - fewer targets in a given area, he had decided, was bad for business - so was unused to how crisp and clear water could be. Swimming to the centre of the lake, he dove down, scratching at his skin which never felt clean enough, only to emerge with a bursting spray of old breath that scattered the water droplets that had covered his lips. Repeating this again and again, his hands running over all of his parts and putting his fingers into every crevice, he emerged, shivering, to drop onto the ground, shivering.

Staying well away from his clothes, Marcus still kept an eye on them as he rested in a spot where the sunlight broke through the treeline. Nothing was going to convince him that they weren't about to spring up and attack him, should that monster semen, or whatever it was, decided to become more aggressive towards him.

Marcus had decided that that was what was in the vial they had discovered. Perhaps others had discovered it before them: the rat-men, perhaps, that they had fought had once been human, until the demon seed had gotten to them, too. His stomach rumbled; he wondered when the last time he ate was. Reaching down, he patted his smooth stomach, feeling the water that had run down his body into the crevice of his belly-button. He was looking forward to getting out of this forest, get some new clothes, some food, and some coin, and forget all about this misadventure. "Take your mistakes, and learn from them." That had been his philosophy, and he wasn't about to change now.

After the freezing swim, the sun felt very good. He shivered a little, like a ghostly rat had scampered across him, and his stomach rumbled again. Marcus cursed; he wasn't particularly familiar with this area, and knew of a few wild berries, nuts and mushrooms that were safe to eat, but he didn't feel he could rely on those. "Hunting might be safer," he decided, licking his lips.

Looking down, Marcus watched himself breathing. After giving a shudder, he felt that he had calmed down. He had a plan, which he thought was a good step. There wasn't anything nearby, and his tainted clothing hadn't suddenly sprung to life, either. His stomach did not rumble again, although there were other hungers that a body had. He felt one stirring now; he had been rubbing his hands over himself, trying to help the sun along in its task of warming him up, and his body had misinterpreted those signals as the amorous touches of someone else. He snorted, and smiled a little. He wasn't yet, but it was coming along. "Stop hogging all the warm blood," he asked his manhood.

Still smiling, Marcus rolled onto his feet, dusting himself off. Needles and small twigs stuck to his body, and they had left him feeling itchy, and his skin was already sensitive from the rough treatment he had given it in his quest to become clean. It was becoming irritating, and once he had calmed himself, minor annoyances were free to bother him.

The first sign Marcus had that something was not right was something he almost missed as he bent over to pick at a blob of sap that had gotten on his leg. His left hand was busy doing that, while his right was scratching his armpit. Marcus only thought then that there was one too many fingers, the extra one sliding up and down above his buttocks.

Twisting around, Marcus could see that it wasn't a finger at all. A thick, fleshy stalk extended from somewhere around his shoulder blades, extending down as far as the round muscles that made his rear end. He caught sight of a flash of movement; it appeared almost as if the stalk was splitting in two, as another tendril slowly branched off.

Marcus felt his blood freeze more than it had in the cold water. He swore and cursed at his bad luck, feeling the twin tendrils now growing. Other than their uncontrolled twitching, he was now as frozen as stone. He tried to think of a plan to get out of this, something he could do to save his skin, but short of prayer - which he had never seen be all that effective - there was little he could do. His creativity felt stunted, his thoughts trying to work through the cold sludge that had seeped in.

Looking down at himself with his jaw slack, Marcus tried to think while his mouth dried up. "Can't get de-cursed without someone even a little holy nearby. Not that that helped Robin. The nearest town's too far away, not at the pace those things are growing." They weren't the only things that he noticed now that he was looking. They weren't even the only growths, as he could feel lumps bulging out under each arm, like a fist trying to punch through unyielding fabric. His skin itched and bristled, small black spikes showing where new hairs grew in earnest to cover his goose-pimpled flesh. Warm saliva splashed clumsily out of his mouth as he tried to swallow; even that felt awkward as he gulped, jaws mismatched and filling with bigger teeth.

Too far from help, Marcus had no plan. He shuddered, the cold blood warming again as slow acceptance stirred his body back into mobility. His stubborn manhood pleaded for attention as his heart pounded with extra vigour. He stared back at it, noticing the discolouration. Would whatever he became have a mate, or would he be some lone, horny beast? "Guess we might both be retiring," he told his throbbing erection.

Fondling it slowly with his warming fingers, Marcus formed a manic grin on his changing face as he studied his cock. He was hardly a virgin, and companionship was far away. He never tried to fight when he was going to lose, and everything else seemed out of his control. "Nothing to do but relax and enjoy myself," he decided, lowering himself to the ground, feeling the dirt and leaves crunch under his weight. With the tendrils, he couldn't lie on his back; instead, he spread his legs apart as wide as possible as his hand slipped down his cock, leaving a warm, agitated streak as it went.

The sensation sent a shudder through Marcus's body. He decided he was going to take things as slow as his body would allow: if his changes suggested he might not finish, he would have to speed up, but for now a slow, steady rhythm felt right.

