The Cat Turned into (not) a Cat!
Kaenbyou Rin, dreaded hell cat of the Palace of The Earth Spirits, found herself in a situation far beyond her own ability. She had been ferrying the corpse of a recent arrival from the Outside World to the burning heart of Gensokyo's modernizing power grid when the ground beneath her wheelbarrow and her had given away suddenly in the courtyard of the Komeiji estate. So quickly was the fall that flight had left her in the panic and now the kasha found herself in an abyss so seeped in darkness that even her feline eyes could barely make out her hands in front of her face. Needless to say, the cart and body were completely lost, though they were now the least of Orin's concerns.
Looking up, nothing could be seen; no hole where she had fallen through shining with the lights of Old Hell. Wandering in any direction bore nothing. Flight was even less helpful and ,worryingly, never seemed to gain her any actual altitude; her feet coming to rest on the ground in short order every time as if she had merely been hopping despite her rush towards some unseen surface inconceivably far above. Rin's mind raced with the lore of Former Hell in search for even a snippet of whatever forgotten crevice of the subterranean world she had become lost in. Scraps of rumors of a hell pitch black and endless surfaced in her thoughts, and she trembled at the fact that none of these scraps detailed a way out.
Kaenbyou Rin continued to wander, the sound of her footsteps the only thing keeping her company in the abyss until a blind step stubbed her toe against something hard. A hiss of shock more than pain escaped her lips and she quickly investigated with her hands. It was wooden, for one, and once had been arranged in an unnatural form. However, the splintering along certain edges told her that it had been most likely smashed into an unrecognizable shape. Orin's gut feeling said this was the remains of her cart, which meant that its cargo must've been nearby. Shuffling her feet across the ground, the hell cat eventually kicked the pudgy side of the outsider's body. A distaste about this unused fuel pitted itself in her stomach, it not only being part of the reason the ground gave way, but also remembering how she had found it.
It had been near Muenzuka. The search for not-yet-cremated bodies led Rin to stumble upon the corpse. It was pale and unexpectedly heavy despite how small it was for a male. Pudge could be felt through the bizarre facsimile of a certain ordinary witch's clothes. The materials felt itchy and uncomfortable, and when lifted the unsupported head let fall from it both hat and wig, revealing a greasy mop of hair. Most concerningly, the apron had been drenched in some... substance which she'd rather not think about. Orin covered the wheelbarrow after she had loaded the thing, wishing to spare Marisa the confusion and possible embarrassment. If only she had known what issues this body would bring, she would've buried it in that crossroads of worlds. The kasha was broken from her thoughts by the appearance of a miracle; a speck of white light far in the distance. She walked toward it excitedly, tails thrashing as she broke into a sprint, unaware of the lost spirit clinging to them.
Hells, especially those not fully abandoned in their original purpose, can have bizarre workings. Perhaps these stygian lightless depths had recognized Rin didn't belong here and was letting her go. That, however, was an incorrect assumption by Rin's buzzing brain. It had, in all actuality, recognized the spirit of the outsider as not belonging, and Rin as merely its body. It would return it back to its home unharmed and unchanged. Back to his original shape. The tightness that had been taking up Orin's bountiful chest lessened and the burden upon it lightened both due to the relief of the light's appearance and slowly growing closeness and the redistribution of breast fat to the rest of the spirit's new vessel. A once svelte midriff swelled and softened and began to rub against an increasingly itchy and cheapening cloth of her(?) dress.
It was her dress, right? Something about the material and fit felt off. It was looser around the chest and tighter around the waist and the attire irritated her skin and trapped the heat from her body in a stifling way. She had to stop, partially out of discomfort but mostly out of her weakening body's fatigue, and prod and poke and adjust her clothing. The collar had to be pulled up in the front to avoid falling off her her chest with one hand while the other sought to stretch and adjust the stomach area, each tug unknowingly diminished the former while growing the latter. The dress changed along with her, its patterns simplifying and materials changing from the natural to the synthetic as its seams tightened and loosened as she willed with her hands. Her bra had fallen away, though to where was unknown, though her black silk panties remained unchanged. When Orin was finished, blind to her own form in the darkness, her body was entirely different.
