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Transformation - human to feral

Redscale101

Mara pressed out against her living, organic bonds, the tentacles squeezing tight about her shoulders and waist. Her entire body lurched and shook each time it sheathed itself inside of her again, the thick, mucus-coated muscle curling around inside of her and squeezing at her from inside, continually gushing that thick slime to fill her up.

The more it filled her, the more she could feel it coating her insides, swelling her belly, and oozing out around the girth of the thing pulsing up between her thighs, the more she felt its effect on her as well. What had started out as a tingling tickle deep within her loins had now blossomed out into what felt like an electric shiver, zapping out throughout her nerves, forcing her muscles to twitch and jump and jerk.

It frightened her, and yet there was nothing she could do about it. She swallowed and gritted her teeth again, hair plastered against the bare skin of her back beneath the thick coating of sticky mucus in which this thing had completely encased her; she tried to move her arms and legs, found them stuck in place for the tentacles still worked around her joints, then tried again and this time found those appendages to slither out away from her, leaving an odd cool sensation where they had touched. So she stretched herself out again, but this time found her muscles disobeyed anyway.

Surprise ricocheted through her body. Mara curled forward onto herself, less from her own intent and more because that was just what her muscles forced her to do. Her gritting teeth pressed and grinded against each other, something in the back of her jaw twitching, tugging, tightening; she squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them back open again in time to see the front of her face start to pull out away from her, alongside a sickening feeling of suction and strain there.

The pressure grew from inside her mouth as well, teeth digging down into and against each other, enamel thickening, lengthening, growing dense and sharp. Mara swallowed, then did so again, and again - and felt her tongue suddenly broader and flatter than it had been a moment ago, the muscle stretching out to fill her longer, wider snout. Her arms and legs had begun to shift to do the same too, bones popping and cracking among themselves, flashing through with sensation and pain gone as quickly as her brain registered it.

Her fingers squeezed together towards her palms, then scraped across her skin as the joints grew shorter and thicker. Then that pain, too, disappeared, soft skin plumping into thick pawpad callouses, wrist joints pulling back as well, elbows adjusting and tendons snapping into place against them. She gasped, grunted, and tried to shout, only for a guttural pulse to force its way up from her lungs, through her changing vocal cords.

Something caught in her throat, held there, snapped free, then grew back into place, pressing out against her flesh from inside. Once more Mara twisted and writhed with her entire body feeling as though it were on fire, each and every one of her nerves twitching and firing off, sending repeated waves of electric pain and pressure back and forth through her. The sensation itself was strange, as each time she recognized the feeling it felt as though it were coming from somewhere else, somewhere apart from herself; every time she opened her eyes she looked down, eyes adjusting to the darkness within the space and adapting to the surroundings, and saw that she had indeed continued to change.

Still the tentacle pulsed and pumped away at her, that slick, slimy fluid pouring forth from between her legs. She gasped again, grumbled, and this time let out a low, rumbling growl, throat unable to do much more than that, mouth and lips and tongue having lost the ability to form other sounds or words. Once more she swallowed and tossed her head, yet felt none of the hair stuck against her back that she had previously: a new, different sensation bristled out across her, a carpet of thick, soft fur having sprouted out across her body, deep charcoal-black in places, chocolate-brown in others.

Then, though, finally it drew its way back out of her, yet Mara had to look down to recognize this, as she still felt as heavy and full as she had when it had been buried deep inside. No longer could she straighten herself up and out, arms at her sides and legs underneath her: instead her hands, now roughly shaped like paws, curved in against her barrel-like chest, breasts having long since flattened out against her ribs, nipples spread out into little points of flesh poking out from amid her fur - and her legs did much the same, jointed along her hips then bending, and again, and again, into the long shape of a dog's hindpaws.

As she watched, lips curling back over her muzzle, fangs bared in a snarling grimace, her loins shifted and melded as well, this sensation somewhere between pleasurable and just uncomfortable. The sleek, soft lips of her human sex pulsed, swelled, grew, and changed, a strange stirring echoing out throughout her abdomen as it did so. She had trouble making out the detail in here, but from the feeling that pressed out between her legs, the heft and weight and warmth, her body's nerves moving and adjusting and growing to fill the sudden accumulation of flesh, she knew what was happening.