The tendrils slipped over his shoulder. Marcus could feel them, spreading out from somewhere between his shoulder blades. Throbs of energy shuddered out of his head and down them. Large, flat patches began to spread out, dotted all over with sharp-looking barbs that reminded Marcus of teeth. His stomach rumbled, but he wasn't in a hurry to eat; his new body would have to decide what it wanted to hunt first.

"It looks like I can still look after myself, at least" Marcus thought. His growing pelt of black fur was thickening, spreading over his warming, but still pale, skin. Even with the extra layer of fur, his sleek muscles showed through. He imagined they would be quite appealing to others of his species: females, he assumed, although he didn't know what he was becoming yet. He tilted his head back, letting out a growl that had been rattling around in his throat. The tilt seemed to cause more spikes of energy to surge into his tendrils. He gasped, caught off-guard; it had felt good.

Putting his unoccupied hand on the ground, Marcus shuddered and shifted some of his weight on to it. He lifted his rump in the air, litter from the forest floor falling away. He tensed his ring, letting out a shudder as a burning itch squirmed through his body. He wanted to reach back, to feel the thing he wasn't sure he should feel, but what was growing anyway. "Got a tail!" Marcus thought, the idea almost inaudible in his head as it filled with the frenzied drumbeat of an excited heart. He had so many new appendages now that it was almost hard to keep track, but the tail at least was something he understood. The toothy tendrils were something else entirely.

Marcus couldn't focus on it for long though, not if he wanted to satisfy himself in time. His hand started pumping faster, its roughness spreading up from the sensitive flesh sliding between his fingers. He eyed the other one, planted on the ground as he pumped away, his eyes starting to pulse along with the beat of his heart and his changing head. He could see the furry fingers growing shorter, leaving behind lengthening black claws as they retreated. He dug them into the dirt, feeling the swollen thickness of the rough skin spreading across his fingertips. His thumbs shrank; it made jacking off harder, especially with shorter fingers and less flexible hands, but he gritted his teeth in determination.

The growing fangs clacked together. Marcus let his tongue explore around the cavity of his mouth. His canines had grown the most in his expanding muzzle, though the others were starting to sharpen as well. "A hunter," Marcus thought, with some relief. He was sure there were downsides to anything he might become, but at least this one wouldn't have him the target of someone else's hunt. His stomach rumbled again, half-queasy from the change and half-hungry to hunt for something that could refuel his body; his flesh burned, every morsel of energy used to continue his transformation. Already slender of build, Marcus's black-furred skin bulged slightly with lean, hungry muscle.

The growing knobs under his arms had started to take on a more refined shape. Marcus could move them on his own. They were no longer straight, instead bending to mirror the arms he was under. He could almost feel the muscle and bones growing inside the strange additional limbs. The fur had grown over them, which made it hard to see the strange, moving shapes inside the appendages.

Marcus's paw finally let go of his cock, and a frustrated growl rammed its way out of his throat. He shifted it down, planting it next to its mirror twin in front of him. Sitting on his rump, the muscles in his legs shifting with each clacking rearrangement of his hip and leg bones, Marcus stared first at the underside of the paw. He had run into a lot of smaller cats - thieves and cats both prowled during the night - and recognised the shape where his own hands could be. He flexed them, watching the claws extend and retract, and examined the padding underneath, before returning it to the ground.

His eyes followed it down, trying to look over his muzzle at his erection. That had not been spared from his changes: similar barbs to those that covered his tendrils poked out of his head, and the shaft that poked out was a strong, red colour. It contrasted with the rest of the darkened skin that surrounded it, including the fat sheath of flesh that hung around the base. His balls flopped down in front of him, shuddering and pulsing.

Flicking his tail in annoyance, Marcus growled again. "What am I going to do now?" he thought, giving a shudder as what he guessed was nerves branching out through the extra limbs that were still growing. His eyes wandered to his feet, long and bony, and tipped with similar paws formed from the balls of his feet.

Trying to stand up and walk around, Marcus had taken a few paces before he thought about it. "Guess I'm on all fours now," he sighed. Eyeing the trees, he decided that some climbing practice was in order; he'd have to go by memory of what the street cats had done, but that would have to wait until he solved his other problems.

Sitting down, Marcus raised a paw to his muzzle. Since he couldn't see it, he'd have to rely on his other senses. He already had his own suspicions - flat black nose, feline muzzle filled with sharp teeth and a rough tongue - but there was parts that he couldn't tell. As his paw hovered in front, new instincts made his tongue shoot out and lick it. "That's long!" he thought, letting his tongue work over his paw, which then swiped up beside his head. He hadn't really thought about how much his head had changed, the side of his arm brushing up against new fur. It flicked his ear, the extra length flicking down, then bouncing back out. Playing with some muscles behind his jaw, he started shifting his ears around.

As he copied his action on the other side, Marcus's dick oozed out a thick, clear blob, while his throat poured out a randy purr. His tongue played across his teeth, tensing and relaxing all of the muscles on his four changing and two new limbs. His nostrils widened, sucking in the scents around him in short, sharp bursts, their splendour rolling down his throat. Some of them made his stomach rumble - rabbits, deer, forest mice or rats - while one seemed to ooze out of the air, making him ache even more to get release.

