free hit counters
All Hallows' Eve (Story, Witch/Devil) - The Process Forum
The Process Forum  

Go Back   The Process Forum > Content Forums > Transformation

Inflation and Process ClipsProcess Productions Store Inflation and Process Clips

Thread Tools Display Modes
Unread 10-20-2018   #1
Process Fan
thunderwing's Avatar
Join Date: Aug 2008
Posts: 53
All Hallows' Eve (Story, Witch/Devil)

Lauren and Mike just wanted to stay home for Halloween - but when Dr. Samuel Hanes is done with them, Halloween will last forever...


“…police are recommending that citizens be on the lookout for Doctor Samuel Hanes after today’s daring escape from the Wallachia Institute for the Criminally Insane tonight. Joining us now is Dr. Janet Arbogast, one of Dr. Hanes’ colleagues from Carpenter State University.”

The camera cut to a somber-looking middle-aged woman, sitting in a cramped campus office.

“Dr. Hanes was obsessed with three things: mutagenics, sex, and Halloween. Not necessarily in that order. He’s a certifiable maniac, and if he’s on the loose – tonight of all nights – lock your doors, turn your lights off, and sleep with a knife under your pillow.”

Mike rolled his eyes and nonchalantly flipped over to a slasher movie marathon.

Lauren side-eyed her boyfriend. “You’re not worried about this guy busting in here?”

He dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand, his eyes focused on the heaving silicone breasts and splattering karo syrup on the screen. “Pfft. I’m in Abnormal Psych, remember? I know all about these guys. This dude wants total mayhem, so he’s gonna hit the big Halloween dance, or the Frankenkegger at Alpha Mu Theta, or the Hellscape Hayride. Those places are serial killer magnets. For him to go after us would be like leaving a briefcase full of diamonds on the ground to pick up a penny.”

Lauren groaned. Mike was usually annoyingly perfect…but when he went into full know-it-all mode, he was just annoying. Still, she considered herself lucky to have snagged him; after all, he was a brilliant scholar, a champion rugby forward, and a reasonably-successful sweater model, with all the mental and physical attributes those accomplishments would suggest.

She didn’t consider herself to be anything special. She was an average student with a blandly cute face and slim body; she tried to make herself more interesting with a vaguely-androgynous sense of style, favoring jeans, sweaters, and tomboy-ish short haircuts. What she did have was guts. She’d resolved that she was going to ask out the Adonis sitting in front of her in Intro to Geology, and luckily, he’d been surprised and impressed by her forwardness. She’d been reaping the benefits ever since; he was an excellent conversationalist, a capable handyman, and a phenomenal lover.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t had much time for each other for a few weeks, what with the pressures of academics, family visits, and extracurriculars. But now midterms were over, her homework was done, and her housemates were out partying. She had the house all to herself – and more importantly, she had Mike all to herself. It had been a stressful half-semester, and there was nothing she needed more than to spend the weekend riding him like he was a mechanical bull.

And on Halloween, no less! She’d never cared much for the holiday before college, but now she saw it in a different light – the skimpy costumes, the trashy horror movies, the booze and drugs and candy, all wrapped up in spookiness and screams at the intersection of fear and lust. She almost wanted to bring it up to Mike, but she knew it’d set him off on a tangent, and there were better things he could be doing with his mouth.

She ran her right hand through his thick dark hair as her left crept under his polo shirt, caressing his sculpted musculature. He reciprocated, pulling her close into a long, lingering kiss.

Lauren’s ears perked up, picking up a faint noise from the other side of the house. “Did you hear that?”

“Unless it was this guy screaming after having his leg chopped off with a concrete saw, no.”

“Well, I heard something. In the kitchen.”

“You want me to check it out?” He half-heartedly started to get up.

“No.” That was a lie, but she got up and went herself anyway.

She walked down the long hallway to the kitchen, the hair on the back of her neck raising with every creaking floorboard. She soon reached the dark kitchen; it was lit only by the soft glow of the digital clock on the microwave.

The back door had been unlocked, and had been rattling a little in the wind. That was all it was. Relieved, she locked it and decided to get a beer out of the fridge. After pulling out the cold bottle, she fumbled with the cap for a while before realizing she needed to find a bottle opener. Cursing Mike’s taste in fancy microbrews, and remembering she’d left the implement somewhere on the counter, she flicked on the lights – and gasped.

The table was covered in spread-out newspapers, with a pile of pumpkin goop and seeds in the middle of it. An orange-stained knife lay off to the side.

She had put a jack-o-lantern on the front step that evening…but it was plastic and battery-powered.

Lauren grabbed the knife, and found the handle was still warm. It had been in a human hand no more than five minutes ago.


