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
Inhuman Relations #2
Before your tear-filled gaze, a figure materialises out of the air itself, taking the shape of a finely muscled man. He has no clothing except for a line of shiny, gold armbands, which traverse the length of his forearms, and a thick, matching chain around his neck, set with a fierce ruby the size of a child's tightly clenched fist. His skin is a pure, serene blue, as if composed of pure turquoise --- it has the dark touches and snowy veins of such --- which convinces you that it is not a man who stands so coolly a few metres away to bear witness to your offence. He looks down upon you, his handsome face contorted into an overbearing sneer.
"Such a tragedy," the...thing says in a low, mocking tone, catlike, aquamarine eyes glimmering. "Your own brother...now what will happen to you, Cain? Will you run away like so many before you? Will you spend the rest of your life behind bars, chained for something so easily avoided? Oh, such a tragedy."
"Get away from here!" You scream, lunging for your forgotten bow and waving it wildly over your head, behaving in a way that suggests that you think you can frighten this creature away like a wild animal, though you are not thinking at all. "This is private property! You saw nothing here --- get away!"
"Get away?" It responds calmly, staring blankly into the distance. "No, I don't think I will. Or, if I do 'get away', you're coming with me."
"Coming with --- I'm not going with you!" You shout in a stronger tone, levelling your bow in warning with another arrow fitted to the trembling string. "Think I won't shoot you too? I've done it once, shouldn't be too hard to do it again... Get away from here, spirit. Did you come to take him? You can't have him! I just want my brother back! I want to be with him again! Get away, just get away!"
Your shaking fingers can contain the tightly strung bow for no longer and the arrow flies forth, striking into the centre of the man-like being, who smiles knowingly, showing no pain from the sharp tool protruding like a grotesque adornment in the centre of his chest. He extends his palm towards you and beckons with a crooked finger that you cannot acknowledge, as you are stumbling back in shock that he is still standing. Is he dead? Dying? A ghost? Have you killed again? Dizziness washes over you and the world spins sickening, a whirling circle of sky, grass, sun and painted targets blending into one another until your cheek presses against the bloodstained grass and your mind is enveloped in darkness.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 08 June 2012
Inhuman Relations #3
When you come around, you sit up cautiously, surprised that your body does not hurt after your fall, and recollect your memories. You are in the midst of a deep forest, isolated within a small clearing, which is dotted with petite snowdrops, their heads hanging solemnly like mourners at a funeral procession. There is a stump a few feet away, covered with thick moss that appears like it has not been disturbed in decades, testament to the remote corner of the world that you must have been dragged too. Kidnapped? Yes...kidnapped, you must have been kidnapped --- it was the only explanation. Rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, you wrinkle your nose to ward off a sneeze and glance back. Your heart jumps in your ribcage as that man from the archery grounds now casually sits upon the gnarled wood, pointed chin contemplatively resting in the curve of his paler palm. If he could be said to be sitting that is; his lower half has all but disappeared and a curl of periwinkle smoke takes the place of the legs you had so clearly seen previously.
"You are most fortunate," the torso of the man says, looking you from head to toe with the appreciation of a seasoned better appraising a horse at the race track.
"Fortunate?" You answer bitterly, struggling to your feet. "What the hell have you done to me? Where are we??"
"It's not what I've done to you but what I am going to do to you," he smirks. "Please enjoy your new form and, subsequently, your new life."
"Now look here, you have no idea what ---"
Your words are cut off abruptly when a pained gargle swallows your breath. You bring your hands swiftly to your throat, widening your eyes in terror as the skin bulges and twists grotesquely. Staggering backwards, you spin in a circle --- somewhere, anywhere, there must be an escape! --- but the ring of trees seem to close in like hunters around a kill, a fierce throbbing behind your eyes forcing you to drop to the ground, writhing and releasing a high pitched, keening cry. The sound terrifies you --- it was not human!
You are not human.
With your skull cracking and bones realigning, you look down at your 'hands' through a haze of pain, watching them sprout a short coat of brown hair, the nails becoming hard and encasing the very tip of every finger and both thumbs like a miniature, monstrous hoof. Against your will, your body swells to meet the needs of an unfamiliar shape, clothes splitting at the seams and falling in useless shreds alongside your ruined pair of shoes, burst open with the growth of your...hooves. Bar the rapidly spreading growth of hair, you are completely nude, shamefully naked. There is something wrong with your neck and it lengthens and arches; you fear, until the shape settles with a sigh of firming bones, that this is the creature's chosen method of doing away with you --- snapping your neck like a twig.
The final changes come in a swift series of sharp jabs, like a bright light flashing behind closed eyes. Your face shoots out obscenely, the cracking of bones like branches snapping under a storm's footsteps, and your legs settle with a subtle rearranging of muscles into a 'double-jointed' position, devilishly difficult to rationalise into motion. Upon the back of your head, a pair of curved ears twitch and you snort heavily, flaring your large nostrils in a mixture of breathy disbelief and all too human shock. As if to add insult to injury, a black tail shoots from the base of your spine, swishing back and forth as if it had always been there, and, most unnervingly, your chest raises two mounds of flesh that are surely nothing a male ought to carry.
Grasping these fleshy mounds with your now paw-like hands, you shake your head vigorously --- this isn't happening! How could it be? You're not female --- you're a... Afraid to know the truth, you look little by little down your rounded contours, soft as a male should not be, seeing nothing about your crotch that can define you as the man you once were. You leap into the air and shriek, stomping a hoof down into the grass with enough force to send a small tremor up to the old tree stump. No! It was all wrong, all wrong! Him...that creature. He sits there staring at you so calmly, as if he not only understood everything that was going on but was the one who orchestrated it, playing you more easily than a musician draws music from a flute.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 11 June 2012
Inhuman Relations #4
"What are you, some evil spirit?" You snarl furiously, covering your chest and crotch with your brown, hairy arms; to your humiliation and relief, your flowing tail provides some cover for your more prominent derriere.
"Not quite: I am a genie," the man answered, pausing to observe the bipedal horse with a lewd smirk. "And you make a very fine anthropomorphic mare. I do believe you are a bright bay, in equine terms. Now you are fit to become a part of my private collection."
Private collection? You have heard this term before and, although you cannot specifically tell what sort of a collection you might be a part of, you understand that it means that you have become a possession of sorts. And how can you stop the 'genie' from his wicked, cruel deeds? You have no power over such a creature of evil.
"Let me go!" You shriek, pinning your ears back with a grimace from how the higher pitch hurts the sensitive eardrums. "You have no right to do this and you have no idea what you're doing. Change me back immediately and I'll forget all about this. You won't have any trouble from me, just let me go."
"Let you go? Oh, what fun is that?" The genie murmurs in delight, gesturing at something out of your field of vision. "But don't you want to see your brother again? You do want to see your brother, don't you?"
You almost do not recognise the weary, transparent figure that steps out from the tree line, its tread dragging at the grass but not disturbing the drops of dew. Though how can you not recognise him, your own brother? You, better than any other, knew the lines of his face, the edge of his features. But, to your eyes, he appears to have aged a thousand years and is undoubtedly a ghost from his grey, 'barely there' appearance. Why, he is so frail that you worry that a gust of wind or a tear from your overfilling eyes might sweep him away at any moment.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 12 June 2012
