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"description": "He's not as he's meant to be, the fox running through the forest. The storm came on quickly and raindrops hammer his fur, cutting through to his skin in a sharp, cold strike. Yet he's still where he's meant to be as the world shifts for him, bringing on another form of being that he would have come to, yes, in his own time.\n\nSometimes the world has a way of ushering along those who ache for it the most.\n\nAs he stumbles into the mud and the fox's chest floods with warmth, they find their body shifting, bones crunching and cracking, parts of them that they though would always be there sucking back into their flesh. For they were never meant to be born in a typically male body, no - and it is time to step into their female identity, the body that was always meant to be hers.\n\nAs fur gives way to wyvern scales, Emeline is beautifully and lustfully reborn...\n\n\n---\n\n\nThank you for reading! This story is available to purchase, worldwide, via Smashwords and Commissio!\n\nSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1873121 \nCommissio: https://commiss.io/listings/AaM3N \n\n\n\n\n\nThank you for reading!\n\nIf you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!\n\nhttps://alismitsy.wordpress.com/\n\n\nAll new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!\n\n@alismitsy\n\n\nI am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and char-acters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.\n\narianmabe@gmail.com",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "He's not as he's meant to be, the fox running through the forest. The storm came on quickly and raindrops hammer his fur, cutting through to his skin in a sharp, cold strike. Yet he's still where he's meant to be as the world shifts for him, bringing on another form of being that he would have come to, yes, in his own time.
Sometimes the world has a way of ushering along those who ache for it the most.
As he stumbles into the mud and the fox's chest floods with warmth, they find their body shifting, bones crunching and cracking, parts of them that they though would always be there sucking back into their flesh. For they were never meant to be born in a typically male body, no - and it is time to step into their female identity, the body that was always meant to be hers.
As fur gives way to wyvern scales, Emeline is beautifully and lustfully reborn...
---
Thank you for reading! This story is available to purchase, worldwide, via Smashwords and Commissio!
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1873121
Commissio: https://commiss.io/listings/AaM3N
Thank you for reading!
If you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!
https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/
All new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!
@alismitsy
I am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and char-acters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.
arianmabe@gmail.com",
"writing": "Transcendent\n\nFrom Fox to Wyvern\n\n\nHe breathed, slowly, deeply: no. No, not like that. Rapid, sharp, panting breaths – the kind of breaths that broke through every barrier the fox put up, sending them crashing down. \n\nNo… He knew that, really. He knew he couldn’t keep his breath paced and even when things were like that, when he was at the precipice of everything changing, the shift clawing at his lungs, at his guts, like it was trying to rip its way out of him. The fox shook his head, ears twitching, barely even able to remember his own name.\n\nDid it matter? No… No, he really didn’t think it did, not anymore.\n\nRain hammered down, soaking his red fur to his skin, clinging to him while it slowly drenched all the way through. Even though his fur was typically waterproof, due to its density, it could not withstand such a force beating down upon it. The trees swayed and bent under the palm of the wind, the might of the storm raging through them, forcing the forest to match its will.\n\nHe couldn’t even remember how he’d got there, but he had a sense he’d left a lot behind. Pain and trauma… Something dark and swirling. There was a dark wall in his mind, behind which memory after memory was locked, barred away where he couldn’t get to it. As the wind swept over his russet muzzle, the fox exhaled, though he may as well have not taken a breath at all.\n\nThere was something there, inside him, that could not be reached. As much as the vulpine bore against the wall, laying the front of his body flat against it, not even a subtle arch in his lower back, there was no breaking through to those old memories. Perhaps they did not serve him well anymore.\n\nOr maybe it was more that his old life, whatever it was he’d left brazenly behind, did not meet his needs anymore. The fox inhaled, wishing a name would spring to his lips. Yet it must have been caught by the wind for the mere whispering memory of it bore no more substance than a spring flower against the gale.