#species transformation

[vanillayoteart]

Caught Barking

It sounded like this: "BARK BARKarrf aaAARRUUOF BARRRK.... rff. "  Can anybody translate? Something for gracewolfingfrom my weekly streams!

[jades-typurriter]

Pretty Fly For A Brundlehaj

This is a commission for @totalcudgel done back in September 2023, starring her witch OC (who you may recognize from this story a few days ago) and with a guest appearance from Sally.

Well. Eloise had to say that this was the most off-course she’d ever had one of her rituals go.

She mentally retraced her steps, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. She’d heard about other spells that had ended in the merging of the subject and nearby materials, but that had been a spell with the aim of displacement; it made perfect sense that, if one tried to move a body to a space where something already existed, the two would become interlaced with each other. The results had been a tempting lead in the pursuit of magic to perfect her own form—the combination of a human mage with an insectile bystander was nearly seamless!—but the magic was too unpredictable for her to be willing to attempt it.

Already satisfied with her appearance, she had been attempting something unrelated. A form of transmutation, one could argue, but on a conceptual level rather than a physical one. It was honestly fairly well-trodden ground! Alchemists had done similar work for decades (love potions were in high demand, and to make a subject more suggestible was child’s play with tinctures of truth and similar concoctions), but she had neither the materials nor the experience to take that approach, and she felt it to be in contempt of consent, besides. A ritual to adjust something about herself, to increase her appeal, would be easier for her to execute and weigh less on her conscience. She had a hot date, and she was set on making herself irresistible to other trans women.

She supposed her major error was in not keeping her ritual space clear. Even if she wasn’t attempting to move anything, magic was finicky, and liked to reach its ethereal fingers into anything particularly receptive that happened to be nearby. She should have figured that a stuffed animal, an object that typically was the object of much sentimentality, would count, especially given its reputation among her “target audience”. She realized that something was awry when she could feel literal threads weaving through her at the same time of the more metaphorical threads of the spell.

By the time she had looked down to take stock of herself, it was already too late: her hands had morphed into soft, padded, and most importantly, blunt abstractions of paws that could no longer perform the gestures to dispel the magic. Her fur shortened all across her body, and was now tinged a pale blue; that same fur had sprouted all along her tail, which now bore a floppy pair of fins at the tip. Her teeth… well, they didn’t sharpen. They became longer, and they came to a sort of point, but they were as squishy as the rest of her, now; she was glad that her tongue was no longer wet with drool, or it’d be little more than a soggy flap of felt before long.

There was just no way around it. She wasn’t just a plushie, she was a bean bag. A few hundred pounds of flesh and bone had, in a flash, turned into—what, a hundred pounds of stuffing? It was strange how slow to move she still felt. She supposed that paper falls slowly because its weight didn’t push very much against the air, and that her body was now doing something similar. At least it was one less thing to get used to. She already had to adjust to being half shark. How would she explain that to Sally? The whole reason she had even attempted this was that the two of them had a date tonight, and now—

Knock knock knock.

Oh, for the love of—

“Eloise?” came the raccoon’s contralto from the other side of her front door. The witch hesitated; she’d known Sally long enough that she’d probably be comfortable just walking in after announcing herself, which meant that she didn’t have much time to come up with… with a cover story, or a way to reverse the spell, or something. She briefly considered playing dead—she supposed she was still half-possum—and pretending to be a regular plushie, but she had started this whole endeavor in the name of honesty, and she supposed that would be how she finished it, too.

“Come in,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping. The door creaked open, and Sally gasped as she walked in, striped tail swishing behind her and head cocking to one side.

“Well, aren’t you cute!” she chuckled, walking over to where Eloise stood at her desk, looking up at her newly-rounded snout. “What in the hell happened?”

“I was…” Eloise hesitated. She crossed her arms and huffed. “I was trying to get ready for our date.”

“Well, hon, I’ve seen botched eyeliner, or, y’know a bad dye job—I’ve even seen some wardrobe malfunctions! But usually that involves tearing fabric, and not, uh, becoming it.”

“I suppose that my great talent lends itself to the extraordinary,” she blustered, trying to seem at least a little composed in all of this. “Even extraordinary failure.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t use the word failure! I wasn’t just poking fun when I said I thought you looked cute like this.”

“It’s not a total loss, then,” Eloise conceded. “Our date seems like it’s going to be a wash, though. Going out to dinner without a digestive system seems… ill-conceived.”

“Doesn’t have to be. A date can just be a cozy night in, too.” Ah. Of course she couldn’t get off the hook that easily.

