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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. At least, that was what he thought, until it slammed through his body more forcefully, in a massive wave of nausea and searing heat. His entire body burned, some unknowable fire having been lit somewhere deep within his belly as his guts gurgled and squirmed within him. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t entirely tell what. His first thought was that maybe the collar had had some form of disease on it, previously unknown to man – and only effecting anyone that tried to wear the cursed item. \n\n Unfortunately for him, he was right about some parts of his guess – but not all of them. Not all of them at all. His breathing rapidly devolved into hyperventilation, his eyes wide and panicked as his very bones ached deeply, his entire body becoming sore within what felt like only seconds of having donned his gift. \n\n His tongue fell from his mouth by reflex before he even realized what was happening, his hyperventilation falling to a heated, panicked pant punctuated periodically by stressed, wheezing yelps. His face lurched, and his vision swam as his teeth and tongue throbbed. Out of his view, his fingers and toes migrated closer together, one single pair beginning a rapid process of fusing. \n\n Before he could account for the disorientation, another lurch shuddered through his body, his legs popping and shifting as his feet elongated, his femurs shortening as his thighs tightened, muscle mass displacing. His shoulders broadened, his ribcage following closely behind as his jaw jutted another inch forwards, his cheeks widening in time. His ears, similarly, were changing as they broadened, rounded, and started to shift upwards, back, and away from their previous positions on his head. \n\n Oliver’s clothes made their protests known, his pants falling away as his pelvis tightened and the fabric no longer had anywhere to cling to. His shirt, however, was meeting the opposite fate as it tightened against his larger features, popping at the seams as his chest protested quietly, the small pink nubs that made up his nipples starting to blacken as they broadened, sensitivity exploding. \n\n The ashen tone spread across his skin with little time to waste, a groaned wheeze of “What the fuc- What’s happening to me?!” leaving the confused chimera’s proto-muzzle. His expression froze in fear and alarm as his hand came into view – at least, what he thought was a hand. Somewhere between a hand and a paw, the misshapen lump was topped with chubby, short fingers with massive callus-like pads, watching in unadulterated horror as his finger nails fell away. \n\n It was only then that the protests of his feet made themselves known to him, throbbing desperately as strained creaks and crackling noises sounded from his too-small shoes, their more robust build resisting his growth with far more resolve. Even so, they could only handle so much as the bloated digits on his feet pulsed and swelled with every heartbeat, held so tightly together that his newfound paws cramped and folded over themselves in desperation for space. \n\n A high pitched cackling yelp leapt from his chest as they exploded with a surprisingly loud crack, much like that a whip, having finally experienced catastrophic failure. \n\n Oliver, for his part, fell backwards immediately. Without the material to stabilize his stance, newly minted paws were a far more limited surface area to stand upon than he was entirely used to – no matter how large they may have been. An indignant cackle once again leapt from his muzzle as the force of his rump slamming into the floor pinned and kinked an extended tailbone, horridly naked and unprotected, the skin and bone protested loudly against his body weight and the relative chill of the flooring below, even while it hung down to the tops of his feet. Feet that were massively longer than they should ever have been. Feet that looked horribly wrong on his body. \n\n The cackling of a hyena filled the space more readily as his apprehension rose, fear and confusion starting to overwhelm his ability to even speak while he sat and squirmed against the continued, dull throbs of pulsing change. His teeth fell away while his tongue continued to elongate, pushed out of his still-growing muzzle by new, far stronger teeth. \n\n His arms and legs both bulged and shifted beneath the skin as new muscle mass built, his stomach softening and falling away from his body as it gained heft, two small, isolated lumps peeling away from the bug-bites that had formed at his nipples, and snaking down past the straining, desperate hem of his shirt with a spike of agitated pain and pleasure both. \n\n The nubs shifted and changed as they migrated lower, lengthening, broadening, rounding into small, fleshy cylinders – immediately recognizable as nipples as the skin below them bloated and pulsed against every heaving breath that caused his stomach to rise and fall. He scrabbled back, backing away from whatever monster he was becoming while logic failed, voice stuck in his throat while animalistic hoots and hollers instead took its’ place. \n\n Something between his legs screamed and ached, making it known at something was wrong in such a way that his newly minted hand-paws shot to the spot, only to feel… nothing immediately obviously wrong. If anything, his package was swelling against his hands, the newly added volume plush and sensitive as he’d expect. \n\n Beneath the skin, muscle, and bone, a new void had opened, a tract joining onto his urethra as his testicles migrated northwards to join it. \n\n Whether she realized it or not, her equipment wasn’t quite what it seemed. Though, her body was certainly doing its’ best to make her new status known.\n\n The bulbs that had formed beneath her shirt and behind her nipples bloated and rose, both soft and strangely firm as they pressed outwards, unfazed by the groaning fabric. Unfortunately, her senses were not as willing to ignore the new constraints, dense nerves alerting in increasing urgency that she was simply being crushed. Her breasts continued their advance, however, even after the cloth began to tear and shred beneath the pressure, gravity finally allowed to take hold of the dough-like flesh. They fell against her chest well with a near-silent plap, their weight nearly interrupting his breathing. Far below, her new teats were doing the same, though constrained only by the bulge of her thighs from the near-fetal position she’d tossed herself into while leaning against a wall for support. \n\n Green eyes blinked past a muzzle that extended far into their line of vision as the changes seemed to stop, instead focusing on something new, a collection of tens of thousands, if not more, tiny pin-pricks and itches that blossomed across nearly the entirety of her body, from the smallest nook between her legs, to the valleys of skin between her toes. \n\n In front of her eyes, her body seemed to change color, lightening from the ashen black that it had become to a more coffee-toned collection of browns and beiges. Small hairs, coarse and shaggy, bristled across her skin in a dull expanse of growth, too-wide nose twitching in confusion a spots blossomed across the collection, centered on her arms. Along her sides and back, the fur was far longer, nearly tangling in small tufts of carpet-like collections. \n\n Almost as quickly as it had started, Oliver sat on the floor gathering her breath as realization dawned. The heat had left her, but there was no way anyone would describe her as human.\n\n And an entirely different heat burned at her loins and core. One that made her drool at the thought of something her instincts demanded, and her mind refused to give a name.", "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. At least, that was what he thought, until it slammed through his body more forcefully, in a massive wave of nausea and searing heat. His entire body burned, some unknowable fire having been lit somewhere deep within his belly as his guts gurgled and squirmed within him. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t entirely tell what. His first thought was that maybe the collar had had some form of disease on it, previously unknown to man – and only effecting anyone that tried to wear the cursed item.

