Five short stories filled with Halloween-y costume transformation. Mature.
The setting sun lit the tops of the trees like Halloween lights against the purple sky. The old house poked its third story up above the leaves, looking down at the town below, where trick-or-treating was in full swing. The weather had relented just in time, making the evening crisp, but not cold. Cars already lined the narrow road leading up from the highway, parked off the shoulder wherever space could be found.
The path to the house was strung with small lanterns, but Mitch lingered by the side of the road, pacing while trying to look like he wasn't pacing. He picked his head up every time he heard another car rolling by, and occasionally reached back to make sure the duct tape holding his tail on wasn't peeling off. His fox costume was a last-minute affair: a headband with red ears, a costume tail taped to the seat of his pants, and a scribble of black marker on top of his nose, with a few whiskers drawn along his cheeks.
When she saw Mitch, Leah called out, "Hey!" Then she remembered her mask and pushed it up on top of her head. "Hey, Mitch!" she called again, jogging up to meet him.
Leah was dressed as a lion, in a costume that could have come from a stage production: a tawny bodysuit, big furry gloves and boots for paws, a fake mane with rounded ears poking from the top, and a rubber mask, which had been painted over to match the rest of the costume. A wire in her tail kept it curled in the air and made it swing behind her when she walked.
Mitch turned and smiled, relieved to see someone he knew. "Oh, hey!" he said, then nudged his glasses up his nose and took a closer look at Leah. "Where'd you get that? It looks good."
"My parents' attic. I had to kinda sneak it out of their house, but it was pretty dusty, so I don't think they're going to miss it for one night," Leah said, turning sideways to show off the tasseled tail.
"By the way, thanks for inviting me," Mitch said. "If you hadn't, I'd probably just wind up sitting in my dorm all night."
The two of them joked about tearing themselves away from video games until Allison arrived, dressed in a tank top in defiance of the fact that it was almost November, and with her arms folded tight against her chest. She looked from Mitch's bargain-bin fox costume to Leah's full, theatrical lion outfit. With a hesitant frown she asked, "Uh, is...everyone going to be dressed up?"
"There's probably going to be some people not in costume," Leah said. She lifted the lion mask from her forehead and offered it to Allie. "But you can borrow this if you want."
"Thanks," Allie breathed. She slipped the mask on over her face, then ruffled her hair to hide the elastic strap and tugged at the eye holes until they lined up with her eyes. The well-rendered snarl and wrinkled snout went a long way toward making up the fact that it was just a mask. "I don't want to look lame if Tory's going to be here," she said, wrapping her arms around herself again. "Now can we go inside?"
"We're still waiting for Erin and Chris. Let's give them another minute or two," Leah said.
It was hard to miss Chris. As he walked up, he announced himself with a dramatic growl of, "Greetings, puny humans!" He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt patterned with red scales, a pair of tattered pants he'd used to be everything from a pirate to a peasant, red body paint to cover his hands and legs and face, a small rubber dragon's snout on top of his nose, and a stuffed red tail bouncing against the back of his calves.
Erin showed up just after Chris, wearing a jacket and jeans and canvas trainers. The only thing of hers that was even remotely a costume was the shock of red dye she'd put her hair the week before, and she had insisted that was just because she was tired of purple. "I heard you all the way down the road," she told Chris, giving him a mild glare. He didn't take it personally. Mild glaring was Erin's default state.
"You know this is a costume party, right?" Allie asked Erin.
Chris added, "I've got some horns and extra body paint back in my car. You could make a pretty good devil."
Erin rolled her eyes and sighed through her teeth. "Thanks, but I'm fine. I don't want a costume, I'm just here for the party."
And so the five of them filed up along the path toward the house: Leah in most of a lion costume, Chris already in character as a dragon, Allie wearing Leah's lion mask, Erin resolutely refusing to be anything but herself, and Mitch as a makeshift fox, bringing up the rear and gazing up at the old house rising from among the trees. The night was already settling in, rolling up the last rays of sunlight and drawing the sky darker. The warmth of music and voices rose as they crossed the lawn, eager to join...
October 25, 2018
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.
July 15, 2018
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.
June 10, 2018
One Last Summer
Two friends, soon to leave for college, become cow girls and grow closer to one another. Explicit.
I learned I was gay the same day I turned into a cow girl.
Sam and I both wanted to go to the mall, so she drove us there in the used Subaru her parents got her for graduation. We were both restless. It was our last summer: stuck between the end of high school and the start of college, trying not to count the days and months until we'd both be moving into our dorms.
Even the mall felt ready to change. They still hadn't fixed the floor tile that clinks when you step on it, or the one duct-taped on the corner because it'd broken off, but it was already drifting away from the place we knew. A cheaper clothes store had moved into where the Old Navy had been. The bookstore where we'd spent days and days working our way through the manga shelf had been replaced by a branch of the local library.
"That's probably why they went out of business. If we'd actually bought books..." Sam said.
I said, "No one bought books. And then they were like, 'we're basically a library, let's make it official'."
We wandered up the first floor and down the second. Eventually, we started doing the thing where we'd point at ads as we passed and try to imitate whatever goofy grin the person had. It felt normal enough, but in the back of my head, Sam was playing soccer in her new school colors and hanging up posters she'd bought with me in her dorm room and laughing with new friends whose faces I'd pulled from TV shows. Would we even want to hang out when we came home for break? I knew we would change as people, but I didn't know how.
And I definitely wasn't expecting to get changed into a cow.
April 19, 2018
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.
April 18, 2018
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..."