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Skips92 featuring him sprouting fur and feeling his fingers and toes getting webbed while he was swimming a bit. The place seemed quite chill, but there's definitely something in these waters...
Story by Skips92
Sacred Waters
"The sun was beating down hard that day. There wasn't any wind either to mitigate the direct, midday light either. The only respite Skips found from it was with the shadows of the trees he was walking by. Of course, that didn't help much either. It was one of those days the air felt like a thick, smothering blanket with all the humidity in the air.
Skips rested for a moment beneath a tree, and he wiped the sweat off his brow with his already sweat covered arm. He removed a water bottle from his hiking pack and took a long drink from it. Aside from him, the only sounds he heard were of the chirping birds and the godforsaken cicadas that would not shut their incessant noise making. Skips pulled out his phone and looked at it to see how much farther to the point he had marked. Nearly there. Which was good because his phone was nearly dead as well. So, he continued on his way.
Skips tried to remind himself why he was out in the middle of nowhere hiking to some mysterious spot in the woods. He was always encouraged to go out and experience the great outdoors, mainly by his brother but also his peers. A life indoors in front of a computer screen wasn't a healthy lifestyle they said, and he eventually gave in. He hated running, but he loved seeing new things, so he split the difference with hiking. And he loved swimming, so that's what he'd do. Hike to a nice swimming hole, take a swim to freshen up, hike back, call it a day.
This was his first major hike though. He wanted it to be a real destination. A place he'd never forget. So, he found one. This lake, out in the middle of nowhere. He had heard stories of it. Rumors. Some say it's a place never to go to. Others say it was a place people once went to get in touch with nature. Others still, sacred waters they called it. Whatever it was, though, all he knew for certain was that it was on no map. There were only stories. So he pieced the stories together, did a little research and investigating, and found the most likely spot for a lake to be. Skips kicked himself a bit for not consulting aerial photographs to confirm his thoughts, so he really hoped the lake was there. Not just because it would be a wasted hike in horribly humid conditions, but because he was really looking forward to that swim.
Skips checked his phone. The GPS said he should be there. Well, within the margin of error at least. But there was no lake to find. He sighed. Then his phone died. He sighed again. He looked around, but there was nothing indicating any lake or pond or any other body of water nearby. He was about to give up and call it a bust. He grunted loudly and slumped next to a tree, resting again. He didn't want to hike back defeated. He came out all this way hot, muggy weather to attempt to connect with nature. Is that not what everyone wanted him to do? Go outside, connect with things offline, get in touch with nature, be healthy god damn it. But he supposed he couldn't force nature to put a lake where there wasn't one. Perhaps he should have stuck with more traditional hikes on well-known paths than plotting one out on his own. He just wanted it to be unique and memorable, though
He was about to leave, when he suddenly heard sounds that weren't bird songs or cicada noises. It was...a squeak? Skips turned to look, and he blinked. Standing over by a bunch of trees was a single otter. But, if there were otters...then perhaps there was a lake or river or something after all! The little thing darted in one direction, but Skips quickly followed. Perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough. Perhaps it was hidden. He followed the otter, or where he thought it were going. He wasn't quite sure. The woods were getting thicker, and he didn't quite know where he was going. But he began to see a clearing through the trees. Maybe it was there just there.
He was about to run into the clearing when at the last moment, he noticed there was no ground, and he quickly grabbed hold of one of trees before running off the edge. However, he was too much in awe to care about his near death. The lake was real, and it was a sight. He felt for the first time that day a cool breeze blowing. He leaned from the tree, still hanging on and looked. The lake was right below him from what looked like a 15 foot drop. And it was a big lake. Big enough to even have some wave action. The water was clear, and the surface glistened in the sun, and with the waves it was like a thousand points of light flashing into existence for a moment before dying and being replaced a light just as brilliant right next to it. He saw a number of rocks jutting out of the water, groups of otters here and there. Lots of fish in the water and plants swaying beneath the surface. Other assortments of life were scattered throughout. He could even see what may be caves in the water, worth exploring if he had scuba equipment. What there wasn't here, though, was other people. He was amazed by that. This lake would have been brimming with people had it just been on a map. Cave divers, swimmers, campers, hikers, fishers, etc. He couldn't understand why it wasn't. The place was perfect, though. Untouched. He saw a shore nearby, and he made his way there.
