Scientist’s Transformation Pt.01

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Big Tits

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

Dr Stephanie Daniels pursed her lips, stepping back from the full-body genetic recombobulator — well, that was what it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be working on a way to eradicate severe diseases and illnesses, bringing a new light and way forward for humanity, but, well, such things did not so easily appear overnight, not even to a scientist as skilled as her. She sighed lightly, though the exhalation, late at night, only told her that it was difficult, that it was testing. And Stephanie would not have honestly taken on the job if she had not believed herself both capable of doing it and, ultimately, of challenging herself.

If it had been simple, it would never have interested her, after all.

The lab was complex, her laboratory that could only be accessed through a control panel that took both a retina scan and required a key code to be entered. That was just how classified the work that Dr Stephanie did, though she was very much a scientist who preferred to work alone. Except when she chose not to, of course, but that was key: she had to choose to go see others, to network, to pick their brains. Or even to simply experience just a smidge of downtime that, in itself, could fuel those elusive intellectual juices. A brain, after all, needed rest too in order to function at its optimum levels.

That didn’t mean that she took herself out for drinks and the like after work, however, not with her colleagues. It was neither her kind of scene nor the kind of networking that she wanted to do. No, everything with colleagues and those in her line of work was about fuelling the pursuit of both knowledge and science, not about socialising, not about doing it for anything other than what she deemed to be strictly necessary for her mind.

She’d always been like that, after all. Utilitarian, doing what was needed, no more than that. Her colleagues, eventually, had stopped inviting her out for social events and she was more than proactive enough to head out to any work events or conferences that benefitted her. It was not as if, despite all that, she missed out on dinners with those of note, but she most certainly did live a different kind of life to so many others.

But that was more than okay for her. She tucked a stray strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, fiddling with the arm of her glasses, though Stephanie was only wearing them that day because she wanted to take a break from her contact lenses. It was more comfortable, after all, to not always have to wear her glasses, but not so bad in other ways that she felt that she had to look at alternatives to contact lenses. If the treatment to have her vision restored would not take so long in recovery, days away that she simply did not want to take away from her work, she would have gone for it already. Some things, to her, were more important than that.

“Where am I going wrong?”

She muttered to herself, lips pressed together. The recombobulator was tall, larger than her, though she was of a pretty average height, neither here nor there with it. Standing on a small step that she had brought in just to take the recombobulator to the next level, she inspected the chemical input at the top, which had to be out of the usual reach of human beings to ensure that the dangerous chemicals had an additional barrier between them and the humans working around them. Safety equipment on her would only protect her for so long.

She inspected the formula, what was to be injected into the human before they stepped inside to have their genetic code remade, all to eradicate disease from their system — or even ensure that they would not get it in the first place. That was her ultimate goal, though Steph would settle for curing those with terminal illnesses firstly. Her goals, after all, were not entirely selfish, though a prize or an award in it for her, while she searched for her next big thing, would not go amiss either.

She istanbul travesti fiddled, checking the input data, the readings on the digital screen at the side. With a hiss, the door at the front opened and she inspected the inside also, the build familiar to her, though it had been her project for months already. The interior was not something that she focused on all that much for it was more of an insulating chamber for the genetic recombobulator to do its work, but she did enter it on occasion when needed.

Perhaps the flow feed was wrong. She could check that, before taking her time for her brain to recover in sleep, on finishing her work there for the day.

She slipped inside, checking the filters, the flow rate, where the injection would appear from. Yet it appeared that something had already been loaded in there and Stephanie frowned, lips pressed together into a thin, hard line. Such a look of disapproval was rarely seen on her face, always confident in herself, the path she was taking, even though science could sometimes ultimate in surprising routes to discovery.

And that was her undoing, the injector needle sinking into her skin deeply enough, pricking her hand, to inject. She yelped, yanking her hand back, heart hammering, but calmed herself quickly, dropping into a more logical mode, simply trying to work out what had gone wrong. Stephanie inspected the injector within the genetic recombobulator, breathing in and out evenly, for even the prick of pain in her hand was fading, leaving only a pink spot where the needle had pricked her. Maybe it had not even broken the skin, despite it being a very fine-tipped needle, though there was pinkness evident and no blood.

Regardless, that injection, of course, was harmless, she said to herself, making a note outside the recombobulator as to what had happened, her hand steadier again. It was merely a dye to track the carrying agent and, of course, aid in her research, no more than that. The digital readings backed her up on that, checking them on the screen on the side of the recombobulator, showing that nothing had changed, nothing had moved through her while she had been in there. That, at the very least, was a relief.

