In a room
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
Written by Catprog on 11 February 2004
Fictional Land
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
Element: Land
Type: Fictional
Gender: ????
So which door do you want
Written by Catprog on 01 January 1970
Female Fictional Land
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.
<small>
- Uraby(yu-gi-oh)
Written by Catprog on 26 February 2004
Vulpix
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
