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"description": "In which a werefox and a wereferal (you read that right!) have a chance meeting in the forest, and do what foxes like to do in the light of the full moon.\n\n***\n\n[i]He had picked this particularly remote road for a reason. Pockmarked gravel and washed-out washboard notwithstanding, it was far in the way he wanted and near in the way he needed. His nondescript four-door sedan would need new shocks sooner rather than later, but the price was one of many paid over the years…and that price was non-negotiable.\n\nAs he bumped and bounced along, the soft soothing sounds of Eighties easy rock crept from the radio, calming and familiar. Earlier that evening he had taken his Wellbutrin to keep from buying a pack of cigarettes, and his nitroglycerin to keep from having a heart attack. He had not, however, taken his Ambien to help him sleep, because this night nothing would be able to keep him in bed. \n\nThe moon simply did not allow it. One time he had tried to fight it off and had almost paid the price with his life. A single night per month had suddenly seemed not so bad after all.\n\nAfter negotiating an S-bend and crossing a covered bridge he extinguished the car’s headlights. A momentary darkness quickly turned a desaturated tapestry of blues through which he had little trouble navigating, as he fully expected. It meant things were progressing as normal.\n\nThick trees gave way to a clearing where the washed-out track turned to twin lines of compacted dirt surrounded by waist-high grasses. A solitary oak on the hillside marked the end of his journey, silence filling the cabin after he killed the motor.\n\nHe pulled down his sun visor and flipped open the vanity mirror. Vertical pupils glowed back at him, surrounded by yellow irises. He didn’t have much time.\n\nRunning a hand through his receding hairline, he unbuckled his belt and spilled out onto the soft ground, paunch-first. He looked up to see the icy glow behind slow-moving clouds, a very minor delay that wouldn’t last long. The dirt on his palms and knees went ignored while he fumbled at the trunk lock with shaky hands.\n\nQuickly he took stock: a change of clothes for the office tomorrow morning, his toiletry kit for stopping by his gym on the way to work, a gallon of water, beef jerky, chocolate milk. Perfect hair-of-the-dog, as he called it. Years of trial and error had revealed the ideal morning remedy.\n\nHis back began to itch as soon as the t-shirt left his body. Soon would come the cramps and pain, all bearable, never acclimatable. His shorts and briefs came next, the former folded neatly and the latter crumpled and thrown on top as the task became too difficult. He gingerly untied and remove his shoes so his new claws wouldn’t destroy them. And as soon as the trunk lid shut he doubled over, collapsing onto his side.\n\nThe clouds had moved on.\n\nWith a will that defied his new mistress he managed to deposit his keys inside the bumper, tucked safely in a plastic alcove. This final task completed, he lay, relaxed and naked, and let the change take him.\n\nOnly a true masochist would enjoy the entire process; there is no getting used to the change, there is only growing a certain tolerance for it. \n\nAs he lay behind his car, moonlight like pins and needles on his skin, he tried to fight the natural urge to resist the sprouting fur, the restructuring of muscles. Most of a year learning meditation taught him enough mindfulness to accept reality and let it wash over him like a forest stream, but a day job in middle management sought to thwart his mental gains.\n\nHis extending tailbone forced him onto his side, the pain of it bursting out through his skin and sprouting reddish fur supplanted by an overwhelming warmth radiating from his roiling gut. Around him the grass and trees brightened, their shadows in stark contrast under the moon’s intense gaze. He dug his claws into the soft earth so his limbs wouldn’t flail as the joints broke themselves into angles unattainable by humanity.\n\nA flickering on top of his head accompanied a new rush of sound, new ears homing in on whatever caught their attention. After the initial rush of endorphins wore off, he settled down to let the wave take him through. The hot flash turned to a warm glow, his pelt thickening. Once his feet had finished their journey he ventured to stand, getting to a crouch before becoming dizzy.\n\nThe rest allowed him to surf the remainder of the change: redistribution of body fat, muzzle pushing out, genitals growing and rearranging themselves. With nothing better to do, he calmly watched his flaccid member grow a foreskin and draw up to attach to his lower belly before being covered in creamy fur. He idly scratched himself, the new heft of his endowment no surprise after all these years.\n\nHis first snout-breath of air was necessary, the second invigorating. The third he held as he stood to a new height on spring-like legs, powerful and dedicated to one purpose and one purpose alone.\n\nHe stepped out into the night.[/i]\n\n***\n\n[b]Synopsis: Werewolves, shapeshifters, and stranger things can be found here; their bodies and minds twisting as they enter into various Altered States of being. This anthology is a celebration of transformation and transmutation in many different flavors. From a wife who wants her husband to find a new appreciation for the moon, to a soldier infected with an alien virus, to military experiments which have gone horribly wrong. (Or perhaps very right...) Altered States contains nine transformation themed stories to titillate and inspire all those who love the idea of shape changing and altered vistas. After all, who’s afraid of a little change?\n\n \n\nContents:\n\nFinishing Touches by Ianus J. Wolf\nA Mile In Their Paws by Richard Coombs\nLeverage by Ajax B. Coriander\nOn Common Ground by Whyte Yoté\nCorp Values by Apollo Wolf\nThe Wicked World of Charles Jacklyn by Roland Jovaik\nThe Wander Inn by Nogitsune Faux\nPapa Panda and the Selfie by Kodiak Malone\nWeapon by James L. Steele\n\nCover art and interior illustrations by Kuma; Edited by Ajax B. Coriander, Kodiak Malone, and Andres Cyanni Halden.[/b]\n\nIf you missed out at AC, you can order the book from FurPlanet here: https://furplanet.com/shop/item.aspx?itemid=878",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "In which a werefox and a wereferal (you read that right!) have a chance meeting in the forest, and do what foxes like to do in the light of the full moon.
