You are standing by a tree
There are 3 paths.
One appears to go to a jungle,
one appears to go to a cave,
one appears to go to a beach,
you could try and climb the tree,
there is a nearby shop you could go in,
or you could do something else.
So what's its going to be?
Written by catprog on 01 April 2003
In the shop
There is a table with a sign saying
<strong>Free Sample:</strong>
Take one
On the table there is a fridge with a range of liquids. Also on the table are various magical trinkets including costumes. What would you like to take, or would you like to buy something?
Written by catprog on 10 April 2003
Other
You decide to get something else. But what?
Written by catprog on 13 December 2005
A lamp
You take a lamp. Now what are you going to do with it?
Written by catprog on 05 March 2004
Transformation Genie
Just then, a huge puff of green smoke appears.
The smoke forms the shape of a humanoid, then finally materializes into a turquoise-skinned man who appears to be about 25 years old. You quiver with fear, staring at him (after all, you're not used to seeing turquoise-skinned men appear out of lamps).
"Who has rubbed the lamp of the Genie of Transformation?", the man asks in a light, yet stern voice.
"I-I did", you answer softly.
He steps closer to you and bows. "Thank You, Master, Thank You!", he says as he kneels to you.
"Master?"
He stands. "Yes", he says. "You have released me from the Lamp, and now you may have three wishes.
The wishes carry certain limitations, however..."
"Yes, like what?", you ask again, almost bursting with excitement (having your own genie and all).
"First, there are only three wishes, no more and no less, and this may not be changed by any wishes made. Second, all wishes made by the master should be precisely worded. If the wish is too vague, then I shall choose the remaining factors of the wish. And third, all wishes must be related to the change of the master, or of someone else that the master chooses. In other words, all wishes must be transformative."
Well what are you going to wish for?
Written by on 11 March 2004
I don't need a **** Transformation
"I don't need a transformation thank you very much," you say. "I am perfectly happy as a human". "You can take your conditional wishes elsewhere, you ****".
The genie's eyes widen. "You are going to regret mocking me". " You don't want a transformation, too bad you're getting one.
GULP!!!
Written by on 18 May 2004
Park
"You are going to my animal park and help with the breeding programs" booms the genie.
All of a sudden a portal appears and sucks you in.As you go through you get knocked out.
When you awake your in...
Written by on 22 May 2004
Plains
You find yourself in the middle of a plain.
All you can see is the plain.
You notice that you are transforming but to what?
Written by on 02 June 2004
Horse
The genie appears and says "You are going to be a horse"
You have 4 forms. Hummonoid,Satyr ,Full and Taur
There are 8 doors. 2 for each form(male and female)
*mates are 4 doors apart<br />*If door 1 is male then door 3 is also male<br />*Prime male doors number 1<br />*Square numbers are 2 legged<br /> *High heels await behind door number five<br />*Even females number 2<br />*Even doors have all the top changes
*Cube numbers are male<br />
Written by on 27 May 2007
Inhuman Relations #1
The sunshine is brilliant over the archery grounds, almost too bright to take in the sweeping, grassy hills, which are dotted with pockets of coniferous trees — welcome shade to weary walkers. Where you stand, however, the row of immaculate archery targets are painted in crisp, bright colours; a fair amount of care and attention is placed into their upkeep by the servants, of course. Being part of such a rich family, you are well acquainted with all things luxurious and that certainly has its perks, you admit to yourself as you nock one, long arrow to the bow. Everything was of the very, very best quality, without fail.
To an archer intent on improvement and masculine prowess, the light glinting about the edge of your eyes may be a hindrance, something that would throw off the aim of any devoted trainee, but your brother and you are not interested in becoming proficient with such deadly tools: deadly tools transformed into something for play and leisure. Who cared about killing? It was only a bit of fun, something to occupy yourselves with. You would never want for anything that you could not have, so why train and train until your bones ached and your muscles were abused beyond recognition? Therefore, the glorious day with the warm wind licking at your bare arms, like one of the stable cats, is far from a concern but something that elevates a giddy joy.
Yet, sometimes, a lack of proficiency can be just as deadly as years of experience.
Just as you release that single, quivering arrow, your brother clutches your wrist in a vice-like grip and light lances across your line of vision, blinding you for a terrible, crucial split second. Blind, you hear a muffled, pained grunt and feel the ground tremor beneath your feet as something all too solid drops heavily to it, completely unmoving. Unwilling to turn your mind to the truth, you wonder, through the dazzling, dancing glare, if your brother has dropped his quiver, although, in your heart, you know that this is not true, not true at all.
When your eyes recover from sun-blindness, you inhale sharply and collapse upon the soft, luscious grass, darkened in sickening patches by blood. Your brother gasps, blood bubbling up between his lips as if from a morbid fountain, staining them a morbid, bright crimson like the maw of a wild animal, jaws yawning for the kill. His eyes lock with yours for the last time before growing languid and still, his mind as unknowing as he is now forever unseeing. Gently, you take him in your arms, afraid of harming him further even in death, the knowledge of what has happened and what you have done slowly sinking into your shock-addled mind. There is no soul around that may account for this accident; to any outsider, you have murdered your own kin in cold blood. You have murdered him.
"Please," you cry out, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. "Say something! Abel, this is not funny - get up! Please get up!"
You know that he will never walk again and he will never speak again, but this fact does not deter you from at least trying to raise him. All too quickly though, your voice must trail off and falls into a quiet murmur of nonsensical babble, so low that no human can catch the nuances of your speech. Though there was one non-human who is able to hear you.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 07 June 2012
