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Shadowdancer

By Dracon

[Notice: The characters and events within are inspired by the "Gargoyles" TV Series and as such credit goes to the creators of said series. If any characters appear in the story from said series, those characters belong to their creators.

Should anyone wish to use the characters or events within in their own works, permission is hereby granted to do so. I just ask that you let me know if you are going to do so and provide credit in your work.

Underage viewers should not read this series, and all readers do so at their own risk.]

"A Voice From The Other World..."

----Prologue----

James' heart pounded as he ran down the hall. Thinking he might have lost the mummy thing, he skidded to a stop and listened for any sounds of pursuit. Hearing nothing but the faint susurration of the furnace, he took a moment to get his bearings.

He knew he never should have let himself get talked into this crazy stunt. Pulling a prank on Halloween, sure, that was one thing. But going to the most haunted house in Chicago? James never was much of a believer in the supernatural, but this would be where he'd draw the line.

In fact, the only reason he'd come, even though his best friends were going, was because his girlfriend conned him into tagging along. Something about the phrase, "watch my butt," got his attention. But he never signed up for mummies!

Looking around, James figured he must be in the basement of the Irish Castle... somewhere. Given that he could easily get lost in his own apartment, this place was well beyond his navigational abilities.

He hadn't heard anything behind him, but he thought he could faintly hear his girlfriend's voice up ahead! He figured that, with any luck, he could find her and get out of here before something even weirder happened.

Deciding at once that he's never going to come back to this forsaken place, James looked around for a minute, first. This seemed to be some sort of gallery, with paintings hung up on the wall. Except... you'd think that, in a Castle this age, they'd be portraits of the family or some such, but these looked like... well, monsters.

They looked almost photographic, much more realistic depictions than in the RPGs he was familiar with. They were more like the work of Giger, in terms of detailing, though not as terrifying. Well, most of them weren't as terrifying.

One in particular caught his eye. It showed a vaguely reptilian creature, with a heavy layer of muscles under... her skin. Obviously a her, with the figure she possessed, and given that she stood proudly facing the viewer, revealing her nudity.

James found it interesting that the artist chose not to try and hide her womanhood or paint her in a sexual position; she merely stood as a sentinel.

Her stance suggested that she would attempt to stop anyone who tried to pass, not out of malice or bloodthirst, but simply because it was her job.

As any red-blooded man his age would, James took a good, close look at the picture. She was massively built, apparently some sort of body-builder. Despite this, though, her figure was still very feminine, and James' eyes were drawn towards her bosom.

An aficionado of the breast, he had never seen a pair this large, yet still so well formed. For that matter, he had never seen a pair this large at all.

Yet, she was also definitely non-human. Her feet were three-clawed talons, apparently oversized compared to her body, and she stood upon her toes, like someone in high-heeled shoes. Her hands only had three fingers, and a thumb, each.

But strangest of all were her wings. They stood furled behind her, but open enough to reveal a bat-like structure, with small hands at the 'elbow' of the wing, which look quite dexterous.

Before he even really knew what he was doing, James walked forward to try and touch the painting, but before he could reach it, he tripped on a fold in the carpeting and felt himself start to fall.

Throwing his hands in front of his face, he expected to slam face first into the canvas, but instead seemed to fall through the surface, and a wave of freezing cold surged through his body as he did so.

He collapsed to the ground, limp, utterly drained by the cold, almost without enough energy even to try and stand up. James tried to struggle to his feet, but his whole body was numb and weak. He decided the he must have hit his head in the fall and given himself a concussion, or something, and decided to rest for a few minutes before trying to get up again. He pulled into a sitting position with a groan, back propped against the wall, with his legs pulled up in front of him.

He awakened, some unknown time later, and realizes that he must have passed out. The nap seemed to have done him some good, though, as the numbness seemed to have faded from his limbs. He opened his eyes, preparing to stand, looked down, and screamed.

He was no longer human!

----Chapter I----

A few things flashed through James's mind in a brief surge of synaptic panic. He was no longer human. He was completely nude. He was blue, for Pete's sake! He was got tits! And, confirming his suspicions, he felt down toward his package, quickly realizing that he was no longer a he, either.

After a brief period to assimilate that information, James started noticing other elements of his appearance: Looking at his arms, he knew he never had that kind of muscle development before. The fact that his hands looked a bit more like claws, and seemed to be missing a finger, didn't reduce the intrigue of that fact in his mind.

Looking down a little more, James noticed, again, that he has breasts. This was another fact that cannot be underscored enough in his confused little mind. They appeared to be, how to put it delicately, world-class hooters.