Soon enough, Skips had set his pack down with his things, changed out of his sweat drenched hiking clothes, kicked off his shoes and socks, and put on some swim shorts. The breeze blew, evaporating some seat on his body, and it felt cool, even in the hot sun and humidity. He waded into the water, and it was refreshingly cold. There must have been a spring feeding it. He let his body float, and he felt the water relaxing him. He looked around, taking in the sight from the water's surface. There was something about the lake, the woods in the immediate area. Maybe it was the lack of any signs of civilization nearby, or the fact that the wildlife seemed oddly content with his presence and not at all concerned, but he could perhaps see what would make people think it was some sort of sacred water. Anyone who came here must have been in awe, just like him.
He took in the sound of the place. The waves splashing against rocks. The occasional fish jumping out of the water. The otters swimming here and there. Even the god damn cicadas were peaceful here. He dived down and looked around, seeing the plants sway in the water, the fish swimming about. He turned, and he almost gasped. Right there in front of his face was an otter. Not at all scared of him. They stared at each other. Was this the one that showed him the lake? Skips wanted to thank him, as silly as that sound. But that otter truly saved the day by showing him the way. It was like the otter gifted him the experience. The otter continued staring. A thought entered Skips's mind. Did the otter want to show him the lake? Couldn't be. But he couldn't shake the thought.
Against his better judgement, he tried to reach out for the otter. Instead of swimming away like Skips expected, the otter nuzzled up against his hand. Beneath the water, Skips let out a small laugh. Air bubbles danced their way to the surface. The otter's fur felt oddly tingling in his hand. The otter then swam around him, brushing against his legs, his shoulder, and right up in front of his face where, he swore to God, that otter booped him on the nose. Skips practically gasped. The otter squeaked and darted away.
Skips floated there in astonishment. There was no way a random otter would be so friendly to a random human. That's just not what wild animals were supposed to do. Was this the whole "get in touch with nature" thing people were talking about when he heard stories about the lake? He clenched and relaxed the hand the otter nuzzled. He idly thought about he still felt the tingle, like as if his hand were asleep. The sensation was there and all the spots the otter touched him. However, what was more important was getting back to the surface. He just remembered he needed air, and the otter had nearly made him forget somehow. He swam up and gasped a bit for air, and held onto a nearby rock.
That experience alone had been worth the whole hike to the lake, but he wasn't sure what to make of it. It didn't make sense. As he thought about it for a few moments. He looked to the shore, and saw a large group of otters, including the one that had been to him staring at him beneath the surface. That was definitely odd. He began feeling a bit uncomfortable in his gut. He wasn't sure why. The wind was picking up as well. And cicadas grew silent. Most odd of all however, was that the tingling didn't go away. In fact, he realized it was spreading, and became more of a burning feeling. His whole lower body burned, as did his hand, his chest, face, and shoulder. He was breathing heavily at that point.
Was he allergic to otters? No. Could someone even be allergic to otters? He didn’t know. Something in the water? But why those spots where the otter touched specifically. Perhaps something on the otter. He took his gaze off the otters, to look at his hand, and his eyes widened in horror. That burning was not some allergic reaction. It was fur growing. His hand had somehow in the past few minutes become covered in brown fur. Not just that, but his nails had reshaped into claws, and the space between his fingers now had skin, which he realized to his shock, was just like the webbing of an otter's paws. Skips gulped and felt his chest. Fur. He felt his face, and he realized the burning feeling was masking any sort of sensation of his face pushing out into an otter like muzzle. He looked down into the clear water; saw fur had already completely covered his legs. Not just that, but his feet weren't even human anymore. They had begun growing longer, becoming paws.
There was one feeling, though, the burning couldn't mask. His spine began growing. It hurt, but not nearly as much as he was expecting. Perhaps it was the shock or adrenaline making it bearable. But a thick and fur covered tail was pushing from the base of his spine, pushing his swim shorts down. Skips panicked and tried to climb onto the rock frantically, but the changes progressed. The wind blew stronger, and all the otters in the area began squeaking a cacophony to rival that of the now silent cicadas. He lay on the rock, practically crying, but there was no use yelling out for help. There were no other humans nearby. And with a sad thought, he realized that including himself, there would soon be zero humans at all in the area.
He watched, unable to do anything, as the fur spread up his arm and over his other arm. His other hand grew webbing and fur and claws as well. He felt the fur cover the entirety of his face, and he saw his otter like nose and muzzle just poking out in the middle of the bottom of his vision. The fur covered every patch of skin on him. He didn't want to look to see what changed beneath his shorts, but it probably wasn’t good. He felt the fur pressing against the shorts, and his tail continuing to grow.
