Spell-Bound

Megan hypnotizes Erica into becoming a burly lion barbarian; the now-male Erica takes control and hypnotizes her right back. Explicit.

While Erica leaned back cross-legged on her girlfriend's bed, Megan pulled a mahogany jewelry box down from the top of her bookshelf. Holding it in one hand, she opened the lid and lifted a brass stopwatch out by its long chain.

Erica stifled a snort. "You're gonna use that to hypnotize me?"

Megan's cheeks turned red. She began to bundle the chain into her palm. "Well, I mean, I don't have to use it. I want you to be comfortable. I thought—"

"No, it's fine." Erica shook her head. "I just figured a watch would be, like, too stereotypical."

The smile returned to Megan's face. "It's easier with a physical focus," she explained, scooting up onto the bed to sit in front of Erica. Megan had insisted that the both of them dress down to just their underwear, though she hadn't explained further than to say that this was going to be a 'sexy hypnosis session'. She'd dodged every question Erica asked about what that meant or what she was going to do, though Megan had been clear that Erica would be able to stop any time if she wanted. Megan had been so eager Erica couldn't refuse. It was hard to say no to those big brown eyes.

Megan bent over the watch, clicking the stopper a few times, then winding it up, clicking it again, and winding it one more time before she seemed satisfied. Holding the chain between her fingers, she let it drop from her hand and spin until all the kinks in the chain were worked out.

"So what do I have to do?" Erica asked.

Megan caught the stopwatch between her hands and held it between her palms. "Just listen to me. You'll know what to do," she said. She waited until Erica's eyes were on her, and not on the watch. When Megan was sure she wasn't looking, a tiny glimmer of light flickered across the brass case and wove down into the clockwork gears. The spell was set. Megan opened her hands again and smiled. "Ready?"

Erica re-crossed her legs to get comfortable, sat up straight, and nodded at Megan. "Hypno away," she said. She tried not to be too sarcastic. As dorky as she thought all this fantasy role-playing stuff was, she knew Megan was into it.

With a click of her thumb, the watch began ticking. Megan dropped it from her hand, then let it sway at the end of its chain. A slight tip of her wrist from side to side kept it swinging.

Curious, Erica followed the swinging watch. She wondered what it was about watches that was supposed to be so trance-inducing. Maybe the gleam of the light rolling off of brass and crystal, maybe the way the second hand spun within the pendulum's arc, maybe the tick-tick-tick-tick that kept tick going and tick wouldn't tick stop tick.

Dog Days

In this story, someone turns into a cartoon rubber doberman, then turns someone else into a cartoon rubber poodle via sex. So, y'know, be warned. Explicit.

It started with a hiss.

He'd been hunched over the desk for---geez, was that the time?---hours, and his back had begun protesting. He set down the pen and rose from his seat, straightened up and arched his spine. There went his joints: pop, pop, pop! A crack so sharp he heard it echo down the hall, followed by a low, steady hissing noise.

Did someone turn on a faucet? He cocked his head, glancing up at the ceiling, then over his shoulder. The sound wasn't coming from the walls. And it wasn't quite as light as running water; it sounded tighter and thicker. He turned in place and waited a moment, but the sound didn't change. The heavy hiss seemed like it was coming from...beneath him.

He looked down. His eyes fell on his crotch, bulging against the front of his jeans. Its shape was smooth and swollen, and slowly straining against the denim while he watched. He staggered backward; his bulging crotch bobbled from side to side against his thighs. The wall caught him and he stood there, staring down at his expanding crotch.

Damn it, not again!

Octopus Ink

I wrote this octogirl TF as a quick experiment to get a sense for how the changes might work. Explicit.

As I draw the water for a bath, I lean over the tub and squeeze a few drops of blue octopus ink from an eyedropper. They hit the water and billow out into columns of ribbon that drift in the flow from the spout. The little plumes remind me of jellyfish, which have always given me the creeps. The bottle says two drops, but last time I barely felt it, so I do four drops to make sure, then set the bottle and dropper on the edge of the tub.

I just want to relax for a couple hours, but in the back of my head, I keep telling myself I should be doing something productive instead. I strip off my clothes and toss them into the laundry hamper, then kneel down next to the tub and swirl my fingers through the water, until it's blended into a solid, bluish color. I flick the water off my fingers and look down at my reflection. There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel good for the rest of the evening. To keep myself from chickening out, I plunge right in, slipping over the edge and splashing down into the water.