The undersides of his breasts rested against his thighs! He reached towards the lurid purple of her nipples, which were delicately small, a delicious contrast against the great expanse of her breast, and stroking them caused a lightning bolt of sensation to scorch through her body.

James recalled her earlier trouble standing and tried to get up more carefully. As she did so, a semi-instinctive reaction triggered, and she folded her wings around her body.

Wait a minute, wings? Sure enough, a pair of bat-like wings projected from her shoulders. They hardly seemed sturdy enough to support her weight, leaving her to question whether they were functional or merely vestigial.

At least they covered her, mostly. A generous amount of her bosom showed behind the top edge, and the bottom of her wings only came down to her knees, like a skirt, and revealed far more of her shapely behind.

Looking around, she realized something interesting about her surroundings. Namely, that she was in the same hallway she was in before falling through the painting. Turning around, she saw that the painting had become a picture of her old, boring human self.

Placing a hand against the portrait produced no effect. James thought of all the sci-fi she had read, and quickly theorized that this was some sort of alternate reality, and the other painting was some sort of gateway.

Not that she had any real intention of going back, anyway. Looking at the portrait, then looking down, she smiled, thinking that the 'new' portrait didn't fit in anywhere near as well as her new, bosomy form had.

Unless, of course, humans were mythical creatures in this other world. And the thought crossed her mind that if, in this world, the part of "James" was played by a knockout babe with wings, what were her buddies going to look like?

Looking around, she didn't see anything that suggested where to go. Either side of the gallery ended in a blind corner, and the idea of trying to head back the way she came just didn't seem like a good idea.

If this was some other world, then that mummy thing probably wasn't hanging around, and if somehow it were not, then surely it would have found her while she had lain passed out. Still, she decided that heading in the other direction would probably be the best idea. And that was where she had heard those voices earlier.

While James had not been in this wing of the Castle before, something about it seemed slightly off, compared to what she would have expected. The wallpaper was of an old style, but seemed somehow newer than would have expected. And while there had been shelves of figurines along the walls in the other part of the Castle, they had all been either people, presumably the family, animals, or religious figures.

These, though, were more along lines of what James considered the occult. Strange half-human beings, robed figures carrying staves, et cetera, lined the walls. Strangely, the figurines were not emphasized, their purpose was apparently not to shock the viewer, they merely sat there like cherished heirlooms.

Unable to recognize anything she had passed, James decided to just wander until she found something interesting. The Castle sure seemed quieter than it once was, and the halls seemed more constricted than before.

She assumed that this must be an older construction than the section containing the gallery. While she noticed various doors and cubbies as she passed, something seemed to draw her elsewhere in the Castle, a faint urging in the back of her mind, like a neural toothache.

She ascended to the second floor, padding softly through the eerie quiet. Looking out through a window, she took a moment to look at the Chicago skyline, glittering in the moonlight.

It was a sight she had seen many times since moving here, but it never looked more beautiful than it did now. The air seemed especially clear tonight, letting her see far into the distance.

With a sigh, she turned from the window and continued on, searching for whatever it was that she was driven to.

She headed down a dead-end hall, looking at the two doors on either side. One was simply a plain wooden door, like every other one she'd seen in the Castle. The other, though, bore a simple wooden heart with the name "Jessica" chiseled into it.

A simple design, but with excellent workmanship, the plaque evoked a faint memory. James tried to concentrate, but couldn't quite bring it to mind. Shaking her head, she entered the room, opening the door carefully, like a thief, to avoid making extra noise.

The room appeared to have been decorated off of the template of a peacock's feather, with soothing blues, purples, greens, and reds being most prevalent, yet somehow they merged together into a cohesive whole.

James looked around, and guessed that this was a woman's bedroom, except for the fact that there was no bed! There was a large, futon-style couch along one wall, but that was the closest thing visible. Her eyes were drawn to a door in the back of the room.

Opening it, she saw that it enclosed a large walk-in closet, with a large rack of clothes, a dresser, a mirror, and a stool of some sort.

After entering, though, James started getting a hint of claustrophobia, as the closet seems more cramped when she stepped into it. A thought crossed her mind, and she stood against the doorframe, eyeballing its size relative to her own.

Her eyes widened as she realized that, unless the door was much shorter than normal, which it didn't seem to be, she must have been over seven feet tall! That explained why the Castle seemed smaller than before!

James looked through the clothing hung up on the rack, working carefully to avoid ripping anything with her claws, and started to get a feel for the owner's personality. And, while she normally was no thief... there's enough clothing here that it would hardly matter!