Marcus decided to try a few things. His first attempt was to thrust between what had been his forearms and were still becoming the lower parts of his front legs, but the extra growing limbs made that uncomfortable and unsatisfying. He thought of the middle ones, but they proved to be too awkward. "Maybe with some practice," Marcus thought, grumbling as he looked down on them. He closed his eyes. "I need to think like a cat..."

Scrambling through his memory for a moment, he suddenly caught upon something. Feline, yellow eyes blossomed from underneath Marcus's black eyelids, his white fangs almost glistening as his lips snarled. The image he had dredged up certainly seemed possible: he skulked around on all fours, looking for a good spot. He flicked his tail aside, knowing that it would probably be uncomfortable to sit on, especially since it was growing and he wouldn't be able to judge its full length.

Marcus kicked away the branches and spikier of the looser rocks out, clearing a spot on the ground. He laid down carefully onto his side, shifting the lowest tendril out of the way as well as he could. Lifting his highest hind leg up into the air, he curled his upper body down. Although he couldn't quite reach it - his body hadn't changed quite enough yet - it felt encouraging. He got a nice blast of his crotch, thick and musky. He could smell the fluids that he had leaked out already, and felt the heat of that still to spill. It clouded his thoughts, each aching throb of his hard, feline cock driving away the practised wariness.

To pass the time, Marcus pawed at his sheath, retracting the claws. Even without the satisfaction from a good tight grip, there was something nice about the pressure bearing down on it. Thoughts burst into his head of a similar rump to his. He couldn't tell if it was male or female, but that didn't matter: both had holes that he could use to get over the overwhelming horniness. There might be some playful aggression and pain involved, but the excitement and the promise of pleasure was there, like a bloody hunk of meat, just waiting to be eaten to sate his hunger.

Marcus squirmed about. Most of his human shape was gone now, replaced by a lankier, quadrupedal feline; although one that had six legs and some unexplained tendrils with barbs sticking out behind him. He flexed the claws on his budding arms, tearing away the loose skin that contained the fluid they had grown in. Cutting himself free, the wet paws oozed out the rest of the way; it stung, but the wounds healed over quickly.

Marcus tried again, shifting his body around to judge if he had enough body length to try. Shoving his muzzle into his crotch as his hind leg jabbed into the sky, he let his rough tongue slide over the coarse, dripping head of his cock. His throat shook, rumbling in pleasure as he pressed his muzzle down. His middle paws moved downwards, rubbing the base that his mouth couldn't reach. It wasn't ideal, but between his coarse tongue and the pressure of his paws rubbing him, he hoped it would be enough.

It certainly felt good. As a human, Marcus would have never thought about pleasuring himself in this way; it always seemed easier to pilfer a few coins to pay for some female to do it for him. The human ideas - money, prostitution - seemed so strange as they bubbled through his head, which slowly filled with images of his new body, pinning another of his kind beneath him, his barbed cock spearing whatever holes it had available. He had no idea if there were any others of his kind, but reality and fantasy didn't have to align for Marcus to find pleasure in it.

Marcus's keen feline nose could smell his orgasm coming; there was a subtle change to the fluids leaking out of his cock that announced that it was on his way. He kneaded his cock, holding it gently in his mouth, as his middle paws rubbed at himself. As the closest he could manage on his own to a furry mate, it served his purpose.

A potent shudder rippled through him, and Marcus jerked his head back, letting his ejaculate spray out into the air. A bright, white light burned through his head, blinding him and muting all of his senses other that the spasm of pleasure from his groin as he sprayed his seed into the air.

Suddenly that air was underneath him, as well as a branch. The air in Marcus's lungs flew out as he bounced off of one tree branch, falling through the gap into another, which cracked and snapped off, letting him tumble through empty space once again. He tumbled head over heels, arms and tendrils flailing about for something to grasp on to, acting instinctively as a dull contentedness filled his head.

Finding his feet, Marcus righted himself, landing on the ground. He panted, eyes glazed over; not even the fall from mid-way up the tree could pull him out of the blissful contentedness of finally satisfying his body. He sniffed at his crotch, ignoring the dull ache from his hard landing. He smelt his stickiness, and his tongue shot out as he began to clean it up. It tasted salty and thick, which pleased him.

After cleaning himself, and feeling the pleasantness of his feline shaft retracting into his sheath, cleaned and ready for use, Marcus sniffed around. His scent was all over now, which was satisfying; but with his lust sated his other hungers moved to the fore. His stomach rumbled. He remembered something about large rats that made him yowl in hunger.

Shifting his tendrils about, Marcus focused on a far-off spot. A pulsing white shot, almost as good as an orgasm, and with a twitch of his tendrils he was there, with the added scent of ozone. His muzzle went to work, looking for the scents and in which direction they were strongest. The sex scent was strongest in the direction he had come from, and that had something appealing about it; an equal pull led farther away, where there was bound to be food. Fearful beasts had trooped in that direction, and his stomach ached to be filled.

Tensing his muscles, Marcus prepared to teleport again.