What Stephanie had not yet discovered through her research, however, was that the door on the recombobulator did not need to be closed to work. The insulation present there was not to focus its rays more effectively in any way, but merely to keep those outside the recombobulator from being affected by what was going on inside it.

And the effects, when the door was not sealed, took longer to take hold, slowly slipping through her system, through the network of her veins that ran all over her body, almost as interconnected as her nervous system and the web of fascia running through her. Everything was there and everything was connected as she slumbered sweetly and easily, though the one thing that Stephanie did not think to check on the recombobulator was which DNA had been in the agent that day.

She would find out, however, in time.

She woke slowly, the next day, though she didn’t think anything had changed at all. She sat up in bed, yawned and checked her phone for messages. There was one from her boyfriend, a man that she had only recently begun dating, though Callum was very nice, to be fair to him. He was the kind of partner that she could see herself staying with for a long time, though love was not something that Steph had before thought fit into her science-focused life. He was a neurosurgeon, which she found interesting, a fitting purpose for life, even though she preferred her work behind the scenes in further science rather than taking it to a more practical application of medicine.

Still, it was nice to know that there was companionship there too, her heart pulling a little more for that companionship. She inspected the strange feeling, an odd longing, for company, for that was not usually present in her. But maybe that was something to do with her genetic makeup too, for it could not be denied that humans were a social species.

She rose as if all was fine, heading to the shower, her nightclothes neatly dropped into the bathroom hamper, ready for laundry day. The hiss of hot water spilt into the tray of the shower as she stepped in, steam rising.

Yet…there was a sense of something having shifted, even though everything seemed normal, the feel of her body, how she settled her feet across the balls of her feet and the heels. Experimentally, istanbul travestileri she rocked back and forth and shook her head. No, that was preposterous. She must have slept a little awkwardly that night, that was all.


Stephanie brushed her fingers over her arms as she showered, the hair there seeming a little thicker and darker. It must have been the lightbulb in the bathroom, however, she reasoned, brushing it aside swiftly. Hair didn’t simply grow thicker and darker for no reason, after all.

Only, what Dr Stephanie still did not know was that her body had a very good reason to change, to react as it already was. For the DNA in the recombobulator was already working away inside her, slowly fusing with her own and hybridising. Where it should have worked deeply to source out and eradicate disease, it had never received the programming to do that, as she had not stayed in the recombobulator for the full cycle. That left it free to work with her own and, well…there was no other way for her to know that.

Her usual plate of eggs and toast didn’t satisfy her that morning either and she chugged her glass of orange juice as if she was dehydrated, as if she was going to become purely parched if she did not drink it all down as quickly as possible. She even breathed a little more heavily when she clunked the glass down on the table, immediately going to the sink to fill one and then two and then three glasses with water. Every one of those disappeared down her throat too, soothing her system, but she shrugged it off and fed her body what it needed. Good, healthy carbohydrates and protein, along with the fat from the eggs too, would only do her good. Perhaps her body knew that she had a long day ahead of her.

Still, perhaps Steph should have realised that something was wrong when she licked the plate clean afterwards, her stomach still grumbling anxiously, even though the hunger pangs of the morning were gone.

She dressed for work, taking a moment longer to settle her blouse around her shoulders. There were days like that, for a woman, where nothing seemed to fit quite as she wanted it to, though she’d more often than not found that across her stomach. Where she enjoyed clothes that fitted snugly to her body, not so much showing off her figure but not wafting and tickling and itching her skin by being too loose, sometimes that showed bloating of the stomach a little more. But it was not over her stomach, that day, that her buttoned blouse, a lady’s shirt, did not fit properly, and she eventually discarded it in favour of one with ruffled shoulders. That seemed to go over her shoulders a little easier and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

It must have shrunk in the wash…

That was unfortunate, for the first blouse had been one of her favourites, though it would not stay in her mind for all that long. Such things were just, in the end, a means to clothe herself, even if she liked to look proper and professional. Steph didn’t honestly feel all that much physical attachment to items and objects, which was perhaps why it was a big step for her to even consider the notion of going out on casual dates. It was all for a reason, fuelling the human need for companionship, though building relationships would never be something that Stephanie was all that good at.

