The sign reads
"Welcome all new travellers.
To continue you must go through a series of doors.
After going through you will pick a costume. You will then become a half- human and half that creature.
After a week(100 mins a hour,20 hrs a day,10 days a week) has passed you may morph and get another costume. To start of with you will only be able to become 40% human to 60% human.
If you put on a costume you will then become that creature, be teleported to it's home town and have to wait a week before being able to morph.
After 50 costumes you may change into one of your other costumes and become 30% to 70% human. When changing costumes you must wait at least an hour before you can change costumes again.
100 different species/gender costumes allows you to gender-morph and become 20% to 80% human
200 different species costumes allows you to combine costumes and become 10% to 90% human
400 different species costumes allows you to return to your world with no more morphing
And 800 different species costumes makes a polymorph and allows you to morph outside of this world.
Also if you have a costume like a centaur then the human part will always be human and is counted towards the human percentage.
Any gender/species transformation magic of yours can only change your gender(if you have at least 100 costumes) and the animal part to a different animal.
When you change into a different costume (that you already have) you may teleport to that species home town but you will have the week penalty where you have no costume changes.
If you die while wearing a costume you will be reborn at the local inn (or appropriate location ). If you have more then 100 costumes you will lose the costume you had when you died and go to an appropriate place for your next costume.
If you fail to make it out in 100 years(100 weeks in a year) one of your possible forms will be chosen and you will be permanently stuck in that form(apart from magic) until you die. Also there will be no possibility of going back to your world.
Also, one final note: should you take a female form and become pregnant, you won't be able to change your gender until the child is born, though the other aspects of your form may change (the child will change to match.) That is all, and good luck!
You realise that you have to do what the sign said to do and go through the doors and grab a costume.
Alternatively you could use the key system to determine the room
Illustrated by catprog
Written by Catprog on 11 February 2004
You go through the door.
All of a sudden it slams shut and with no handle on this side it appears that you are stuck.
There are two more doors however and both of them have a sign on them saying
Costume room for
So which door do you want
Illustrated by catprog
Written by Catprog on 01 January 1970
You go through the door.
All of a sudden it slams shut and with no handle on this side it appears that you are stuck.
There are five costumes in this room, all of them female, all of them are fictional land creatures.
Written by Catprog on 26 February 2004
You wake up to the feeling of being cold, feeling your breath emerging from your mouth in a cloud that you can see. It’s freezing where you are, and the icy grass on the floor does you no favors.
Emerging from the ground, sitting upright, worry hangs over your shoulders.
What were you doing before trapped in an icy igloo, surrounded on all sides with a wall of ice that includes a ceiling?
Priorities of how you found yourself in this fate are secondary, as the bitter cold seeking to sap your energy is of primary concern.
There’s nothing covering your moderate male frame. Not even underwear is being worn. You’re still the pale skinned, doe eyed fella with the hint of dark wavy hair barely long enough to see in the corners of your eyes.
Crossing your cold arms over your frigid body, it hurts to be still. Rising up to keep mobile on frost covered grass with chilly feet, the only other thing in the room is a cardboard box, covering the contents of something that you hope will be the path of salvation.
Besides this container, only the grass underfoot and the curved frost tube keeps you trapped. Something with the ice is strange as light rains down into the compartment, illuminating the patch of land you’re freezing in, but no opening exists to claw your way out.
With nothing else to use, you make your way to the cardboard, bringing a shivering hand to the flaps, folded in itself to protect its contents.
Opening the box, a burst of warm air emerges from the covering. You look relieved to find a set of clothing that’s looking more like cosplay gear than anything to handle the elements. Touching one of the sleeves of the uniform brings a warm wave of relief just by merely touching it.
You grab a hold of the sleeve, and find the long sleeve shirt, holding it in both hands. The top looks rather plain, being of a red thin spandex material. It also looks way too small to cover your stomach. You don’t care.
Slipping into the shirt gives your core a lovely flush of heat that you could not provide on your own. You push your arms into the sleeves of the top, and they restore feeling to your upper extremities. Overcome with relief at the perpetually temperate piece of clothing, you find yourself rubbing your legs with a grin on your face.
The grin turns to a shocked expression, as you feel some short hairs sprout out of the bare skin from underneath the top. It’s noticeable on your hands, becoming covered in short dark brown strands.
Looking over at the back of your hands, the strands are of an even pattern, becoming covered in a comfortable layer of fur. Flexing the fingers, there’s no sign of restricted movement, so no worry of frostbite hurting you exists. Your fingernails are looking darker while you move your digits, as if ink has been carefully placed on all of them evenly. Black painted fingernails look awfully cute, but concern sobers you up from the amusement.
What gave you the idea that having manicured nails could be considered cute? Or thinking that the red top could use some jewelry to accent it?