 Unfortunately for him, he was right about some parts of his guess – but not all of them. Not all of them at all. His breathing rapidly devolved into hyperventilation, his eyes wide and panicked as his very bones ached deeply, his entire body becoming sore within what felt like only seconds of having donned his gift.

 His tongue fell from his mouth by reflex before he even realized what was happening, his hyperventilation falling to a heated, panicked pant punctuated periodically by stressed, wheezing yelps. His face lurched, and his vision swam as his teeth and tongue throbbed. Out of his view, his fingers and toes migrated closer together, one single pair beginning a rapid process of fusing.

 Before he could account for the disorientation, another lurch shuddered through his body, his legs popping and shifting as his feet elongated, his femurs shortening as his thighs tightened, muscle mass displacing. His shoulders broadened, his ribcage following closely behind as his jaw jutted another inch forwards, his cheeks widening in time. His ears, similarly, were changing as they broadened, rounded, and started to shift upwards, back, and away from their previous positions on his head.

 Oliver’s clothes made their protests known, his pants falling away as his pelvis tightened and the fabric no longer had anywhere to cling to. His shirt, however, was meeting the opposite fate as it tightened against his larger features, popping at the seams as his chest protested quietly, the small pink nubs that made up his nipples starting to blacken as they broadened, sensitivity exploding.

 The ashen tone spread across his skin with little time to waste, a groaned wheeze of “What the fuc- What’s happening to me?!” leaving the confused chimera’s proto-muzzle. His expression froze in fear and alarm as his hand came into view – at least, what he thought was a hand. Somewhere between a hand and a paw, the misshapen lump was topped with chubby, short fingers with massive callus-like pads, watching in unadulterated horror as his finger nails fell away.