\n\nAround him, the old pines creaked and his toes curled slightly, pushing down into a soft bed of old, dry pine needles. The coating on the ground shifted under his hind paws as he walked, stalking into motion as if he was being drawn into action. But by who? Or could it even be by his own paw?\n\nHe didn’t know, but he didn’t have to know, not as his nose tipped down, though there was a part of him that had already known he was naked. He wasn’t really there, not truly present in his own reality, and he reached once again for his sense of self, even as his name flitted playfully out of his grasp.\n\nAnd yet…it didn’t feel dangerous. It did not feel like something dreadful was happening, not as he walked, legs aching, toes curling into the damp ground. There was little sound as his hind paws met the earth, sodden leaf matter offering a gentle landing for his bruised and aching feet, but the fox did not care. He could have been making all the noise in the world and, still, he would have felt compelled to keep going, taking that next step through the forest.\n\nThere was no going back and neither did the vulpine want to as he took a deep, shuddering breath – the kind of breath that felt like it was aching through his chest, clawing and ripping at his lungs like it was fighting to tear its way out of him. He gulped wetly and took another, and another, though no amount of filling his lungs with air was going to be enough to settle the tension bristling through his form.\n\nHis body… No. It was too little, too small, and he snarled, lips peeling back from his teeth, a rim of white around his eyes as they turned glassy. No, no, no – no, it was all wrong! Yowling, he clutched at his own throat, though without sinking his own short claws into his flesh, for the fox still possessed some measure of sensibility, even at a time like that. Yet his chest rose and fell in sharp pulls of breath that got him nowhere, flesh churning and shifting over his bones as if it had suddenly come of a malleable, changeable matter.\n\nSometimes, one is not born into the body they were meant to have. Sometimes, their minds and their bodies do not match up. Sometimes, a soul requires a little help, just to return to their true home.\n\nFor one little fox, it was time to embrace his homecoming, even as he stumbled, dropping to his knees as damp seeped through his fur. But he couldn’t stop himself, steadying his torso with his paws braced on the ground, strands of grass poking up through his right fingers while his left paw sank into the mud. It was almost a relief to be that close to the ground as his stomach churned – but, no, that was not it. It was not his insides, not like that, that were shifting and gurgling, but the flesh sweeping over his body, all muscle and sinew and skin that had simply, well, always been there.\n\nAll that was about to change as he whined, the sound broken off halfway, black nose twitching. The scents of the forest overwhelmed him, from the musty matter, crisp with fresh wet, on the forest floor to the brewing storm crackling in the air. A crow cawed and shuffled back a little further into its chosen tree, a roosting spot to wait out the storm, but there would be no such patient waiting to come for the vulpine: only change.\n\n“Unff… This… Nnghhh…”\n\nIt felt pathetic to groan like that, head tipping down and snout angling towards the forest floor. Somehow, the fox shrank in shame, heat blistering across his skin. It was not the first time, but some ulterior power, something greater than even him, hoped it would be the last.\n\nHis jaws opened and closed soundlessly as his fur slunk back into his body, not leaving a trace that it had ever been there to begin with. Cold ached up his legs, suddenly bare skin in contact with the ground, but he had to feel it, to break down into a weaker form so he could rebuild. The fox blinked rapidly, eyes blurring with tears, though he could not quite tell whether they dripped from his eyes or not, for the rain pattered down around him.\n\nBut he didn’t have the chance to feel it stroking over his bare skin in silky rivulets, his mind struggling to match up new sensations with what he already knew, as his skin hardened once more. In lieu of his russet, rich coat of fur, scales found a place on his body, shielding and warming him. In iridescent greens and blues, they settled into place all over, spreading out in patches from his hips, his shoulders and even the centre of his chest. There was not an inch of his body they didn’t seem to cover and even his ears were treated to a fine, ticklish shield of much finer scales.\n\nHe grimaced, though no sound seemed ready to slip from his lips, so the fox didn’t try too hard to speak up. It wasn’t right, could not be right, even as his heart pounded like it was sending a resounding roar echoing through his body. The roar carved him out and scraped him clean, leaving him fresh and hollow to be filled with what should have settled in him long ago.