No answer.

She started down the hall, the knife still clutched in her hand.


Soft gurgling sounds.

She ran until she reached the living room.

Mike was still there, but he was no longer alone. Dr. Hanes had made a house call.

He was a tall man, wearing tan slacks and a lab coat; he was also apparently massively strong, as he had the rugby-playing Mike by the throat with one hand, pinning him to the wall. He turned to face her; placed over his head like an old-timey diving helmet was a freshly-carved jack-o-lantern. Piercing blue eyes stared out of its triangular eye-sockets, while white human teeth glinted in the dim light from within its permanent grin.

With his free hand, he pulled a huge syringe out of his coat pocket and plunged it into Mike’s chest. Hanes relaxed his grip and Mike sunk to the floor, already foaming at the mouth and convulsing.

Blocking her route to the front door, Hanes started to move towards her. She’d just locked the back door, and Hanes was probably fast, so she knew there was only one place to escape.

She bolted up the stairs. Tears started flowing from her brown eyes as she heard Mike begin to howl in pain behind her. Once she was on the second floor, she made for the attic, pulling the ladder up behind her so Hanes couldn’t follow.

She sat down on the dusty attic floor. amidst boxes of old VHS tapes and sheet-covered furniture. and buried her face in her knees, trying to process what had just happened. It didn’t feel…real. It was like something out of a sleazy horror movie.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to real people. This happened to aspiring starlets with feathery perms and bad ‘80s boob jobs.

But it was real. As if she needed proof, Mike’s screams began to grow louder…and deeper. God only knew what was happening to him.

She gritted her teeth. Maybe this was a sleazy horror movie…but she knew how those movies ended. She had to be the final girl.

Clutching the knife, she lowered the ladder and made her way carefully down to the second floor. All was quiet in the house, save for now-more-muted moans. She crept halfway down the stairs, each step eliciting a worrying creak. And there, at the bottom of the staircase, was Mike.

She had expected him to be horribly mutilated. Instead, he was horribly…mutated.

His shredded clothes were spread all over the floor, and he was totally naked, allowing her to see that every inch of his muscular body was a deep crimson, from his pointed ears to the hairless cloven hooves that had replaced his feet. Short black horns and pointed ears poked out of his unruly dark hair, while a long spade-tipped tail had grown from his lower back. In his clawed hands he clutched his enormous manhood, which somehow managed to be redder than the rest of him. It was monstrously erect – and apparently agonizingly so, given Mike’s clenched fangs and pained expression. He was clearly trying to get himself off, but all he seemed to be able to do was make it harder.

Her boyfriend, who mere minutes ago had been the All-American boy next door, had transformed into a Satanic monstrosity.


Her voice startled him. He seemed embarrassed by his condition, although if he was blushing she couldn’t tell.

“Are you in there?”

“M-mostly. He injected me…turned me into this.”

“Where’s Dr. Hanes?”

“I don’t know. I started changing, and that was all I could focus on…by the time I was finished, he was gone.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It hurt…to change. But now I just feel…so…so…”

“Yeah, I can tell.” She eyed his erection warily.

She’d been raised Catholic, but she hadn’t had much use for the church since her Confirmation. What lay on the floor in front of her, however, was every lingering fear that lurked in her subconscious. Her loving boyfriend – who she had intended to happily spend the weekend having all manner of non-Biblical relations with – transformed into a demonic avatar of unrestrained male lust.

She had to remind herself that this wasn’t real – her boyfriend hadn’t been transformed into a pitchfork-waving denizen of Hell. Dr. Hanes wasn’t a sorcerer or a Satanist, he just had some kind of serum that mutated people into monsters.

That was, somehow, not a comforting thought.

“I’m going to go get help. Stay here. I’m sure whatever he did, they can fix it.”

Mike didn’t reply, but his fanged mouth opened into a silent gasp.

She realized he was no longer looking at her. He was looking behind her. Up the stairs.

Hanes had been hiding on the SECOND FLOOR.

Before she could turn around, she felt the huge needle plunge into her spine.

She screamed, dropped the knife, and painfully fell down the rest of the stairs, landing face-down next to Mike.

She squeezed her eyes shut in agony as the serum burned through her body. It felt like her organs were liquefying, her muscles were tearing apart, and her bones were on fire. As she writhed in pain, she kept her face pressed to the cool hardwood floor, not daring to look up at Hanes, who had sat down on the stairs to watch them, silently.

