{ "submission_id": "3717308", "keywords": [ { "keyword_id": "123", "keyword_name": "female", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1120327" }, { "keyword_id": "735", "keyword_name": "feral", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "97843" }, { "keyword_id": "251962", "keyword_name": "feral pregnancy", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "3" }, { "keyword_id": "848198", "keyword_name": "feral pregnant", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "2" }, { "keyword_id": "1440", "keyword_name": "human", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "111269" }, { "keyword_id": "511", "keyword_name": "hyena", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "19970" }, { "keyword_id": "165", "keyword_name": "male", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1232800" }, { "keyword_id": "3223", "keyword_name": "male to female", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1346" }, { "keyword_id": "42185", "keyword_name": "male-to-female", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "91" }, { "keyword_id": "1578", "keyword_name": "pregnancy", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "15405" }, { "keyword_id": "406", "keyword_name": "pregnant", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "24275" }, { "keyword_id": "1009", "keyword_name": "spotted hyena", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1920" }, { "keyword_id": "1335", "keyword_name": "tf", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "15207" }, { "keyword_id": "48133", "keyword_name": "tftg", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "2556" }, { "keyword_id": "1336", "keyword_name": "transformation", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "45495" }, { "keyword_id": "867707", "keyword_name": "transformation gender", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "2" } ], "hidden": "f", "scraps": "f", "favorite": "f", "favorites_count": "0", "create_datetime": "2025-09-30 12:14:50.739622+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "30 Sep 2025 14:14 CEST", "last_file_update_datetime": "2025-09-30 12:10:41.615848+00", "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "30 Sep 2025 14:10 CEST", "username": "Caffee", "user_id": "1513686", "user_icon_file_name": "452635_Caffee_caffref300px.jpg", "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/452/452635_Caffee_caffref300px.jpg", "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/452/452635_Caffee_caffref300px.jpg", "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/452/452635_Caffee_caffref300px.jpg", "file_name": "5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5737/5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5737/5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5737/5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "files": [ { "file_id": "5737116", "file_name": "5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5737/5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5737/5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5737/5737116_Caffee_the_boy_that_cackled_yeen_feral_.txt", "mimetype": "text/plain", "submission_id": "3717308", "user_id": "1513686", "submission_file_order": "0", "full_size_x": null, "full_size_y": null, "screen_size_x": null, "screen_size_y": null, "preview_size_x": null, "preview_size_y": null, "initial_file_md5": "8acc2ed8e40a84f728a1a02794759010", "full_file_md5": "8acc2ed8e40a84f728a1a02794759010", "large_file_md5": "", "small_file_md5": "", "thumbnail_md5": "", "deleted": "f", "create_datetime": "2025-09-30 12:10:41.615848+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "30 Sep 2025 14:10 CEST" } ], "pools": [], "description": "Bit of a fun story I did a bit ago for a friend's birthday! It was a fun little project ^^\n\nBeen running a bit slow lately, so I've been falling behind my own schedule, I'm sorry about that, and should be back on top after using some of this back log to buy some time. 2,628 words\n\nAs always, any critiques or comments are appreciated, even if it's other situations you'd like to see written! If you'd like to support or commission me, check out my [url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1OqnLScmQE7WF6YFLncnDkOf9dT3gHi7qhqR-3XOtPF8/edit?tab=t.0]TOS and links[/url]!, and don't be afraid to send a note! I don't bite!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Bit of a fun story I did a bit ago for a friend's birthday! It was a fun little project ^^

Been running a bit slow lately, so I've been falling behind my own schedule, I'm sorry about that, and should be back on top after using some of this back log to buy some time. 2,628 words

