Hey there, below I'm pasting a little short story I wrote to set the tone of the game I'm writing. The development of this game can be followed over in the transformation games section. This story just provides a little taste of what the game entails.

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Welcome to the Empire
By Aadder

Boen gave a mighty tug and his weapon came free of his quarry’s skull. Small flecks of bone fell from the head of the hammer, slicked with the sheen of blood and brain matter. Falling back on his rear, he panted with exertion, removing his helmet and laying it next to him. Glancing around, he held perfectly still for a moment, listening for other life. Satisfied he was alone, he removed his boots, sighing with contentment as the cool air tickled his damp feet. “Well that was work,” he said to himself, eyeing the dead beast before him. He had never seen such a creature before, and he hoped not to see one again for a long time. Boen winced as he reached under his breastplate, touching the no-doubt bruised ribs where the monster’s paw had batted at his side. Fortunately the sharp claws had failed to catch, and apart from some deep scratches across the armor’s fluted surface, he was unscathed.

He looked around, but the mist seemed to have departed, giving him no clear indication of where he had come from. Not a minute ago he had been wandering the wilds between villages, searching for the hide of an animal to trade for food and lodgings for the next day. Stepping into an unusually misty valley, ordinarily clear and dry, he had stumbled across a lose stone and landed face-first into the base of a tree he didn’t recognize and was soon set-upon by the creature that now lay dead at his feet.

As he retrieved a cloth and began to clean the muck from the business end of his weapon, the soldier-turned-mercenary examined the creature in earnest. The monster he had just managed to slay resembled a bear in some respects, but was no doubt not an ursine creature. Though thick black hairs clung to his armor where he had brushed against it, the foe’s head and spine were covered in long, cream-colored feathers, and its head was fully avian in design. A large cruel beak formed the monster’s mouth, continuing into a head that resembled an eagle, even after Boen’s makeshift brain surgery. “The hell are you…” he muttered, yanking out a feather and stowing it in his pack. He examined the creature’s hind legs, which were far and away thinner than its front limbs, but still terminated in heavy, bear-like paws. Boen raised an eyebrow. He was in a clearing after all, and seemingly alone. I wonder how you taste, he though, contemplating if he had enough spices remaining to cook a sizeable portion of the beast.

Before he could retrieve his knapsack of salts and seasonings, however, Boen froze at the familiar clop-clack-clop-clack of a horse-drawn wagon. With practiced silence he slid his boots on, grabbing his helmet as he slid through the brush towards the sound. After a minute of careful treading, he came within ten yards of a gravel road. Several dozen feet down the road was a wagon, pulled by what he estimated to be four horses. The wagon proper was covered by a large, multi-colored cloth structure extended to fanciful points here and there. Boen threaded his way back into the wood, leaping to and from areas of short grasses and moss to travel as silently as possible. After a few minutes he had caught-up to the slow-moving wagon, and walking silently in pace with it sized-up his target.

At the front were seated two women, he guessed. One was human for certain, but the closer being sported a face that was animal-like, almost canine in design. Reddish fur covered a face that extended into a long snout, terminating in a black nose. Small, pointed ears poked out from a thin hood pulled up from her dress. Boen stared, puzzled. The woman next to the strange creature appeared to be pregnant, but he couldn’t be certain from the cover of the woods. Both were wearing adorned dresses, glinting metal objects around their waists glinting with each bump of the wagon’s travel. Over their shoulders both wore short traveling coats to keep out the cold, where were trimmed with fine lace. Boen smiled. He was undecided to ask for directions before, but seeing the affluence of these drivers he thanked his good fortune for finding a prime set of wealthy persons to rob.

Sara and Dena felts their hearts skip a beat as a thunderous crack split the routine sounds of travel and caused the wagon to shake violently. Sara pulled on the reigns, stopping the horses. She turned to Dena, her canine ears pricked-up and fur bristled. “Did we run-over something?” Dena frowned. “I didn’t see anything on the road; let’s check it out.” Sara nodded and leapt down to the left, Dena to the right, clutching he swollen abdomen gently as she did so. “Fuck it, something broke the… wheel…” Dena announced, confused as she approached the rear of the wagon. The rear wheel had two spokes shattered, splints littering the ground behind it. As she stepped forwards, Boen peeled around the corner of the stopped vehicle, hefting his sledgehammer. “Good day sweetheart. Hurry back here, if you don’t mind.”

