Transformation Meeting 1, Part 1: The Decisive Victories

Tessa

Tessa walks into the fitting room. She takes in the sight. One of the walls is a full length mirror; opposite it is a stool, built into the corner of the wall. She notices the dresses hanging on hooks, styled like the magical girls from the needlework on the throne: one red and black, one grey and black, one royal blue and white. All of them look like her size from her twenties.

Understanding that her current clothes with feel uncomfortably baggy once she is de-aged, she undresses completely. She will likely need to buy some new clothes with some of her BP; her current fashion choices will probably not feel right anymore soon enough. She covers her elderly nudity, needing modesty even without the others being able to see her.

“Sis, I am going to start with the de-aging effect. Give you a moment with your old self before we do the rest.”

It starts with the roots of her hair. A vibrant red bursts forth as her hair gains luster and strength. Wrinkles melt as skin tightens. Her spine stretches and straightens as the effects of years of gravity reverses. Her breasts stop sagging, her tummy shrinks to its former smooth flatness. The varicose veins in her legs disappear. She forgot how beautiful she actually was, even though she spent so many hours looking at AI images based on this body. Now to see how the audience wants to ruin it.

“Ready, Tessa?”

Knowing that she really isn’t, she replies, “Ready, Tyalangan.”

It again starts with the roots of her hair. An emerald green, just as vibrant, burst forth as her hair thickens again. As the feeling spreads, she feels her skin tingle. She feels her ears grow, reshape, develop little fin-like nodules. Her eyes sharpen and she grows a set of clear eyelids. The sensation of gills opening up along her neck tingles. The sensation crosses her shoulders, her breasts, her arms. Her skin is becoming aquamarine blue, her body hair falling out, her hands growing webbing between her fingers. The feeling of her pubic hair shedding itself was stimulating in a way she wasn’t expecting. By the time it’s done, she feels not herself and somehow slightly older.

And then the memories hit. A small coastal village called Singembotto. A sororal twin sister, Tanta, more practical, less whimsical. Their mothers were sailors and raising two elvish children at once meant they took riskier jobs to support them. After one voyage, they did not come home. Being sent to the local orphanage. Spending time in the bathhouse water tank, letting their lungs rest, when the orphanage governess could not spare taking them to the docks to swim. Going to the magic academy together, Tanta for the bladesong, her for the bardic equivalent. Learning rhetoric and literature and magic and the blade. Tanta being left behind when she was adopted alone. Finding happiness with her new parents, but missing her sister. By the time she was allowed to return to the orphanage, Tanta was adopted by someone else and was gone.

She finds herself both herself, Alyayavan, and herself, Tessa O’Connor-Peters. The sensation is weird. She sits, for just a moment, barely noticing her old clothes were gone, as were the black magical girl dresses.

“You okay in there, sis?”

Tanta? Tanta is out there? No, Francis. That’s Francis. The disorientation of two lives clashing makes her feel a little dizzy.

“Sis, get dressed. The humans may not appreciate seeing you [naked]*.”

She snorts. Humans with their clothes. She stands and slips on the provided dress, not noticing or caring that no underwear was provided. It’s a little constraining to be clad; not enough to **** her to demand to allowed to remain nude, but still uncomfortable.

The woman, two sets of memories warring in her head, steps out. The human still sees the Host as her brother. The sea elf only recognizes her sister. The elf wins at the moment, striding forward to wrap her sister in a hug.

“Tanta! By The Lord of the Undersea, I have not seen you in so long!”

“It’s Tyalangan now, sis. I’ve missed you too.”

The woman remembers. The human wants to argue that she is Francis, not some Harp-player. The sea elf blushes at the impoliteness of greeting her long-lost sister with her child-name.

Tyalangan speaks again, still basking in the hug, “With 68.75% of the vote, The Sword is Mightier won. That transformation utterly dominated the competition. Perhaps you should introduce yourself to the others, sis?”