“A-are you sure? I was rather hoping to wait out the effects of the spell and plan something with you another time—”

“Eloise, c’mon. Are you telling me that this isn’t the perfect opportunity to stay in and snuggle up?” She wanted to protest, but something about the way she said it was extremely compelling. Downright tempting, even. The part about snuggling? Was that because she was part plush toy? Did plush toys have cravings? She would have to dig further into this once she had returned to normal, but in the meantime—

“...That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Great!” Sally cried, already pulling off her coat. “Just show me to the bed and we can see what exactly you’re made of.”

And so Eloise did. She took up most of it even when she wasn’t a massive pillow-creature, but that wasn’t a problem for Sally. After Eloise had clambered up and rolled over to look back at her date, the raccoon climbed up after her, flopping onto the possum’s tummy and shuffling up to perch on top of her.

“I hope you don’t mind me getting comfy,” Sally rumbled in that husky voice of hers. Eloise, for her part, looked away, bashful, but trying as ever to seem cool and collected.

“You’re already in my bed on the first date. Why develop reservations now?”

“You’re right,” the raccoon cracked, “We already canceled our reservations when we decided not to go out.” The plushie turned her gaze back to Sally, whose snout was inches from hers. She tried to keep the eye contact cold, so as not to entertain the pun, but she broke first, snorting and sending the both of them into a fit of giggles.

The two of them spent the rest of the night getting even cozier with each other. Sally’s digits sank into Eloise’s memory-foam midsection; Eloise rolled over, smushing Sally like a weighted blanket; fluffy tail and chunky tail intertwined, the two of them looking for every place they could find to get a tiny bit closer to each other. By the time Sally awoke, Eloise was back to her full-possum, no-stuffing self, clinging to the raccoon as the two of them spooned.

“Oh,” she mumbled, groggily. “Have you been up long?” She wriggled around to face Eloise, once again bringing her masked eyes to meet the possum’s.

“Only a short while,” she replied.

“But you still could’ve gotten up without waking me? Had a good stretch after being squished in so many places, maybe gotten a bite to eat?”

“I suppose I could’ve. Why do you bring it up?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sally hummed. “It’s just, you seemed awfully eager to get rid of me last night so you could figure out how to deal with the whole… IKEAfication situation, and yet, you’re still in bed. It’s just a little funny—I think you’re just as cuddly normally as you are when you’re all plush out!”

“I simply didn’t want to disturb you,” Eloise countered, as coolly as she could. One of the great misfortunes of a flesh-and-blood body, though, was that that blood was liable to rush to the skin. Really, it made it quite a bit harder to seem as confident as she often sounded. The smile on Sally’s snout grew wider and wider, and Eloise began to feel the burning in her cheeks as she realized she’d been given away. As the raccoon started to laugh again, Eloise seized an advantage that hadn’t been lost in her reversion to her normal form: she could still smother the girl in her chest and spare herself the eye contact.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like a commission of your own, my prices are here; if you'd just like to see more of my work, check here!

[lostvoidling]

Tall is good [c]

Kobold's arent used to height- growing that fast must hurt a bit! For Majormooch! 

[squishybellies]

Spell of big lizard!! (tw for painful tf, image below)

[newgroundstier]

idiot baby kill credit fight

[raileurta]

Therapy Humans

After being in a war for millions of years transformers gotta be really fucked up. So I imagine with humans being nice and soft and having therapists that we'll be therapy dog humans.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 140