Dena paused mid-stride. She watched as Boen spun his hammer in his hand, rotating the head as he tapped his foot. “C’mon sweetheart, don’t make me run you down; I can run a lot faster than you think, even without your encumbrance,” he said, gesturing to Dena’s stomach. Sara’s voice echoed from the rear of the wagon, somewhere out of sight. “Dena be a dear and hurry up would you?” Dena screwed her jaw shut as Boen stepped further towards her, his left hand grasping Sara’s wrist. “His hand’s rather rough,” the orange-furred woman said matter-of-factly. Dena felt her heart pounding in her chest as she clopped towards the two, towards the rear of the wagon. No matter how many times you face danger… she thought to herself.

Dena arrived five feet away from Boen and Sara. Her hair was on end, and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Boen smiled and lowered his weapon a bit. “Excellent.” He pushed Sara to the ground behind him. “Now take a seat next to your furry compatriot while I examine your wares,” he gestured to a spot on the road next to Sara, who was frowning as she rubbed her behind. Dena slowly knelt down, her hand twitching as she watched Boen’s hammer. She looked quickly to the side. “So did you hurt your ass?” she asked of Sara. The red-furred woman paused, her fur rising a bit higher with slight embarrassment. “No…” Boen chuckled, turning. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” the man said, grasping the cloth at the rear of the cabin. “By the way,” he wondered aloud, “what –are- you?” he looked briefly at Sara. “I mean the fur, the…. Whatever, we’ll get to that later. For now, where are we….” He trailed off as he yanked the cloth draping away.

Boen immediately blinked and coughed at the powerful smell radiating from the wagon’s rear. The pungent musk of sex, magnified by the heat of the sun overhead, was so overpowering that he staggered, more in surprise than discomfort. “Good God what the…!” Boen exclaimed as he shook his head. As he stepped backwards he saw piles and piles of blankets in various states of organization, flanked by several shelves filled with jars, bottles, and what were obviously sex aides. Dena wasted no time in rolling away as fast as she could with her encumbered form. Sara stuck out her leg, and true to comic potential, Boen tripped over it as he backpedaled. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed as he toppled, landing on his left arm with a crash, his armor bruising him painfully.

The women wasted no time, and had righted themselves as Boen fell. Both women faced them, and an eerie wind rustled the nearby foliage for a moment before the world around Boen shifted. Yellow sparks emanated from Dena’s left hand, falling as though from a burning powder wick around her. With a twist of her hand and a pointed stare at Boen, the sparks disappeared. Boen stared agape for a half-a-second before a warm, itching feeling struck him beneath his genitals. He shifted, but was forced to drop his weapon as the feeling became unbearable. His hands flew to his crotch as he patted his balls and shifted the forward, grasping at the space behind them. As quickly as the feeling had started, it had left however, leaving him with a much more tender patch of flesh beneath his breeches. He quickly stared back at Dena, who was now frowning with concentration while a red halo of light ringed her right arm. “What the hell is going on?!” Boen screeched. Sara watched and smirked, removing her jacket.

The red light from Dena’s right arm flowed towards, Boen, encircling his waist. He ground his teeth as he felt his cock growing erect, and the patch of skin behind his scrotum heating up warmer and warmer. He pants felt increasingly close, and looking down he watched, thoroughly confused, as his pants swelled larger before finally shredding at the seam. A small droplet of drool from his Boen’s open mouth fell to his lap, where beneath his male genitals a massive vagina had grown. Boen’s attention was drawn to Sara as a similar ripping sound came from her direction. Red beams of light issued form points across her right arm as it split its sleeve. Her furred deltoid expanded first, bugling into a wide mass that significantly extending her profile.

Her reddish fur was more sparse on her biceps, coracobrachialis and triceps which expanded next, pencil-thick veins bulging to the surface of the skin. Sara flexed her arm as the spell worked further, expanding her brachialis and brachioradialis as she flexed her massive bicep. By the time the magic had fully engorged the innumerable muscles of her hairless forearm, her entire right limb looked right at home on a titanic body-builder. Her knuckles cracked menacingly as she flexed her hand and rolled her shoulder joint. Boen struggled to his feet, grasping for his hammer. Sara had slipped out of her light shoes, bouncing back and forth now on the balls of her feet.

Boen’s eyes tracked back to Dena, who had now removed her skirt, revealing that she was not pregnant at all, but possessed, rather, or a bovine udder, matching the hooved legs she stood upon. Stranger still, Boen saw, was beneath this gland hung a massive penis, which slowly grew erect as he watched, an unfamiliar warm response forming in his new feminine folds. Boen’s gaze shifted from the bovine hermaphrodite to the monstrous canine, beads of sweat rolling down his brow onto his chest, his vagina forcing him to stand in a wide stance lest his thighs compress the swollen sex. “I don’t know what backwater hamlet in Zeal you wandered in from,” Sara announced as she strode forward, “but this is the Empire of the Opal.”