He laid on the rock, silently crying, expecting soon even his mind would be changed to be rid of his humanity as well. He expected to start shrinking, lose his thumbs, and just become a wild animal indistinguishable from any other otter in the lake. Skips would be gone. Only a clueless otter left behind. But as he lay on the rock, expecting the worst, it never came. Minutes passed, and soon, he realized the burning was gone. It had faded back to tingling, but it too was gone as well. The wind had died down, and the cicadas resumed their song. Skips looked about, and the otters dispersed, gone back to their normal routine. But a quick looked at his hand vanished any hope that it was a horrible hallucination. The changes remained, but despite it all, his hand was still a hand. Just, furrier and webbed. He was still human sized even, and his shorts would have still fit if it weren't for the tail. He attempted to stand up on the rock. It was a shaky experience at first, because of his changed feet, but he managed to stand up on two legs, his new tail handing behind him, and the wind blowing through his wet fur. He still felt mostly human, even though he looked nothing like one.
The otter from before jumped up onto the rock and was squeaking in a way Skips somehow could tell was in a happy manner, and the otter nuzzled Skips's leg. Skips sat down, and he pet the little guy who seemed to like it. The sun was still high in the sky, and the air was still thick and hot, even if the breeze made it bearable, though his new fur felt like wearing a heavy jacket in July. He knew somehow the little otter did this, or perhaps it was the lake. Or perhaps the combination of the two. Perhaps getting in touch with nature here was meant to be literal. And perhaps that's what made it a sacred lake. Skips didn't know how this would impact his life, if he could ever go back to his old life at all now. He wasn’t sure if the lake had any more surprises in store for him, or if the changes were to fill some purpose, or if there was no purpose at all. But he got what he wanted, a unique and memorable experience. He pet the otter some more, trying not to let worry creep into his mind. For now, he'd do his best to enjoy his day as some odd otter man at the lake. He can worry about the future later. For now, though, he figured this otter's gift was meant to be explored. And so, he jumped back into the lake, and he swam."
===
Illustration done with Promarkers on A5 paper (14.8*21 cm)
Hope you'll enjoy this little one!
Skips92 featuring him sprouting fur and feeling his fingers and toes getting webbed while he was swimming a bit. The place seemed quite chill, but there's definitely something in these waters...Story by Skips92
Sacred Waters
"The sun was beating down hard that day. There wasn't any wind either to mitigate the direct, midday light either. The only respite Skips found from it was with the shadows of the trees he was walking by. Of course, that didn't help much either. It was one of those days the air felt like a thick, smothering blanket with all the humidity in the air.
Skips rested for a moment beneath a tree, and he wiped the sweat off his brow with his already sweat covered arm. He removed a water bottle from his hiking pack and took a long drink from it. Aside from him, the only sounds he heard were of the chirping birds and the godforsaken cicadas that would not shut their incessant noise making. Skips pulled out his phone and looked at it to see how much farther to the point he had marked. Nearly there. Which was good because his phone was nearly dead as well. So, he continued on his way.
Skips tried to remind himself why he was out in the middle of nowhere hiking to some mysterious spot in the woods. He was always encouraged to go out and experience the great outdoors, mainly by his brother but also his peers. A life indoors in front of a computer screen wasn't a healthy lifestyle they said, and he eventually gave in. He hated running, but he loved seeing new things, so he split the difference with hiking. And he loved swimming, so that's what he'd do. Hike to a nice swimming hole, take a swim to freshen up, hike back, call it a day.
This was his first major hike though. He wanted it to be a real destination. A place he'd never forget. So, he found one. This lake, out in the middle of nowhere. He had heard stories of it. Rumors. Some say it's a place never to go to. Others say it was a place people once went to get in touch with nature. Others still, sacred waters they called it. Whatever it was, though, all he knew for certain was that it was on no map. There were only stories. So he pieced the stories together, did a little research and investigating, and found the most likely spot for a lake to be. Skips kicked himself a bit for not consulting aerial photographs to confirm his thoughts, so he really hoped the lake was there. Not just because it would be a wasted hike in horribly humid conditions, but because he was really looking forward to that swim.