***
He had picked this particularly remote road for a reason. Pockmarked gravel and washed-out washboard notwithstanding, it was far in the way he wanted and near in the way he needed. His nondescript four-door sedan would need new shocks sooner rather than later, but the price was one of many paid over the years…and that price was non-negotiable.
As he bumped and bounced along, the soft soothing sounds of Eighties easy rock crept from the radio, calming and familiar. Earlier that evening he had taken his Wellbutrin to keep from buying a pack of cigarettes, and his nitroglycerin to keep from having a heart attack. He had not, however, taken his Ambien to help him sleep, because this night nothing would be able to keep him in bed.
The moon simply did not allow it. One time he had tried to fight it off and had almost paid the price with his life. A single night per month had suddenly seemed not so bad after all.
After negotiating an S-bend and crossing a covered bridge he extinguished the car’s headlights. A momentary darkness quickly turned a desaturated tapestry of blues through which he had little trouble navigating, as he fully expected. It meant things were progressing as normal.
Thick trees gave way to a clearing where the washed-out track turned to twin lines of compacted dirt surrounded by waist-high grasses. A solitary oak on the hillside marked the end of his journey, silence filling the cabin after he killed the motor.
He pulled down his sun visor and flipped open the vanity mirror. Vertical pupils glowed back at him, surrounded by yellow irises. He didn’t have much time.
Running a hand through his receding hairline, he unbuckled his belt and spilled out onto the soft ground, paunch-first. He looked up to see the icy glow behind slow-moving clouds, a very minor delay that wouldn’t last long. The dirt on his palms and knees went ignored while he fumbled at the trunk lock with shaky hands.
Quickly he took stock: a change of clothes for the office tomorrow morning, his toiletry kit for stopping by his gym on the way to work, a gallon of water, beef jerky, chocolate milk. Perfect hair-of-the-dog, as he called it. Years of trial and error had revealed the ideal morning remedy.
His back began to itch as soon as the t-shirt left his body. Soon would come the cramps and pain, all bearable, never acclimatable. His shorts and briefs came next, the former folded neatly and the latter crumpled and thrown on top as the task became too difficult. He gingerly untied and remove his shoes so his new claws wouldn’t destroy them. And as soon as the trunk lid shut he doubled over, collapsing onto his side.
The clouds had moved on.
With a will that defied his new mistress he managed to deposit his keys inside the bumper, tucked safely in a plastic alcove. This final task completed, he lay, relaxed and naked, and let the change take him.
Only a true masochist would enjoy the entire process; there is no getting used to the change, there is only growing a certain tolerance for it.
As he lay behind his car, moonlight like pins and needles on his skin, he tried to fight the natural urge to resist the sprouting fur, the restructuring of muscles. Most of a year learning meditation taught him enough mindfulness to accept reality and let it wash over him like a forest stream, but a day job in middle management sought to thwart his mental gains.
His extending tailbone forced him onto his side, the pain of it bursting out through his skin and sprouting reddish fur supplanted by an overwhelming warmth radiating from his roiling gut. Around him the grass and trees brightened, their shadows in stark contrast under the moon’s intense gaze. He dug his claws into the soft earth so his limbs wouldn’t flail as the joints broke themselves into angles unattainable by humanity.
A flickering on top of his head accompanied a new rush of sound, new ears homing in on whatever caught their attention. After the initial rush of endorphins wore off, he settled down to let the wave take him through. The hot flash turned to a warm glow, his pelt thickening. Once his feet had finished their journey he ventured to stand, getting to a crouch before becoming dizzy.
The rest allowed him to surf the remainder of the change: redistribution of body fat, muzzle pushing out, genitals growing and rearranging themselves. With nothing better to do, he calmly watched his flaccid member grow a foreskin and draw up to attach to his lower belly before being covered in creamy fur. He idly scratched himself, the new heft of his endowment no surprise after all these years.
His first snout-breath of air was necessary, the second invigorating. The third he held as he stood to a new height on spring-like legs, powerful and dedicated to one purpose and one purpose alone.
He stepped out into the night.
***
Synopsis: Werewolves, shapeshifters, and stranger things can be found here; their bodies and minds twisting as they enter into various Altered States of being. This anthology is a celebration of transformation and transmutation in many different flavors. From a wife who wants her husband to find a new appreciation for the moon, to a soldier infected with an alien virus, to military experiments which have gone horribly wrong. (Or perhaps very right...) Altered States contains nine transformation themed stories to titillate and inspire all those who love the idea of shape changing and altered vistas. After all, who’s afraid of a little change?
Contents:
Finishing Touches by Ianus J. Wolf
A Mile In Their Paws by Richard Coombs
Leverage by Ajax B. Coriander
On Common Ground by Whyte Yoté
Corp Values by Apollo Wolf
The Wicked World of Charles Jacklyn by Roland Jovaik
The Wander Inn by Nogitsune Faux
Papa Panda and the Selfie by Kodiak Malone
Weapon by James L. Steele
Cover art and interior illustrations by Kuma; Edited by Ajax B. Coriander, Kodiak Malone, and Andres Cyanni Halden.
If you missed out at AC, you can order the book from FurPlanet here: https://furplanet.com/shop/item.aspx?itemid=878",
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