As always, any critiques or comments are appreciated, even if it's other situations you'd like to see written! If you'd like to support or commission me, check out my TOS and links!, and don't be afraid to send a note! I don't bite!", "writing": " Oliver sat at the dining table of his small home with some level of trepidation, surrounded by friends on such a day would usually be a good thing – but in this case, they all seemed far too excited for his liking. Not knowing them and their relationship. Glee usually meant bullying, and when it came from all five of them at once? It was something they were all in on. On his birthday. \n\n Bad juju indeed. \n\n Especially with the small, hastily wrapped box that sat in front of him, pulled from behind one of their backs as soon as they’d finished dinner, demanding that he open it before they ever even so much as thought about cake. “So… what did you guys do?” He asked, as much as surprises were great, the collective of cheshire grins and wringing hands was more than a little unnerving. “Oh just open it already! I promise it’s nothing bad!”, one of them called at the question, pointed nods from the others joining it. “Well you seem rather… devious… for nothing bad…” he pressed, but nonetheless relented. There wasn’t much to be said past this point, considering that they clearly had no intention of warning him of whatever had been done. He tore away at crinkled paper quietly, pulling from the mess of wrappings a plain, raw cardboard box. Something within clunked heavily, a crunch of what was probably paper within seeming to cushion it. \n\n His green eyes once again rose to his friends, this was uncharacteristically plain. After all, it hadn’t even been written or doodled on by a single person! But that only served to further the discomfort. Even so, they seemed more excited by the moment, and while he knew his friends would take any opportunity to sass him – he dished it out just as much himself – he did have to trust that they never had bad intentions with any of it. \n\n And so he stared down at the box for a few more seconds, watching idly as someone else grabbed at the wrapping, crinkling it up and moving it to the side, before taking a deep, theatrical breath, his face one of an exaggerated apprehension and fear, framed by dark auburn locks.\n\n And then the box’s lid was fiddled with, him mockingly having trouble with tanned, weak-fingered hands, barely able to nudge it open. If they could have some fun with this experience, so could he, after all. \n\n And he was rewarded with similarly theatrical groans, a rushed “Oh come on!” muttered from one of them before dropping their head to the table with a nearly flinch inducing -whump-. That had been a bit more literal than intended. Even so, he could barely resist the snort that tugged at his lungs. \n\n Nonetheless, he relented, pulling the lid away partially, refusing to peak, before flipping it away as though it were the pin of a grenade, disposed of as soon as it no longer held back containment. Now the deed was done, though, and he could look down towards a sea of dull red tissue paper, something dark and blocky disguised beneath. Already, he smelled fur. \n\n Nudging the paper back, he was met with… a massive ring of metal and leather, musty and ever so slightly greasy to the touch. Beneath it… a photo of a spotted hyena. One of his favorite animals, right there in front of him. Whatever it was, it was clearly a collar, and he lifted it out of the box with a puzzled expression, a lone eyebrow raised awkwardly. \n\n It was only after what felt like a couple full minutes or more of idle appreciation that realization slowly began to dawn, putting two and two together, between the photo of the animal, which he pulled out from beneath the object quietly, and stared at, and the hefty ring in his hand. Its’ twin was in the photograph, after all. On the neck of the hyena. It was a collar. A tracking collar, most likely. \n\n But that raised questions. “How did you get th-?” He pressed, only to be cut off. “Don’t ask. Don’t ask how much it cost either.” That… answered nothing. Instead he had another question, then. “Is it the same one?” He asked again, curious for several fairly obvious reasons that he didn’t care to list. \n\n “It is! It was taken off after it stopped working, so they have a new one, for legal reasons, no hyenas were harmed in the making of this gift.” Was the reply, a self-pleased sneer across their features. \n\n His brain short circuited at that. They’d actually gotten him something that had touched one of his favorite animals in the world – one that he thought of far more often than he probably cared to admit. Something that had been on them for an extended period. That helped to learn more about them, and protect them. “Thank you, genuinely” He mumbled.