"What?" Geralt asks, frowning, a furrow in his brow. "I turn into a wolf every full moon." Jaskier repeats. "How-" "You were always away on a hunt. You'd just meet me back in the morning." "...You were a werewolf this whole time?" "..Yes. I- I'm sorry, Darling. I never wanted to lie." "Why didn't you trust me with this? Did you think I would hurt you?" "No! I thought I would hurt you. I'm not myself on full moons, Geralt. I can't even remember them. All I know is that the moon raises, i feel this ache in my bones, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up the next morning, nude, with a full stomach of what is HOPEFULLY nothing gross." "...You've not transformed in towns, have you?" "No! Of course not! I'm terrified of hurting someone, Geralt! That's the only reason I'm telling you now! I got the charts mixed up, I thought the moon was still a week away, but it isn't, and we're near a town, and I need you to keep me restrained." A long pause settles between them. "You want me to guard you?" "Guard them. From me. Keep me trapped in a shack and- And lock it up tight. Chain me, hurt me, knock me out, whatever you must do. Keep me from being a danger. I never wanted to be a terrifying beast, Geralt." Jaskier says, with those damned wet doe eyes of his. Geralt agrees. Because he doesn't know a world where he wouldn't. Mere hours later, Jaskier is sat against a beam in an old rundown barn. He's tied up with rope, and chained on top of that. There are no windows in the barn, the door is fully barricaded and locked, and Geralt guards it. "You really should guard it from outside" Jaskier had said. "I'm not leaving you to do this alone. You never should have had to." Geralt replied. Thus, Geralt stands and watches as Jaskier pales and starts twitching. The moon is rising. "It's coming- I'm going to be a beast." Jaskier says with fear, before the transformation takes the air out of his lungs. Geralt watches in horror and awe as Jaskier's body changes, changes, changes.... In... Into a songbird? sitting on the ground is a fat little songbird. It easily hops over the ropes and chains, now much too lose to hold it. Him. Oh my gods. Jaskier's not a werewolf. He's a... were.... werebird... And not even a scary one. Jaskier starts pecking the barn floor and Geralt rubs a hand over his face in exhaustion. He prepared for the worst, and instead is treated to watching Jaskier struggle to bathe in a trough. "Jaskier, it's too deep." He tells the bird, as it fluffs up it's wings. "Jaskier, you're going to-" Jaskier tries to take a step into the birdbath, only to fall, dunking his whole fat little body into the depths of the trough. He flails about in the water, chirping panickedly. Geralt rushes to his aid, gently lifting him out of the water with gentle hands. Perhaps guarding over Jaskier will still be a challenge after all.

[sc-02]

Yurifies your Breakbee

[nevertoomanyspiders]

concepts for some of Rumble's friends, yaaay.

[singingcicadas]

There's actual oceans on Cybertron. Rodion is a port.

[arcanethunder]

Trixie and Spikes prank didn't hit its intended target thanks to an unexpected duck from Twilight.

ATG Day 16: Draw a pony as another species/Draw a pony getting a new lease on life.

[vanillayoteart]

Meat Cravings

GRACE!! CMON.  Something for gracewolfing from my weekly streams!

[jades-typurriter]

Tiger Pox

This is a smaller one I did for fun after a friend of mine designed a cute tiger girl (and then another one, and then another one). Vee doesn't have an account that vee'd like tagged, so I'm going to credit the concept (and accompanying art) to Bowsiosaurus =3

CW: we tf into cute tiger girls yaaaayyyyy =^w^=

“So, the strategy that’s been getting more and more popular is to Terastalize one of your Pokemon into a Dragon-Type, and then have a Mold Breaker Haxorus use Dragon Cheer—”

“OHO,” yowled the ewe. “Because Mold Breaker lets the effect stack more than once, even when the target usually wouldn’t be affected!”

“Exactly!” replied the stout sea serpent. “The most common setup has been Gholdengo with Make It Rain.”

“Oh, okay,” Jade mumbled between bites of her street-corner hot dog. “Why is Gholdengo so strong, again?”

She and Bowsie had spent the afternoon trawling the displays of their town’s shopping plaza, and now leaned up against a building along the main thoroughfare to take a break before continuing. The impassioned, excited discussion about the finer points of the competitive metagame carried for a block or two in either direction, even rising above the crowd noise from the rest of the shoppers.

“Well, on top of being a Steel-Type, it’sssss… Um, it’s um…” Bowsie’s eyes seemed to unfocus as Jade listened. No, not unfocus—focus on something further behind her. She turned over her shoulder to look, and straightened up when she saw a shapely tiger woman strutting down the sidewalk toward the two of them. She towered over even Jade; the confident click, click, click, click of her high heels on the pavement were like a metronome, setting the pace of Jade’s tail as it swished like a cat preparing to pounce.

As Bowsie struggled to rediscover ver train of thought, head swiveling to follow the woman as she approached, Jade coyly waggled a paw up at her. She glanced their way, sending a cold, thrilling jolt through each of their chests, and briefly flashed her teeth at them. As she passed, her tail skimmed gently across both of their snouts, a clearly well-practiced tease to rile up what must have seemed, to her, as an adorably out-of-their-depth pair of spectators. Bowsie, of course, lost all hope of recovering ver composure; ver bouncy snout was a dark blue all over, and ver flippers shot up to cover ver eyes in an effort to hide how flustered vee was. Jade, on the other hand, interpreted the gesture as reciprocation of her flirty little greeting, and was about to call after the woman with a quip about “touching fluffy tail”.

Something stopped her, though—she suddenly felt warm, and it struck her as more than simply blushing. She tugged at her collar, cartoonishly “awooga” as it seemed, given the circumstances, and realized that it didn’t just feel tighter: her clothes were getting tighter. Her chest (which, admittedly, had always been mostly fluff) was starting to stretch out her top, so much so that it began to bare a little bit of her midriff. Her skirt began to ride up as her hips took up more and more of the room underneath.