The woman still struggles. She knows she needs time to sort through everything. The human lets the sea elf speak again. “Hello, all. This is disorienting, having another life pressed upon you. My name is Alyayavan, which translates to ‘Bountiful Harvest’ in the Common tongue. The human life thrust onto me is named Tessa, which derives from a Greek word for harvest? Sister, what is Greek?”

Tyalangan releases the hug and leads her sister to stand with most of the others, noting, “Focus, sis, things will make sense in time. My bonny bunny, update the illusion for the audience.”

The hoppalong, following her order truly, displays text in a form she needs to really focus on her human memories to read. The elf was never good at reading Common:

Tessa’s primary class is now a Bard (College of Swords).

A Matched Set – They are sisters, they should look like it. Tessa becomes a sea elf, with the ears, gills, and webbed digits one would expect. As a marine species, clothing is traditionally seen as more of a hindrance than social necessity in sea elf culture; they have a point, and, if you ever swam in your street clothes before, you know it. Tessa will find the sensation of clothes uncomfortable. The more layers, the more uneasy she will feel (Sea Elf).

A Family Reunion – Tessa is the Host’s sister, but she only remembers the life the Host has rejected. Tessa will be given a collection of memories of growing up as the Host’s sister here in this world. As she becomes more accepting of her new family situation, her old human life will fade (The Host’s Sister).

The human on the throne, who seems to matter more to the human memories than to the elven ones, lets out a knowing groan. “Is that why you got naked during lunch yesterday, Tyalangan?”

The hoppalong snickers as the woman’s sister sighs, “No, my lack of concern about wearing clothes was more of a learned trait than an acquired one. Next up, Tegan.”

*When a translated foreign language is spoken (such as the elvish above), brackets will be used to denote the text.

Tegan

Tegan stomps her way into the magical fitting room. Hanging on hooks are three dresses, all the same basic pattern of something akin to a Japanese sailor suit style school uniform: two that look like they would fit her (one white and green, the other white and gold), one significantly too big (in black and silver).

Tegan hears the blue freak from outside the room shout, “You may wish to undress. Your current clothes may not fit you in a moment. Your wardrobe upstairs will be magically adjusted by tonight. The uniform that remains will always adjust to fit your current form.”

Tegan mutters about perversions as she strips down to just her panties. Even if I have to undress, I’m not letting those degenerate bastards see me completely naked. She holds an arm across her bare, respectable breasts; her other hand hides her panty clad sex. The angry archer stares at her reflection; if anything, shaving her head did not completely counteract the extra weight the lilac-skinned freak **** upon her by making Tegan overeat.

The blue freak speaks up, “Now, I am going to apply the transformations. First up, the health fix from ‘The Standard Package.’ You should start to feel an effect… now.”

Tegan bowls over in… hunger? I was **** to stuff myself like a pig. Why am I starving? When she stands up and looks at her reflection again, she is disgusted by what she sees. I’m just skin and bones? How did I get like this? And why did I think making myself bald was a good idea?

“You now see yourself as you are, Tegan, not how you perceived yourself. Be sure not to let yourself fall into delusions again. Now, the rest, if you are ready.”

Tegan’s stomach growls again. “May I have something more to eat first?”

A snap of fingers and a shakey bottle of protein appears. Tegan shakes it up and chugs the whole thing in one long gulp, despite the fact that it tastes like... nothing (which is weird; protein shakes normally tastes like artificial vanilla or something). Tegan looks up after setting the bottle down and watches in some mix of wonder and horror at the changes that befall her. There is no pain, but Tegan’s ears shift and reshape, growing vulpine. Soon enough, she has fox ears on top of her head, fuzzy with black fur on the back side and fur that matches her brown shaved head up front. Her hair rapidly grows to the exact length she had before she shaved her head last night, now even and shaped as if she didn’t cut her own hair. She feels her canines elongate and her tongue tingle. I guess the fox perversion won. Why would my tongue tingle?

