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 26 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.<P/>There are five costumes in this room, all of them female, all of them are normal land creatures.
- Snake <li><span class="female">Wolf</span></li>
Written by Catprog on 26 February 2004
You look over the cotumes on display. "Why did I have to pick the female room. I like being male."
You look over your options. Mare,dog,vixen,she-wolf. And then you spot a lioness costume. You lift it off the hook and with a grinding of gears the other 4 costumes disappear. "Guess I'm committed now."
You take a moment to observe the suit itself. Quite oddly tan, definately built for the sahara, muscular in ways that you aren't sure you'd be able to fill out yourself. The bust size was large enough, you supposed. Being a male, it was difficult to judge, other than your time on sites you'd rather leave unmentioned, but you supposed a nice, tight little 'B' cup, for the first set anyway. You cringed, hoping you'd find some way to hide your feminimity, but with the gentle, progressing lumps of flesh, you knew that wasn't happening. And the hips were rather wide, you hoped simply because of some decent thigh muscle, but that was too much to hope. Not to mention the little peeking pink flesh of the thing proper.
You gulp as you strip, wondering how you got into this mess in the first place. the invatation to the costume party reminding you as it falls out of your pocket. Not having any more excuses to delay, you start to put the costume on.
You sit down and pull the costume , your legs sliding easily into the costume's thighs. The moment your feet hit the soft, bulging paws you feel them twist. Standing up you notice your on your toes as though wearing some fuzzy slippers and it is more comfortable than the awkward, artificial tightness of wearing shoes.
"Digitgrade costume" you say "Quite a comfy one too.". The tingles that started in your feet are now slowly moving up your calves. You reach down to scratch the soft, tightening, tapering bulge of your muscle and to your suprise you feel your hand brush over the fur, the calves underneath twitching gently, tightening like a runner's. You brush your other hand on the opposite leg, feeling the same, as if the fur was actualy your own skin. You quickly try to roll the costume down to stop it but the costume sticks like it's welded on, like iron, progressing almost gently up your skin, enveloping it in sensations you can't bring yourself to call uncomfortable. Completly against your will, the costume seems to be climbing further, as if magnetized to your body, inch by inch along your flesh. Your thighs seem to bulge gently against the fabric before seeming to settle into place, the warmth of the costume a bit startling as your hips seem to press out, the little muscles and nerves taking a moment to settle, before you can really move them. You look at the lithe, almost waspy configuration of your lower limbs before you feel the suit progressing further...
By now the tingling has reached your waist and you gulp feeling your waist stretch out to fill out the wide abdomen of the costume. You gulp as the strange series of sensations moves slowly towards the buldge in the front of the costume and before your very eyes it slowly disappears, as though your masculinity is being worn away, or pushed inward by a soft, fluffy hand.
By now the costume has reached your arm pits and you see the holes for your arms. Before the costume can roll over your arms, you decide to give in, to slip your arms into the costume just so something stranger doesn't happen, or so you rationalize.Even if you couldn't be male or human, at least you'd have the same general shape.
The moment your hands hit the hand paws the tingling starts there. Your finrgernails grow out into the retractable sheaths, becoming the claws of the costume. Also stretching are your fingers, out into the slightly puffy pads of the costume.
Another area of change has progressed to the lower pair of lumps in the costume's abdomen and you feel your body start to grow into them, pillowing behind the slightly hardened nubs of nipples. An image glances across your mind. You see, for just an instant, a pair of gently spotted heads, small and dark and similar to that of the costume. You feel some sort of odd swelling of pride for some reason, as though you figured they were your-
No. You shake your head. No way, you're not a female, much less a mother. The image dissipates, somehow, but you can't help but shake slightly....
.... Though another little blossoming sensation slightly higher on your torso seems to bring it back. Each time the tingling gets to another pair the image returns, but you do your best to deny it, to try and feebly reassert your masculinity despite your form's obvious appearance to the contrary. By now the strange tightening, warping feeling from your arms and torso have joined at the bottom of the neck. The costume having stopped It starts moving up, slowly but inevitably rolling up towards your head.