Pressure squeezed in around her, slick warm walls of flesh mashing, mushing, compressing - and then as forcefully as she had been pulled in was she jetted back out, leaving her to scramble and work her new limbs and body shape against the water towards the safe, trying her best to make it there before her altered lungs gave out. And indeed she made it, then paddled in towards the shore where she pulled herself out, tried to stand upright, and found that she simply was not shaped for it anymore.

So Mara took a moment to catch her breath, then padded over to the water and looked down... and saw the distinct shape of a feral Doberman looking back at her, complete with the sharp, angular muzzle, the tall ears, the rich coloration - and indeed the heft sheath and full sack hanging down between the hind legs, jiggling and bouncing with every little movement.

Fur sopping, entire body still tingling from the change, Mara's tongue lolled out of her mouth.

Transformation - human to feral

RaZim

The kitsune across from Zim crossed his arms and tilted his head, his countless tails flicking and dancing about his ankles. He just _stood_there, yellow eyes bright, smirk confident, muzzle upturned just slightly. Even standing one to one he still had a good head and a half over the human, but the vulpine made sure to accentuate that difference as much as he could here what with Zim catching his breath on the barren ground.

He couldn't show any weakness, though. With effort Zim pushed himself back up, wobbled where he stood, then fixed his grip on his wand for another swing. He couldn't afford to close his eyes in the middle of a duel like this - damn his limited experience in slinging magic like this, especially against such an opponent as Octo - so he tried his best to build up the reserves, to establish them first in his body and then channel them out through the focus set into the end of the wand, and-

And then he stumbled again, his foot sinking into what felt like thick, warm mud. Startled, suddenly brought down to the ground again, the human gasped and caught himself against the ground, his hand quickly settling into the same space. When he pulled, though, when he tried to yank himself free, he found himself caught instead.

"Octo!" he called across the arena. The kitsune's ears perked but still he stood there, arms crossed over his muscular chest, making no apparent move. "We agreed there would be nothing like this. No immobilization."

"Oh," the vulpine rumbled, voice smooth and rich, "I obeyed that stricture. It's just that your body doesn't know how to respond to the signals your brain is sending through it. That's only reasonable, of course, if you would look to see what's happening."

Confused, for a moment Zim thought it might be better to resist what might be obvious bait, but his curiosity as well as growing panic soon overwhelmed him. Center of balance shifted, general kinesthetic awareness, all seemed warped and different, and sure enough when the human turned his head and looked into the field subtly cast by his opponent - the sigil across the ground bore Octo's unique formula, glowing faintly with that strange impression of pulling the light out and away from the air around it rather than giving off light itself - his heart skipped a beat.

It was not a human's hand and foot that pressed against the ground within that field, but rather those of an animal. Thick, sleek silken fur, dark chocolate-brown, had spread across his skin and now crept slowly up and out of the boundary of the sigil, tickling and tugging at his muscles as it went. Zim gritted his teeth and tried to pull himself away again, but found that his nerves, his joins, his tendons pulsed and jerked in response, the new biological arrangement of these parts of his body at odds with the rest of him had originally known as fully, functionally human.

There was the fur, and then those thick, curved black claws cutting little valleys through the sandy ground. It seemed these extremities answered at a delay, the short, thick fingers curling, tightening, then spreading out... and showing delicate velvety webbing in between each, like smooth soft leather that stretched with each of his movements. Every time his heart beat Zim felt the sensation rush through his body first, and then his hand and foot - paw and footpaw - a moment later, tingling, distant.

But still the changes continued up, seeming to accelerate as they went. He glanced up at Octo again, who now strode slowly and purposefully forward towards him, quickly enshrouding him in his presence. "The more you struggle," he explained, "the quicker the change will happen."

"What are you-" Zim pulled in a gasp, then let it out as a low, shivering sigh as the sensation continued up and crossed over his shoulder. He felt himself getting pulled down towards the space, muscles shortening, bones popping, shifting, readjusting to fit into the shape of the creature that the kitsune had chosen. So many sensations and feelings bouncing and jerking around through him, transferred from one body type to the other and back, muddling his thoughts, making his heart bounce and judder, sending waves of nausea and dizziness throughout him. He couldn't quite think straight. "What-"

Octo knelt down, resting his arms on his knees, and tilted his head to watch. He wet his lips and smiled. "I could tell you, but you'll be neither be able to understand nor remember in a little bit. So I think I'll just let you guess."