She finally summoned the strength to push herself off the ground and roll onto her side, even though the skin of her hands was consumed with a maddening, roiling itch. They were changing color; starting at her wrists, and spreading from there, her flesh was becoming a vibrant chartreuse. As the unnatural green hue overtook them, her fingers lengthened, becoming gnarled as her neatly-clipped nails hardened into black claws. Her feet and toenails had undergone the same transformation, and her involuntary spasms soon tore her woolen socks apart. She tried to roll up the sleeve of her sweater to see if the color had overtaken her arms, as well, but her new talons simply shredded the long woolen sleeve, revealing that her arm – and probably the rest of her – had taken on this new gruesome hue.

Her heartbeats grew louder in her ears; with each beat, the poison spread through her. Her breasts, ass, hips, and thighs were throbbing, pulsing with growth and expansion. Her boyish physique was soon a thing of the past, as her mutated glands started pumping megadoses of hormones into her bloodstream. With the hormones came a sticky heat suffusing her body, making her erogenous zones tingle. Before long, her juices were flowing in earnest, assisted by her tightening panties rubbing against her engorged clit.

Her slim figure was thickening, turning her sweater and tight jeans into a torturous prison. Her new, burgeoning flesh, an order of magnitude more sensitive than before, felt like it was being scraped against sandpaper as it rubbed against the roughness of wool and denim. Even though she didn’t want to give into her horrific lust, she had to be free, or she’d go insane…and she was clinging tenuously to sanity as it was.

“Ugh…stop…please…this can’t be happening!” Her voice was raw. She wasn’t sure who she was talking to – the silent Hanes, Mike, or her own uncooperative body. It didn’t really matter, because none of them answered.

She just needed a little ventilation. She tore a small notch into her sweater’s collar and unbuttoned the fly of her jeans, providing a small flicker of relief. Before long, however, she needed more. In minutes, she’d torn a deep, plunging neckline into her sweater, and slashed her jeans into denim cutoffs. Even those soon proved too constraining; with great reluctance, she tore herself out of both garments, leaving her newly-womanly body clad only in her undersized bra and panties.

Before her horrified eyes, she saw her button nose stretch out into a prominent beak, and her delicate chin jut out into a dramatic point. She could see that the green had spread there, as well; her cheeks and forehead burned as the change overtook them. Her eyebrows arched, and stayed arched.

As the change reached her scalp, it burned with a maddening itch, like a nest of tarantulas was burrowing out of her flesh. She grabbed the sides of head, and found that her short blonde boy-cut was rapidly growing into a thick, tangled mane of jet-black hair.

While that discomfort soon subsided, leaving her with hair down to her mid-back, her ongoing growth continued to strain the limits of her remaining garments. Her bra was starting to impede her breathing, and if her panties got any tighter, they’d have to be surgically removed from her. She groaned – she didn’t want to sacrifice the last of her modesty, especially not with some insane pervert watching her dispassionately from the stairs. She soon surrendered to the inevitable, however, and sliced both undergarments off. The cool air washed over her nude form, stiffening her forest green nipples and sending a frisson of icy pleasure through her clean-shaven snatch. Unable to resist, she copped a feel of her new assets. They were so firm and heavy and FULL.

They were huge – humiliatingly so. ‘Breasts’ didn’t really do them justice any more. They were…cans. Tits. Boobs.

“Boo-bs. Heh.” She let out a small involuntary cackle; as her brain boiled with strange chemicals, she felt a little drunk and giggly.

Two emotions were waging a war for control of her brain: fear and lust. The fear was understandable; she and her boyfriend had just been attacked by an escaped lunatic who’d injected them with something that had mutated them into Halloween monsters. Lauren knew that if she stopped to think about it, she might start screaming and never stop.

The lust was a little harder to explain, given the above…but between her new, sexually-charged body and the witch’s brew of sex hormones pumping through it, it was taking all her willpower not to just masturbate until her brains melted.

She winced in discomfort as the toxin reached her brain, and shuddered in exquisite agony as her neurons rewired themselves. When the pain subsided, she still felt the fear and the lust…but they were one and the same. She was afraid of what had been done to her, and what she was becoming, and it turned her on. Her nightmares were becoming fantasies. She wanted to be ravished by ghosts in a graveyard – consort with goblins underneath the full moon – get buried alive in a coffin with a horny vampire…

As her last patches of peachy skin sank beneath the green tide, she threw her head back and cackled, her new vocal cords raising her voice by an octave and giving it a screechy, shrieky quality.

She was complete now, and it was obvious what she had become: a witch, her body twisted and warped by her forbidden sorcery.

It was a body built for lust. For sin.


And what better way than to indulge that wickedness than by fucking the Devil himself? Or at least a reasonable facsimile.

She’d been so wrapped up in her own transformation, she’d almost forgotten Mike was still there, lying on the floor mere inches from her; he, however, had been driven to new lengths by watching her writhe in agony and ecstasy. Unfortunately, his clumsy new hands had only managed to elicit a single drop of dark precum that lingered on its tip.