On top of the frigid prison looking to take your life away, there’s a sinking feeling about the seemingly magical outfit placed in the chamber with you.
The costume is changing you.
For as much as the girlish clothes are your ticket to survival, the red-brown fur running up your arms are looking like they might be what’s to come for your time trapped. Frantically feeling around the box for any sort of indicator for what the clothes are doing, you feel warmth in your hands tugging your attention to see what is happening to you.
Underneath every fingertip, a swelling of skin slowly pushes outward, shrinking the digits to be thinner. The flesh pools at these fingertips, wanting to break through. A gasp of surprise comes out of you as you see the bulging skin turn to a light brown.
Patting your nose with these pads, bumpy paw pads that are warm to your face, feels good to restore some feeling at wherever they test pressing on. This causes you to yelp as the changed parts of you shouldn’t be like a dog, or produce heat independently.
Back to inspect the box, one of the open flaps has a small list of instructions to read on. You sigh and lean into the sign to read it carefully.
It says in handwritten pen:
SURVIVAL ONLY POSSIBLE WITH THIS
OPERATE OUTFIT FOR 2 WEEKS TIME
EARLY REMOVAL IS IMPOSSIBLE
DO NOT LOSE YOURSELF TO CHANGES
“What kind of sick joke is this,” you say to yourself, realizing that everything about the helpful directions is as real as the situation you find yourself in: Manufactured.
What’s next, there’s going to be a Banette, the grey zipper-mouth Pokemon needing you to play a game?
As if the costume is well aware of the changes that are flowing, you look down at your arms, now covered in fur. Below the midriff of the too short shirt, your stomach is getting its own bout of fur. Any indicator of body hair is a memory of the fur replacing their strands. Feeling this part of your body is keeping an inner flame alive, allowing yourself to nod in the toasty heartbeat no longer struggling struggling to breathe.
You reach into the box once again and pull out something you didn’t even think about slipping on before.
The sight of yellow panties doesn’t seem like much, but you shove a leg to an open hole. The silky soft material in contact with your left leg is enough to encourage a step into the right leg, and sharply sigh as the caressing fiery cloth is helping you keep warm. Shoving the panties up to your hips brings you to grunt at your torso, your core being comfortable despite the trap all around you.
Reveling in the warm feeling of the outfit, a warm hand is enough to scout your uncovered lower back. Below the half shirt, your soft paws bring up a feeling of more fur. Red-brown fur holds onto your body as if it’s always been there, covering your arms, shoulders, back, and the sides of your body.
Unable to bring yourself to grab another piece of clothing, a strange fascination washes over you, observing the fur growing out of your chest.
The fur sprouting out of your stomach is a little longer than the fur on the rest of your body, and feels luxurious to fumble around with finger-like paws.
Up and down, your exploring hands welcome the new changes to come to light, bringing a conflicted blush out of your cheeks. To get the mindset of enjoying the new sensations, is as surprising as someone gaining fur and whose masculine package is way too big for yellow panties can be supported.
“AAAAHHHHH,” you cry out, feeling your chest starting to get funny. Something’s wrong inside of you, and now discomfort prompts you to double over on the mysterious box.
Two thick sticks loosen in your body, and break inside of your chest. You’re not aware of what’s happening internally, but your upper pair of ribs are breaking apart, and receding back into your spine. In their wake, soft warm globes expand against the soft red fabric covering them.
Cupping these against your palms, they feel very hot to brush up against. A pained breath brings the pecs out, and nipples rubbing up against your palms. As these globes press outward, your hands rotate up and down, cradling these wonderful parts of you like flaming globes.
“HAH! HAAAAH!” You pant out loud. They’re bunching up against each other, allowing a small window from the collar of the top to show off. Cleavage stares back, all covered with warm cream fur.
“B-breasts…. I…” You take a moment to breathe, and feel the B-cup globes existing, unsure of what to do now. “ I have breasts… This is so freaked up…”
You try to think about some other way to get out of here without the transforming outfit, but a sharp pain brings a hand to shove against your meat between your legs.
Feeling how your prick is having a hard time keeping covered, fondling it with paw pads feels like a mascot is giving you the business. While testing this extremity, its size makes you feel it between two fingers, trying to find something much bigger. Burning pain follows the probing, becoming harder and harder to grasp what has been yours since birth.
“N-no!” You cry out to no one. “It… It’s gone!”
Lost manhood is left with receding balls slurping to fold inside of your body. Damp feminine lower lips make you moan in frustration, growing wet for their first contact with your fingers.
Now, those panties fit perfectly fine, with surrounding cream fur covering up between your legs.
The new feeling of the furry snatch makes hiding it with new undergarments feel wrong in mind for a moment, but you are able to move on as your internal body heat tells you to not worry about it so much.
A small grin forms on your face, pulling the needy fingertips away to find the rest of the costume, and finding more comfort in the depths of a changing form.