You spot a mirror and look into it. While it is reflecting you accuretly, suit and all, the background is of a veltd, the heat mirage seeming to shimmer, as though the glass were molten. By now your neck has been covered in the costume's folds, the rest of your form seeming to fit to the definitions of the suit.
The costume contiunes to roll itself along your neck, sliding softly where it joins the base of your skull. When it reaches your chin it rolls out over your lower jaw, seeming to solidify around it as you spot hard, white lumps, a strangle little cross of wide molars and jagged carnassials... You think, you didn't really pay that much attention in biology. It is a weird sight seing inside of the mouth, especially without a tongue or upper jaw, though it seemed to move in tandem with your own, somehow, bone fusing to bone, muscle squirming to join it at key points.
Soon however the top of the mouth has appeared and it is once again closed in, your sinuses making terrible cracking noises as the lower portion of your skull seems to extend from your face. Suddenly a wave of scents hits your nose, even the most mundane of scents suddenly overpowering, new smells you weren't even sure had actual names seeming to pop into existence alongside them. You felt slightly disoriented, but soon you seemed to make some kind of sense of it. You look one way and then the other before relising the transformation has reached your muzzle, causing a little dark spot to appear in the lower parts of your vision, acting as a khaki colored 'blind spot.'
You look into the mirror one last time with your human eyes as the costume rolls up your head. When your vision returns the reds seem slighlty faded, perhaps, that or you simply weren't seeing them quite as prominently. Either way, the hue seemed out of mind while the blue and the greens seem far more important, noticable, 'purer' somehow. You're not quite sure what it is, but even the slightest twitch in the bush seems to stick out in your sight. You blink, as though to rid yourself of the effect, but it stays, your eyes seeming to 'adjust' to the subtle change in your vision.
The 'fabric' slides over your ears, blotting it out for just a moment in a ruffle of skin and fur. Costume ears you thought would have just been cheap replicas flick side to side pinpointing various sounds like little radar dishes. The breeze itself suddenly had a sound, the grass rustling might as well have been trees falling, for a moment. When things adjust, you feel like some kind of sensory dynamo, hyper aware of your environment and personal space.
You look around and the mirror has gone, along with the rest of the room. Your now standing in what appears to be the background of the mirror. You're juxtaposed with the mirror for a moment, noting the breeze is flowing over your fur, until it simply fades from sight. You shiver slightly, your tail twitching as though to mirror your anxiety about your new form and setting. You glance around, shielding your eyes with a hand that seems too fluffy, too slender to be yours.
Illustrated by Luckery
Written by Catprog + Sal_Lilith on 16 May 2012
Your eyes scan the environment, blinking out the crusty sleep remaining from your transformation.
“How long have I been out?” You say to yourself, looking over your hair-covered limbs, as you run your thick finger pads along your bristling fur. The coarse hairs prickle your fingertips as you examine the pink skin between your tiny parting hair. The sun beat down on your hot body perched there, beneath the sweltering heat of the savannah, though your fur works as a type of air conditioning system, guiding the dry winds close to your skin as it gently blows around you.
Thin slits of pupils begin to focus farther off on the horizon, you behold a vast savannah, the heat causing the mirages in the distance to tremble as you futilely try to focus your eyes over kilometers. Your eyes become thin, trying to block out the extra sunlight hitting your iris, the feeling takes a while to get used to. Your nostrils open and close as you breathe, taking in the dusty dry air around you. The scent glands in your nose detect a medley of different smells, the aroma so strong you can almost taste it. Wild boar, Meerkats, Hyenas, Wild dogs, and other Lions, your senses able to differentiate each different smell as they mix in the air around you.