 It was only then that the protests of his feet made themselves known to him, throbbing desperately as strained creaks and crackling noises sounded from his too-small shoes, their more robust build resisting his growth with far more resolve. Even so, they could only handle so much as the bloated digits on his feet pulsed and swelled with every heartbeat, held so tightly together that his newfound paws cramped and folded over themselves in desperation for space.

 A high pitched cackling yelp leapt from his chest as they exploded with a surprisingly loud crack, much like that a whip, having finally experienced catastrophic failure.

 Oliver, for his part, fell backwards immediately. Without the material to stabilize his stance, newly minted paws were a far more limited surface area to stand upon than he was entirely used to – no matter how large they may have been. An indignant cackle once again leapt from his muzzle as the force of his rump slamming into the floor pinned and kinked an extended tailbone, horridly naked and unprotected, the skin and bone protested loudly against his body weight and the relative chill of the flooring below, even while it hung down to the tops of his feet. Feet that were massively longer than they should ever have been. Feet that looked horribly wrong on his body.

 The cackling of a hyena filled the space more readily as his apprehension rose, fear and confusion starting to overwhelm his ability to even speak while he sat and squirmed against the continued, dull throbs of pulsing change. His teeth fell away while his tongue continued to elongate, pushed out of his still-growing muzzle by new, far stronger teeth.

 His arms and legs both bulged and shifted beneath the skin as new muscle mass built, his stomach softening and falling away from his body as it gained heft, two small, isolated lumps peeling away from the bug-bites that had formed at his nipples, and snaking down past the straining, desperate hem of his shirt with a spike of agitated pain and pleasure both.

 The nubs shifted and changed as they migrated lower, lengthening, broadening, rounding into small, fleshy cylinders – immediately recognizable as nipples as the skin below them bloated and pulsed against every heaving breath that caused his stomach to rise and fall. He scrabbled back, backing away from whatever monster he was becoming while logic failed, voice stuck in his throat while animalistic hoots and hollers instead took its’ place.

 Something between his legs screamed and ached, making it known at something was wrong in such a way that his newly minted hand-paws shot to the spot, only to feel… nothing immediately obviously wrong. If anything, his package was swelling against his hands, the newly added volume plush and sensitive as he’d expect.

 Beneath the skin, muscle, and bone, a new void had opened, a tract joining onto his urethra as his testicles migrated northwards to join it.

 Whether she realized it or not, her equipment wasn’t quite what it seemed. Though, her body was certainly doing its’ best to make her new status known.

 The bulbs that had formed beneath her shirt and behind her nipples bloated and rose, both soft and strangely firm as they pressed outwards, unfazed by the groaning fabric. Unfortunately, her senses were not as willing to ignore the new constraints, dense nerves alerting in increasing urgency that she was simply being crushed. Her breasts continued their advance, however, even after the cloth began to tear and shred beneath the pressure, gravity finally allowed to take hold of the dough-like flesh. They fell against her chest well with a near-silent plap, their weight nearly interrupting his breathing. Far below, her new teats were doing the same, though constrained only by the bulge of her thighs from the near-fetal position she’d tossed herself into while leaning against a wall for support.

 Green eyes blinked past a muzzle that extended far into their line of vision as the changes seemed to stop, instead focusing on something new, a collection of tens of thousands, if not more, tiny pin-pricks and itches that blossomed across nearly the entirety of her body, from the smallest nook between her legs, to the valleys of skin between her toes.

 In front of her eyes, her body seemed to change color, lightening from the ashen black that it had become to a more coffee-toned collection of browns and beiges. Small hairs, coarse and shaggy, bristled across her skin in a dull expanse of growth, too-wide nose twitching in confusion a spots blossomed across the collection, centered on her arms. Along her sides and back, the fur was far longer, nearly tangling in small tufts of carpet-like collections.

 Almost as quickly as it had started, Oliver sat on the floor gathering her breath as realization dawned. The heat had left her, but there was no way anyone would describe her as human.

 And an entirely different heat burned at her loins and core. One that made her drool at the thought of something her instincts demanded, and her mind refused to give a name.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "The Boy That Cackled Yeen (Anthro)", "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": "1" }