The owner of these clothes appeared to be fairly sensible, but not afraid to show off. Interestingly, there even appeared to be several suits and dresses hanging on the rack, tailored for a woman who was quite fit, and rather well endowed.

Many of them had odd slits in the back, perhaps that was some sort of fashion trend in this world. However, there were also some rather daring lingerie and casual clothes, with a distinct preference for halter tops (no doubt inspired by a desire for support) and tight leggings.

These appeared to be the belongings of a woman who was quite comfortable with her body, but definitely not willing to lay with the first person to come along.

Interestingly, they also appeared to be hand-made. Looking at the sizes involved, this didn't seem too unusual, but it did imply a great deal of money, skill, or both. The fabric also seemed somewhat unusual, several blends that resembled cotton and lyrca, but denser than might have been expected.

James found several items that intrigued her, but narrowed it down to two outfits. First was a matching set of maroon clothes, a low-cut halter top, and a knee-length skirt. It seemed quite practical for exploring an old mansion, and surely the owner wouldn't mind something so pedestrian walking off.

That said, James knew that if she went walking out in her old world wearing it, she would probably cause a number of wrecks.

There was also a set composed of black hip-huggers and a similarly colored sports bra, both of which had strange, Native American-looking embroidery of some sort metallic thread. It looked almost like silver, but not quite, and there was a faint greenish tone to it. A tag on the hanger read "Designs by Sally Tsung."

James thought it looked a little too much like gothwear for her to normally be interested, but something about it just called to her.

Granted, the chances of any of these fitting her exaggerated form correctly seemed awfully slim, but it had to be better than running around in the nude, she figured. After some deliberation, she decided to go for the black outfit. She couldn't even say why, exactly, but it just seemed like the best option.

James picked up the hanger with her chosen garments, and headed over to the mirror. After all, with a body like this, she saw no reason she shouldn't get the full effect. Unclasping her wing-hands, she slowly opened the 'cloak' her wings formed, looking on in awe at the full majesty of her body.

Her clawed feet bore her weight with no discomfort, due to their large size. The fact that only her large talons rested on the ground seemed like it should make walking and running harder, but apparently did not.

The stance did provide much the same effect as wearing high heels, however, much to James's delight. Her legs were heavily muscled, yet not overly blocky or veined, lending a certain sleek femininity to their powerful forms.

Looking just upward, she realized that she was starting to get wet from this self-examination of her body, something she found more amusing than disturbing. Her hips were fairly wide, but not overly so, and with a half-turn, she examined her firm, rounded butt.

James also got her first good look at her new tail. Thick and tapered, about a foot longer than her legs, it moved with the sinewy grace of a constrictor snake, and brought to mind pictures she'd seen of brontosaurus tails.

Saving perhaps the best for last, she lifted her bosom to allow her to examine her waist, which seemed longer than a human woman's, causing a certain degree of curiosity. A stray thought crossed her mind, and she started to massage her breasts with her smaller wing-hands, while supporting their incredible weight upon her forearms.

It seemed somewhat odd that she should be able to support so much weight so easily, but then, as muscular and toned as she was, perhaps it wasn't so surprising.

She noted a small horn or claw behind each elbow, something to be aware of if she needed long sleeves.

Turning to show her back to the mirror, she performed a quick mental check, and noted that her chest seemed somewhat thicker than would be expected, though it seemed to fit her body well.

Thinking back to her biology classes, it occurred to her that this might be because of her wings, as birds often had relatively broad chests to accommodate their flight muscles.

She also noted several faint 'seams' traced across her body. It took her a moment to realize that they were old scars! Apparently they were none too serious, since they were not painful or stiff, and they were hard to see unless you looked closely for them.

But they raised some interesting questions, since the only scars James had in human form were from various overly affectionate pets.

Finally, she looked up towards her face. Interestingly, she could see a certain resemblance to her old form. Were it not for the enlarged fangs, oversized, slightly bat-like ears, and cobalt skin tone, she might have thought she was a sister to her old body. A sister destined to be a model one day, perhaps, but still a close relation.

As her 'crowning glory', a bushy cascade of ivory-white hair poured down her back, guided by two small, back-swept horns that emerged from her hairline. Giggling, she thought that her horns looked a little bit like unicorn horns, with the spiral pattern they possess.

She slid on the hip-huggers first, which did an admirable job of emphasizing the sheer strength of her thighs and the rounding of her hips and ass, and directed the eye there by the glitters of light off the silvery embroidery. Something about it seemed slightly familiar, but James was not certain exactly what.