Orange leg warmers are pulled out from the box, with no time to question their effects. Surviving in the cold is more important than trying to question the loss.
Be that as it may, a thought nags in the back of your mind. Two pieces of clothing did so much. If more of the stunning ensemble is slipped on, would there be anything left of you?
You hold that question in your mind when you slip on these leg warmers, covering your shins down to your knees. Evaporating water emerges from your legs, pores releasing a passive stream of arid air.
A thought of the grass underfoot being a nice autumn field to be walking upon, feels like the right idea as your once numb legs are as relaxed as your upper half.
Toes clench as fur emerges from your legs that are covered up, in the return of the reddish brown fur to cover up once frigid skin. Bending your knees up and down, they feel more energetic than they were before. Tightly packing with muscle supporting your frame instead of being scrawny, the adjustment makes you agile enough to hop on each foot to test this out.
It is getting a little stuffy in here, now that you sniff the air in the ice box. While the walls seem to get a portion of air into the chamber, the longer trapped inside, the less air that will be available to work with, especially with your body heat not doing anything about melting the weird ice.
You get the feeling that you need more of the outfit to heat up the walls from within. Sliding some footwear from the box onto the floor, a pair of sandals come into play.
Stepping into the light brown colored rubber soles, they make you groan rather softly at the feeling of being in shoes again. You feel good to be comfortable, as well as stylish.
You hold your head in a paw, you mean hand, so that you can collect your thoughts while looking down at the black velcro strap sandals, secured with your other hand while squatting.
Locked in at the front half of your feet, you grin at knowing the deal by now. Those feet of yours are changing next.
Dark brown fur consumes the cold and damp skin, matching up with the hands, if you can call them that, all the way through from heel to toes, top and bottom. Like your fingertips, the tips of your toes bulge up with rounded protrusions, shrinking the male toes to look longer and delicate. Thick light brown pads are now present under every toe, and you imagine yourself being in heels.
Ankles rise and fall, flexing the resilient muscles that connect them. In one good snap, the heels arch up, making you grin that you don’t need heeled shoes to show your feet off like that.
Black toenails grab on the edge of the sandals, unable to break them. They’re as much a part of you as your breasts and your furred patch.
Worry returns to your soft eyes. Your own thoughts betray you as the ideas of looking cute to the eye and pleasant to talk to, linger as you try to think about why you got here in the first place.
Protests in the back of your mind are silenced as a brown skirt is found inside of the almost empty box. A chuckle comes out of you while you grow excited to put the skirt on.
You bend your pawy toes into the footwear, and slip both legs into the soft cotton covering, feeling a lot better with the minimal clothes and changes going on.
Crossing your arms to get a good look at how well you’re dressed, the cotton layered gypsy skirt makes sure to cover any sort of leery boys’ eyes to find your private parts, and being able to sit down anywhere with a good cushion of fabric is a nice benefit.
A nervous sigh comes out of you. It’s so girls don’t get a look at your junk, right? But you remind yourself that you don’t have any to show off.
Questioning what your preferences might be are paused with the feelings of something growing out from below the seat of your skirt. Trying to feel for it, a bump is expanding out of you.
You get knocked out of the feeling by falling down to all fours, arched sandaled feet on the ground, with narrower shoulders wiggling as the grass under cushioning finger paws feels prickly.
Tilting your head under your body, a pained moan comes out of you, not recognizing the lady-like silhouette of narrow limbs, breasts, and nothing hanging out between your legs. You feel more movement from that growth breaking your balance, unfamiliar with the sensation in your hunched over furred body.
The human tailbone gets repurposed from an inert piece of anatomy that gets broken every so often, thickening and connecting to your nervous system. You know it’s there as it wiggles to life against your skin.
A pained look follows you speaking incredulously to yourself, unable to take what is going on. “ACK, Ahh! N-nnn, no why can I, f-f-feel all that back…”
Snaps of bone bring your four paw limbs to brace on the floor, as if knowing what exactly is happening before you do. You try to softly plead yourself to stop twisting your body like this, but there is no change to the cracks in your behind. Feeling the flexing curling tail isn’t enough for the transition.
Gasping for air, you feel what can only be described as another set of fingers that drum along your skinny backside. In a waving motion, it’s not just one tail that’s bursting out of you, a mere 2 inches long.
You count the taps on your body. There are six that exist, going through cerebral diagnostics and testing control of these new limbs. Your mind becomes familiar as if you always had a set of tails.
“T-tails? Like… Like A…” Awareness is sobering the changes as you start to put the pieces together.
Warm clothes? Animalistic traits grafting on your body? A feeling of dread washes over you, as more of your humanity is turning into a limited resource. That was the point of being put into this place, wasn’t it. It was never about anything else but the costume.
The price is paid in pained cries, as all of the tails puff out, bone and muscle strengthening them in each gentle wiggle.