\n\nA yelp snatched itself from his lips as his back arched, seemingly without conscious thought. But he could not possibly have hoped to remain still as his spine lengthened, pushing determinedly out at the base of it – where it came down to the tip of his tail. He twisted and hunched, shuddering bodily as he bore through the crackling pain, more vertebrae laying themselves down the length of his spine. It was the worst right at the back of his skull where his spine connected, each crinkle and pop echoing dully through his head, yet devoid of the headache that should have gone hand in hand with such bone-cracking shifts.\n\nWhat was happening to him? He grappled with the notion, unable to push himself up from steadying himself on his paws and knees, though it seemed like the most stable kind of position to be in at that moment. So, it was not so bad, even as he raked in heaving, rasping gulps of air, the cold of the forest snapping anxiously into his lungs. He could hold fast there, head reeling, yet strangely there was no sense of true panic flooding him. It didn’t sink iron claws in around his heart, but a wave of tiredness pulled at him, as if sleeping may well have been a fine thing to consider at that moment.\n\nThings were different, but not so much so that the fox could yet step away from the life that had done nothing for him other than hold him back. He licked his lips, but that did not come with the grounding feeling it may have once had. For his tongue slimmed down, wiggling and twisting apparently out of his control, for the muscles that moved it seemed more flexible than before. Blinking down at his scale-clad paws, he twitched a finger as his claws thickened and turned white, speckled with mud. How could that be?\n\nBut maybe things like that didn’t have to have an explanation he could understand – at least not in the moment, not when they were happening. His ears twitched, heavier than before and the fox took a deeper, slower breath as he settled into the change. In hindsight, they’d find it amusing how the body and mind could accept things like that, the change in one’s perception, when it all went beyond base instinct and what the mind was primed to do. They were still animals, after all, even if they were indeed evolved anthros.\n\nThe fox was more than that, however, having shucked his fur as his tongue wiggled in front of him, draped down over his bottom lip as if he was trying to make a silly face. He considered that carefully and “sucked” it back into his mouth as the tip pinched into a fork-like end, which almost seemed serpentine in how it was presented to him. All would come to be seen in time, however, as pressure increased around his neck, stretching that part of him along with his spine.\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd preview.\n\n\n\n\nThank you for reading! This story is available to purchase, worldwide, via Smashwords and Commissio!\n\nSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1873121 \nCommissio: https://commiss.io/listings/AaM3N \n\n\n\n\n\nThank you for reading!\n\nIf you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!\n\nhttps://alismitsy.wordpress.com/\n\n\nAll new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!\n\n@alismitsy\n\n\nI am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and char-acters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.\n\narianmabe@gmail.com\n\n\n\n\n\nIf you liked this story, you may also enjoy…\n\n\nFrom Man to Kirin: Transformation\n\nLux is trying out something new at home when his boyfriend, Avery, walks in on him. Whoops!\n\nAll is well, however, as Avery gets to see the kinky transformation happening first-hand. Lux gasps as shapeshifting powers sweep over him, his skin transforming swiftly, giving him a humanoid, hybrid form.\n\nFrom man to kirin... Even when he becomes a female rather than a male. They can enjoy themselves however they please, for their relationship transcends the bounds of sex and gender.\n\nWith lust and love winding around them, they are set for a fun night together!\n\n\nHybridisation: Sudden Transformation\n\nShapeshifting, and random transformations, well...they run in my family. There's only so much I can do about that, though I didn't expect one of my first transformations to come so publicly.\n\nJust walking home, nothing unusual there. And yet the transformation grips my hybrid gryphon body with such a shock that all the air is forced from my lungs.\n\nI heave, eyes wide, beak parted - and yet it's coming, regardless of whether I'm ready for it. Transformations are like that, though not even I know what I am transforming into.\n\nIn hybridisation, of course, the possibilities for rediscovery are endless... Along with the arousal.\n\n\nTaking Flight in Transformation\n\nMack always wanted to fly. Well, as a wingless dragon, that's not going to be possible for him. It was just a fluke that he was born without wings and not having them doesn't affect his life at all.