A once flat tummy now sported a pudge that one could sink their fingers into and grab a handful. Her entire lower body, in fact, had distributed her sizeable bosom amongst itself. Feline grace and a tight physique had been replaced with a plushness that could be handled appreciated by groping hands. On the flip side, her "breasts" barely tented her dress, now more similar to soft pecs than anything found on an actual woman. The kasha remained oblivious, just happy that her clothes fit better now. Perhaps next time she'd treat herself to a nicer ensemble from a better vendor. With that intrusive thought, she continued on her way, merely jogging rather than sprinting, a small part of her brain's worry about the unseen changes being squashed by a foreign reasoning that warped it into a worry about a possible need for some lifestyle changes.
Orin's tails hung limply against her slightly cushier ass. The run must've really taken more than she thought out of her, but the light was growing ever and ever closer and was beginning to puzzlingly take on different colors. What was once a simple white dot had become a white square and now was blotted with reds, blacks, and dark greens on a blurry but definite form. Where was this leading her? The hell cat's feline ears cocked with some effort in confusion, but soon the uniquely cat expression straightened out, flesh numbing and giving way to manufactured materials below the realm of a hazing former-yokai's perception. Indeed, as the light shown on her face, another would be able to see her ears had rounded out, face losing its sharp feline features and regaining its baby fat. Dull brown eyes widened in shock as a hand subconsciously moved an oily black strand back under a red wig.
It was a picture of Kaenbyou Rin, exposed and flaunting her body, impossibly large tits pushed front and center on the computer screen. Yes, this was a computer screen; that much registered with the alien knowledge. She automatically sat in a chair before it, the action practiced many times before, as she gawked at the image. It was obscene to see her body like this, and a heat flushed through her as a hand found a mouse to expand and explore the art with ease despite the impenetrable darkness that should've made the task harder. The other absentmindedly explored her nether region as the heat soaked her brain and dripped into her body insidiously. Fingers caressed swollen lips that felt ready to burst with something. Vulgar breathing came out ragged and hoarse as her voice deepened and she ogled the body that was once hers. Orin couldn't stand it and felt the desperate need to stroke an unknown thing.
Her body answered her eagerly rubbing fingers, and a grotesquely engorged clit could be felt by them through the cheap fabric of her dress. The once-kasha assaulted its tip with three fingers while her other hand gripped the desk's edge. As it continued to lengthen and thicken, and she grasped with more and more fingers until she had it in a death grip in one hand. Pleasuring her clit in this way was beyond anything she had felt before, feeling herself slipping away into the ecstasy as if she might die from rubbing her clit. Clit? No, this was something else; something decidedly masculine. A flip switched in awareness and consciousness. This was....
....His dick. His penis. Anon's manhood which he stroked day in and day out between his sleeping and eating and shitposting. The undeniable proof of masculinity surged in his hand, and he wrapped the other around its shaft as he milked his cock violently to the picture of the dreaded paizuri cat on his screen. Heavy nuts churned under his gargantuan fuck stick, the thought of the fact that in spite of its size it'd only ever be used to fuck his hand pussies and pump cum into Touhou cosplays only egging him on further. He was drowning in depravity, thoughts of all the embarrassing things he would do with this fictional woman way out of his league; forcing her into tit sex, becoming her and ruining her reputation, or even her becoming a lowly pervert like him. Fuck, it was enough to send him over the edge and he ruined his Kaenbyou Rin cosplay by staining the front of the dress with a dark, wet, sticky, and warm spot, globules of cum leaking through despite the thickness of the made-in-China attire.
Anon settled back into his chair as he took a deep whiff of the smell of ejaculate off his hands. How many times had he done this today? The pudgy pervert lost count after 10, and a part of him was very surprised he survived this many ejaculations in a single day. Thankfully, chafing had been avoided with the black silk panties he wore, though he didn't remember from where he had procured them. Oh well. The shut-in lazily cleaned himself off and switched into a different costume, ready to continue his activities. It was near Halloween, after all, so dressing up and "being" these funny Chinese girls was really in this jerk-off season.