Orange furred tails look like feline ones as they inch out of you very carefully. With your body forced to endure the changes as your mind treads water to maintain your older sense of self, it’s hard to do so while the low temperatures do not affect you anymore.
Your fanning tails, thickening out to be 3 inches thick, keep growing out of your lower back, slipping past the three soft layers of cotton. Running down past your knees, you feel how the tails compliment your form.
Moments ago, you would think you were crazy for allowing yourself to even have tails. It makes you wonder if there will be anything left of you when it’s all over.
You whimper at the new long limbs being a part of you. The tips of the tails clench, locking the ends of them to curl like a big cinnamon roll. The fur on them grows outward and voluminous, thicker than the fur on your chest. Giving another inch of thickness, your legs shake gleefully as you curl three tails around either leg, aware they’re yours to hold.
“Ugh,” you complain, crawling on your paws, not noticing to correct yourself for the human limb names, back to the box. Tipping it over towards you, reveal two last items inside.
One is a wallet, which you hurriedly slip towards a tail, shoving it into one of your curls to give it a good use. The skirt has no pockets and you’re not the kind of Pokemon to just leave it hanging around between your breasts.
The other item is important enough to get you to stand, with your heels slipping down to be flat footed.
“No…” You tell yourself softly, finding the headband in your hands feeling all too familiar. Three very short tails of yours are resting in the middle of it.
“I can’t put this on!” You say this with gritted teeth, sliding it on your hair, with the bands behind your ears. “Why don’t I want to take this OFF!”
You gasp at the black plastic sinking into your skull, merging as the head tails plant themselves in your scalp. As tapping paws try to find the missing ends of the headband, they only find hair that’s turning stronger, cleaner, and well taken care of.
The three tails on your head twitch, before being able to flex them like a third eyebrow that twitches with your face. While mushing paws lose the missing piece of plastic, you feel your ears burning up with activity.
Tapping pads travel to poke at the small human inner ears stretching out to smooth walls of cartilage. Still feeling these ears as you try to figure out what is happening to you, they start to hurt as they grow out past your curling hair, turning as orange as all 9 of your tails are now. Dark brown fur covers the large inner walls, stretching the rounded human shapes to pointed triangles as big as your hands, with the same red-brown fur as most of you on their tops.
Fur spreads out past your ears, and covers the sides of your face in their touch. The fur soon covers any last patch of human skin you had on, and replaces any notion of facial hair that may be on it. Another pain makes you cross your eyes, to find your nose.
Huffing in worry, you see your nostrils cave in with an internal push against your jaw. The end of your nose sniffs in their shrinking nasal cavities, growing rough with a dark brown button nose sniffing in reflex.
You can’t stop sniffing while your cheeks narrow, bringing your cheeks to a sharper angle, smaller than before. Your jaw opens, revealing sharper teeth with open pink lips plumping slightly.
Now that you have a cute fox nose, a pout, and pretty orange hair with your outfit, sandals, and tails behind you, the original you gets one last grasp at what exactly you are. Narrowing eyebrows raise up to be surprised, worried at what has become of you.
You came here as a gent, didn’t you? But you’re here as a lovely lady.
“Vuuuuul…” you say, groaning. “Hurrrrts to think I am a guuuuuy…”
The human irises that once centered your eyes are consumed with color, fading the whites in your eyes and your original eye colors to a dark brown shade, looking empty if it wasn’t for the shine of the ice cap reflecting light from it.
“Uuuuulpiix,” you the blossoming Vulpix Pokemon Hybrid tries to sound out. “I… Why does… It hurts to think of me befoooore…”
Squinting eyes recall being brought to the chamber, and losing consciousness. You grab the clothes, and feel absolutely confident in your furred skin from head tails to feet paws below.
All except for what you should be.
Trying to speak, you feel your vocal cords get twisted, receding a male identifying bump into your neck. Speaking doesn’t sound as right as it should be.
“Wh-what!” you squeal out, with a much higher toned voice than before. “M-my voice! I… I sound so different!” A sighing gasp is covered from a hand far from being what it originally was.
An idea goes into place. What you were, what you are, brings things to light.
Waking in the middle of nowhere, you wore your new outfit to survive the cold, and it changed what was considered a run-of-the-mill and unassuming guy to this hybrid lady sounding confused.
You sound very feminine at the moment, and if someone got a good look at you from the waist and up, they would see a fox lady staring back at them.
A lady that absolutely needs to get out of this cramped room!
“Vullll!” You call out in front of you, glaring at the darned box that brought you out from being cold, and to losing what you were.
“UUUUULLLL!” Fire collects from your petite jaw, swirling inside of your throat as organic napalm connects to an ignition organ, monster anatomy knowing exactly how to use the new talents as easy as breathing.