\n \n It was only hours after they left that he came upon temptation. It was a collar, after all. One that still worked as a collar, or, well, at least he thought and hoped it did. It was a massive leather band, almost as wide as his hand, and nearly as thick, adorned with two massive metal boxes – one of which seemed to be a sort of ratcheting mechanism that popped through holes on the band itself. He supposed that had to be the buckle, even if it was weird. And the other part, far heavier and more bulky than the other, was probably… everything else? He wasn’t entirely sure what all went into the collars, other than a GPS tracker, if there even was anything else that went into them. \n\n But that just returned him to initial thought. It was a collar. And it still smelled like fur. It opened far enough he could probably have put it on if he so chose. And intrusive thoughts were burning. \n\n He rolled it around in his hands as he tried to figure out how it even worked, currently it made a complete loop, though it obviously had to be able to be opened if it went onto any animal, so there had to be some way to unlatch it. \n\n His spinning it around in his hands looking for any kind of sign didn’t really yield much fruit, past the additional realization that four massive rivets held the latching mechanism onto the leather band, and another eight held the electronics box to it as well – all of them monolithic pins of brass speared through the tanned hide. \n\n That was, until he gave it a frustrated smack. There was a small internal click when he did so, and the band slid away from the mechanism with a strange springlike twang and series of ticking sounds. \n\n Confused, but otherwise pleased with himself, the Californian preened for a few moments, running the band along his hand and marveling at how worn it was. He had no idea how long they were normally left on animals, but clearly this one at the least had been on this particular hyena for a fair while. \n\n It wasn’t as good as petting a hyena, but it was certainly the closest he’d ever been – and the closest he’d ever get, more than likely. \n\n Though… it could get closer, his mind reminded him unhelpfully once again. His hand twitching and then locking up for a few seconds as he thought on what his options were. He could be reckless, and put it on – and what was the harm in that? Or, he could just be a normal person, and put it back away. Away to where it wasn’t going to have any impact on his thoughts. Maybe hang it on a wall.\n\n His hands acted after a few more seconds of idly wasting time, doing without thinking. He hefted the weighted collar up high, and pressed it against his neck, wrapping the large device around the vulnerable flesh, before threading the band into the ratcheting mechanism with some level of difficulty. It was a relatively precise fit, especially with leather that was so stiff. But it did eventually loop through. \n\n His stomach sank, however, after he recognized the sounds and feelings against the back of his neck. Slight vibrations. Faint clicks. He’d thought he’d broken it, that the mechanism wasn’t working at all. The clicks said otherwise. \n\n And his blood ran cold when a tug confirmed it. \n\n The collar had locked into position, and he hadn’t noticed until he’d already tightened it around his throat. Alarm and a speck of shame sparked in the back of his mind as he started to think on what he was supposed to do. He clearly wasn’t going to be getting it off – not after a few smacks did nothing more than rattle his brain. \n\n How was he going to explain this to anyone? How was he going to get help with taking the stupid thing off? He couldn’t figure it out, so whose to say anyone else would be able to. \n\n He certainly didn’t want to cut it off. \n\n Just thinking about all of this was making his stomach do flips and his head spin, his body running hot. It had to be the stress of just thinking about it, he repeated to himself. That was the hope, anyway. Whether or not it was true was anyone’s guess as it continued to pulse and shift beneath his skin, his temperature rising by the moment, searing at his skin from the inside. \n\n Internally, his body was already starting to rearrange, a groan dying on his lips as he began to sweat, and a cramp rattled across his core, focused deep within. The space between his legs throbbed as it pulsed and shifted, filling and rearranging as the skin began to darken, his member elongating and growing in girth even as it softened somewhat. \n\n Unnoticed in his fevered state, his feet and hands began to elongate as well, slowly at first, his thumbs seemingly retreating into his palms as they both slimmed and thrust forwards. \n\n His shoes rapidly began to constrict against his lengthening feet, even while they thinned, the unyielding material refusing to cooperate with his constantly changing form. His nerves throbbed with anger, screaming at him while the space continued to tighten, the dull creaks of taxed faux leather and the threads that held it all together joining the overwhelming cacophony. \n\n He wasted little time, a pained, high pitch gasp leaping from a strained throat as he clumsily pulled and shoved away at the offending piece of footwear, anything to dislodge them and make the discomfort end. Thankfully, his desperation bore some fruit, the first shoe falling away with fairly little resistance, while the second offered a bit more resolve. It clung to his foot even while the digits within fattened, bulging and shortening as they lost