On and on it went, the transformation wrapping its fingers around his body and seeming to squeeze his presence and essence as it went. The thick pelt burst up out of his skin, now over his chest, his belly, his loins, and his neck, and pulled the originally human shape of his body in and against itself, compressing him in a way that was at once uncomfortable, painful, and yet somehow deeply relieving. Zim gasped again, tilted his head up and away in attempts to evade the stranglehold growing ever tighter beneath his chin.

Along the way the spell had pulled him forward and down, his other arm going out to keep himself propped up but falling desperately short. The human-no-longer gasped and grunted again, wide forepaw smacking heavily against the sand, and struggled to keep his head upright on a shorter, thicker neck. No longer did his body respond to what he tried to get it to do, nerve impulses firing and fizzling out for the different arrangement of limbs and musculature. He desperately wished that he could get a look at himself, and as he glanced up to Octo kneeling before him, a vital plea stirring in his thoughts and on the back of his tongue, he tried to call out - and found the only noise to come out to be a choked squeak.

Then another, and another, and - the spell field fizzled out, its task finished. Octo grinned and tilted his head the other way, offering the side of a finger down to the little feral otter who now lay sprawled in the sand before him. The creature lifted its head, sniffed at the offered digit, gave it an exploratory little nibble, then fixed those wide, glossy eyes up at the kitsune.

Octo chuckled. "Nothing left, huh? As expected." He moved to stand up, paused, then reached down to scoop the little otter into his arms. "Guess we know who won this duel, then."

Transformation - human to feral

RaZim

Zim peered back and forth down the empty aisle, wondering if he was even still in the same store. Something about the air back here had changed from when he had turned the corner, and it felt like all the noise of the rest of the shopping center pitched away behind a heavy curtain, or a closed door. It was the strangest sensation, being able to stick his head around the corner and see everything else still happening out there, then taking one, two, three steps down this row, shoving his hands into his pockets, closing his eyes... and feeling as though he were suspended in still silence, not a single remnant of life or activity anywhere around him.

Idly he fingered at one of the little things that hung from the shelves here, a thin, simple leather band with an unimpressive metal buckle and no price tag or label in sight. He looked up to the ceiling, couldn't find a security camera, looked down to the end of the row, saw that it ended in a solid wall - which was weird, as the previous aisle didn't - then looked down the other way, then gasped and scrambled as the collar, pulled and shifted by his thoughtless handling, bounced off its hook and nearly fell from his grasp. He jerked his other hand out and caught it, the band swinging down over his fingers, then back up a bit... and then, for some reason, he paused.

Zim tilted his head, wetted his lips, blinked, and turned the collar over. It wasn't quite leather, and neither was the buckle quite metal. He brought it closer to his face, trying to see if he could pick up any sort of scent. Closer and closer he brought it, close enough that he could see little fibers reaching out, dancing and curling in the lack of an air current running through the store aisle, shivering as it came closer, and - then he blinked. The collar was no longer in his hands, and he noticed that it felt a little bit harder to breathe.

He reached up and scratched at his throat, only to find the band had affixed itself into place there and slowly tightened, leaving itself snug against his skin, pressing gently into the flesh. Not enough to cut off his breathing, but certainly firm enough that he could feel it restricting his pace and pulse; he grimaced and tugged at it, then did so again, then gasped as his fingernail nicked his skin. Surprised, Zim brought his hand away, then blinked and wiped at his eyes with the other: it wasn't a regular, human hand there in front of him but instead a dog's forepaw, each digit crowned with a rough, blunted claw, pads thick and calloused, little tufts of golden-brown fur spiking out from in between. He turned his hand - his paw - over, stretched out his fingers, noticed the way the broad knuckles shifted and adjust in tandem with what he thought he was doing.

