This is a story of a futa fairy’s greed—and how she singlehandedly flooded a town.
Mara, like all fairies, loves magic. She especially adores how it changes her body, making her strong, curvy, and—above all—unbelievably hung. When she has a chance to plunder a particularly rich bounty, she can’t help but indulge; even as her endowments grow too big to pull through the windows! And when the aggrieved alchemists, ruined by her appetite, give chase to teach her a lesson, Mara finds herself growing beyond even her most indulgent hyper futa fantasies…
Can Mara resist her desires for long enough to fly to safety? Will she manage to drop enough ballast to relieve her wings of the immense, growing weight between her legs And just how much truth is there to the legends of futa goddesses and their landscape-altering virility?
This 4,300 word story contains: Hyper Futa Transformation, Endowment Expansion (Macro), City-flooding Fluids, Building Destruction, Ascension.
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Fairy Futa Folly
A Hyper Futanari Transformation Story
This is a story of a futa fairy’s greed, and how she singlehandedly changed the fate of a town.
Winterbrook, as it was known, was one of those frontier settlements in the untamed and untamable wildernesses surrounding Haven, the city of change. Here, raw magic rained from the sky, seeped from the earth, and enchanted every living thing that grew there; thus, the great interest of herbalists, smiths, mages, and tradespeople of all stripes. Winterbrook lay in valley between dramatic cliffs and great forests, shielded and snug, with the cold stream that had named it at its center. It was large for a frontier town, with a cluster of dense stone and timber buildings several stories high at its core, whilst new houses went up by the day, branching off haphazardly into the surrounding wilderness to civilize it, foot by foot, until the wilderness inevitably pushed back.
It was an early evening in Autumn, amidst frigid winds and orange-brown leaves, that Mara had come to town to gorge herself on mischief and magic. But as her wings struggled against the weight of her elephantine cock, she realized that she had, perhaps, been a little too indulgent.
But how could she have resisted? The window to the alchemist’s workshop had been left open and unguarded, an obvious invitation for any fairy with a sweet tooth—and Mara’s was sweeter than most. She had simply floated right inside, slowly growing a smile that scarcely fit on her face as she realized her luck: she was in the storage room, freshly restocked, and she had it all to herself.
It was nothing short of a miracle that the 6-inch tall woman still fit through the window frame when she was done.
Most fairies are manavores to some degree. They naturally gravitate towards sources of ambient magic, and are often used to mark out locations of long-lost ruins or rituals with their fairy circles. They can subsist entirely on these sources, absorbing magical energies by unconscious reflex; more than one fairy has discovered, to their surprise (and amusement of their peers), that they’ve passed by a leak of old magic and absorbed it automatically. This, of course, because of the obvious effects on their bodies, the reason that fairies are—infamously—among the most wildly endowed species in the world, despite their diminutive heights: the absorbed magic goes to all the right places, fattening their curves and cocks to staggering degrees. (The same fact that makes them excellent substitutes for coal mine canaries when traversing dangerously magical dungeons).
Mara was not at all ignorant of its effect on her body. She was addicted. And, with some pride, the sole reason for the proliferation of butterfly nets around Winterbrook.
Today, she had hit the jackpot. And even as she struggled to pull her balls through the window frame—bloating bigger by the second—she had to battle her baser instincts to turn and continue gorging herself on the remnants of the pilfered store of magical ingredients. But no; her urge for self-preservation still held primacy over her hedonism, and the alarm had already been raised from the sound of crashing jars and popping ingredients; she had stumbled, trying to cram herself bodily into a jar of astral honey, and her fat, growing cock had swung like a pendulum and sealed her fate. Now she was out of time; the alchemists would be here soon, none to pleased to see their work go up in smoke—though Mara, of course, with a self-satisfied look over herself, would insist that she had put it to the best of possible uses. She could smell the perfume of mana even as she left. But no matter; she could barely fly as it was, and getting caught was no good for her future program of mischief. Taking off—with a jolt of weight pulling between her legs, not at all unpleasurable—she left the alarmed alchemists to their woes and set course for her forest haven.
Satisfied that she was in the clear, Mara’s thoughts immediately went to the most enjoyable of activities: taking stock of her haul. She was tingling from head to toe, hopped up on her favorite high, and more than eager to find out just how big her little figure would grow this time. Already, she was off to a good start: her top, a green, leafy thing, had already capitulated, tearing in two under the strain of the little handfuls on her chest becoming a pair of jumbo jugs, bigger than her head by far and ridiculously well shaped. Next came her hips: While they frequently lagged behind the rest of her, she was pleasantly surprised to feel her expanding waist pop the stitches of her dress, as her booty and thighs filled with a pleasant excess of curves that looked all the more shocking on her tiny stature.