some level of flexibility, large, callused pads spreading across the bottoms of them. Natural armor and cushion against the unending assault of the ground that they were built to tread upon. \n\n His skin began to darken, starting from his extremities in time with each of his nails falling away, pressed out of place by new, dark claws that formed beneath. It was only with these new claws that he found purchase, digging into what was left of the offending shoe’s collar before yanking it away forcefully, sending the collection of synthetics careening across the flooring. \n\n Oliver panted a sigh of relief at the success, entirely blind to the fact that his jaw had started to jut forwards, taking his lips, teeth, and nose along with it. Nor did he notice the damage done to his extremities while he sat there, panting and writhing on the floor as his body overheated. \n\n Beneath the surface, his testicles had migrated further into his core, high and protected in their new places, atop a void that nestled into her abdomen and piggy-backed off of what had once been her urethra. It now ran double duty, serving also as a birth canal. \n\n Her skin continued to darken as she cackled in alarm, a hooping joining it as she both realized that her voice no longer functioned as intended, and attempted to use it regardless. \n\n Panic bubbled in seconds, and the high speed clicks, clacks, and scratches of nails across flooring joined her panicked giggles, body thrashing wildly as she scrabbled for any kind of purchase on unfinished limbs. \n\n If only she’d resisted the urge to put on the collar. \n Instead her calls for help, her screams of confusion, came out only as the kind of maniacal laughter that you’d expect to hear on safari while the hyenas hunt, rising in pitch while her breathing gained pace and her alarm bubbled higher. \n\n Her brain was catching up to fact that things were not where they belonged, not working how it expected. It had been previously too focused on the fever that still ravished her body, but now the changes had made themselves known. Crossed a point of no return. \n\n Crossed a point of communication. \n\n Wild eyes darted around the space as exhaustion forced her to slow, forelimbs noticeably longer than the rear after having taken the small episode of panic to creak and shift, thinning as the muscles displaced. She’d similarly lost height over all, a prominent hunchback having built as her spine rearranged to a new orientation. \n\n Her skull similarly continued to throb and lurch with the beats of her heart, shifting forwards as her orbits opened, and her muzzle took shape. Inside, her tongue swelled and elongated, texture shifting to a more feline, sand-paper like type. Immediately, it lolled from her mouth as she panted, pink and clashing against skin that had almost entirely faded to a dark, ashen black. \n\n Among the panic, her tailbone had long since elongated, falling between her legs in a curl before she even truly realized what it was – nor what the display meant. Quietly, her nipples had migrated southwards, a small trek in which they slowly gained mass, leaving her one-flat, now barreled chest as sensitive nubs, they arrived at her crotch with a mild weight to them, milk-bloated handfuls that tugged at the skin they anchored to. \n\n Her neck pulsed wider in time with her breathing, each pant bringing a bulge that refused to go down. Though it was a small process, the rate of her hyperventilation made it far from slow. Within half a minute, her neck had doubled in mass, the collar quietly, innocently adjusting to fit the new bulk as it did so. \n\n Even so, the most disorienting changes had yet to come. The newly minted hairless chimera groaned and wheezed as her teeth fell away one by one, lips curling as a muffled growl died in her throat against the pain and discomfort. In their place, new, pointed teeth grew, ready to rip and crush at flesh and bone. The farthest thing from what a college student had any need for. \n\n But that wasn’t what Oliver was anymore. Oliver was rapidly becoming something far more valuable – at least to the public or conservationist’s eye. As a coarse, mottled, brown-toned carpet blossomed across her body, the chimera began the final stages of her changes. Her stomach swelled and shifted as ligaments loosened and organs formed, rearranged, and, in one case, filled. \n\n Spots sprung from the two-toned fur, darker than both, and adorned her back and legs in the final stages of transformation. \n\n The warmth in her core remained, as did the shirt around her midriff, and the socks upon her rear paws, but in the last known location of Oliver Goodman, nothing would be found but a confused, distressed, heavily gravid hyena.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": " Oliver sat at the dining table of his small home with some level of trepidation, surrounded by friends on such a day would usually be a good thing – but in this case, they all seemed far too excited for his liking. Not knowing them and their relationship. Glee usually meant bullying, and when it came from all five of them at once? It was something they were all in on. On his birthday.