\n\nBut he wants more. And that's okay too. That's what transformation potions are for - and Mack is ready to trade his scales for feathers.\n\nIn transformation, his lusts rise, trembling through his body as he spreads his wings for the very first time...\n\n\nFrom Man to Dragoness: Transformation\n\nI... I was never meant to be a man. I knew that from a young age, but I did not know that it meant that I was never meant to be human either.\n\nUntil I met Rhonwen. A dragoness in the Welsh mountains, Rhonwen, the light of my life. She was the only one to see through me, to who I truly was inside.\n\nWho I am. And I'm coming through to that person, transforming, skin fading to be replaced by scales, need and desire tickling forth. It does not hurt, this shift into my new body, but I wanted it so very much.\n\nI had to be released, from one form to another, becoming female with the sweetness of my lover, my dragoness, right there by my side.\n\nAnd the warmth of her tongue will caress me to my first high, with her, as a dragoness...\n\n\nTransforming in the Park: From Man to Horny Dragoness\n\nGavin is having a normal day. But a normal day cannot remain normal forever as a magic unlike anything that humanity has ever experienced before creeps through the land...\n\nIt does not discriminate, but Gavin finds his body changing before his very eyes, heart lifting, his eyes soaring, looking for something new. A human life was never for him, but he must look to the future, ahead of him, spreading his wings not as a man but as a dragon.\n\nYet his life will never be the same again, all for the better, not the only person to transform, not as even his most intimate of areas changes, rendering them a dragoness, proud and strong.\n\nWith their lust rising, she can only satisfy that urge as Gavin settles into her new body...\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "Transcendent
From Fox to Wyvern
He breathed, slowly, deeply: no. No, not like that. Rapid, sharp, panting breaths – the kind of breaths that broke through every barrier the fox put up, sending them crashing down.
No… He knew that, really. He knew he couldn’t keep his breath paced and even when things were like that, when he was at the precipice of everything changing, the shift clawing at his lungs, at his guts, like it was trying to rip its way out of him. The fox shook his head, ears twitching, barely even able to remember his own name.
Did it matter? No… No, he really didn’t think it did, not anymore.
Rain hammered down, soaking his red fur to his skin, clinging to him while it slowly drenched all the way through. Even though his fur was typically waterproof, due to its density, it could not withstand such a force beating down upon it. The trees swayed and bent under the palm of the wind, the might of the storm raging through them, forcing the forest to match its will.
He couldn’t even remember how he’d got there, but he had a sense he’d left a lot behind. Pain and trauma… Something dark and swirling. There was a dark wall in his mind, behind which memory after memory was locked, barred away where he couldn’t get to it. As the wind swept over his russet muzzle, the fox exhaled, though he may as well have not taken a breath at all.
There was something there, inside him, that could not be reached. As much as the vulpine bore against the wall, laying the front of his body flat against it, not even a subtle arch in his lower back, there was no breaking through to those old memories. Perhaps they did not serve him well anymore.
Or maybe it was more that his old life, whatever it was he’d left brazenly behind, did not meet his needs anymore. The fox inhaled, wishing a name would spring to his lips. Yet it must have been caught by the wind for the mere whispering memory of it bore no more substance than a spring flower against the gale.
Around him, the old pines creaked and his toes curled slightly, pushing down into a soft bed of old, dry pine needles. The coating on the ground shifted under his hind paws as he walked, stalking into motion as if he was being drawn into action. But by who? Or could it even be by his own paw?
He didn’t know, but he didn’t have to know, not as his nose tipped down, though there was a part of him that had already known he was naked. He wasn’t really there, not truly present in his own reality, and he reached once again for his sense of self, even as his name flitted playfully out of his grasp.
And yet…it didn’t feel dangerous. It did not feel like something dreadful was happening, not as he walked, legs aching, toes curling into the damp ground. There was little sound as his hind paws met the earth, sodden leaf matter offering a gentle landing for his bruised and aching feet, but the fox did not care. He could have been making all the noise in the world and, still, he would have felt compelled to keep going, taking that next step through the forest.