Surprise turning to shock, the still mostly-human took a half-step back, nearly lost his footing, and banged into the shelf behind him, though it did not budge. His other hand had started to take on a similar shape, fingers bending, broadening, lifting up right before his eyes, knuckles jerking back into place to form the high ridges of a dog's paw, bare nails thickening and turning a deeper, darker yellow. He could feel each and every one of these changes, from the tendons snapping back into place, the muscle fibers pulling together, adjusting, and slipping back and forth across the structure beneath, the bones themselves shuddering, splintering, then just as quickly reforming, the skin seeming to melt and adjust - but it all came to him from a distance, like it were some elaborate trick that his mind wanted him to believe.

But, then, it wasn't. He stumbled again, the shapes of his legs no longer quite fitting into his shoes and pants. Zim gasped again, still pulling at the collar around his throat, and tried to keep himself upright, but his center of balance had shifted as well and he fell forward to all fours. His footpaws kicked back at his shoes and sent them bouncing across the shop's tile floor; the material of his pants pulled and strained against his haunches. His shirt, meanwhile, hung loose around a body that no longer fit it, the not-quite-human's chest bulging forward and barreling out, compressing in at the sides, while his belly sank in and back. His belt loosened, his clothes fell away from him, his human endowment jiggled, shifted, pulled up towards his body and connected against his lower belly, then shifted more, hung down, receded into the warm, soft-skinned sheath that grew around and pinned it in place, while his sack rolled forward and sprouted little patches of thin fur.

The longer it went on, the harder it was to think, too. Zim rumbled in his throat, as this was the only sound he could get out at this point, and managed to pull himself forward and out of the loose pair of pants. The shirt was a little more difficult: the German shepherd closed his eyes and shook his upper body, short tail swinging and swaying behind him as it still grew into its place, and then just barely managed to get the shirt to roll forward over his head and tall ears. He didn't know why he wanted it off, just that the sensation of cloth on his fur made him uncomfortable.

The dog's claws _tck-tck-tck_ed across the tile floor, his broad nose working with all of these new, strange scents and impressions, ears tilting this way and that as he listened. Slowly the German shepherd trotted out of the aisle - he didn't like being in such an enclosed space - and out into the main thoroughfare of the shop, his attention suddenly fixing on the crowds and energy that stirred further down the way.

Someone down there looked his way, paused, and then pointed. Noticing the attention the dog's tail wagged and he bounded forward, his collar bouncing gently around his neck, making no noise against itself with the leather that wasn't quite leather, and the metal that wasn't fully metal. It shifted a bit more, tugged tighter until it stopped jerking around, and then settled comfortably against the feral's neck while he ran.

Transformation - human to feral

RaZim

The human stirred and shifted in his rented bed, trying his best to pull the thin blankets more tightly around his body. It wasn't the most comfortable lodgings he had secured in his travels throughout the land, but it was at least quite a bit better than another night spent out in the cold and rain, or trying to convince himself that a fire built into a small cave under a ridge was "nice".

So, really, he was halfway gone into the arms of sleep when he had discussed the rates with the tavernkeeper down on the lower level, a slim, tall weasel with an eye that didn't quite look right... and then had fallen straight to sleep nearly before his head had hit the thin, itchy pillow. But now, in the middle of the night judging by the weight that sloughed through his veins - his room had no window to show it - something had awoken him.

Zim was not quite well-versed in magical weavings. He had experience and some measure of skill in the arts, quite a bit more so than his other peers and compatriots, but not quite enough for it to become second-nature reflex like some of his tutors. The thought was there to reach out and search the room with those deeper, spiritual sensitives, much more truthful than what he might be able to see or smell, but his half-awake mind just couldn't manage it.

So the human shifted instead, stifled a yawn, started to pull himself up - and then stared right into the sharp, glistening eyes of something_there at the other end of the room, small and slim, hunched over. Those eyes flashed his way, widening for a moment and then slitting just as quickly, sparkling in some unseen source of light. The figure straightened up a little bit, sucked in a breath, and then hissed it back out, and only then did Zim see that it clutched _his pack in its paws.

"Hey!" he called, moving to toss the blankets back. "What are y-"

But the thief was far too fast for him. With a single smooth, great movement it launched itself up and over the bed, one footpaw impacting the human's chest and the other squishing against the side of his face to force him back against the bed.

