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Transformation Mansion star star star halfstar emptystar


There are many points in the mansion where you will change forms.

 

The more nights you spend in a form the more your behavior will reflect that form (also the longer you stay at a time the quicker your behaviour changes).

 

If you change forms your behavior will go to the current state of that form for you.

 

(e.g you are a tiger for 10 nights , become a dolphin for another 10 and become a tiger again. The tiger form behavior is still the same as is was when you become a dolphin)

 

You can only spend 30 consecutive nights or 90 total in a form before your behavior is totally that form's behavior.

 

Also after 300 nights in the mansion, you will become the form that you have spent the most of the last 300 days in (apart from the one you entered in) in its current state.

 

If any of the 3 previous situations (30 consecutive or 90 in one form or 300 nights total) occur you will then be teleported out of the mansion.

 

You may also leave at any time through any exit, except the one you entered in. You will leave the mansion in whatever your current state of mind and body
is.

 

If you leave the mansion by any means you may not come back for 5 years.

 

To start you off you will receive a transformation into a...




Illustrated by Catprog

Written by Catprog on 04 July 2004

Avoid the traps at the front door emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar


You hold the map in your hand as you survey the mansion. It’s a gracefully intimidating building, with arched roofs and brick walls turned gray-black by time and the weather. Your sneakers squeak on the cobblestone path leading up to the aged iron gate, all the time telling yourself that this would be the last time you would ever do such a thing. There were rumors about the place, that people who went in never left, that there was a ghost with no eyes prowling the top floor. Of course you don’t believe such things, those are just urban legends and stories they told to scare kids. And of course, knowing this doesn’t to quell the unease churning in your stomach.

 

As you climb over the fence, the leg of your jeans catches on one of the jagged edges and tears, sending you to a very ungraceful landing on the other side. Undaunted, you pick yourself up off the over-grown lawn and dust yourself off. Sure, these were new jeans but you could buy some more anytime, especially considering the mansion was said to be absolutely loaded with gold and other valuables. It was a selfish motivation for breaking into a long-abandoned mansion, but it’s not like it’s going anywhere and if anyone wanted it, they would have brought it out with them, right?

 

You made careful steps towards the front door; one rumor you did believe was that the place was rigged up with traps everywhere. Even if it turned out they were exaggerated, it didn’t hurt to be careful. The door opens with a loud whine from the tarnished brass hinge, the moonlight coating everything in a soft blue light and tar-black shadows. The entry hall is moss green carpeting and floral wallpaper stretching away into darkness. A few clicks and your flashlight illuminates rows of doors on either side of the halls.

 

Your hands are clammy with cold sweat as you tried a random door. Behind it is nothing but dusty furniture and paintings of desert landscapes. You try another one only to be greeted the rictus faces of hunting trophies and not much else. Finally, a third door way at the far end of the main hall turned up something more interesting to your avaricious quest.

 

The door led into a private gallery of sorts, full of sculptures and jewelry taken from obscure and ancient parts of the world, all kept in delicate glass display cases. Any single item from here would get you enough cash on the black market to live comfortably for a good, long while. But there was one item that catches your eye as the ghostly white beam of your flashlight drifts over it.

 




Written by feder on 08 March 2017

Egyptian ankh emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar


It was a solid gold Egyptian ankh, weathered from age but still whole and shiny. Next to it was a slip of paper proving it was a real artifact from ancient Egypt. You aren’t much of a history buff, but you know enough about the time period that this relic would make you some serious cash. You get out your toolkit and set to work picking the lock on the display case. You figure a big place like this could afford more secure locks, but it took mere seconds for you to crack it open. The gentle click of the lock releasing is music to your ears as you lift the lid up off the display case with surgical care and precision.

 

You can't help but chuckle as you take the ankh in your gloved hands. It has a good solid heft to it and curiously warm to the touch, but you’re preoccupied by the sheer windfall you had on your hands. You hold the relic in your hands like a trophy as you make your way back down the halls, feeling like the luckiest person in the world until a sudden, sharp in your back sends you to your knees. The ankh drops to the floor with a ponderous thud as it starts glowing a bright ethereal yellow. The glow flows over your, feeling like warm sunlight on your skin even through your clothes. The warm glow seeps into the fabric of your jacket and pants, growing hotter and hotter around you and flowing deeper and deeper into your body until your clothing combusts harmlessly into a shower of gold colored sparks, drifting around you like the embers of a campfire before dying down into nothingness.

 

Naked and alone, you scramble for the ankh, holding it in both hands as you kneel on the soft carpet. The pain in your back flares up again, building into a white-hot metallic stinging that slices down your spine like a razor as two nubs force themselves out of your back, twitching and flapping in the still air as they sprout into a pair of enormous wings with tawny brown plumage. They flap in uneven spasms, kicking up eddies of wind as your body forces itself to learn the motor function of its new appendages. Eventually you learn, and the wings fold up on your back like a bird at rest. Unfortunately, you barely have any time at all to get used to the idea of having wings before another storm surge of change flashes through your body. Your skin starts to feel prickly and hot all over as little golden tan hairs sprout all over your body, converging on your chest and back and spreading out over your body like a brush fire. The temptation to touch your new fur as it grows in proves much too strong, you roll around on the floor like a feisty kitten, running your hands all over yourself as the velvety soft fur finishes covering your entire body save for your head. You glance down at your fuzzy hands, your fingers start to feel swollen and puffy as they shrink down and grow into thick, clumsy feline paws. Your fingernails taper into sharp claws and sink back into the sheaths on the tips of your new forepaws. You flex them inward and the claws slide out, then pull back in when you straighten the digits out.