Finally, with a lick of her lips, she considered her cock. Massive. Enormous. Brobdingnagian. These were paltry descriptions of her feminine monster that lay between—and below—her thighs. It dwarfed her legs. It dwarfed her body. It was so big that even on a regular human, ten times her height, it would have been obscene. Mara had a slab of veiny cock between her legs more than a foot long; and like her equally gigantic balls, it was growing by the minute; longer, thicker, and—as her poor wings could attest to—heavier.
A near miss with a weather vane forced her attention to return to her flight. But she was incorrigible; as soon as she had regained a safe altitude, her thoughts wandered. Size-queen that she was, her behemoth wouldn’t stay soft for long. Because of course a dick twice as tall as herself wasn’t enough for Mara, and her slowly rising erection promised—with each shuddering throb—to become far more grand: a fuckpole fit for the greediest dickgirl alive.
Fit for her desires, perhaps, but not for her means of propulsion. She sagged in the air, dangling over shingles and street lamps, fighting to stay over the level of the roofs. Ahead, the safe haven of her forest was in sight, but not in reach; it would take her several minutes of brisk flying to reach it, and at the rate she was descending, she would never make it in time. The streets below her were quiet, but an angry townsperson could emerge at any moment to ruin her day if she went low enough.
“Fine,” Mara decided, “I can drop a bit of ballast.” Grunting with effort, she reached the rain gutter of the nearest roof, touching down before she was forced to crash land. She made it just in time, touching her naked feet to the cool roof, and almost falling immediately as the weight of her gargantuan package asserted itself, hanging off the precipice and nearly dragging her with it for a painful lesson. Gravity dispensed with for the moment, Mara got herself stabilized and heaped her mammoth cock across her front, cracking several tiles in the process and immediately putting the roof gutter to use; her cock was leaking precum by the bucketful, sending thick, clear streams of goo down the drain that would surely clog in the very near future.
Despite the near miss, she got what she wanted: a brief respite to blow a load or two. A good thing, too; her balls were still swelling, sloshing and gurgling aggressively in the process, and their efforts only intensified as she placed her hands on her magnificent slab of meat. It would seem an impossible task for a woman so small to stimulate a cock so large; but Mara was among the horniest creatures alive and her auto-erotic arousal alone could’ve set it off, much less made it rise. So it was that the tiny fairy sat back on her boulder-like balls to jerk off her two and a half-foot cock with the full-throated accompaniment of moaning and giggling that it deserved.
Her orgasm rocked the neighborhood. She was a fountain, a rainstorm, gushing messily to send wide arcs of cum flying through the air that came down hard, slathering the roofs and walls around her in inch-thick layers of stupidly potent baby-batter. “Oh yes!” she cried, between shallow gasps of air, “So good!” She was many things—but not subtle. Not that it anywhere near reasonable for her to be, sporting a cock more than five times bigger than herself.
Or at least it had been. The tally grew to six times, now, then seven and eight, expanding rapidly before Mara knew what hit her. And still she came, her swelling cock only making her orgasm all the sweeter, plunging her into a full-body climax so intense that a lesser hedonist might have gone mad. But not Mara. She imbibed it fully, drinking deep of the unearthly pleasure flooding her mind—and the irresistible desire to urge it on, growing more hung and obscene by the second.
She couldn’t have announced her presence better if she tried. As soon the streets, slowly filling with puddles of molten cum, would resound with the steps of angry alchemists, hot on her heels.
That thought finally penetrated the fog clouding Mara’s mind, bringing some semblance of alertness back to the horny fairy. She paused, held her breath—her orgasm having finally ended after several minutes of pressure-washing the walls—and took stock of her situation. Nobody had come yet—aside from Mara, of course, who had come more than the rest of the town combined—and she had accomplished her goal of shedding some weight. Only, her package had grown all of it back and more besides. Rationally, she knew she was supposed to be annoyed by the counter-productive result, but she was so pleased to see her endowments bloom that she could hardly find it in her to frown.
What did spoil her smile was the arrival of not-so-distant cries and commotion from beyond the bend of the narrow street below her. Voices drifted towards her on the wind; human voices, low and angry.
It was time to make herself scarce.
If you liked this story, you may enjoy The Birth of a Futa Goddess.
Or check out more erotic futa stories in the catalog.
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