UPDATE: Reached the goal! Here's the fourth panel! http://www.furaffinity.net/view/22285133/

So! Like I said, a little bit different then my usual stuff...gearing up for our honeymoon and wanted to step outside the traditional stuff. Hope you like it / don't unwatch meeee.

Auction ends Midnight PST on Friday the 20th. Folks bidding on purple must be male. Green can be either gender. If yellow is female, the story goes one way, if male, another...

Starting bids for each slot are $40 moneh. Five dollar increments please. The end picture will be fully colored and shaded. If the bidding gets over 450 total, I will add a fourth panel. Every two days, I will release more of the story in my auction reminders. As far as species and clothing, no taurs or anything that 'breaks' the ych pose. I will handle clothing but will take recommendations and preferences towards color and the like. Any questions let me know down below. :D

Without further ado~

The sun was up but the air was brisk as the fair began winding down. Being one of those family friendly ones, it closed pretty early for such things, with everyone expected out by sundown. No one thought to question it; it was just a dinky fair to be honest, and there weren't many clamoring for extended hours.
Pulling your jacket closer, you grin as you notice your friend waving you towards perhaps the last attraction of the night. You were still feeling a bit buzzed from the cheap beer and poor choices in dining you had made, but that hadn't kept you off the various rides so far. A thrill seeker, you loved all sorts of these things, even if the rickety old roller coaster had felt like it was going to come apart beneath you. It might have been the alcohol, but the fun house he beckoned you to didn't look familar, even though you had passed by this area several times already. With limited time, a fun house didn't seem the best use of your last tickets, but with a knowing glance, your friend directed your attention to a hot little number in a denim jacket, who was just giving the attendant her tickets. Nodding appreciatively, you started towards the funhouse with your friend. Those things were dark, and it was easy to get lost. Nothing better then playing the hero to a frightened babe who couldn't find the way out.

Making your way up to the attendant, the scrawny man in the cheap vest held out his hand, beckoning for your tickets. The hand that reached for you seemed almost skeletal, but looking up at the man, you realized he was actually fairly young looking, with a wide grin. Your friend goes first, flashing you a thumbs up as he ventured into the darkness. Laying your tickets on the counter, you start to follow, when the man at the booth stops you. Hold on, he says, give it just a moment. Shrugging, you turn and see the warning sign for the ride, reminding people that there was a height requirement to go in. Oddly, the cartoon stork whose wing indicated the requirement pointed a lot lower then you would think for such a spooky looking attraction. Barely the height of a todder, you could estimate. All clear, the man barks out suddenly, making you jump. Smoothing down the hairs on the back of your neck, you nod at the man and step into the darkness, hurrying along.

Black light lit faces jump out at you , and a thick fog wraps around your ankles, but it's cheap looking and none too scary. A roller pathway; a fun stair, pretty standard stuff. Fair music trickles through dated speakers and sets the tone. You don't see your friend and a part of you gets annoyed that he might have first dibs on saying hi to the girl. As you make it to the mirror maze part of the funhouse, you hear a weird sound under the callopie; almost like a child crying. You didn't see anyone go in before the girl through, so you shrug and put it aside. What you don't realize are the changes that began the moment you stepped into the funhouse. Your sweater already hangs looser on your dimishing frame, and your boxers, unseen, have lost their color and have begun to thicken, taking on a plastic sheen....

***

You grin as you notice the attendant stop your friend; it means of course that you have dibs on an 'accidental' encounter with the pretty thing that went directly in front of you. You loved your friend dearly, but sometimes you felt like might they might be holding you back some. Not this time.

You move through the funhouse at a quick pace, stumbling once on the roller floor and jumping slightly when the plastic tarantula hissed and popped out at you. Taking a deep breath, you continued a bit slower, but with purpose. Dibs. Another jump as you walk through what you think is spiderweb, but you shake your head when you realize it was only your hair falling down over your eyes. A few drinks ago this might have bothered you, because you definitely didn't have hair that long. Instead, you meet this new condition with a shrug and press on.