Or maybe that was due to change as she tied her hair back before entering the lab. Was it a little too long, all of a sudden? Steph didn’t think that it had been all that long since she had been to the hairdresser and her calendar confirmed that hypothesis. So, there was no reason for her hair to feel longer and even thicker than it had been before, even if her body thought that it was tickling too far down her back.

It was not easy to tame that day, either, not as she worked, forever needing to re-do her ponytail, tying it back, again and again. No matter what Stephanie did, it always worked its way free, wavy, curly strands that had not been there before springing into her face. She huffed and puffed and vowed to change her shampoo back that very evening.

She slept like the dead, which was nice. Usually, she was prone to waking up in the night with her thoughts too busy with all the research she had left to do, though sometimes the best ideas came in the wee hours of the morning. When she woke on the second morning, it was with a wet pillow where she had drooled on it in the night, having slept in a different position with one travesti istanbul arm flung out of the bed, hanging over the side. Strangely enough, for having slept in such a clearly uncomfortable position, she woke very refreshed, not a sore muscle in her body.

And maybe she was building more muscle too from the cardio and weightlifting that she took part in, she thought, looking herself over in the bedroom mirror as she dressed that morning too. It seemed that her muscles were a little more defined, even though she didn’t feel like she was lifting particularly heavy weights. It was hard enough for women to build muscle and she was surprised to see her body reacting like that even though she was not consciously tracking her food intake and trying to eat more than she burned, to increase her muscle mass. Or maybe, Steph thought, that was what her devouring the eggs and toast for breakfast had been all about.

She brushed her fingers over her legs and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. They were hairier, the hair appearing darker than usual too, though that could have been because she had let them go for a shade too long without shaving. She couldn’t remember the last time she had shaved, though Dr Stephanie did not honestly think that it had been that long. It must have been though, for her legs had a coat of thicker, darker hair, even stretching down over the top of her foot and her toes.

The things women had to go through! She shook her head. Men never had to worry about removing every bit of body hair from their bodies, but after beginning to date Callum, she had, at least, realised that it was a conventional norm that she was willing to play into. They’d only had a couple of invigorating dates though, even if her legs had been revealed for the second one in a tasteful skirt that suited their dinner conversation perfectly. She should get in touch with him and set up another meeting.

Perhaps that was a little bit of a formal way to go about it, but that was just how her mind worked and, frankly, Dr Stephanie was not about to help that. It was just how she was.

Her breakfast doubled that morning again, though she didn’t recognise how she’d had double her usual lunch at work and then been off her game in the afternoon, all because she hadn’t had enough to eat. The growling of her stomach, however, had not settled down as she had wanted it to and Stephanie had been forced to get fast food on her way home, eating two burgers, a box of chicken nuggets and chomping through a large fries before managing to cull it. Her appetite had astounded even her and yet she still didn’t feel satisfied when she forced herself to stop eating!

It wasn’t right… Though she assuaged her feelings of concern over overeating by stopping off at the gym when her food had had a chance to settle. Her weights had been off the charts that day too, grunting as she leaned over to pick up the weights from the ground, a pair of dumbbells that she had to press above her head, working her shoulders.


She was not usually very much of a vocal lifter, never usually grunting or groaning through lifts, but she was louder that day, effort escaping her in rushes and puffs of breath. Some of the others in the gym that knew her there, just as someone else that attended regularly to keep their body in its best shape, raised eyebrows at her deviating from her usual routine. Everyone got to know everyone else’s routine and favoured spots, after all, even if their eyes were not always on everyone else.

Steph never usually squatted either, but it felt natural to take the cool of the barbell across her traps, bending her legs and pushing her buttocks back with a rush of raw need. Yes, that felt like exactly what she needed, even though the treadmill and elliptical sat unused where they should have been tempting her to finish up and round off her workout. She stayed for longer than usual, her stamina increased, and Stephanie was more than a little impressed with herself in how much she lifted.

What a strange sort of day it had turned out to be, however…

She tried to shave her legs that night, along with her crotch and underarms — just the normal bits that she liked to do just to be comfortable. There seemed like there were other parts of her too, her chest and back and arms, that needed attention, but there was only so much Stephanie could focus on at once. The funny thing was, even though she had left those parts of her body smooth and hairless in the night, the next morning everything had grown back even thicker. When it didn’t bother her all that much, she set it aside. Who cared if she was hairless? No one was going to be looking at her anyway, she had far more important things to get on with.

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