There was no going back and neither did the vulpine want to as he took a deep, shuddering breath – the kind of breath that felt like it was aching through his chest, clawing and ripping at his lungs like it was fighting to tear its way out of him. He gulped wetly and took another, and another, though no amount of filling his lungs with air was going to be enough to settle the tension bristling through his form.
His body… No. It was too little, too small, and he snarled, lips peeling back from his teeth, a rim of white around his eyes as they turned glassy. No, no, no – no, it was all wrong! Yowling, he clutched at his own throat, though without sinking his own short claws into his flesh, for the fox still possessed some measure of sensibility, even at a time like that. Yet his chest rose and fell in sharp pulls of breath that got him nowhere, flesh churning and shifting over his bones as if it had suddenly come of a malleable, changeable matter.
Sometimes, one is not born into the body they were meant to have. Sometimes, their minds and their bodies do not match up. Sometimes, a soul requires a little help, just to return to their true home.
For one little fox, it was time to embrace his homecoming, even as he stumbled, dropping to his knees as damp seeped through his fur. But he couldn’t stop himself, steadying his torso with his paws braced on the ground, strands of grass poking up through his right fingers while his left paw sank into the mud. It was almost a relief to be that close to the ground as his stomach churned – but, no, that was not it. It was not his insides, not like that, that were shifting and gurgling, but the flesh sweeping over his body, all muscle and sinew and skin that had simply, well, always been there.
All that was about to change as he whined, the sound broken off halfway, black nose twitching. The scents of the forest overwhelmed him, from the musty matter, crisp with fresh wet, on the forest floor to the brewing storm crackling in the air. A crow cawed and shuffled back a little further into its chosen tree, a roosting spot to wait out the storm, but there would be no such patient waiting to come for the vulpine: only change.
“Unff… This… Nnghhh…”
It felt pathetic to groan like that, head tipping down and snout angling towards the forest floor. Somehow, the fox shrank in shame, heat blistering across his skin. It was not the first time, but some ulterior power, something greater than even him, hoped it would be the last.
His jaws opened and closed soundlessly as his fur slunk back into his body, not leaving a trace that it had ever been there to begin with. Cold ached up his legs, suddenly bare skin in contact with the ground, but he had to feel it, to break down into a weaker form so he could rebuild. The fox blinked rapidly, eyes blurring with tears, though he could not quite tell whether they dripped from his eyes or not, for the rain pattered down around him.
But he didn’t have the chance to feel it stroking over his bare skin in silky rivulets, his mind struggling to match up new sensations with what he already knew, as his skin hardened once more. In lieu of his russet, rich coat of fur, scales found a place on his body, shielding and warming him. In iridescent greens and blues, they settled into place all over, spreading out in patches from his hips, his shoulders and even the centre of his chest. There was not an inch of his body they didn’t seem to cover and even his ears were treated to a fine, ticklish shield of much finer scales.
He grimaced, though no sound seemed ready to slip from his lips, so the fox didn’t try too hard to speak up. It wasn’t right, could not be right, even as his heart pounded like it was sending a resounding roar echoing through his body. The roar carved him out and scraped him clean, leaving him fresh and hollow to be filled with what should have settled in him long ago.
A yelp snatched itself from his lips as his back arched, seemingly without conscious thought. But he could not possibly have hoped to remain still as his spine lengthened, pushing determinedly out at the base of it – where it came down to the tip of his tail. He twisted and hunched, shuddering bodily as he bore through the crackling pain, more vertebrae laying themselves down the length of his spine. It was the worst right at the back of his skull where his spine connected, each crinkle and pop echoing dully through his head, yet devoid of the headache that should have gone hand in hand with such bone-cracking shifts.
What was happening to him? He grappled with the notion, unable to push himself up from steadying himself on his paws and knees, though it seemed like the most stable kind of position to be in at that moment. So, it was not so bad, even as he raked in heaving, rasping gulps of air, the cold of the forest snapping anxiously into his lungs. He could hold fast there, head reeling, yet strangely there was no sense of true panic flooding him. It didn’t sink iron claws in around his heart, but a wave of tiredness pulled at him, as if sleeping may well have been a fine thing to consider at that moment.
