Story: Miranda Transforms into a Werecow in Public (Patreon)

The first sign was the pop of buttons flying from Miranda’s pink shirt near the Hot Topic kiosk. Shoppers froze as her muffled gasp morphed into a wet, nasal snort. Her hands flew to her face as her nose stretched, cartilage creaking like bending plastic. Nostrils flared wide and pink, glistening as they broadened into a bovine muzzle.

“Oh god, oh god—” Her plea dissolved into a moan as her yoga pants began to split. Thighs ballooned beneath the black fabric, white fur erupting through torn spandex. The crowd surged back as her hips widened with a sickening crunch, tailbone elongating into a wiry tail that poked through her pants.

Her shirt strained against her chest, seams screaming as breasts swelled unnaturally, fur sprouting in patches across her cleavage. A teenager’s phone clattered to the floor as Miranda turned to look at them, neck thickening, face twisted in pain.

“Somebody help her!” shrieked a barista, though no one moved. Horns—curved and sharp—pierced through her scalp with a sound like cracking eggshells, blood blending in with her red hair. Her hooves exploded through her shoes, each step leaving cracks in the tile floor.

A mother shielded her child’s eyes as Miranda’s transformed face contorted—human anguish portrayed through beastly features. Mascara stained her cheeks, running with the tears that flowed freely. Her final sob emerged as a guttural moooo that vibrated the windows. When she bolted, the automatic doors crumpled like foil beneath her weight, pink scraps of shirt still clinging to her waist as she disappeared.