“PIIIIIIIIX!” Out of your throat, the organic napalm mixes with the throat flame, and lets out a rapid line of burning gel. The Flamethrower attack melts through the ice, evaporating the water in a forward arc from the floor to the ceiling, creating a valley to the great outdoors.
Sunlight seeps out, and with it, the water of the melted ice in direct contact with flame turns to slush. You jump to the side to evade the spill that falls towards you, and stick a hand out to catch some of the colder ice resembling snow. The other hand is dainty in the air, with arched feet padding, making you imitate the grace of a gymnast with the new found agility.
“Hmph,” you say to yourself, grinning at your display of prowess. “If I see ice anywhere, it’s gonna be way too soon, Vul!”
Not letting a successful routine display go to waste, you sniff at the chunk of slush on your occupied hand, and gobble it up to quench your thirst. You can’t tell how long you went without nourishment from being held in captivity.
The taste is very clean, which makes you think of an Ice Beam being used. At least, that’s what the Vulpix within is telling you.
A step would crush the remnants of the box while on your way out, stepping into smoldering ashes as it was hit with the fire attack.
Another big step, and your clawed feet feel warm grass. Stretching your back as flexible as a wet sponge can allow, the popping sounds that follow signal a relaxing stretch to your oversized ears.
As you sigh in relief, your eyes find a silver box outside of the ice walls. The air conditioning system sputters dead, only made to operate a temporary freezer, almost assuredly with Pokemon help. Looking down at the person in the reflection of the AC unit, the figure is unrecognizable.
You are unrecognizable.
Your image looks nothing like the person that’s in the wallet, comparing the old photo to what you are now. Not wanting to loiter in your freedom, you decide to get help for what happened to you.
Written by PoKeHybridTrainer on 04 October 2021
Identifying the human in the photo ID, the police officer in the nearby station is at least able to register your transition as to maintain continuity. Nothing is left by the time a Forest Ranger investigates the site you escaped from. No evidence remains, but you aren’t satisfied with dropping everything.
Spending funds with your savings found in your wallet, you return back to the forest that you came from. With a portable tent and food for 2 weeks in a knapsack on your more than capable shoulders, you decide to spend the time that you need to wait for the outfit to turn itself off.
Unfortunately, only 3 things register in your mind with the lost box:
SURVIVAL ONLY POSSIBLE WITH THIS
OPERATE OUTFIT FOR 2 WEEKS TIME
DO NOT LOSE YOURSELF TO CHANGES
Keeping these facts in the back of your mind, you set yourself off by the nearby river, hoping that your portable tent is something that would persuade these evil no good people to think twice before coming here. A force of nature is watching these woods.
The first few nights you spend it very nicely, without a soul being found at a small hill you sit upon, under the shade of some big trees. Most of your time is found here, enjoying the calming bird calls that caw overhead.
One with nature, you warm up to the idea of letting your hybrid self feel fancy free.
A few hours in each day, you find yourself walking barefoot, taking gentle runs as arching feet feel much more comfortable in the strides. By nightfall, you slip back into your footwear, still feeling very fitting to rest flat feet on them. A small exhale of an Ember is enough to release a fire to set up camp each night, and keep a relaxing crackle of flame on a bed of twigs.
It’s day three post transformation, and you find yourself walking along the forest path, trekking to use the facilities of the nature reserve for a bubbly shower and freshening up. The cawing of Pidgey and Spearow, usually competing Pokemon bird species, herald your return towards your campsite.
A feeling of wanting to be free and barefoot doesn’t quite suit you as being a good idea. Not yet while you’re grinning and chipper being clean in the forest. Later in the day you can run wild and see what fish Pokemon are around to relax with. The time to yourself feels like a long vacation having been settled in. Being one with the wildlife is a comfort you never experienced before.
Closer you draw towards your camp for a few steps, but a smell makes your large ears twitch. Something smells like an intruder. The aroma of alcohol twitches your button nose.
Gritting your teeth in anger, you wonder who could be stupid enough to go to your stuff and try to steal what is yours. Is it a poacher? Not in these protected lands with Pokemon Park Rangers patrolling the area since your part-time capture. Would those nefarious people that brought you to that icy grave be that brazen to return? See reason above.
Whatever may be over there, you clench your little hands as tightly as you can, and run as fast as your Vulpix hybrid legs can carry you. The sandals are great for evening out your weight to your pads, having fit their form a little better by walking for miles in them. Steps bring up bits of grass flying with each frantic rapid step, bringing any creeping Caterpie, the caterpillar pokemon, to retreat low, not knowing why a scary fire type is on the warpath. You stop moving as soon as you find a rather round butt of some man, crouched on all fours as they are past the doors of your tent.