The bushes rustle around you in the wind, causing you to tense up. As you grow more used to your senses you struggle to decipher whether the rustling is caused by the winds around you, or if you’ve found yourself in the presence of something else. Your fur begins to stand on end, causing your slim figure to swell up to appear larger. The attempts to deter any enemies have worked, your lean frame creeping towards the bushes from which the rustling is coming from.
A small creature darts from the bush and into a hole in the ground. The fear washing over you melts into a more relaxed vibe, as you realize there’s nothing much to fear in this outfit. The apex predator of this environment might be of more benefit than you could have imagined.
The instincts begin to take over your body, the scent guiding your paws along the sandy dry ground underneath you. Rocks are kicked up behind you as you begin picking up speed in your stride, muscles bristling underneath the tight skin on your pelt. Your paw pads feel callused as they pound firmly on the hot earth, you barely know where you’re going, though the strong aroma in the air guides you across the vast savannah.
After a short while of running, you find yourself engulfed with the aroma of a fresh flesh, the metallic smell of blood taking over the air and enticing your senses. You lick your lips, realizing how much that transformation took out of you physically, your body almost doubling in size from the transformation. Your lean limbs carry you into a deep crevice in the earth, the scents slithering out into the open field you came from.
Your slit eyes widen as they adjust to the darkness casted from high up walls. The massive cracks lining the walls almost seem to hold the energy throughout thousands of years of their formation and relocation. Your paws tread around craggy rock faces and the remains of past prey. The scent, still filling your nostrils, guides you through the maze of a crevice, your heart beats as you inch your way closer to the scent.
Written by Driftingdragon on 28 November 2019
Finally you find yourself before a freshly killed carcas, your arrival causes a flock of muscular vultultures to halt their ravenous consumption of the carcass. They spread their wings in flight, taking to the sky and pulling strings of flesh apart from the body. Some still grip carion covered bones in their sharp talons as they ascent, never taking their watchful eyes off you.
This view almost distracts you completely from the kill in front of you, your grumbling stomach not even parting your eyes from the magnificent display.
“Never thought they were that big.” You say to yourself as you continue to pace towards the body. Your stomach growls with anticipation to tuck into the fresh red meat yourself. The scents surround you as you stand in front of the stiff limbs of a gazelle. Signs of a struggle paint the ground with deep hoof marks, antlers shortened with jagged ends, and deep scratches still gushing vermilion liquid.
You’ve never felt such satisfaction popping your long fangs through the rough hide of the kill, blood wells up from between your teeth, and the scent of it causing your mouth to drain a thick strand of saliva, pouring from your black lioness lips. Your teeth and claws tear thick chunks of muscle from a bone white frame, the red meat tastes metallic as it slides into your maw. The muscular dinner sits heavy in your belly as you gulp down stringy bits of flesh.
It takes you surprisingly long to eat, considering the time it takes to digest the tough chunks with your one-dimensional bite. Your lioness jaw lacks the capability to grind your food, so your hinging jaw preferates the meat as you work your way to pick your kill clean. The feeling of the animal’s thick pelt beneath your claws is amazing, as you consume ravenously, nearly losing yourself in intoxication. You rise, bloodsoaked, your short tan fur tinted vermillion, you lap it up from your lips, your rough feline tongue brushing the fur around your mouth.
You get up, unable to differentiate the scents around you. Your ears swivel as you catch the sound of approaching footsteps from behind. Your muscular neck spins around to meet a dark brown lion, his dark mane tattered, you can tell this lion is way older than you. His skinny frame dances towards you, eyes never parting from yours, his thin spiney whiskers twitch as he catches your scent mixing with the scent of blood.
“Well hello there.” A deep voice resonates from the heaving chest of the lion, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly to match his gentle panting, the sweltering heat can be felt from his pelt, as if he had recently entered these tunnels. Your fur once again begins to stand on end, now feeling more threatened than earlier, your wide iris darts around the lion’s slender frame as he approaches, your fur bristling with anxiety. “Haven’t seen you around.” His low voice growls at you.
Written by Driftingdragon on 03 December 2019
“I found it first.”