 Bad juju indeed.

 Especially with the small, hastily wrapped box that sat in front of him, pulled from behind one of their backs as soon as they’d finished dinner, demanding that he open it before they ever even so much as thought about cake. “So… what did you guys do?” He asked, as much as surprises were great, the collective of cheshire grins and wringing hands was more than a little unnerving. “Oh just open it already! I promise it’s nothing bad!”, one of them called at the question, pointed nods from the others joining it. “Well you seem rather… devious… for nothing bad…” he pressed, but nonetheless relented. There wasn’t much to be said past this point, considering that they clearly had no intention of warning him of whatever had been done. He tore away at crinkled paper quietly, pulling from the mess of wrappings a plain, raw cardboard box. Something within clunked heavily, a crunch of what was probably paper within seeming to cushion it.

 His green eyes once again rose to his friends, this was uncharacteristically plain. After all, it hadn’t even been written or doodled on by a single person! But that only served to further the discomfort. Even so, they seemed more excited by the moment, and while he knew his friends would take any opportunity to sass him – he dished it out just as much himself – he did have to trust that they never had bad intentions with any of it.

 And so he stared down at the box for a few more seconds, watching idly as someone else grabbed at the wrapping, crinkling it up and moving it to the side, before taking a deep, theatrical breath, his face one of an exaggerated apprehension and fear, framed by dark auburn locks.

 And then the box’s lid was fiddled with, him mockingly having trouble with tanned, weak-fingered hands, barely able to nudge it open. If they could have some fun with this experience, so could he, after all.

 And he was rewarded with similarly theatrical groans, a rushed “Oh come on!” muttered from one of them before dropping their head to the table with a nearly flinch inducing -whump-. That had been a bit more literal than intended. Even so, he could barely resist the snort that tugged at his lungs.

 Nonetheless, he relented, pulling the lid away partially, refusing to peak, before flipping it away as though it were the pin of a grenade, disposed of as soon as it no longer held back containment. Now the deed was done, though, and he could look down towards a sea of dull red tissue paper, something dark and blocky disguised beneath. Already, he smelled fur.

 Nudging the paper back, he was met with… a massive ring of metal and leather, musty and ever so slightly greasy to the touch. Beneath it… a photo of a spotted hyena. One of his favorite animals, right there in front of him. Whatever it was, it was clearly a collar, and he lifted it out of the box with a puzzled expression, a lone eyebrow raised awkwardly.

 It was only after what felt like a couple full minutes or more of idle appreciation that realization slowly began to dawn, putting two and two together, between the photo of the animal, which he pulled out from beneath the object quietly, and stared at, and the hefty ring in his hand. Its’ twin was in the photograph, after all. On the neck of the hyena. It was a collar. A tracking collar, most likely.

 But that raised questions. “How did you get th-?” He pressed, only to be cut off. “Don’t ask. Don’t ask how much it cost either.” That… answered nothing. Instead he had another question, then. “Is it the same one?” He asked again, curious for several fairly obvious reasons that he didn’t care to list.

 “It is! It was taken off after it stopped working, so they have a new one, for legal reasons, no hyenas were harmed in the making of this gift.” Was the reply, a self-pleased sneer across their features.

 His brain short circuited at that. They’d actually gotten him something that had touched one of his favorite animals in the world – one that he thought of far more often than he probably cared to admit. Something that had been on them for an extended period. That helped to learn more about them, and protect them. “Thank you, genuinely” He mumbled.
 
 It was only hours after they left that he came upon temptation. It was a collar, after all. One that still worked as a collar, or, well, at least he thought and hoped it did. It was a massive leather band, almost as wide as his hand, and nearly as thick, adorned with two massive metal boxes – one of which seemed to be a sort of ratcheting mechanism that popped through holes on the band itself. He supposed that had to be the buckle, even if it was weird. And the other part, far heavier and more bulky than the other, was probably… everything else? He wasn’t entirely sure what all went into the collars, other than a GPS tracker, if there even was anything else that went into them.