It was time for her to work her black magic.

On her hands and knees, she crawled over to him, staring at him with her amethyst eyes. As she moved, her breasts swayed beneath her; it was a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one.

He seemed a little taken aback. “Lauren…this might be a bad idea…”

She silenced him, putting a finger to his black lips. He needed to get into character.

“I put a spell on you…because you’re miiiiiiiiiiine…”

She ran her fingers down his broad, heaving chest, finding his skin was hot to the touch. Her talons traced his bulging pecs, his washboard abs, and his well-defined obliques, finally wrapping her bony fingers around his mammoth member. She gave it an experimental pump, and he moaned. Surely her nimble fingers could finish him off posthaste…but this devil’s pitchfork deserved to be somewhere warm.

She licked her jade lips and engulfed him in her mouth. He roared, his capacity for human speech having been temporarily consumed by his fiery lust.

He tasted like fire and spice and musk.

And it was hot! Almost too hot for comfort, as it swelled even larger between her jaws. Undaunted, she took in its entire length, feeling his taut scarlet scrotum bounce against her newly-pointed chin. She began to work his cock with her right hand, her tongue, and her lips, all the while maintaining unbroken eye contact with her demonic paramour. His yellow eyes burned with unfathomable lust.

He had always been a sucker for her sucking.

Her other hand snuck down between her legs, where she began ministering to her neglected genitals. Her long, nimble fingers penetrated far deeper into her than they ever had before, and her sharp claws elicited just the right sensation on her throbbing clit. She moaned, muffled by the enormous Satanic schlong in her mouth.

It still wasn’t enough. She needed more – she needed to be FILLED.

As if Mike had read her mind, she felt his seething tail begin to probe her bountiful booty. The spade-tipped appendage stroked and caressed her apple-shaped ass before zeroing in on her needy slit. Her furious frigging had turned her vagina into a bubbling cauldron of fluids, so he slid in with ease, his pointed, flattened tail-tip hitting pleasure spots she never knew she’d had – and maybe hadn’t, until her sudden metamorphosis.

She wondered, idly, if Hanes was even still watching, and found that she didn’t care.

Her body squirmed, impaled on Mike’s cock on one end and his tail in the other. It was exquisite, the most pleasure she’d ever been subjected to – it almost too much for her body to bear, as her heart pounded and her juices gushed. She was getting close, and so was he. She could feel the taut skin tighten over his muscular length, just as she could feel her own pelvic muscles begin to constrict Mike’s tail.

She sped up, bobbing on his dick like her life depended on it, and felt his testicles churn on her chin. As she buried his member in her warm jaws one final time, she was rewarded with a volcanic eruption in her mouth. It was hot and thick and rich, and she luxuriated in the sensation of it oozing down her throat; she might have orgasmed from that alone, although her fingers and Mike’s tail ensured she did so anyway moments later, soaking his new limb in her fluorescent violet fluids. She let both of his appendages slide out of her as she flopped over on her back, delighting in the warm heaviness of the new weight on her chest, the soft cushioning beneath her, and the intoxicating taste that lingered in her mouth.

Mike, meanwhile, coolly licked the tip of his tail, tasting the juices of his unholy bride. A sly grin formed on his demonic face as his flaccid cock, as if possessed, began to rise once more.

“Well done, witch. Now I think it’s time for you to ride this broomstick.”

She cackled. “You devil.”

As the witch mounted the demon, Dr. Hanes carefully stepped around the fornicating freaks, and walked out the front door, closing it behind him; even the thick wood wasn’t enough to fully silence their piercing orgasmic shrieks, but he knew nobody would pay it any mind. It was Halloween, after all.

He was quite pleased with himself. He’d found a couple who had chosen to all but ignore Halloween – no costumes, no revelry, and not so much as a bowl of mini-Snickers. Now they would never need costumes again, and they would never be short of revelry. They were on their own for the candy, however.

He looked across the street, and saw the faint outline of a couple, silhouetted by the blue light of a television. In his pocket, he felt the reassuring weight of two more syringes, full of his special blend of mutagens, psychoactive drugs, and a dash of pumpkin spice; the soft rattle in his medical bag reminded him that he had dozens more to go.

After he made a few more stops, it would be Halloween for a very long time.
Attached Files
File Type: doc All Hallows' Eve.doc (52.0 KB, 8 views)
thunderwing is offline   Reply With Quote

demon, devil, halloween, story, witch

Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump

All times are GMT -7. The time now is 01:15 AM.

Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.7
Copyright ©2000 - 2020, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.