She looks at her bare breasts and suddenly feels the need for a bra. Intellectually, she knows her respectable breasts don’t need such a depraved thing as a bra, but there is this longing. She feels those rich bitches outside the room in her gut; why should they have a bra when she doesn’t? She needs to learn how to steal them.

An uncomfortable pressure happens at the base of her spine. Her panties are keeping something from erupting out. My tail? Tegan pulls down the waistband of her panties and the pressure is relieved. A big floofy tail, tipped in black fur but otherwise matches her brown hair, curls around her thigh. She pats it and marvels at the softness.

When she looks up, only the green sailor uniform dress remains. The clothes she wore into the fitting room is gone, too. Grumbling a little, she puts on the school girl fetish dress. The skirt is too short. When she is completely situated, the fitting room door opens on its own. The blue freak declares, “With two-thirds of the vote, Robin Hood has won. Again, an utter dominance. Apparently, historically accurate amazonian was very unpopular.”

The big-tittied cow smiles and blurts out, “CUTE!!!! Tegan, those ears are so cute! Can I touch them?” She thereupon moves towards the vicious vixen.

The cow doesn’t need that bra. Her cow tits are too much already. Tegan gasps as Mona, who must have interpreted the angry archer’s silence as consent, starts to rub her ears. Tegan blurts out a loud yip and shudders.

“That’s enough, Mona. You can play with your fox-girl later. Moving on, it’s Craig turn.”

Tegan scampers back to her position, tail wiggling the whole time. The bunny bimbo updates her magic illusion to reflect the two transformations:

Tegan’s primary class is now a Ranger (Hunter).

Robin Hood – Tegan will get to experience what it is like to be like a certain fox that turned so many people into furries. Tegan becomes a kitsune, with the ears, tail, and teeth one would normally expect. She will grow additional tails as she becomes more skilled in magic. In addition, Tegan can now feed on female ejaculate, gaining sustenance as if it is a light, healthy meal when she does so. She is not obligated to live exclusively on her Mistress’s vaginal excretions, but she might consider it (Kitsune).

Rob from the Rich, Give to the Poor – Like a certain fox that turned so many people into furries, Tegan will want to rob (bras) from the rich and give to the poor. By rich, we mean those with bigger breasts, by poor we mean herself. No breasts bigger than hers will be holstered again if Tegan gets her way (The Other BE)!

Tegan understands why her tongue was tingling and is NOT happy about it.

Craig

Craig is unchained from the sex toy. Despite getting socked in the jaw last night, it’s his crotch that hurts, and it’s not because of the fucking fag cage they **** on him. Fucking weird.

He thinks about charging the Host, brawl his way to freedom, but that fucking rock-monster bitch knocked him out cold in one hit. He suspects that the blue bitch would be able to do the same, if not worse. So, he hobbles into the fitting room. His knee is screaming at him; it’s been too long since he has taken off his work brace and given his knee a good rub down.

Inside, he sits on the built in seat to rest his aching joint. He stares in the mirror and sees that he looks like shit. Sleeping chained to a sex toy is apparently not great for one’s rest. He’s also a little hungry. They gave him just a flavorless protein shake for breakfast and he wants some real food.

He looks at the clothes hanging on the hooks. It’s a fancy monkey suit with different shirts and vests and crap like that. He hates fancy get-ups.

“Let’s apply The Standard Package first, then you will want to undress, Craig,” the bitch exclaims from outside the room.

Craig blinks, preparing to snarl a curse, and suddenly the pain is gone. A decade of suffering, wiped out in an instant. Craig hops to his feet. He takes a look in the mirror again. The way his shirt hangs off him is... different. He pulls off his shirt, tosses it aside. Damn. His abs are back; he wasn’t expecting that. Removing his brace and pulling down his pants, he checks his bum knee. No scar, no pain, bends like a knee should. Standing in the mirror in just his ratty boxers, he looks like he should if that bastard didn’t ruin his life. And all I have to do to get laid now is trick a naive little chubby Asian chick. Maybe the show will make her hot, too? That would be nice. I don’t really want to fuck a fatty for the rest of my life. Maybe I should mostly try banging the black chick in the meantime.