Skips checked his phone. The GPS said he should be there. Well, within the margin of error at least. But there was no lake to find. He sighed. Then his phone died. He sighed again. He looked around, but there was nothing indicating any lake or pond or any other body of water nearby. He was about to give up and call it a bust. He grunted loudly and slumped next to a tree, resting again. He didn't want to hike back defeated. He came out all this way hot, muggy weather to attempt to connect with nature. Is that not what everyone wanted him to do? Go outside, connect with things offline, get in touch with nature, be healthy god damn it. But he supposed he couldn't force nature to put a lake where there wasn't one. Perhaps he should have stuck with more traditional hikes on well-known paths than plotting one out on his own. He just wanted it to be unique and memorable, though
He was about to leave, when he suddenly heard sounds that weren't bird songs or cicada noises. It was...a squeak? Skips turned to look, and he blinked. Standing over by a bunch of trees was a single otter. But, if there were otters...then perhaps there was a lake or river or something after all! The little thing darted in one direction, but Skips quickly followed. Perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough. Perhaps it was hidden. He followed the otter, or where he thought it were going. He wasn't quite sure. The woods were getting thicker, and he didn't quite know where he was going. But he began to see a clearing through the trees. Maybe it was there just there.
He was about to run into the clearing when at the last moment, he noticed there was no ground, and he quickly grabbed hold of one of trees before running off the edge. However, he was too much in awe to care about his near death. The lake was real, and it was a sight. He felt for the first time that day a cool breeze blowing. He leaned from the tree, still hanging on and looked. The lake was right below him from what looked like a 15 foot drop. And it was a big lake. Big enough to even have some wave action. The water was clear, and the surface glistened in the sun, and with the waves it was like a thousand points of light flashing into existence for a moment before dying and being replaced a light just as brilliant right next to it. He saw a number of rocks jutting out of the water, groups of otters here and there. Lots of fish in the water and plants swaying beneath the surface. Other assortments of life were scattered throughout. He could even see what may be caves in the water, worth exploring if he had scuba equipment. What there wasn't here, though, was other people. He was amazed by that. This lake would have been brimming with people had it just been on a map. Cave divers, swimmers, campers, hikers, fishers, etc. He couldn't understand why it wasn't. The place was perfect, though. Untouched. He saw a shore nearby, and he made his way there.
Soon enough, Skips had set his pack down with his things, changed out of his sweat drenched hiking clothes, kicked off his shoes and socks, and put on some swim shorts. The breeze blew, evaporating some seat on his body, and it felt cool, even in the hot sun and humidity. He waded into the water, and it was refreshingly cold. There must have been a spring feeding it. He let his body float, and he felt the water relaxing him. He looked around, taking in the sight from the water's surface. There was something about the lake, the woods in the immediate area. Maybe it was the lack of any signs of civilization nearby, or the fact that the wildlife seemed oddly content with his presence and not at all concerned, but he could perhaps see what would make people think it was some sort of sacred water. Anyone who came here must have been in awe, just like him.
He took in the sound of the place. The waves splashing against rocks. The occasional fish jumping out of the water. The otters swimming here and there. Even the god damn cicadas were peaceful here. He dived down and looked around, seeing the plants sway in the water, the fish swimming about. He turned, and he almost gasped. Right there in front of his face was an otter. Not at all scared of him. They stared at each other. Was this the one that showed him the lake? Skips wanted to thank him, as silly as that sound. But that otter truly saved the day by showing him the way. It was like the otter gifted him the experience. The otter continued staring. A thought entered Skips's mind. Did the otter want to show him the lake? Couldn't be. But he couldn't shake the thought.
Against his better judgement, he tried to reach out for the otter. Instead of swimming away like Skips expected, the otter nuzzled up against his hand. Beneath the water, Skips let out a small laugh. Air bubbles danced their way to the surface. The otter's fur felt oddly tingling in his hand. The otter then swam around him, brushing against his legs, his shoulder, and right up in front of his face where, he swore to God, that otter booped him on the nose. Skips practically gasped. The otter squeaked and darted away.
Skips floated there in astonishment. There was no way a random otter would be so friendly to a random human. That's just not what wild animals were supposed to do. Was this the whole "get in touch with nature" thing people were talking about when he heard stories about the lake? He clenched and relaxed the hand the otter nuzzled. He idly thought about he still felt the tingle, like as if his hand were asleep. The sensation was there and all the spots the otter touched him. However, what was more important was getting back to the surface. He just remembered he needed air, and the otter had nearly made him forget somehow. He swam up and gasped a bit for air, and held onto a nearby rock.