A small spiral slide brings you down to the second level and you stand looking forward into the dimly lit area. A maze of mirrors stood in front of you and it brings a grin to your face. If you were going to make up that ground and catch up to that girl, this would be the place to do it. As you step inside, you realize that several of the mirrors are of the appropriately 'funhouse' variety, and you watch your form stretch and squash with each step. You make a funny face at one and are rewarded with a gaping ghoul of a reflection back. Giggling, you move onto the next one and stop. This one is a bit different. Most of the skewed perspective seems to be happening in your torso, giving you the appearance of being very well endowed. It also catches just a bit of your hair, making it seem longer, almost down your back. Nodding appreciatively at the picture (hey, you're not quite sober, are you?) you start forward...only to stop suddenly again once more. The musical track that had been pumping earlier seems to have quieted, and in the growing silence, an oddly familar sound splits the air. It's a baby, calling.

Needing.

Conscious thought leaves you as you step into the mirror maze proper. On your mind, first and foremost is getting to that child. It doesn't occur to you to wonder where this mysterious child has come from, it is your overriding instinct to go to it. A clamoring sound, like someone wearing shoes far too big for them, turns your head. It's your friend.

Oh dear, you think. He's gone and lost his pants. The child, modest as always, wears a frightened look as he tries to pull his baggy shirt down over his diaper. Silly child. A part of you is somewhat annoyed, here he is again, holding you back from your goal, but then again, you know you have a responsibility to this one too. Seeing you, he smiles and surges forward, but then stops as he gets closer, looking through you as he looks at you. What a silly expression he has. You love that about him. So many silly faces.

Hey...hey man are you ok? Things...things are not...ok, he stammers not making a lick of sense. Are you...you are...what happened to you? What's happening to me? You roll your eyes, but bend slightly to take his hand. The baby ahead of you has begun crying louder now, and demands your attention. It's a firm grip as you take his hand, made firmer by the odd sensation that the hand you held is shrinking. Pulling him forward despite a gasp of protest, you move further into the maze, leading your son on. Maybe it'd be best to invest in one of those leashes your friends were always going on about. The little stinker liked to wander now, didn't he?

There's a certain softness on your mind that even your panic can't fully dissipate. The colorful trappings of the funhouse are gone, replaced by flourescent lighting and cheap tile. The only mirrors left over from the attraction is the one over the sink, next to the changing table. A toilet sits in the corner, but in your current state, that won't be any concern of yours for some time. All this seems very very wrong.

The friend you had arrived with is no more. In their place sits a comely, buxom woman, getting comfortable on the recliner chair that occupied this family restroom. Despite your pleas and shouts, it doesn't seem like they quite...hear...you. To be fair, they seem more preoccupied with the new addition. You had finally caught up with that pretty girl in the funhouse, even though by that time you had realized something was horribly amiss. Your friend had gotten there first, but had been having their own troubles. Instead of a potentially happy encounter with a young woman, you had been stunned to see that although the lady's clothes were strewn around the mirror room, in the middle of them sat a bawling child, no older then a year at most. Breaking through your own panic for a second (although the fact that your pants had disappeared and a bulky diaper had replaced your boxers was alarming enough) you notice with horror the expression that overtakes your friends face as they spy the child. It's a warm look. Maternal. The same one they had given you when you had first caught up to them. With long strides, longer then you were now capable on your short legs, she crossed the room and picked the squalling baby up, holding her tightly to their chest. She shushes, and you can hear in the silence your friend say something about feeding time...

And that brings us to now. It could have been a blink, or a flash, or it could have happened when that fog had rolled swiftly and strongly across your mind, but you three are not in the funhouse anymore. Pursuing 'chicks' is the last thing on either of you or your friend's minds right now. You watch, transfixed, as she pulls down her shirt to reveal a nursing bra that had surely appeared much as the infantile clothing you now wear had. And you watch as your friend leads the baby's head to their breast, eyes still glassy and unfocused. You grab your friend's shoulder, fighting against your own unfocused state and shout, and are only rewarded with a single acknowledgement. Hold your horses, silly boy, they say, again, not really saying it TO you. I'll change that stinky diaper right after your sister finishes her meal.

Words fail you (did you have them in the first place?) as you back away from the recliner. Your feet, wobbly and unsteady now, trip over one another and you fall backwards onto your pillowy cushion. However, doing so elicits a whimper from you as you realize that somewhere in your fog, you had used your diaper for it's intended purpose. It's all a bit much for someone with such small feelings to take, and you begin to cry yourself, your sounds drowning out the soft tones of the calliope that echoes from the fair.