I've been hard for a long time now. Just hard as a rock. Super stiff. What I mean is, the entirety of my pink bubblegum body has solidified. I can still move and all; a little less freely, but I feel more stable. My footsteps clack on the tiles.

...But when even my hair stiffened up I realized something might be wrong.

It was up in a bun, but when I took out the tie it just kinda... stayed in that shape.

Weird. I went to the library to read about it. I tried to stick to modern books, since the Old Peeps, I've learned from experience, were kinda shit when it came to writing about the female body.

I find some descriptions that are definitely familiar, but I can't quite think what they remind me of. I've lost that memory in the long tunnel of life. They seem kinda incredible. Incredulous, I reach in my pants and touch that organ that I don't seem to use for much.

Woah!

I feel like I'm entering a warm bath, and being hugged by a friend, and eating an ice cream with a little cold drop escaping down my chin, all together in one. I gotta try more of this.

I give more gentle pressure to my clitoris. A feeling of sweetness spreads from my crotch. I realize it's something I've desperately needed.

And then I feel a warm pressure on my neck.

My hair is melting out of its bun. Finally.

But this makes me self-conscious and I realize I'm in public. I think this is a thing to do in private. My cheeks turning extra pink, I gather my books and head out between the stacks. I get to the checkout counter.

"Enjoying yourself, Princess?" smiles the old lollipop librarian.

"Y-yes," I stammer.

When I get back to my room, I jump onto my four-poster bed and set the books beside me. Getting comfortable on my back, I enjoy the regained squishiness of my bubblegum "hair" under my head. Then, I sneak my hand under my pants again.

Messing around with my labia is so bizarrely enjoyable. It feels like covertly stealing some frosting before the cake is served - even though it's on my own darn body. Like I'm playing in a forbidden garden. The folds and complexities of my vagina fascinate me.

And I'm pumping pleasure to my system every time I touch. It's so deep and gooey that I want to purr and sigh. I know I'm loosening up all over. Light is flooding into dark caves.

Something moist trickles past my cheek. I realize my hair has melted near liquid, though it remains one contiguous form connected to my head. I rise to sitting and feel the sheet of hair swish and splash against my back. Ooh! It's so joyful! I needed this!

I tug my pants down, and over my legs, and off. My panties, same. I leave my shirt for now, a top and no bottom, which makes me feel dirty in the good way. All the colors around me are brighter. All the world seems wonderful; these crumpled sheets on this familiar white bed, a gift; these books, left haphazardly, and their connection to the library several floors below, is all a strand in the beautiful matrix of living.

I rub my vagina eagerly, filling myself with the candied taste of life. I throw back my head and make an "Mm!" sound deep in my throat, beaming unreservedly with eyes tight shut.

I'm glad no one else can see me now. There's definitely no one I would want to show, except Marceline - woah! And as I have that unexpected thought, I feel the most intense blend of embarrassment and passion, a feeling so rare I can't help but let it happen wholeheartedly! I turn myself over and bury my face in the pillow, hair pooling around my face, and indulge in the innocently extreme crush-embarrassment that belongs to the young me I used to be many, many years ago.

As I feel and feel and feel, my face - getting ever so slightly softer - compresses deliciously against the pillow, now more like skin than like rock candy.

I stop and catch my breath. I can't stop smiling. I've been calm and professional for a long, long time. I didn't know what I needed.

My clitoris is still begging me for love. I get up and bunch the sheets into a thin, long hill that will fit between my legs, then I lay back down on it and start kneading my clit forward and back against the sheets, working my hindquarters, humping the bed kinda. It's a little like going on an exercise machine, the rhythm of it, but a fun one; it's a little like hidden intimacy, like sharing a secret and feeling that trust, but it's physical and increasing, a repeating dose of that solid and determined kind of love. I adore the pressure, pressure, pressure I'm putting on my vagina, and I love myself for it; and what's the opposite, the good version, of "I can't stand it"? Because I can't handle it, it's too sexy, too perfect. I'm speeding up. I push harder. I really am humping the bed now. I'm panting! Yes, yes, yes! Eyes tight shut, back arched, I'm moaning with so much pleasure. And I'm melting. The softness of this erotic dream is spreading throughout all of me and I'm getting all squishy and my form is less defined, and it's so nice, I'm so free of regulations.

All at once a gushy liquid flows out of my vag, just bursting forth and getting my sheets all wet. I feel a tremendous release, all the pressure I've been building through masturbation. I think it's wonderful, the universe and me and the discharge stain dampening my comforter, I think it's all so sweet.

My whole body is kinda squishy now, and my melty bubblegum arms are settling and spreading a bit on the mattress, my legs the same, my bubblegum chest pushing down on my shirt.

I finally take my shirt off. Breasts are an erogenous zone too, I read, and I think mine are beautiful. As they melt it almost seems like they're gaining mass, filling out. I cup one in my hand and massage it, bouncing it around and enjoying myself. My lower body squirms with anticipation, still feeling the deepening cum stain. I sit myself up, feeling my widening ass spread out on the bed under my weight.

I take my own nipple in my mouth and suck, licking at it gently and pleasuring it with my lips.

I taste like bubblegum. And every other delicious thing is speeding through my body, my nerves, making love to my mind. Fresh strawberries with creamy whipped cream, they turn me into the maple syrup over pancakes, ever so slowly dripping down the side. I play with my boobs while my other hand slips a finger inside my pussy, sucking and fucking myself.

I melt so much, filled with so much pleasure, that my body type is different now. Rather than tall and thin, I have curves and lumps, my belly is big and round, my hips are the same, my boobies are gorgeous melons. My hair has tangled and bunched up, almost like messy curls on a human.

I'm kneeling now, so I let myself fall back onto the soft covers. I spread my legs to the side, thick thighs wobbling, and I focus on my vagina. I slide two fingers into the warm, sticky hole, and push them in and out.

Probing inside my own body, I feel so wonderfully full. I know I've only changed shape, not grown larger, but it's like there's so much of me. Such a complete loving tightness hugging my fingers with each motion. And the pleasure swirling through my vagina is something I never imagined. It's not an urgent excitement, it's a slow burn, like a back massage, like a winter day wrapped up in front of the fire reading comics. It burns up my pussy, the good and also heavy kind of burning. It heats of all of me, all the folds of bubblegum "fat" and my pretty pink hair that presses up against my cheeks as I grin.

I almost masturbate myself to sleep, a more complete sleep than I've had in years. My body is physically mimicking a huge release of tension. But I keep at it until my girl parts give me another, calmer orgasm, sliding vaginal discharge out into a cute little puddle and leaving me feeling complete.

I'm halfway to a puddle myself. I'm thick and naked on the bed, covered in sweat; and my titties, pussy, and ass are all huge and in full view.

As I slowly cohere back to my normal shape, hard but not too hard, it doesn't change a thing on the inside. I love my body more than at any other moment I can remember.