“Ready?” the blue bitch asks.

The changes start and Craig starts to freak out. His ears shift up and turn into little dog ear things. His hair changes into a mohawk that travels down to the bottom of his shoulder blades as fur starts to grow all over his face. This nose and jaw protrude into a stubby little muzzle. His teeth grow large and his tongue tingles.

The fur spreads down his neck, starting to pick up darker spots. As the fur reaches his hands, they morph into dog-like paws. His thumbs stay opposable, thankfully. The fur is thinner along his chest and torso, but still present. Is a Goliath some kind of dog-thing?

A fuzzy dog-like tail starts to grow from the base of his spine; when it starts to stiffen from his panic, it tears his boxers in half, causing them to fall in tatters on the floor. Craig lets out a rumbling growl as he sees his caged cock. He feels his cock grow a little, maybe another inch, with the cage adjusting itself. Then, his cock tingles; it feels weirdly numb afterwards. That better be the size change effect. I’m gonna be pissed if it’s that empathy thing.

The final change is fucking weird, as his fuzzy shins and feet elongate to change into something like the hind legs of a dog?

Craig takes a look at himself. It’s strange. Most of the tux shirts (and his clothes from last night) disappear, so Craig begrudgingly puts on the remaining clothes. He feels like an idiot in this get-up. The tux shirt matches his base fur color pretty well. At least he has a bolo tie instead of one of those “tie your own bow tie” things that the other two shirts had; with how weird his hands feel right now, he’d hate to attempt to tie it himself. Dressed in the monkey suit, he steps out of the fitting room.

“And, with 64.29% of the vote, The Asshole wins. The Canadian almost tied for a moment, but otherwise, The Asshole crushed the competition.”

Craig growls, baring his fangs. He notices the chubby Asian girl drooling over his new form, but the blue bitch is his primary concern right now, “You fucking bitch! You didn’t veto this? The general rules thing said something about vetoes.”

“I suppose I can answer that. Yes, as Host I have vetoes to help resolve situations. But, dear, sweet Craig, I happen to agree with the wisdom of the crowd on this one. What kind of harem member would you be if you can’t care about how the Mistress feels when you have sex? The size changing transformation is still available in the shop, once you can afford it.”

“Ooh, Tyalangan, does he have a knotted cock? I bet that would feel sooo good, once I get used to him.” Mona, the drooling pervert, asks.

“Not currently, Mona. Just a normal cock for now. Gnolls are sentient monsters developed from hyenas. I left out the spined cock head that hyenas normally have. While it wouldn’t be accurate, we can certainly throw a cock knot as a transformation in a subsequent round, if you’d like.”

Knots? Spines? The fuck?

Answering the unasked question, the bitch Host notes, “Different animals adapted different structures for ensuring a female can’t escape from being inseminated. Maybe the audience will give you one, if you are a good boy. Tina, the transformation texts?”

“Right-eo, cutie!”

The illusion updates:

Craig’s primary class is now Berserker (Path of the Zealot).

The Hunger – Craig is a man of simple appetites, so this will be less of a change than he thinks. Craig becomes a gnoll, with the ears, muzzle, fur, tail, and paws one would expect. Since gnolls were born from hyenas scavenging flesh soaked in the blood of demons, they have an insatiable appetite. Craig will find himself with increased cravings, too: for food, for drink, for pussy. All will taste so good on his tongue (Gnoll).

Empathy Training – Craig is a giant asshole, not caring about the enjoyment his partner experiences when they have sex. Now, he’ll have to. Craig can no longer cum unless his sexual partner cums first. As a side effect, he can no longer cum from masturbating, as he would have no sexual partner when self-pleasing (Selfish).

Craig snarls as he reads the text. Gross. Why the fuck would I want to eat pussy? I am not a dyke. The angry twig gives him a sympathetic look. He gets back in line.

“Next up, Andromeda.”