Buckwheat's Beginnings
"Well, doctor," the lazily reclining okapi began, "it all started a few months ago. I was outside my house, trying to get a mental feel for what I'd need from an addition to it, and then...
"I found a silvered pod on the ground. Stubbed my toe on it, actually. I looked down, saw it, and then, well, my memory goes blank for a bit. When it returned, I was in more or less the same place, flat on my back, and my pants seemed to have been taken off and put back on by somebody not quite used to the concept.
"I was understandably a bit upset, if only because, lacking any other idea of what had happened, being upset seemed called for. I figured the best thing I could do would be to take a shower and calm myself down. That seemed to be working, more or less, until I brushed my... my pussy with one hand.
"Suddenly, and without any conscious thought on my part, my clit extended outward and wrapped itself around that hand. I was torn between horror at what it had become and my inability to control it, and the intense pleasure I felt from its wrapping around myself. In a panic, I grabbed it with my other hand, and tried to remove it. That only felt better and got me my other hand wrapped up, too.
"As I struggled more and more, it became more and more stimulated, until it suddenly reached climax. As the clear fluid that squirted from the tip landed on me, my arousal multiplied. There's a gap in my memory again, but I consider it likely that I brought the tentacle coming out of my pussy to climax several more times. What I do remember is sitting in the middle of the floor afterward, the shower off, and every surface coated in the stuff, which seems to be an aphrodisiac. I felt... some kind of alien presence, I suppose, in my mind, but it rapidly became a part of my consciousness. As it did so, I suddenly knew, instinctively, somewhat like riding a bicycle that you don't ride and is actually a tentacle sticking out of your crotch, exactly how to move my clit, how to grasp things with it, et cetera. In that moment, I felt, strongly, that it was a new, yet immutable part of me. That was several days ago. In the intervening time, I've been too shy to venture off my property.
"So, to pass that time, I explored my changes, hoping, this time, to remember the exploration."
"And?"
"And there doesn't seem to be much else different. I can cup, massage, squeeze, and twist my boobs without tentacles coming out of anywhere. Everything about my vagina besides the clit looks to be the same--I checked very thoroughly. I mean, the fact that I involuntarily catch or pick up dropped objects with the tentacle when I can is a bit odd, but not unwelcome."
"You can pick things up with it? How dexterous is it?"
"Dexterous and flexible enough to get me out of some really embarrassing self-bondage mishaps. I'd decided to try hog-tying, you see, and--"
"And you can untie knots with it?"
"Seems like it.
"I checked to see if the potency of the aphrodisiac goes down any with time. It seemed about the same after a few days in the refrigerator. Oh, and an additional fact about that stuff: it tastes like ginger."
"One of my colleagues specializes in studying the physical aspect of cases like yours. Later, I could refer you to him to give him a sample, perhaps."
"That sounds wonderful. Anything to understand more about what's happened.
"But I digress: I came here to discuss whether this could have caused any mental changes."
"Well, I don't know that we have the time to discuss that now. We could schedule a follow-up appointment, if you like. And, since we do have some time left, have you noticed anything that could be indicative of an untoward mental change?"
"A follow-up sounds like a good idea. As to whether anything I've noticed about myself... not really. Nothing like the stories I've heard. I mean, I know I was experimenting a lot in the past few days, but I think I was just getting used to this, and testing to see if my limits had changed. The closest to anything feeling really different is now, well... I've got this sense of power. I'll admit, I like being on top, and I have used strap-ons, but I get the feeling this would just make everything feel more... More... Amazing. I haven't made myself clear, have I?"
"An inability to express oneself is a more common problem than you'd think."
Buckwheat chuckled, "Well, that's about everything I know to tell you. I do have some questions, since I'd like a second opinion besides my own."
"Uh, go on..." the mouse Buckwheat had hired as a psychiatrist fidgeted uncomfortably.
"First off, am I crazy?"
"There are enough well-documented cases similar to yours that the idea of arbitrary bodily modification of a sexual nature is in no way extraordinary, if that's what you want to know..."
"I could be right, and still crazy, though, yes?"
"You could be crazy under any circumstances whatsoever. As a medical professional with access to innumerable case studies, I can tell you categorically that this makes you no more likely to be crazy than not waking up with a tentacleclit."
"That's... almost convincing. Moving on, in a related vein. First, would you agree that this appears to be the product of magic or sufficiently advanced technology?"
"There's enough of that going around that it's a candidate in causing everything from missed steps on up."
"Yes, well. I, personally, from what I remember, figure aliens for this, but the specifics don't matter. Is it likely that I'll be possessed or manipulated by whatever force altered me?"
"I'm pretty sure that can only be determined empirically, on a case-by-case basis."
" 'Case-by'?--Ooh... In that case, are there any odds on whether I'm a menace to society?"
"You've kept your clothes on throughout the session; The security system hasn't detected any unnatural pheromones--though it does say your perfume is a bit tacky--and none of the amulets have gone off. With the concentration of possible latent contagious mental subversives in the surrounding area... there's probably nothing general you can do if you're secretly possessed, but if it's contagious, whoever gets it wasn't taking precautions, which is basically asking... not necessarily for tentacles, but some form or another of corrupting symbiont attacks somebody on about a daily basis now." The mouse inhaled sharply.
"That's a somewhat grim way of putting it. Why hasn't there been more widespread panic?"
"It's a combination of willful ignorance, the ennui of modern life, and the fact that nobody runs the relevant PSAs."
"I didn't realize there were such... depressing aspects to living."
"Most people don't realize their existence because they're so depressing."
"... So," Buckwheat said, "I suppose I have just one more question.
"Oh?"
Buckwheat slid out of her jeans, and waved seductively from the waist. "Which hole do I get?"