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 find a Vixen costume. You then read the instructions on the costume for how to put it on and you strip so it will fit properly. You start by slowly sinking your legs into the costumes having to make a slight effort to begin with to fill the slender egs.
Finally you get it put on up to your waist and slip your arms down into it as well. You pull the zipper up on the front and sigh a little the costumes chest feeling a little tight.
Finally you bring the hood up over your face and start to adjust it so you can see out the eye holes.
As you adjust the mask you start to feel a tingling sensation washing all down the front and back of your body.
You suddenly feel a enjoyable sensation as an air current picks up and even now you are wearing a costume you can feel it. Then you realise you're no longer wearing a costume, you<spanSumTF>You</spanSumTF> are a Vixen.
Written by on 05 August 2005
As you stand there and stare in confused awe at your new body, the world seems to blur around you, leaving you in a muddle of gray blurs. Waves of energy twist themselves around your body and fade away into strips of cloth.
When they have finished, you find you are now clothed in a simple cloth shirt and knee-length skirt. The shirt is white and the skirt is black, and the fabric is somewhat coarse compared to what you are used to. You haven't been clothed with underwear of any kind.
Reaching a tentative, curious hand up to your new breasts, you find that they support themselves just fine without the aid of a brassiere thanks to a layer of muscle just under the skin, and you guess that you aren't wearing any undershorts because they would be a pain to get over your tail. Still, it's disconcerting to have your privates left uncovered except for a skirt (notoriously vulnerable to light breezes) and to have only one layer between the rest of the world and the new features of your chest that you hope people won't pay attention to.
While you are contemplating this, the grayness starts to come back into focus, resolving into a picturesque hilltop overlooking a small village that might have come from the late 1920s back on your Earth. You realize with a start that part of the costume deal involved spending a week in your new form, in its native environment. Whether you like it or not, you're going to get a crash course in living as an anthropomorphic vixen. You wonder whether you'll be given a place to stay during your week. Living as a vixen is bad enough; you'd hate to have to be homeless while you're doing so.
Written by nothingsp on 25 July 2006
In a bit of a daze, you walk down the hill towards the village. Trying to look nonchalant, you stick your hands into a couple of pockets that you find in your skirt. In one of them, you find a crumpled bit of paper. You pull it out and uncrumple it. A street address is written on it.
Walking down into the village, you succeed in finding the address on the paper. It's a small white house, mostly nondescript. Walking up to the door, you knock. Nobody answers. The thought occurs to you that perhaps this is your house, but the door seems to be locked.
You check under the doormat, but no key is to be found. You're just about to give up and break a window when you feel something in...much as you hate to think about it, in your cleavage. Looking down at your chest, you find that you're wearing a small chain necklace with a key on it. You reach around the back of your head to unclasp it.
The key fits the lock, and you go in, shutting the door behind you. From the small coatroom, you make your way through the hall and into the kitchen. On the table is a note. Picking it up, you read.
I, the person writing this note, am the creator of the costume house. As you may have guessed, I'm a reasonably powerful wizard. But this is all quite beside the point. You've taken your first new form, and I sincerely hope you're enjoying it. (If you aren't, I suggest you try to, as it will make your time in this form much easier, psychologically speaking. And should you find you like it enough, you could even forfeit the game and stay in your present form in this world forever.) You now must spend a Multiverse Standard Week (as noted earlier on, this is something closer to two Earth weeks) in your present form before moving on. To make this easier, lodgings suitable to your form have been and will continue to be provided. (Of course, "suitable lodgings" depends on both the anthropomorphism of your current form and the type of shelter standard in your new homeworld.
If you're in a non-anthropomorphic form, you'll be provided with a simple den matching the dwellings made by others of your new species. But if you're anthropomorphic, you'll have a homeworld-average house provided.)
You'll also be provided with a means of sustenance (reasonable hunting/foraging skills if non-anthropomorphic or placed in a primitive culture, a job if anthropomorphic.) What you do from there is up to you, but remember that you must make it out in 100 years (10,000 MSW weeks) if you wish to return to your own Earth.
When you finish reading the note, you sigh and look around. This will be your home for a couple Earth weeks. You have no idea what you're going to do.
Written by nothingsp on 25 July 2006
You pace back and forth a bit, looking analytically at the plush couches,heavy curtains and flimsy wood table of your new domicile. You run a paw over your vulpine face idly.