Things were different, but not so much so that the fox could yet step away from the life that had done nothing for him other than hold him back. He licked his lips, but that did not come with the grounding feeling it may have once had. For his tongue slimmed down, wiggling and twisting apparently out of his control, for the muscles that moved it seemed more flexible than before. Blinking down at his scale-clad paws, he twitched a finger as his claws thickened and turned white, speckled with mud. How could that be?
But maybe things like that didn’t have to have an explanation he could understand – at least not in the moment, not when they were happening. His ears twitched, heavier than before and the fox took a deeper, slower breath as he settled into the change. In hindsight, they’d find it amusing how the body and mind could accept things like that, the change in one’s perception, when it all went beyond base instinct and what the mind was primed to do. They were still animals, after all, even if they were indeed evolved anthros.
The fox was more than that, however, having shucked his fur as his tongue wiggled in front of him, draped down over his bottom lip as if he was trying to make a silly face. He considered that carefully and “sucked” it back into his mouth as the tip pinched into a fork-like end, which almost seemed serpentine in how it was presented to him. All would come to be seen in time, however, as pressure increased around his neck, stretching that part of him along with his spine.
End preview.
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If you liked this story, you may also enjoy…
From Man to Kirin: Transformation
Lux is trying out something new at home when his boyfriend, Avery, walks in on him. Whoops!
All is well, however, as Avery gets to see the kinky transformation happening first-hand. Lux gasps as shapeshifting powers sweep over him, his skin transforming swiftly, giving him a humanoid, hybrid form.
From man to kirin... Even when he becomes a female rather than a male. They can enjoy themselves however they please, for their relationship transcends the bounds of sex and gender.
With lust and love winding around them, they are set for a fun night together!
Hybridisation: Sudden Transformation
Shapeshifting, and random transformations, well...they run in my family. There's only so much I can do about that, though I didn't expect one of my first transformations to come so publicly.
Just walking home, nothing unusual there. And yet the transformation grips my hybrid gryphon body with such a shock that all the air is forced from my lungs.
I heave, eyes wide, beak parted - and yet it's coming, regardless of whether I'm ready for it. Transformations are like that, though not even I know what I am transforming into.
In hybridisation, of course, the possibilities for rediscovery are endless... Along with the arousal.
Taking Flight in Transformation
Mack always wanted to fly. Well, as a wingless dragon, that's not going to be possible for him. It was just a fluke that he was born without wings and not having them doesn't affect his life at all.
But he wants more. And that's okay too. That's what transformation potions are for - and Mack is ready to trade his scales for feathers.
In transformation, his lusts rise, trembling through his body as he spreads his wings for the very first time...
From Man to Dragoness: Transformation
I... I was never meant to be a man. I knew that from a young age, but I did not know that it meant that I was never meant to be human either.
Until I met Rhonwen. A dragoness in the Welsh mountains, Rhonwen, the light of my life. She was the only one to see through me, to who I truly was inside.
Who I am. And I'm coming through to that person, transforming, skin fading to be replaced by scales, need and desire tickling forth. It does not hurt, this shift into my new body, but I wanted it so very much.
I had to be released, from one form to another, becoming female with the sweetness of my lover, my dragoness, right there by my side.
And the warmth of her tongue will caress me to my first high, with her, as a dragoness...
Transforming in the Park: From Man to Horny Dragoness
Gavin is having a normal day. But a normal day cannot remain normal forever as a magic unlike anything that humanity has ever experienced before creeps through the land...
It does not discriminate, but Gavin finds his body changing before his very eyes, heart lifting, his eyes soaring, looking for something new. A human life was never for him, but he must look to the future, ahead of him, spreading his wings not as a man but as a dragon.
Yet his life will never be the same again, all for the better, not the only person to transform, not as even his most intimate of areas changes, rendering them a dragoness, proud and strong.
With their lust rising, she can only satisfy that urge as Gavin settles into her new body...
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