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Please check the tiers on the following links if you would like to support!\n\nPatreon (no extreme content): https://www.patreon.com/arianmabe\n\nSubscribeStar (includes extreme content): https://subscribestar.adult/arian-mabe\n\n\n\nMy erotic eBooks are available on Kindle and Smashwords worldwide also!\n\nKindle (Alis Mitsy):\nhttps://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GLWQZFP\n\nSmashwords:\nhttps://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ArianMabe\n\n\nAs always, I am open for commissions starting at 30 GBP per 1,000 words - please e-mail arianmabe[at]gmail.com for more information or see my profile!\n\n\nStory © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe\nCharacters © respective owners","description_bbcode_parsed":"An old man finds a new lease of life as a deer of the forest...
---
This story has been available for early reading one to two months ago on SubscribeStar and Patreon (SubscribeStar contains extreme content while Patreon does not)! Please check the tiers on the following links if you would like to support!
Patreon (no extreme content): https://www.patreon.com/arianmabe
SubscribeStar (includes extreme content): https://subscribestar.adult/arian-mabe
My erotic eBooks are available on Kindle and Smashwords worldwide also!
Kindle (Alis Mitsy):
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GLWQZFP
Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ArianMabe
As always, I am open for commissions starting at 30 GBP per 1,000 words - please e-mail arianmabe[at]gmail.com for more information or see my profile!
Story © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe
Characters © respective owners","writing":"Transformation\n\nDeer\n\nWritten by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)\n\nElliot had once been a hunter but that life held nothing for him anymore, his arms given away to younger ones as he limped and dragged his old, frail body out into the forest. He'd spent so much time out there when his family had been struggling in their younger years, when he'd had three children under the age of five and his wife worked her fingers to the bone, trying to make ends meet. When he'd lost his job and was picking up odd work, he still managed to put food on the table from going out hunting, conserving his bullets and setting his traps with great care, never taking more from the forest than he could use.\n\nAnd for every kill he made, solely for the meat and using every part, Elliot gave his thanks.\n\nHe was not whole and healthy, however, as he laid his elderly body over the altar stone, ringed in tall rocks that were set to be a petrified court in an old tale. He didn't know whether that was true or not but, at the end of his days, he couldn't think of anywhere else that he would rather be. Dappled sunshine filtered down as he laid back, legs dangling off the plinth, the stone smoothed over the course of time as Elliot half-closed his eyes, drifting down and down and down.\n\nHis crutches were set aside, his body light. It was time to go.\n\nYet not in the way that he imagined, no. No, Elliot could not have imagined sliding from the stone with his eyes wide, the soft loam of the forest floor compressing under his weight. He did not stand tall and proud but rather tipped onto all fours, though it was a more comfortable position for him than it had ever been before. It was better for him, where he needed to be, his back shifting and cracking, pulling into an elongated shape.\n\nHis clothes fell away as if they had never been and yet his nudity was not the focus as his arms lengthened, matching his legs, longer and stronger than they had ever been. Elliot gasped but even his lungs felt fuller than before, better able to suck in air, his glasses falling off his nose even as it pushed out.\n\nEverything happened at once, things clashing and bumping up against one another, dragging his mind from one place to another constantly. Elliot groaned softly, yet the feel of his bones realigning themselves into the form of a quadruped did not bother him one bit, uncomfortable but hardly anything worse than what he had dealt with as an old man with grey hair. Yet even his hair smoothed out into a brown swathe, flooding down and over his body, covering every last inch as he pushed up onto his toes. Joints realigned so that it was as if he was pressed up onto his toes and fingertips even as they fused together, his fingers becoming cloven hooves right before his eyes.\n\nIt was all as it was meant to be and there was not a drop of fear in his heart as he sank his heels, of his hooves, into the ground, settling and adjusting his weight, finding his balance. It was a difficult order to do when he was changing but, still, it was easier than hobbling about with or without his crutches, the walking sticks that had tided him over before holding fast in his memory, some time far back. One had had the carved head of a duck on it but that had been laid to rest with his wife, seven years ago, simply because that little duck had made her smile.\n\nHe didn't need it where he was going anyway, his chest rounding out into a proud curve, a sharp breast bone that could cut through the undergrowth. His legs were long and bent in a different direction, hocks on the hinds allowing them to flex as his spine lacked the flexibility that it had in his younger days. His hindquarters had more flexion and bend to them than he may have expected and Elliot tested that by pressing his hind legs under him, walking, stuttering, yet more alive in that moment than he had been since she had slipped away from him.\n\nHis neck softened and fleshed out with a thick ruff of fur, his chin tipped defiantly high, knowing that there was something more yet to be brought to light. His face formed softly as he took on the shape of a deep, tall and elegant, pulling out into a slim muzzle, his nose wet and twitching, ears tugging out from his head. Those soft folds of ears were better able to give signals and allowed him to hear more, funnelling the sound in, though the itch of his antlers rising was the most stringent of all.\n\nFor it was as his change completed itself that those tall, beautiful antlers fanned out, rising strongly above his head. They should have been too heavy for him but the lower set of his neck allowed him to better hold the weight as the prongs rose. He could not count them as he was a stag, a deer of the forest, but he could bear their weight proudly, becoming one of the mightiest creatures that he had ever hunted.\n\nIt was fitting, he thought, intelligence gleaming behind his eyes. He still could think, be as he was, only knew that his time would come and that he had been granted a final few years giving back all that he had taken.\n\nRe-born as a stag, a mighty beast of the forest, the cycle was complete. Elliot surveyed his new kingdom, his rack of antlers lifted high, yet he knew that his time as a stag would not be forever.\n\nThat was okay. That was the way of it. In the end, his body would feed the younger generation, those who needed what his body could give them more than he had, actually, been using it for himself.\n\nFor the time being, however, the forest was his to command as he snorted and stomped, scraping up the moss with his head lowered. His soft, moist nostrils fluttered with breath, eyes gleaming with intelligence, but he had a herd to take care of, the softness of the forest calling him with the promise of green meadows and fresh, clear streams.\n\nThe forest called.\n\nElliot could only heed it at long last.\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Transformation
Deer
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Elliot had once been a hunter but that life held nothing for him anymore, his arms given away to younger ones as he limped and dragged his old, frail body out into the forest. He'd spent so much time out there when his family had been struggling in their younger years, when he'd had three children under the age of five and his wife worked her fingers to the bone, trying to make ends meet. When he'd lost his job and was picking up odd work, he still managed to put food on the table from going out hunting, conserving his bullets and setting his traps with great care, never taking more from the forest than he could use.