She looked over at Bowsie, whose scales shimmered with a layer of sweat—except where they had been replaced by big, poofy patches of bright-orange fur! Vee was shooting up like a rocket, too. Before Jade’s eyes, vee went from a whole head shorter to nearly at eye level; something told her that the only reason she hadn’t been overtaken yet was that she had been subtly stretching skyward as well. The serpent’s tail stretched and thinned as the fur inched along its length, losing its characteristic, reptilian taper in favor of a uniform thickness and a round, soft-looking tip. The black stripes crisscrossing the islands of fur seemed to knit themselves together as they bridged the gap, everywhere except for ver stomach: just like before, it was a lighter color compared to the rest of ver.

Her attention was finally wrenched back from her companion as she heard buttons begin to pop and fabric begin to rrrRRRIP. She looked down and saw that the new gaps had revealed stripes of her own, her wooly fleece slowly straightening and stiffening into a dense layer of white fur that exploded out through her top’s once-respectable neckline. Her mane grew even less manageable than usual, fluffing up so much that it fell around her face as she examined herself; her hooves softened into round, blunt, padded paws, big enough to appropriately cushion her quickly-growing frame. As the last of her own stripes were freed from the tatters of her clothes, she looked out over the mountainous fluff of her chest to see her equally-well-endowed friend looking expectantly back at her, arms crossed in an affectionately-impatient little huff that accentuated her new assets.

“Oh, uh… I’m sorry, were you waiting for me?”

“You were wheeling again, Jade!” 

“M-my bad! I just got a little distracted, is all. It’s just…” She fiddled with her paws for a moment, looking down at the ground, before glancing furtively back up at her friend. “Do you think that pretty lady might’ve l-liked us?”

“Us?” Bowsie scoffed, tilting her chin up smugly. “Bestie, of course she liked us! We’re catches. I bet we could catch her if we left now, but honestly? I’m kinda hungry.” Jade glanced down at a discarded hot dog laying near her on the street. Not the kind of thing she would usually go for, but Bowsie had a point—they’d been walking around all day, after all!

“Do you think they have a pumpkin spice flavor at the bubble tea place?”

“I think I saw it on their sign!”

“Yaaaaayy!” the white tiger cheered quietly. “It’s my favorite… that’s why winter is my favorite time of year!”

“It’s your favorite time of year ‘cause you have all that fluff, girl! Not everybody’s as well-insulated as you. Makes it harder to spot you, too!”

“That part is a little comforting…”

“Well, I’m happy for you, but I love being easy to spot. Why do you think that girl was smiling at me before, huh?”

“Hush!” Jade giggled, playfully nudging the orange tiger’s shoulder. “You know how loud you are. She might hear you!”

“I hope so! Then I can invite her to the tea place with us!”

“So I can third wheel for the two of you?”

“Well, you’d better get walking if you don’t want me to take off and hunt her down! C’mon!”

TY for reading! Here's a little epilogue, as well as the designs on their own. If you're interested in more of my writing you can have a look here and here!'designs on their own. If you're interested in more of my writing you can have a look here and here!

[transingthoseformers]

I love human-cybertronian interactions that make one or both parties go "omg—they're just like us"

[paradimeart]

Would kup have gotten roped into having to watch one of the little orbbies? Like little rodimus? Or did he just get to sit back and laugh at ratchet and his rambunctious little guy.

ratchets on standby for training accidents (part of his agreement to be allowed to stay with omega) so he's met orbimus once or twice but has no idea what he's looking at. ratchet would rather explode than let anyone else alone with that thang

even before the war it wasn't really very common knowledge what protoforms actually looked like since they were so heavily guarded. and they still are. so no kup wouldn't babysit

[grimxark]

I know Cybertronians have a whole religion and stuff and everyone uses he/him but I would like to think that maybe they would use she/her for things they can’t explain as well.

I think they’d call space she or her. Because she’s desolate, but she’s also provided them sanctuary in a war that never ended, she was their way of transport for safety, and I think they might describe Space in much the same way one might describe the sea: Beautiful and full of life when you know where to look, but unforgiving and relentless. Cybertronians don’t die to space the same way an organic would, but I’d imagine it’s still cold and their bodies still need to undergo certain changes so they can handle the eerie quietness and the frigid cold and the nothingness. I think Cybertronians might describe a star or a supernova as she/her, too, and maybe even a ship they find dear to them. The Lost Light is a she, as is The Nemesis, as is the arc. These are concepts I always try to merge onto my fics but I think outright talking about them instead of putting it in a 2k word ramble is good, too. See if people share my vision