A wizard, then. A wizard that takes the time to communicate, no less. And *reasonably* powerful? If he's imbued 800 (or more!) costumes with transformative abilities with links to 800 (or more!) alternate dimensions, then... you'd hate to see a "powerful" wizard.
He's got you trapped here, trapped in this "game." But... as far as you can tell, it's not a game like the "games" that the guy on Saw liked to play. You haven't been hurt, and beyond the awkwardness of owning bosoms and a womb, you haven't really been inconvenienced. As far as you can tell, if you keep a steady head and play nicely by the rules, you'll be let go unharmed.
But, then... how to play right now? For a while, you play Sims, going to your closet and replacing your skirt and v-neck with tasteful long pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. You look at yourself in the closet mirror.
Suddenly, you're excited. This is great! Essentially, you've been camouflaged, given the ability to observe this culture of anthropomorphic foxes, which you hadn't usually thought of as a culture but still! Maybe you can adopt a fake name and masquerade! Or maybe even tell everybody the truth--"Hello all, I'm an Earthling male" (right?) "and I was placed into a huge labyrinth full of transforming costumes and this is the first one I picked!
Tee hee!" That should be entertaining.
You want to see outside again, get out of the house. Your paw closes around the door handle and when it opens, there's a male fox all up in your grill, with his paw held up in a knocking position.
"Whoa! Hey there! Sorry about that! Are you..." the fox consults a piece of paper, "Is your name <WHOA it's a feminine version of YOUR name!>?"
"Ah... yeah. It is," you reply.
The fox leans forward and licks your cheek. You gather this is their way of shaking hands. It was good you gathered that because otherwise that would have been very awkward.
"I'm Bragho!" Bragho says. "I'm here to show you around the Northern workplace!"
"Bray-go..." you repeat. "Wait... work?!"
Hey, this is a friggin' quest, for crying out loud! You didn't come here to wash no dishes! Yet the note on your table said it was your way to sustenance and survival... considering the full extent of your transformation, you have a sudden paranoid foreboding about the kinds of "work" that will be offered...
"Oh, are you feeling all right?" Bragho asks, ears pricked.
<Play by the rules just hear him out play nice play nice...>
"Oh, ah... no, I'm fine," you reply. You look around reflexively for a bag to gather. Having none, you turn back to the black-vested vulpine.
"Ah... let's go," you say.
Off you both merrily traipse, through the 1920's esque-village full of happy foxes, fat baby sand glossy furred kits.
"So, ah... what do people... er... *we* do at the 'Northern workplace?'" you ask Bragho with not a little anxiety.
"Ah... we get a bad rap sometimes because everyone always breaks a pant, but really it's the best way to get Kitsoons" (currency?) "in the valley," Bragho replies. "When we get there, I'll show you all the nuances of -------------"
Written by Mr.Peaches on 14 November 2006
"Cartoon production," Bragho repeats. "You know, making movies."
"Oh." You feel a bit disappointed.
"Hey, it's good work. Pays pretty good too."
"Oh, it's not that. Just seems a waste to..." You realize what a good idea it will be to find out what he knows before you say too much. "What do you know about... The Game?"
"The Game? Been playing for about a year now. That's why I'm assigned welcome wagon duty. This (he points to his chest) is number sixty-eight."
"Sixty-eight! Do you even remember who you used to be?"
"Sure, I dream every night. But what was that about a waste?"
"I mean, getting into a costume and changing like this... just to sit and draw pictures?"
"Oh no, it's it that kind of cartoons. It's more like in that movie, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? You're going to be an actress."
Wishing he could have said actor instead, you ask the most important question to you right then.
"What... kind of actress?"
"That depends on the director's needs and what you'll accept," Bragho replies as you stop in front of a big building. He looks up at a red lamp with a sign saying Do not enter while lamp is lit and finds that it isn't. "Nobody's forcing you into anything. But if you wish, you should have no problems getting some... well paid roles. At least you have the figure for it."
Okay. You did not need to hear that. You are about to say something when Bragho continues: "As a newbie you'll be starting as an extra though. Standing in crowds, crossing the street in the background, boobs five and six..."
"Just kidding. Let's go in and..."
He is interrupted by a loud crash from inside and a shrill voice yelling: "Where has that furshlugginer vixen gone off to now? We have a scene to shoot, for crying out loud!"
Bragho looks at you and grins. "As I said, you'll be an extra - unless you happen to be at just the right time and place to replace someone. Let's go in and see what this is all about, shall we?"
