It was the sound of ringing that first pulled Lycan Gruff out of the haze unconsciousness. Ringing and the vibration of something plastic against a wooden surface filled his ears before he even opened his eyes. This was the first thing that he noticed. The second thing he noticed was that all the pain that once tore at his form had subsided. No inkling remained of the horror endured only just recently. Well, as recently as he could recall. How long had he been out? A few hours? A day?
As his mind slowly became more aware, like a night flower slowly blooming in moonlight, the writer felt the chill of the floor upon his cheek. And he could feel something tickling at his face. Oddly enough, however, though he was clearly sprawled upon the ground there was an unusual sense of warmth, as if he was wrapped in a full array of winter clothing.
That's not right. I distinctly remember taking everything off. With hesitation and great caution, Lycan moved his fingers. They felt peculiar, but not broken; same for his arms and his legs.
Alright then, Lycan, open your eyes.
Light of the mid-morning sun poured in through the living room window and the writer cringed as it overwhelmed his eyes. He could see his home, clean and oddly well-kept for a bachelor (or so his editor always told him). Eyes darted to the table where his phone sat. Even as he watched it started to ring again, scooting lightly over the table as it vibrated. But he couldn't be bothered by it as he pushed himself up from the floor.
Claws scratched the floor as his hands supported him, heaving him up from where he lay. Once pale and thin human nails had been replaced and now thick and dark bits of carotene extended off the ends of his fingers. As he gave his hands a flex, he noticed the membrane of skin that had grown between them. Webbed hands? He had transformed into a water-dwelling creature?
Every bit of him that he could see that wasn't his claws or the thick pads of skin on his palm was coated in a thick coat of velvety fur. As he admired the feel of it under his fingertips Lycan gave a shudder of delight and he watched as it stood up in attention.
"Oh wow." The writer had opened his mouth to speak, but a voice not his own passed his lips. Oddly, his voice suddenly sounded more feminine. He opened his mouth and made a few other sounds, just to be certain. Sure enough, the sounds of a woman came out.
Now, transforming into an entirely different creature was one thing, but jumping into the next gender was in a field all its own. With a bit of unease Lycan got up to his feet, and hurried into his bedroom. An antique full-body mirror sat in the far corner. There was a twisting feeling in his core as he came forward. Anticipation, dread, and exhilaration flooded his senses as his furry feet carried him forward, toes clicking ever softly on the hardwood floor.
Deep cocoa eyes, alive and glittering with light, gazed back at Lycan Gruff from the looking glass. For the most fleeting of moments, he wondered if this was what folk on those makeover shows felt like when their transformation was revealed.
Webbed hands went up to touch the cluster of whiskers that stuck out from each cheek like cactus spines. As they were touched and stroked, his skin tingled as if he was handling raw nerves. He prodded at his black nose noting the texture and shape, and he rubbed the rather adorable pair of ears atop his head.
An otter. He thought as his lips cracked into a grin. I've turned into an otter. It was then that he took notice of his other noticeable physical shift.
Where once he possessed the flat pectorals of the human male Lycan's paws now fondled the pair of breasts that had grown with his miraculous transformation. They weren't exceedingly sized, but they were certainly an extension to his chest that would take some getting used to.
But wait, if I have breasts, does that mean..? Reaching down to the boxers that were still on his lower half, he patted at his groin. Sure enough, just as he suspected, the bulge that once was indicative of his masculine identity was simply no longer there. But something else had found its way into his trousers.
Turning around to look behind him, Lycan caught sight of the long and sleek tail that was uncomfortably wedged against his leg by the confines of his underclothes. With a bit of strain and nearly falling backwards onto the bed, Lycan managed to wiggle the clothing off of his hips and tossed the garment aside. When he stood again to look at himself in the glass, a realization seemed to dawn upon him.
No... Not 'him'.
"I'm a woman," the female voice that passed through Lycan's lips whispered in astonishment. As if those words opened a floodgate, the otter was filled with an emotion the writer had not felt in a great long while; a sense of freedom, of happiness, and of exhilaration.
"I am a woman," she repeated, this time with conviction as she set her paws on her rounded hips.
From the living room the sound of ringing and vibration could be heard again and this time Lycan went to answer it. It was no surprise to hear the sound of her editor on the other end of the line.
"Where the bloody hell have you been?" she shouted in a panic. "Lycan, we have work to do."
Do I? A voice whispered in the back of her head. Suddenly the voice over the phone was a blur, like someone speaking under water. Lycan had just made a marvelous transformation, and with that transformation came a freedom that she had forgotten she had. The world was her oyster, and it was time that she enjoyed the feast.
"Lycan isn't here right now," she said into the phone, her lips curling into a joyful grin.
"What? Who is this?" the editor shouted. "I insist to speak with Lycan."
The female otter set a hand on her hip, her tail swishing behind her.
"Lycan's gone away for a while," she said with a chittering giggle. "He will call you if he ever returns." With a beep the call was ended, the phone was tossed over her shoulder, and as it shattered, so did the shackles of Lycan Gruff.
Written by palantean-writer on 24 February 2016
The end (for now)