That experience alone had been worth the whole hike to the lake, but he wasn't sure what to make of it. It didn't make sense. As he thought about it for a few moments. He looked to the shore, and saw a large group of otters, including the one that had been to him staring at him beneath the surface. That was definitely odd. He began feeling a bit uncomfortable in his gut. He wasn't sure why. The wind was picking up as well. And cicadas grew silent. Most odd of all however, was that the tingling didn't go away. In fact, he realized it was spreading, and became more of a burning feeling. His whole lower body burned, as did his hand, his chest, face, and shoulder. He was breathing heavily at that point.
Was he allergic to otters? No. Could someone even be allergic to otters? He didn’t know. Something in the water? But why those spots where the otter touched specifically. Perhaps something on the otter. He took his gaze off the otters, to look at his hand, and his eyes widened in horror. That burning was not some allergic reaction. It was fur growing. His hand had somehow in the past few minutes become covered in brown fur. Not just that, but his nails had reshaped into claws, and the space between his fingers now had skin, which he realized to his shock, was just like the webbing of an otter's paws. Skips gulped and felt his chest. Fur. He felt his face, and he realized the burning feeling was masking any sort of sensation of his face pushing out into an otter like muzzle. He looked down into the clear water; saw fur had already completely covered his legs. Not just that, but his feet weren't even human anymore. They had begun growing longer, becoming paws.
There was one feeling, though, the burning couldn't mask. His spine began growing. It hurt, but not nearly as much as he was expecting. Perhaps it was the shock or adrenaline making it bearable. But a thick and fur covered tail was pushing from the base of his spine, pushing his swim shorts down. Skips panicked and tried to climb onto the rock frantically, but the changes progressed. The wind blew stronger, and all the otters in the area began squeaking a cacophony to rival that of the now silent cicadas. He lay on the rock, practically crying, but there was no use yelling out for help. There were no other humans nearby. And with a sad thought, he realized that including himself, there would soon be zero humans at all in the area.
He watched, unable to do anything, as the fur spread up his arm and over his other arm. His other hand grew webbing and fur and claws as well. He felt the fur cover the entirety of his face, and he saw his otter like nose and muzzle just poking out in the middle of the bottom of his vision. The fur covered every patch of skin on him. He didn't want to look to see what changed beneath his shorts, but it probably wasn’t good. He felt the fur pressing against the shorts, and his tail continuing to grow.
He laid on the rock, silently crying, expecting soon even his mind would be changed to be rid of his humanity as well. He expected to start shrinking, lose his thumbs, and just become a wild animal indistinguishable from any other otter in the lake. Skips would be gone. Only a clueless otter left behind. But as he lay on the rock, expecting the worst, it never came. Minutes passed, and soon, he realized the burning was gone. It had faded back to tingling, but it too was gone as well. The wind had died down, and the cicadas resumed their song. Skips looked about, and the otters dispersed, gone back to their normal routine. But a quick looked at his hand vanished any hope that it was a horrible hallucination. The changes remained, but despite it all, his hand was still a hand. Just, furrier and webbed. He was still human sized even, and his shorts would have still fit if it weren't for the tail. He attempted to stand up on the rock. It was a shaky experience at first, because of his changed feet, but he managed to stand up on two legs, his new tail handing behind him, and the wind blowing through his wet fur. He still felt mostly human, even though he looked nothing like one.
The otter from before jumped up onto the rock and was squeaking in a way Skips somehow could tell was in a happy manner, and the otter nuzzled Skips's leg. Skips sat down, and he pet the little guy who seemed to like it. The sun was still high in the sky, and the air was still thick and hot, even if the breeze made it bearable, though his new fur felt like wearing a heavy jacket in July. He knew somehow the little otter did this, or perhaps it was the lake. Or perhaps the combination of the two. Perhaps getting in touch with nature here was meant to be literal. And perhaps that's what made it a sacred lake. Skips didn't know how this would impact his life, if he could ever go back to his old life at all now. He wasn’t sure if the lake had any more surprises in store for him, or if the changes were to fill some purpose, or if there was no purpose at all. But he got what he wanted, a unique and memorable experience. He pet the otter some more, trying not to let worry creep into his mind. For now, he'd do his best to enjoy his day as some odd otter man at the lake. He can worry about the future later. For now, though, he figured this otter's gift was meant to be explored. And so, he jumped back into the lake, and he swam."
===
Illustration done with Promarkers on A5 paper (14.8*21 cm)
Hope you'll enjoy this little one!
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Transformation
Species Otter
Size 900 x 1279px
File Size 1.48 MB
Listed in Folders
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