“Buuuuuuh,” out comes the slurred voice of a drunk, shaking his head at the mountain of non-perishable food at one corner of your tent, and cleaning supplies in another corner. Your wallet, bearing your photo ID as the reminder of your former humanity is on another. An air mattress with a pillow and a blanket sits in the middle, with the wild one looking disappointed with his hands on the end of it. “Noooothing to wet my whistle…”
Written by PoKeHybridTrainer on 05 October 2021
“VUL! Hey Buster!” You sneer out to the foreigner, in a demure voice, but still very pissed off. “What are you doing here? This isn’t Pixing yours!”
Realizing he has been caught, he winces and stands up in front of your domain. You get a good look at him to see what they are about.
A red vest, brown khakis, brown boots, a backpack that is also brown but surprisingly light, and a bearded man with straight hair messy on top of his head. How someone snooping around camp sites could still get a healthy pudge seems odd to you, but they are a Hiker-type Trainer.
This one seems to have long fallen from grace without a single pokeball on his belt. Not that you had one yourself, but there are expectations with this thing when donning the outfit of a Trainer class.
“Oh myyy. Hic. Looks like I stumbled on the wrooooong campside. Whoopsie! Hic!”
You facepalm. The guy is a scavenger, looting people as victims explore the wilderness. It’s safe to assume he got an idea of when you went to the nature reserve shower facilities, and tried his luck to pluck what was left while away. They are not only a threat, but they are a pain.
“Leave. Now!” You stomp a foot, and point away to the trail, anywhere away from your stuff.
“Ohhhhhhh. You don’t haaaave to shout.” Did he turn out to be part Slowpoke, or is that the hangover he is fighting, you wonder. “Why don’t you shaaare like a good little girl!”
Memory flashes before your eyes. You recall yourself being a gentleman to people to the best of ability. Even being changed and finding yourself making a slight curtsy to any other trainer found in the woods, you stay nice to everyone.
This man doesn’t deserve your kindness. Only your justice.
In a blink, your form disappears from sight of the threat, feeling the liberation of the monster that wants to protect itself- yourself as it would be. Since this is your den, err, camp, it makes sense for outsiders to be honest and forthcoming in your temporary territory.
The hiker finally looks up, not realizing you leapt high into the air, and gets a face full of six tails slamming him down across a cheek. His body flys airborne, clear from your tent entrance, and you grin with a fist pump to yourself.
Staggering to get to his knees, there’s a red mark in the same cinnamon roll shape of one of your tails embedded on the hiker. The Tail Whip brought down his defenses, and he doesn't have the agility to prevent a follow-up attack.
“VULPIX!” You cry. “Leave! Before I get really mad!” You point at him accusingly. “Or I will make you well-done. GO!”
Whimpering and being very alert with the stinging pain of the attack brought to him, he runs away in a frightened scream, running awfully quick for a baddie.
Sighing in relief, you bring a hand to your chest, grinning at the display of confidence in your new form. Sliding off your footwear and clenching your toes to the ground feels like a suitable reward for cleaning out the trash. Even though only the wild Pokemon are spectating your accomplishment by sniffing around the grass, and smelling the familiar guardian of the forest, you feel proud to have protected your temporary home for a little while.
More days pass, and it’s about a week since you changed. No stone is practically unturned, and you’ve explored everything within a few miles around you, with the notable exception being a cave downstream from the river where the lookout hill lies.
Written by PoKeHybridTrainer on 06 October 2021
Walking to the end of the cave after about 300 steps away, the river still runs through it. Zubat flap agitated, the blind bat pokemon not wanting to be disturbed with a Vulpix lady holding onto a candle- a flame resting on an open palm.
It’s another creative use of an Ember attack, showing how used you are to being a fire-type pokemon hybrid.
You reach the end of the underground path, and find what looks like the remains of a mining operation with a pickaxe and lantern on the wall. The hanging lantern is lit with your palm, and you find the reservoir still bearing oil to maintain it. You scan the area, and seem to stop as soon as you find a certain spot.
With the lamp, and your improved vision, you are drawn to a particular point. There is a red stone sticking out of the dug path, while other stones of different colors catch your eye. The red one gets brought to a paw, tugged free without much force.
Holding it carefully in front of your eyes, you gasp at the treasure that’s yours to take in.
In a brown translucent stone, a yellow and red fire marking is showing its luster. It’s a Fire Stone, and something your monster side is bringing about a ruckus for wanting.
“Come on, missy,” you tell yourself, wanting time to rationalize the discovery that’s there. “Gotta think this through. This can’t be good for me after everything that’s happened, right?”
Written by PoKeHybridTrainer on 07 October 2021
Before you can plan out what to do with the rare mineral of evolution, your hands shove the stone against your chest. This forces you to double over onto your tails, saving you from a bad fall with their curls preventing your slip.
Trying to pull out the stone apart from your body, your hands don’t react to your orders. Bewildered in not having control, you call out, hoping someone will react.