"No," the thief growled, bringing his long, angular muzzle in closer. He bent and twisted his body in strange, fluid ways, and from between those gangly toes, smeared with slick sweat and the grime of the tavern floor, Zim saw that it was a rat clad in dark clothing who pinned him down. "No words. Nobody says a thing; nobody hears a thing. Understand?"

"Like hell. I swear to the gods, I'll-"

This time it was Zim who hissed, as the rat clenched his footpaw and dug sharp, untrimmed claws into the soft flesh of his cheek. Those points of contact stung first, then tingled, then went numb... and Zim felt himself start to grow a bit dizzy beneath that sensation and the curling fog of heady scent. Bright and rich, warm and pungent, the aroma wafting from the rat's footpaws wrapped around Zim's thoughts and senses, squeezed them tight... and in the distance somewhere he thought he felt the familiar pulse and shift of magic being plied, but couldn't bring himself to pay attention to it.

"No you won't," the rat chittered, tilting his head this way and that. He spread his toes and squished them more firmly down against the human's head, and Zim felt there that his face fit differently against the pads and joints. "It is my job to ensure you will not speak of this. And, as such, I shall ensure you cannot speak."

Zim's skin had a different texture and consistency to it when it brushed against those toes, and the longer he waited the stronger the scent became, until he could feel his nose twitching and straining with deep, fervent sniffs. He lapped at his chops and swallowed, then did so again, and found now that it just didn't feel right to keep his tongue inside his mouth; so instead he let it flop out across the pillow, the muscle feeling broader and flatter than it did before.

Still the rat remained on top of him, sly smile growing into a vile grin. Gradually he lessened the pressure from his footpaw, though still kept it in place there. Zim squirmed and wriggled underneath him, his arms now pulling up closer to his body, his legs gently kicking and shifting. Then those, too, started to pull up closer to his body, the muscles tensing and tightening as though an electric current ran its way through him: he could feel the sparkling tingle, and the strange, distant pressure as it pushed its way back and forth through him.

Something the rat did to him worked directly at his muscles and nerves, at once stimulating yet deadening them. Zim gasped and wriggled more, trying to turn his head upright but unable to. He realized after a moment that this was due to how the front of his skull had lifted down and out away from his face, his nose broadening and flattening into the black-leather nub of what looked like a canid's, with his skin bristling out in the smooth, coarse pelt to match. He gritted his teeth, flat round enamel already halfway morphed into deadly sharp fangs, jaws clacking together; he gasped and grunted, working his body back and forth, feeling his spine curve and arch forward, grunting as it pushed out against the lower portion of his body into an extended tail, kicked and flailed -

And then the rat hopped free again, swiftly swiping the bag from where he had dropped it on the floor. Satisfied with his work the thief straightened up, hooked it over his shoulder, then cast one more look over to the occupant of the bed, who would no longer need his things. After all, what would a wild, feral wolf do with a backpack and clothing? The beast, barely a shred of humanity left in its amber-yellow eyes, scrambled to work himself upright underneath the blankets and then growl at the unknown intruder. In the fur across his muzzle he bore a telltale impression of where the rat had pressed his footpaw.

Transformation - werewolf

criticalshot1239

Lukas gasped and pressed himself the rest of the way down onto the snow leopard again, every muscle within his loins shuddering and tightening up with that delicious sensation. The otter's own hard cock bounced and slapped between his belly and the other male's, leaving little sticky streaks in the fur where it touched; he shivered, bit his lower lip, and slid his paws back up to the feline's chest, digging his claws there for support while he continued to rhythmically work and bounce with his hips, his motion rippling out through the two of them.

It had been Zath's idea to come all the way out here to get to know each other better, and while the initial feeling of stepping out of the car and into the heady chill of late-autumn night had first made the otter nervous, now all of that had fizzled away beneath a much different sensation. Far enough back from the main road that the only hint of passing cars was a flash of light and a faint woosh, tall trees rose up on either side of the clearing and hid them from view, with the vast open sky stretching above, a few stars twinkling out through the glare of the city, and then the moon simmering bright and full behind thick clouds.