 But that just returned him to initial thought. It was a collar. And it still smelled like fur. It opened far enough he could probably have put it on if he so chose. And intrusive thoughts were burning.

 He rolled it around in his hands as he tried to figure out how it even worked, currently it made a complete loop, though it obviously had to be able to be opened if it went onto any animal, so there had to be some way to unlatch it.

 His spinning it around in his hands looking for any kind of sign didn’t really yield much fruit, past the additional realization that four massive rivets held the latching mechanism onto the leather band, and another eight held the electronics box to it as well – all of them monolithic pins of brass speared through the tanned hide.

 That was, until he gave it a frustrated smack. There was a small internal click when he did so, and the band slid away from the mechanism with a strange springlike twang and series of ticking sounds.

 Confused, but otherwise pleased with himself, the Californian preened for a few moments, running the band along his hand and marveling at how worn it was. He had no idea how long they were normally left on animals, but clearly this one at the least had been on this particular hyena for a fair while.

 It wasn’t as good as petting a hyena, but it was certainly the closest he’d ever been – and the closest he’d ever get, more than likely.

 Though… it could get closer, his mind reminded him unhelpfully once again. His hand twitching and then locking up for a few seconds as he thought on what his options were. He could be reckless, and put it on – and what was the harm in that? Or, he could just be a normal person, and put it back away. Away to where it wasn’t going to have any impact on his thoughts.  Maybe hang it on a wall.

  His hands acted after a few more seconds of idly wasting time, doing without thinking. He hefted the weighted collar up high, and pressed it against his neck, wrapping the large device around the vulnerable flesh, before threading the band into the ratcheting mechanism with some level of difficulty. It was a relatively precise fit, especially with leather that was so stiff. But it did eventually loop through.

 His stomach sank, however, after he recognized the sounds and feelings against the back of his neck. Slight vibrations. Faint clicks. He’d thought he’d broken it, that the mechanism wasn’t working at all. The clicks said otherwise.

 And his blood ran cold when a tug confirmed it.

 The collar had locked into position, and he hadn’t noticed until he’d already tightened it around his throat. Alarm and a speck of shame sparked in the back of his mind as he started to think on what he was supposed to do. He clearly wasn’t going to be getting it off – not after a few smacks did nothing more than rattle his brain.

 How was he going to explain this to anyone? How was he going to get help with taking the stupid thing off? He couldn’t figure it out, so whose to say anyone else would be able to.

 He certainly didn’t want to cut it off.

 Just thinking about all of this was making his stomach do flips and his head spin, his body running hot. It had to be the stress of just thinking about it, he repeated to himself. That was the hope, anyway. Whether or not it was true was anyone’s guess as it continued to pulse and shift beneath his skin, his temperature rising by the moment, searing at his skin from the inside.

 Internally, his body was already starting to rearrange, a groan dying on his lips as he began to sweat, and a cramp rattled across his core, focused deep within. The space between his legs throbbed as it pulsed and shifted, filling and rearranging as the skin began to darken, his member elongating and growing in girth even as it softened somewhat.

 Unnoticed in his fevered state, his feet and hands began to elongate as well, slowly at first, his thumbs seemingly retreating into his palms as they both slimmed and thrust forwards.

 His shoes rapidly began to constrict against his lengthening feet, even while they thinned, the unyielding material refusing to cooperate with his constantly changing form. His nerves throbbed with anger, screaming at him while the space continued to tighten, the dull creaks of taxed faux leather and the threads that held it all together joining the overwhelming cacophony.

 He wasted little time, a pained, high pitch gasp leaping from a strained throat as he clumsily pulled and shoved away at the offending piece of footwear, anything to dislodge them and make the discomfort end. Thankfully, his desperation bore some fruit, the first shoe falling away with fairly little resistance, while the second offered a bit more resolve. It clung to his foot even while the digits within fattened, bulging and shortening as they lost some level of flexibility, large, callused pads spreading across the bottoms of them. Natural armor and cushion against the unending assault of the ground that they were built to tread upon.