And for every kill he made, solely for the meat and using every part, Elliot gave his thanks.
He was not whole and healthy, however, as he laid his elderly body over the altar stone, ringed in tall rocks that were set to be a petrified court in an old tale. He didn't know whether that was true or not but, at the end of his days, he couldn't think of anywhere else that he would rather be. Dappled sunshine filtered down as he laid back, legs dangling off the plinth, the stone smoothed over the course of time as Elliot half-closed his eyes, drifting down and down and down.
His crutches were set aside, his body light. It was time to go.
Yet not in the way that he imagined, no. No, Elliot could not have imagined sliding from the stone with his eyes wide, the soft loam of the forest floor compressing under his weight. He did not stand tall and proud but rather tipped onto all fours, though it was a more comfortable position for him than it had ever been before. It was better for him, where he needed to be, his back shifting and cracking, pulling into an elongated shape.
His clothes fell away as if they had never been and yet his nudity was not the focus as his arms lengthened, matching his legs, longer and stronger than they had ever been. Elliot gasped but even his lungs felt fuller than before, better able to suck in air, his glasses falling off his nose even as it pushed out.
Everything happened at once, things clashing and bumping up against one another, dragging his mind from one place to another constantly. Elliot groaned softly, yet the feel of his bones realigning themselves into the form of a quadruped did not bother him one bit, uncomfortable but hardly anything worse than what he had dealt with as an old man with grey hair. Yet even his hair smoothed out into a brown swathe, flooding down and over his body, covering every last inch as he pushed up onto his toes. Joints realigned so that it was as if he was pressed up onto his toes and fingertips even as they fused together, his fingers becoming cloven hooves right before his eyes.
It was all as it was meant to be and there was not a drop of fear in his heart as he sank his heels, of his hooves, into the ground, settling and adjusting his weight, finding his balance. It was a difficult order to do when he was changing but, still, it was easier than hobbling about with or without his crutches, the walking sticks that had tided him over before holding fast in his memory, some time far back. One had had the carved head of a duck on it but that had been laid to rest with his wife, seven years ago, simply because that little duck had made her smile.
He didn't need it where he was going anyway, his chest rounding out into a proud curve, a sharp breast bone that could cut through the undergrowth. His legs were long and bent in a different direction, hocks on the hinds allowing them to flex as his spine lacked the flexibility that it had in his younger days. His hindquarters had more flexion and bend to them than he may have expected and Elliot tested that by pressing his hind legs under him, walking, stuttering, yet more alive in that moment than he had been since she had slipped away from him.
His neck softened and fleshed out with a thick ruff of fur, his chin tipped defiantly high, knowing that there was something more yet to be brought to light. His face formed softly as he took on the shape of a deep, tall and elegant, pulling out into a slim muzzle, his nose wet and twitching, ears tugging out from his head. Those soft folds of ears were better able to give signals and allowed him to hear more, funnelling the sound in, though the itch of his antlers rising was the most stringent of all.
For it was as his change completed itself that those tall, beautiful antlers fanned out, rising strongly above his head. They should have been too heavy for him but the lower set of his neck allowed him to better hold the weight as the prongs rose. He could not count them as he was a stag, a deer of the forest, but he could bear their weight proudly, becoming one of the mightiest creatures that he had ever hunted.
It was fitting, he thought, intelligence gleaming behind his eyes. He still could think, be as he was, only knew that his time would come and that he had been granted a final few years giving back all that he had taken.
Re-born as a stag, a mighty beast of the forest, the cycle was complete. Elliot surveyed his new kingdom, his rack of antlers lifted high, yet he knew that his time as a stag would not be forever.
That was okay. That was the way of it. In the end, his body would feed the younger generation, those who needed what his body could give them more than he had, actually, been using it for himself.
For the time being, however, the forest was his to command as he snorted and stomped, scraping up the moss with his head lowered. His soft, moist nostrils fluttered with breath, eyes gleaming with intelligence, but he had a herd to take care of, the softness of the forest calling him with the promise of green meadows and fresh, clear streams.
The forest called.
Elliot could only heed it at long last.
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