The water's hot at first, but it's not hard to get used to it, especially as I lie back and settle in. It's only high enough to come up to the tops of my thighs. The flow from the spout douses my toes as I stretch out my legs and lean against the back of the tub.

It's hard to tell when the changes kick off, because I start anticipating the feelings before they happen; the warmth of the water soaking into my skin, my muscles tingling as they stretch. The easiest way to tell is to watch my legs. After a minute, the blue ink starts to seep in, leaving its tint on my skin. When I lift my legs out of the water, I can make out new coloration emerging: lighter along my inner thighs, darker along my hips.

We Caught A Human!

A couple aliens capture a human, but it doesn't look quite right. Don't worry, they'll fix it. Explicit.

We caught a human!

Wait. That's a human?

The human in question cracked his eyelids open and shut them immediately. His eyes throbbed in their sockets, his head rung with strange voices, and he was laying naked on something that felt not entirely like grass. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. Blades of purple synthetic turf gleamed in the blue light of an artificial sun.

He had assumed he'd gotten drunk last night, but that explanation was growing less plausible.

It's got to be. Maybe it's a larval human.

Hold on. What's that thing it's got?

The human clutched the sides of his head and scooted backwards until his back bumped up against a fake palm tree. Its broad purple leaves waved down at him. He was confused, and rightfully so. He was naked, hearing voices, and was sitting in the middle of some fake off-colour jungle when he was fairly certain he'd gone to sleep in his own bed.

"Hello?" he shouted with his head tipped toward the ceiling. "Where am I?"

The thing between its legs? Looks...vestigial.

Oh! I remember. That's the thing human drones have.

A drone? No one's going to be impressed with a drone.

We can just fix that real quick...

Just A Cigar

A hyena gets enough confidence to own her new, enhanced looks. (Also, a penis. She gets that too.) Explicit.

The cigar was huge. At least an inch thick and seven inches long. Cam had owned dildos smaller than that. She dug it out of an old cigar box in the back of her closet, so old the green-and-gold paper had started to flake. A gold seal wrapped around the cigar near the base. It smelled not quite like tobacco; still heavy and imperious, but more spice than musk.

Cam wrinkled her snout. "Jesus Christ, that's big," she muttered. The cigar box she tossed over with the stuff she could maybe sell on Craigslist for rent money: a taped-up hockey stick and a portable CD player with blue crystal buttons. The cigar she held onto. Everything else from the bottom of her closet, the torn up shirts and used skateboard wheels and orphaned shoelaces, sat in the 'useless junk' pile.

With a sigh, she heaved herself onto her feet and went to hunt through the kitchen drawers for her lighter. The drawers were only a few feet from her closet, and that was only a few feet from her bed, which was pulling double-duty as her couch.

Cam was a hyena: big ears, scruffy mane, brown spots on her tawny cheeks, the whole package. Well, not the whole package. That had more to do with recessive alleles and testosterone levels and it was pretty rare anyway. Aside from that, she was the sort of lean, strong-shouldered girl everyone expected a hyena to be. She went by Cam because her real name, Camilla, just felt weird on someone like that.

Sin

A quick sketch of a priestess being corrupted into a serpent. Mature.

Sister Juliel knelt in front of the shrine of Al-Esh and tucked her white habit beneath her knees before bowing her head and beginning the night-time prayers. At the hour of Vigils, each of the seven shrines that ringed the convent had to be given prayer and their candles lit. It was a lonely, sleepy task, but a peaceful one.

A warm breeze crossed through the open windows of the shrine. Juliel paused, her lips sliding shut as she lifted her eyes and glanced out the window. Nothing stood outside but the shadow of the trees in the orchard. For a moment, she studied the dark, expecting to see the eyes of some owl or cat glinting at her, but there was nothing. Head bowed, she completed her prayer, then lit a thin taper from her lantern and held its tip, one by one, to each of the seven candles.

As she was about to light the final candle, a sudden wind blew so fiercely Juliel thought she had been struck. Tumbling to the side, she landed against the wall of the shrine, suddenly plunged into darkness. The candles and her lantern both had gone out.

Juliel crouched where she had landed for a few moments, wide-eyed and listening. There was not even the rustle of wind in the leaves from outside. Quietly, she traced the sign of the seven-pointed star on her chest, and began to whisper, "Blessed Al-Esh, please guide and protect my spirit..."