Zath grunted and thrust up into him again when Lukas tried to lift up, effectively slamming his hips back against the otter's rump. He gasped and shivered, entire body pulsing all over again - was that drool that just dribbled from his lips? At first it had just been an offer of a midnight walk by the edge of the woods, but then one thing had led to another and Lukas had dropped to his knees, nose lifting up between the leopard's balls; and then his mouth had ended up around his sheath; and then he had kicked his pants off somewhere in the dark; and now he rode the feline in a soft patch of dew-coated grass, footpaws pressing into the wet chill, riding him closer and closer to his peak.

Panting, exhausted, satisfied, Lukas's eyes flashed open at a stirring of the light from overhead. He leaned back, rested his paws along Zath's waist, and glanced up to look at the moon as it shifted its way out from behind that cloud, its glow suddenly sharpening in brightness and intensity. Lukas could almost feel the sweet, soft chill of the light against his fur, and for a moment he paused, let himself sink back down, enjoyed the closeness and sensation, then looked down at the leopard again.

Zath looked... strained. For a moment Lukas frowned, head tilted, and leaned forward to ask what was wrong - but then the feline seized his wrist in a movement too fast to see, gasped, and started to writhe underneath him. Shock and panic lurched through Lukas's system as he could now start to see sudden, frightening changes bounce through Zath's body, the snow leopard's face scrunching up, his lips and snout curling back, his ears flicking and flattening; he tossed his head from one side to the other, then back again, and each time he did so his muzzle seemed to grow a little bit longer.

At first he thought it was just a trick of the altered light, but then Lukas started to feel those changes as well. The leopard's fur visually darkened in color, turning from pale snow-white to something closer to graphite and charcoal, and it puffed up and matted out in spots. Paws still resting against the other male's body, Lukas felt those patches become rough and coarse, and when he pushed in closer to start to lift himself up off of him, the skin underneath tightened as well, stretching and growing out around bands of muscle that stirred and strained, thickening into wide cords pulling taut, snapping into place, shifting, jerking.

"Hey, hey," the otter murmured, panic bouncing through him. "Hang on. Zath, what-"

Upon hearing his name the snow leopard, if he could still be called as such, snapped his eyes open and looked down at the otter still hilted atop his arousal... and this time, it was doubtless the muzzle of some vaguely lupine beast that pointed his eyes, eyes a bright predator's amber, fangs thick and deadly. Huge paws reached up and gripped at Lukas's shoulders, sharp claws pricking painfully into his skin; he shivered, straightened up, tried to pull himself up again, and this time felt himself forcibly held down against the beast's lap.

Tufts of that thicker fur sprouted out around the beast's neck, chest, and head, further adding to the appearance of him being halfway wolf, but now... Lukas shivered, straightened up, then jerked again - and gasped, and once more, at the sensation of the other male's shaft, still buried inside of him, pulsing and growing. Bit by bit, with each beat of his heart there was more stiff, burning flesh there than there was before, pushing and molding deeper inside of his bowels, making him shudder and squirm and grunt as those paws kept him held down. The discomfort of taking something a bit too big seared through him, but then that disappeared too as the beast's impressive girth continued to fill him from inside, now pushing out at the interior of his belly until he could see its vague shape when he looked down, and until no matter how hard he tried to clench, his tailhole stretched around Zath's base refused to respond.

Lukas gasped and shivered, immense pleasure locked down in his loins behind that massive pressure, the werebeast's sheath having plumped up so far that he could feel its thick, slick lips sucking against his rump, and now with a knot at least as wide around as both of his fists pushing threateningly at his already-stretched him. Slowly, finally those paws fell away, and Lukas pulled himself up just a little bit and felt his innards reshaping around the space left inside of him, interior flesh slurping and sucking back around Zath's length.

Or - around the beast's length. Eyes watery at the edges, his own hard shaft now dribbling milky white into the dark fur underneath him, Lukas looked forward and saw nothing of the snow leopard left there.

"Okay," he panted, still trying to lift himself slowly up. "Okay. Here, let's just... take a break, and we can..."

Those paws seized him again, this time gripping him by the shoulders, and Lukas flailed about as the werebeast lifted him up and then pushed him down to his back, pressing the otter's lower body between himself and the ground. Those fangs glittered in the light of the full moon, and a thick rope of frothy drool hung down and plopped against his cheek. With the extra heat and pressure sinking back into him again, Lukas's still-hard cock oozed out another dribble against his chest.

It was going to be a long night.