Written by feder on 19 March 2017

Onto all fours emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar


You take a step forward, your legs quaking. You hear the joints in your hips pop and you fall forward on all fours. Before you can right yourself, your legs bend inward, your thighs growing thicker and shorter while you lift the heels of your feet, locking them into a digitigrade stance. You try once again to stand up, lifting up on your back legs but you can only manage to flail your forepaws in front of you before falling back down. Walking upright has become impossible.

 

But whatever force is at play, it is not done with you yet. You feel a throbbing between your back legs around your manhood. You clinch your eyes shut, panting heavily as it shrinks inward. When the sensation passes, you roll yourself on your side and peer down between your legs to see that whatever you are becoming, it is not a male of the species. Your back aches once more, this time a pulling sensation right above your haunches. You lift your backside up in the air like a puppy and let out a low, breathy growl as a thin, tapering tail with a tuft of soft chocolate brown fur on the tip sprouts out of your body like a plant in spring. You look back at it and twitch and swish it back and forth and you can’t help but smile. In an act of kitten-like curiousity, you paw at your tail, then turna and pounce on it, rolling on your back with it pressed between your paws, the tuft tickling your face. As the soft brown furs tickle you, your face itself starts to grow softer. Your cheeks grow round and supple, the skin turning a deep, sun-kissed tan.

 

Then it dawns on you that you were doing something... The ankh!

 

Your leap to your feet, surprised at how graceful your new body is. You pace around where you dropped the relic, your paws silent on the carpet. Something isn’t right, you know it isn’t right. No matter how much you search the same stretch of hallway, the ankh does not turn up. Every time you try to recall its exact location, your mind starts to fog up. Names and memories and places melted into distant blurs like the mirage on the edge of a desert.



Written by feder on 29 March 2017

Riddles emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar


“Keep it together...” You whisper to yourself as you pace around the halls like a caged pet, looking for your prize so you may protect it...

 

No, that’s not right. You’re here to take the precious ankh, not watch over it like some sheepdog! You continue your search, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. In your search, you pass by the room with the desert painting. Something about the way the pyramids were rendered in delicate tan and golden expression strokes makes you feel nostalgic. For a moment you find yourself daydreaming about how nice it would be to visit Egypt once you sold that ankh for a huge chunk of cash. All that history, the arid heat all over you like Mother Bast’s embrace, the fear and wonder of travelers as they gaze upon you, a defender of the ancient lands and ward of the ancient spirits that rule in secret. Yes, you would make a fine gaurdian Sphinx and...

 

You shake your head, banishing the thought. No, there will not be a trip to Egypt! And there will not be any time spent as a gaurdian either! You’re a free... whatever you’ve become, not some watchdog whose only purpose in life is to give riddles and eat grave robbers. Riddles, now those are fun. You chuckle in a catty, unmistakably feminine way as you think up a good one, a real brain teaser, yes sir.

 

Wednesday, Tom and Joe went to a restaurant and ate dinner. When they were done they paid for the food and left. But Tom and Joe didn't pay for the food. Who did?

 

You giggle as you repeat it to yourself, oh you are a clever sphinx yes you are... are not! You are not a sphinx, clever or otherwise! You keep insisting this to yourself over and over as you make a turn past the dining area, but each time you feel less and less convinced. You look around you and a kitten-like whimper escapes your lips. You’ve gotten yourself lost, and you still haven’t found the thing! The... You sigh and flick your tail as you rack your brain for the word. It was right on the tip of your tongue, something gold and shiny... Something about Egypt...



Written by feder on 07 April 2017

Collared emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar


Your train of thought is brought to a sudden, sharp halt when you feel a gentle weight around your neck, you lift your paw to feel of it, only managing to scratch at it with your claw. You find a dressing mirror in a guest bedroom a few rooms down and find that you have a collar now, an elegant black leather collar with a gold clasp with a tiny ankh-shaped charm hanging from it. You bat at the charm with your paws like a kitten. It seems familiar somewhow, you try to think back but the gaps in your memory are spreading farther, swallowing more and more of your former self up with every moment that passes. You try to remember earlier in the week, when you woke up in the mansion and the Mistress rubbed your belly and told you what a good sphinx you were for guarding the house. But that wasn’t right, you were sure it wasn’t right, but it was the only thing you could dredge up from your muddled head.

 

Then you hear the door in the foyer open, then close. Your keen nose picks up a small note of a familiar perfume, but you don’t know where or when you became acquainted with the smell. You pad down the hall in the direction of the visitor, unable to stop yourself from purring like a housecat. Then she approaches you, a tall woman with ebony colored skin and silky black in a neat medium-length bob. She is wearing a white linen outfit halfway between the robes worn by ancient nobles and a slinky evening dress. That dress and her gold jewelry, bracelets and a tiara, make her look like a Nubian queen. She smiles at you and you find yourself sitting in front of her. Now you know who she is. Mistress, the owner of the house and the one you are sworn to serve and protect without question, without mercy for those who would fail to solve your riddles.

 

She runs her long-nailed hands over the fur on your neck and you can’t help but purr like a housecat.

 

“ Hello darling,” She says in a soft, yet authoritative voice, “any trouble while I’m gone?”

 




Written by feder on 16 April 2017


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