“HEEEELP! VUL! HELP ME!”
The stone in your chest, specifically resting in your cleavage, starts to glow a white light. In turn, your tails start to get very warm, and it’s not a good sign for things to come.
“S-somebody! V-Vulpix! A-anybody!”
Nobody is around to hear you. Your hands stop pressing down on your chest, with the stone gone from sight.
With the genetic code that courses through the fiber of your being, ordered to a superior form, the familiar pains of transformation return.
Shaking your head at the thoughts appearing inside of your head, you see a younger version of yourself going through various stages of school. Grade school, high school, and perhaps a college or two through something that would bring you to a path where you can do what you want to do. Not anymore.
Instead, you see yourself emerging from an egg. Standing at a farm, you are humbly living a pleasant life as the Vulpix hybrid since birth. Online instruction is all you can do while having to tend to the farm. You eventually try to place yourself into a forest to find something to bring home, but find yourself trapped in the ice.
“N-no!” You scream, clutching the sides of your head in pain, knowing these farm life thoughts should not be your memories. “No, I was just living a regular suburban life on the farm…” A gasp, knowing you’re speaking far from your sinking memory. “VUL! NO!”
The many reds and browns of your fur start to change color, turning to a very shiny color. Spreading out from your hands, clutching your head and trying to maintain what human memories allowed, you see light golden fur replace the familiar red tones. They feel very alien, and don’t offer comfort while trying to think on what to do.
Shifting around in your seat, you stay sitting, surprisingly very comfortable in the living nest of your own design. Golden-white fur takes up everything about you, now looking rather uniform in their single color. Wiggling your legs, trapped in the content binds of the tails, you see the multiple limbs start to change.
The curled tails open up, turning stiff on the ends instead of being flexible. The golden furred limbs reveal thick bristles growing at the end of them. Moving slowly underneath you, they are sensual in their movements, making you think of a model moving with purpose with their hips. Growing out longer, you feel the weight that they have as you can curl each one of them individually. Five inches thick, and easily as long as your six foot tall body is, the tails are rather fitting for a sultry one like yourself. At least the tails are feeling rather fluffy, covered in thicker fur than your body is supposed to have.
“Oh… Oh my… They, I look so pretty,” you find yourself saying.
The six tails behind you crack as they rub against one another, feeling more intently furred fingers slipping out to the cool air. Three more tails join your existing ones, but you stop feeling the head tails that are supposed to be resting on your head. You wonder why that is, but the many new fuzzy parts of you are picked up to hug closely.
Wanting to see how this would go, you think about yourself. Why shouldn’t you admire being the great womanly beast that you are? Sure it felt cute being the adult Vulpix lady, but that feels like training wheels for the idea of this new form you are supposed to have.
Down to all fours you go, digging your knees to the rocky ground, and teasing your paw-like hands to the water’s edge.
While you grip, you see your forepaws inching further and further away from your arms. Fingertips brighten in the glow of the water, showing sharp orange nails that match the ends of your sexy tails.
Glancing at the reflection on the water, a fiery furry female smiles back. You find her mouth pushing out slowly, rolling a panting tongue out of wet lips. The cute little snout of the Vulpix grows out longer, inches with a soft crunch of bone, enough to touch the cool clean water with a black nose in the cave.
Your smile, an award winning one only to your mind, is happy with what looks back. A drink with a vulpine pointy tongue laps hungrily until you have your fill.
Drinking while looking, your hair is now the same color as your fur, lightly golden and cascading down your shoulders in their voluminous length. They grow wildly and thickly, becoming a big mane of hair that curls with limited control.
Testing your mane allows you to see the adjacent massive triangular ears. Brown inners shift to golden white like the rest of you, expanding out higher but narrower, making you feel like a monstrous elf. Fitting for a beauty such as yourself.
Everything except those doe brown orbs. Aren’t they a little plain for you?
“Nnnnnn…” A soft growl comes out of your lips, painted a teasy black with the changes. “Soon, my pretties. I’m going to be so glamorous…”
You get caught up with more exploration of yourself.
Fluttering eyes find the luxurious fur on your tails, wiggling behind you in their wide berth, being more recognizable on your arms and legs as they look to match their fluff. Light brown paws remain on the larger hands, splashing some water nearby. You are still a fox after all.
The fur on your legs feel very warm, even if the fur makes the skirt and legwarmers feel a little tighter. While glancing between your legs, instructions from earlier come into light.
You aren’t in danger of losing the important outfit, still being thought of as important in your fractured mind.
It’s as easy as you can remember the instructions in the beginning.
SURVIVAL ONLY POSSIBLE WITH THIS
DO NOT LOSE YOURSELF TO CHANGES
You have a feeling that you should be remembering something else, but it doesn’t appear to be too important. Otherwise you’d recall it, wouldn’t you?