 His skin began to darken, starting from his extremities in time with each of his nails falling away, pressed out of place by new, dark claws that formed beneath. It was only with these new claws that he found purchase, digging into what was left of the offending shoe’s collar before yanking it away forcefully, sending the collection of synthetics careening across the flooring.

 Oliver panted a sigh of relief at the success, entirely blind to the fact that his jaw had started to jut forwards, taking his lips, teeth, and nose along with it. Nor did he notice the damage done to his extremities while he sat there, panting and writhing on the floor as his body overheated.

 Beneath the surface, his testicles had migrated further into his core, high and protected in their new places, atop a void that nestled into her abdomen and piggy-backed off of what had once been her urethra. It now ran double duty, serving also as a birth canal.

 Her skin continued to darken as she cackled in alarm, a hooping joining it as she both realized that her voice no longer functioned as intended, and attempted to use it regardless.

 Panic bubbled in seconds, and the high speed clicks, clacks, and scratches of nails across flooring joined her panicked giggles, body thrashing wildly as she scrabbled for any kind of purchase on unfinished limbs.

 If only she’d resisted the urge to put on the collar.
 Instead her calls for help, her screams of confusion, came out only as the kind of maniacal laughter that you’d expect to hear on safari while the hyenas hunt, rising in pitch while her breathing gained pace and her alarm bubbled higher.

 Her brain was catching up to fact that things were not where they belonged, not working how it expected. It had been previously too focused on the fever that still ravished her body, but now the changes had made themselves known. Crossed a point of no return.

 Crossed a point of communication.

 Wild eyes darted around the space as exhaustion forced her to slow, forelimbs noticeably longer than the rear after having taken the small episode of panic to creak and shift, thinning as the muscles displaced. She’d similarly lost height over all, a prominent hunchback having built as her spine rearranged to a new orientation.

 Her skull similarly continued to throb and lurch with the beats of her heart, shifting forwards as her orbits opened, and her muzzle took shape. Inside, her tongue swelled and elongated, texture shifting to a more feline, sand-paper like type. Immediately, it lolled from her mouth as she panted, pink and clashing against skin that had almost entirely faded to a dark, ashen black.

 Among the panic, her tailbone had long since elongated, falling between her legs in a curl before she even truly realized what it was – nor what the display meant. Quietly, her nipples had migrated southwards, a small trek in which they slowly gained mass, leaving her one-flat, now barreled chest as sensitive nubs, they arrived at her crotch with a mild weight to them, milk-bloated handfuls that tugged at the skin they anchored to.

 Her neck pulsed wider in time with her breathing, each pant bringing a bulge that refused to go down. Though it was a small process, the rate of her hyperventilation made it far from slow. Within half a minute, her neck had doubled in mass, the collar quietly, innocently adjusting to fit the new bulk as it did so.

 Even so, the most disorienting changes had yet to come. The newly minted hairless chimera groaned and wheezed as her teeth fell away one by one, lips curling as a muffled growl died in her throat against the pain and discomfort. In their place, new, pointed teeth grew, ready to rip and crush at flesh and bone. The farthest thing from what a college student had any need for.

 But that wasn’t what Oliver was anymore. Oliver was rapidly becoming something far more valuable – at least to the public or conservationist’s eye. As a coarse, mottled, brown-toned carpet blossomed across her body, the chimera began the final stages of her changes. Her stomach swelled and shifted as ligaments loosened and organs formed, rearranged, and, in one case, filled.

 Spots sprung from the two-toned fur, darker than both, and adorned her back and legs in the final stages of transformation.

 The warmth in her core remained, as did the shirt around her midriff, and the socks upon her rear paws, but in the last known location of Oliver Goodman, nothing would be found but a confused, distressed, heavily gravid hyena.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "The Boy That Cackled Yeen (Feral)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "6" }