Written by Won-Tolla on 21 June 2007
Quiet On the Set!
You nod to Bragho, and open the door to the hangar-like building the yell came from.
When you heard "actress" and saw a red light, and Bragho teased you about special roles, you felt ice all down your spine. Which was especially weird with your new tail. But these are cartoons he's talking about. And to act in a cartoon the way he described it -- does that make you a living cartoon character? Anything's possible. But your paws don't have the fuzzy glow you'd expect from one, as you step into the set.
And suddenly you're in a Western town where Napoleon is whapping someone with a director's megaphone. Well, not a French dictator, but a fox with way too many buttons on his fancy vest and with plenty of decibels for his size. The poor stagehand he's berating says, "Boss, wait! She's here!"
The director whirls and peers up at you. "Lenara? It's about time you... No, wait. Who are you?"
You start to give your actual name, but play along and use the version Bragho had listed. Before you can explain about the costume, the director says, "Close enough!" He snaps fingers at his assistants, adding, "Script, costume -- attack!"
Five bewildering minutes later, you're wearing some kind of motion-capture suit and another fox is coaching you on how to drawl a line about paintin' a wagon a'fore the cattle get here. Then you get dragged out to the fake street where a bunch of foxes are rehearsing an argument. But they're almost all in Western costumes. No, not 19th-century American stuff, since the fashions are different, but it's rugged and familiar just the same. "Hey," you say, thinking of your own outfit. "Am I in the wrong show?"
"Places!" the director bellows, and everyone scatters. A fox-man in a techno-suit like yours grins at you and takes your hand. He says, "Ma'am, you're over there." He's got this knowing grin like he's been in a hundred movies -- or he knows all about this costume game you've gotten into. And somehow you just know he's playing a cowboy, even without the getup.
So you run through a scene from a story you don't know. The foxes hear you talk about the wagon, and then they argue, and then the other suited fox breaks it up. Then suddenly you hear, "Cut!" and it's all over in one take. You were just getting into the role, wondering whether somebody was going to get shot or what.
"Not bad, ma'am," says the other suited fox to you. The "ma'am"s still distract you, but he makes them sound good.
"I thought this was going to be a cartoon," you say.
"Sure is! Whoever wants to play a lead role can watch it from your view or mine, or put somebody else's picture there while they watch it from the couch."
"Oh. That's not the kind of cartoon I'm used to."
He looks you over, making you conscious of the tight motion-capture suit and the way your tail curls inside it. "You're a costumer?"
You end up looking nervously aside, scratching your ear. "Ah... yeah."
"'s all right, ma'am." He turns to the director and calls out, "Hey, are we set for lunch yet?"
The director's been badgering everyone in sight about lighting and noise, but he stops and droops ears when the other actor talks to him. "Sorry, Wylan. Our caterer is having trouble."
The actor --- Wylan -- gives that same cowboy smile to him. "No loss. Say, Bragho and my new co-star have some things to discuss with me. So we're gonna grab a bite off-set, okay?"
"Yes, of course," the director says. "We'll get on with some establishing shots while you're away."
Wylan waves Bragho over to him and tells him the same. They get you to walk a bit away from the set, and then the two of them fall silent and look at you.
It's your first day among the foxes, and they feel like people to you already. There's a new world for you to explore, and it seems pretty nice so far -- especially if the house you've got is "homeworld average" like the costume-maker said. You could do a lot worse than this world. And it's not like you have to do this acting job forever. You can quit, or in a couple of Earth weeks leave the whole world and go back to trying on costumes.
Something's kind of bothering you though. Where'd this Lenara actress go, and how'd you get to be her stand-in so easily? Why's this place so Earth-like? And why is Wylan so intent on a private conversation?
Wylan waves a paw in front of your eyes. "You there?"
He and Bragho walk with you to a restaurant outside the studio. The decor isn't any style you recognize, but there're benches and cushions around a big central firepit. Lots of roast meat spins on spits, and suddenly you realize just how sensitive your nose is to the sizzling roasts and faint charcoal smoke. You're about to start drooling by the time you get a bench and waiters come out with portable tables.
"So," says Wylan, with a strange expression. He glances at Bragho, who's staring at the food and sniffing. "There's something you'd best be telling our new guest."
"Yeah," he says, turning you to explain something about...
Written by Snow on 02 May 2010