She then proceeded to don the sports bra. Surprisingly, the mechanical memory she seemed to have 'inherited' covered this task as well, and the only obstacle to her progress was the sheer magnitude of the bosom that it was supposed to cover.

It appeared to be a perfect fit, however, though the fabric seemed quite stretchy, and it felt almost like someone was cradling her breasts, quite the pleasant sensation.

She gasped as the sensation shifted. A dark purple blush arose on her cheeks as the bra felt more like it was rubbing or massaging her breasts. After a moment, though, the sensation faded.

She looked towards the mirror in curiosity, and gasped again as she released the bra had vanished! Looking more closely, she realized that it seemed to have merged with her, the silvery embroidery appearing to be tattooed on her skin, curling around her areola.

The supportive effect appeared to remain somehow, though. It looked as though she was topless, yet her bosom was supported properly. James shook her head, but compared to the oddity of changing species and gender, this seemed like nothing.

James grabbed a light, gauzy shirt with some sort of tribal lacework along the edges, and draped it over her prodigious frontage.

Looking in the mirror once more, she decided she liked the look, a sort of gypsy dancer effect, with the faint glimmerings of the 'tattoo' visible under the shirt like a mirage.

Deciding to leave the dresser alone, since she had already taken enough, she left the partitioned closet and returned to the main room. There were posters, a few of which made her laugh because of their very banality, and pictures up along the walls.

But, what she noticed first and foremost was the large mahogany desk along one wall, with what appeared to be a high-end computer system nestled into it. She also noticed a thin vertical crack along the wall opposite of it. Unsure what to make of it, she decided it must just be a symptom of the mansion settling.

Sitting down at the desk, she noticed that the chair's back has two supports, which allowed her tail to dangle between them in a very comfortable pose. The equipment felt somewhat unusual, being based all around touchpads, but it seemed easy enough to work with, and she figured it out quickly.

Blanking the Matrix code screen saver revealed a background on the left display that made her heart skip a beat.

It showed a lithely built figure smiling out at her, reclined against the stones of a stream that James recalled as being near the mansion. The picture was evidently of a male of her people, as witnessed by the tight, Hawaiian print speedos he wore, not to mention the prominent contents.

Something about the picture struck a chord in her mind, but she was not sure what it meant. The other display showed another startling picture: the night skyline of Seattle, the town James grew up in. And, if she was not mistaken, the view was from the top of the Cascade Terrace apartments. That was where sh... well, he, grew up!

Bringing up a browser to distract from those sights, she checked the local paper's website. Most of the stories and columns looked familiar, though she didn't recognize the "Sightings" column.

Looking more closely at it, she became confused; it appeared to describe a werewolf sighting on the outskirts of the city! If this had been a tabloid, that would have been nothing unusual, but for a mainstream paper?

As she closed down the browser to ponder that twist, she noticed a file linked to the desktop. Thinking at first that she shouldn't pry, she became overcome by curiosity, and looked into it. It took her a moment to realize that the writing felt bizarrely familiar.

As she scanned through the file, she became more and more convinced that it was the work of her 'alternate self' from this reality. For one thing, where she had expected to find a diary or something of the sort, it was in fact a technical write-up for some kind of energy projection device.

Despite that, though, James couldn't comprehend half of the writing. It used many of the same turns of phrase and syntax choices she would have, but there were many odd bits of terminology that left her completely stumped.

One thing was for sure, though. This obviated the concern about theft quite well. Even if James ran into her 'original' self, she would certainly be willing to lend a little bit of her extensive wardrobe.

A small voice piped up in the back of her mind, wondering, "Your wardrobe was 7 white dress shirts, 3 pairs of black slacks and a ratty sports coat. How similar do you think she is?!?"

She glanced down at the computer's clock display, and saw that it was almost 6 AM. Thinking about it, she could almost envision a clock ticking down toward sunrise. She thought that was kind of odd, though. She wasn't even that tired, so why should the time be so important?

She found herself with an incredible longing to watch the sunrise today. That sort of thing never interested her before, but something about this particular day made her want to do so.

James managed to find her way through the sprawling Castle without too much trouble. There were only so many ways to lay out a house, and she knew that she wanted to get as high up as she could, so she just followed the stairs. While she seemed to have some knowledge or memory of how to move in this form, that seemed to be all she's 'inherited'.

In about a half hour's time, she found herself comfortably perched along the edge of the roof, overlooking the large pool behind the mansion, and she found herself becoming rather sleepy.

She fought off the drowsiness as long as she could, but her eyes closed just as the first rays of the sun reached her... She stretched out into a fearsome pose, and abruptly roared, an echoing cry over the landscape...

Fade to black.