Back to looking at yourself, you raise your knees, seeing legs twitch as muscles ripple underneath.
Pressing on your feet in their sandals, you feel your feet splayed outward, feet slowly creaking as rising arched feet lock to the tiptoe position instead of choosing to do it earlier. A vain attempt wants those heels to return flat on the sandals, but there’s no budging them. Feet slip past the toe straps of the footwear, touching the cool gravel below. Orange pointed nails exist on each toe, with feet widening further behind you. The shoes are mere decorations for your floofing ankles at this point. More sizes make those feet very sturdy in their 12 inch length, and 5 inch width. Dangerous for anyone to be kicked with, but humanistic to wiggle gently, they get further away from you with popping legs.
Longer they stretch out, changing the hands and knees stance to be one of pawed hands and feet. These are the only things touching the rough floor.
This stance. You were forced to take this position before, weren’t you?
Memory cracks the waking dream of glamor that hides you from the truth. Pulses of the ice circle return. A static image of a nude man lingers. The police station and the camp flash into your eyes.
“Oh… N-no no no, I’m-” Your complaints are brought out from under you, with warmth making you murmur.
Much like the sparking fire form you once enjoyed the camp with, the fur on your underside grows out of your body. Your neck lets loose a small poncho of your fur, looking to cover the breasts in perpetual warmth. This does not last.
You gasp out in a worried breath. “Ack…. AAAaaaaahhhh,” you groan. “Why are my breasts…”
Confusion takes your thoughts away, as endorphins look to dull the excited mind with the lull of someone that doesn’t need to worry about much. That’s why you are here, aren’t you?
Brought away from the farm, sent here to get your hands on a fire stone, return home as the rightful heir to the ranch. You question this idea at first, but further changes lessen the priority.
Pressing orbs against that top strain it to stretch larger. Swollen C, D, G-cup orbs, are not ashamed to be barely covering your nipples in the shirt not built for them. In fact, you’re quite vocal in the changes.
“UUuuuu… Vuuuu… Uull?” Your voice turns deeper as you sound out the shifting Pokemon side of yourself, grasping for control of your body.
“U-ulllleeessssss…” A seductive low groan says, from your lips.
Breathing gently, you raise your head and find the control of your many tails working. Oh, these old things? They are but mere upgrades to the Vulpix young adult form that you beautified from.
So what if the Vulpix wanted to work like a captured monster and a trainer to a human guy. That’s not the real self.
You raise each of your tails like the brilliant peacock feathers you think of them- a Queen’s gown billowing in your own design.
To be aware of your domain, glowing red eyes signify the end of the evolutionary warmth, shoving yourself up to your massive feet. Feet, paws, all that matters is anything under your footpads, and anything walked along you, is your land.
The Queen of the forest, a content Ninetales Pokemon Hybrid, yearns to find your subjects waiting for you to come out and greet you.
That is, until you curl yourself up along the floor. The glow in your eyes grows dim, draping your fluffy and cuddly tails all over your body.
Maybe a nap would suffice. It’s all about beauty rest, and you can afford being as pretty as can be.
Sleep takes you, but you’re unaware how many hours your tired body needs.
Finding yourself awake some time later, you yawn normally, stretching limbs as it’s normal to sleep uncovered in the cave. You’re not sure how long you’ve been resting in that cave, perpetually hibernating in a deep sleep. How long did you rest? A growling stomach tells you it’s been long enough to grow hungry.
Written by PoKeHybridTrainer on 08 October 2021
Back to camp
It takes a few minutes to take a good drink of water, refreshing yourself with only the non-existent eyes of Zubat peering silently. Everything you bring your red eyes on is all yours, right? The shiny stones would make for pretty jewelry to decorate. Alas, daily needs are of higher importance than looking the best.
No time to wait around any longer, as a meal is all you can think about.
The human tent, specifically not called your tent, is not too far away from the cave. After a splendid rest, a splendid feast of a week of food would be perfect to sustain you for some time. You take off quickly, your arched feet and longer legs taking you far away from the cave, and run along the river to find the supplies that are supposed to be there.
A pungent stink wrinkles your nose, which makes you furious about having the very notion of wrinkles. Sniffing from a distance away, the smell is surprisingly familiar.
The hiker, the Mandibuzz - a vulture Pokemon with ugly bones, that’s what that man is. To think that you extended a one time offer of amnesty, by your good graces! Only for him to return to your emergency supply tent of food. How dare he.
You arrive, and the campsite is a mess, with plastic wrappers littering the clean grassy trails. The humans that occupy these woods are almost always a sweet bunch, seeing them treat you kindly. Was that your older self and not the majestic woman before you? Whoever it was, it means that they treated the forest as a place for humans and Pokemon to exist. Instead, this man-animal is nothing more but a pest.
Written by PoKeHybridTrainer on 09 October 2021