I've been a horrible rut, most likely caused by some very emotionally racking experiences that have occured lately. I've been so uninspired by everything and to the point where I can sit in a room and not have a thought go through my head for hours. So, I figured I'd just write a very random transformation story and here's the product. Enjoy!

I slowly pull my motorcycle to a stop outside this juke joint bar alongside the road. I stop here because there aren’t many vehicles sitting in the stone parking lot. I put out the kickstand and tiredly dismount the heavy Harley. I pull the key from the ignition and drop it into my coat pocket.
I then tiredly put my hands deep into my pocket and stumble towards the front door of the bar. As I near the bar, I look around, to the cars that are sitting before the bar. None of them look very odd, save for an expensive-looking Mercedes-Benz. That’s a bit odd, considering what it’s sitting in front of. But, whatever. Even the rich need to drink cheap beer on occasion.
I shrug and turn away. I step up to the front door of the bar and push open the door. I step into a darkened foyer between the front door and the bar itself. I see the bar before me and slowly begin forward. As I pass through the foyer, I pass by a business-looking man leaning over a payphone.
I swear he stops talking as I pass him by, but, whatever. I step through the dark foyer and into the bar itself. I hear southern rock playing from an old jukebox in the corner. Only one other person sits at the bar. Other than him, I, the businessman and the bartender are the only people here.
I slowly walk into the bar area and take a seat at the bar. I notice the bartender looks up at me as I seat myself down on a stool at the end of the bar counter. He slowly begins to move my way as I put my arms up onto the counter. I look up to him and slowly reach into my pocket with my left hand.
As I pull out a pack of Marlboros, the bartender stops before me. I pop a cigarette from the pack and then take it out. Putting the pack back, I put the cigarette into my mouth and look to the bartender, who patiently waits for me to look to him.
“What’ll it be?” He asks.
“I don’t give a shit.” I say. “A beer, draft, in a pint glass, with a head.”
“Budweiser it is, then.” The bartender replies.
The bartender turns around and goes to fill a pint glass. I shake my head and look downwards as I dig around my coat pocket for a lighter. I fumble around pockets several times as I search for the lighter. I hear a phone being hung up and then footsteps coming my way. I don’t bother looking up, knowing that it’s the businessman from within the foyer.
As I continue to search for my lighter, I hear the footsteps approach me. Then I hear the footsteps stop just to my left. I continue to search until I do not hear the footsteps resume. I then slowly lift my head up and look across the bar. Then I turn and glance around. I see the businessman standing behind me.
He smiles and turns his body towards me. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a golden lighter. He flips it out and lights it up. I take my cigarette from my lips and light it. I then return it to my lips and take a puff before holding it before my body. He folds the lighter and puts it away.
“Thanks.” I say.
“Don’t mention it.” He says.
I hear the bartender return with my drink and turn my body back around. Putting my hands on the counter, I wait for the bartender to give me my drink. He slowly places it down onto the countertop, trying not to spill the beer everywhere. When it is finally down, I put my hands around it.
Although, I do not immediately lift it to my lips. I feel the presence of the businessman still behind me. I glance around and see him standing behind me, still smiling, as if waiting for something. I look to him and look him over, incase he’s going to rob me.
He seems to be a middle-aged man, about the age of forty-five, give or take two or three years. His hair is cut short, sort of like Charlie Sheen’s hair. He dresses in a full suit decorated with pinstripping and complimented with a red tie. His face seems old and his forehead seems a bit out of proportion to the rest of his head.
“Can I help you?” I ask with a tone that makes it sound like I’m offended.
“I’m sorry for standing here like this, but, is that your Harley Sportster out there?” The man asks.
“Yeah, it is.” I say.
“Well, I think that it’s being stolen.” He says.
“What?” I demand.
I quickly jump from the stool and run through the bar, almost pulling the stool onto the floor and almost knocking the beer onto the floor. I rush through the foyer and slam into the swinging door. I push it outwards and quickly rush into the light. I turn to the right and look to where I’ve parked my bike.
I stop and see that my bike is still there and that there isn’t even anybody around. I look to it and wonder what’s going on. I look around the parking lot for anybody that could possibly steal my motorcycle, but there are only three cars and my motorcycle parked in the parking lot.
Apparently nothing’s wrong. I turn around and slowly push the swinging door inwards. I walk into the bar, a bit angry, a bit relieved. I walk through the bar and towards my stool, beside the one that the businessman has chosen to sit in. I walk to the stool and seat myself, but not without turning towards the businessman.
“What the hell?” I ask.
“Excuse me?” He asks.
“You said my bike was being stolen.” I say.
“It’s not?” He asks, obviously faking being confused.
“No.” I say angrily.
“Well, my mistake.” He says. “Here, let me make it up to you. You dropped your cigarette on your way out. I have this cigar here, an expensive one smuggled through Mexico from Cuba. Maybe you’ll take it as an apology.”
He pulls a metal tin from his suit pocket and opens it up. He takes a fat cigar from inside and closes the tin before putting it away. He offers me the cigar. I look it over and look up to him. I calm myself down and loosen the fists I have involuntarily produced. I take the cigar and put it to my lips.
The businessman produces his lighter once more and lights it up. I take a puff and then lean away, calmed. I take the cigar from my lips and sigh happily. I put the cigar into a plastic tray and then lift the beer to my lips. I look to the head and see that it’s already disappeared. Beautiful.
Even so, I suck down half of the beer in one gulp. When I put the beer down, I look down into the bottom. I notice little bubbles coming up from the bottom of the pint glass, but from what? I don’t know. I don’t really care. I’ve been riding for hours and I just don’t care.
I suck down the rest of the beer and then lean forward, sighing every so often, contented. I finish off the cigar quickly, never having a cigar before, and relax as I listen to music playing from the jukebox. I don’t drink anymore. I’ve never been a big drinker. I close my eyes and look to the counter.
“Where you from?” I hear the businessman ask.
What is his fascination with me?
“Pittsburgh.” I reply.
“Pennsylvania?” He asks.
“Yeah.” I say and open up my eyes.
“What are you doing all the way out in Iowa?” He asks.
“Riding.” I say. “I need to just do it. Just ride to the coast. Been talking about doing it and now I’m doing it. I guess I just need to find myself, you know?”
The businessman chuckles.
“I’ve always wanted to do that, but, I can barely drive, let alone ride a motorcycle.” He says.
“Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing out here in that Mercedes-Benz?” I ask.
“Just looking.” He says.
“For what?” I ask.
“People.” He replies.
“You watch too much television.” I say. “Not ever bar has a hot woman with double—”
I quickly stop. I feel a sudden pain in my stomach. I grit my teeth and look down into the wood. Suddenly I cannot focus on anything but the pain in my gut. I gasp for air and look down into the countertop. When I feel a horrid pain rush through my entire abdomen, I jump to my feet and push over my stool. I then stumble backwards and stand in the middle of the room.
“Who said I was looking for women?” The businessman asks with an evil tone.
The pain grips my body and shakes me back and forth. Sweat begins to pour from every pore on my body. Something odd happens, something begins to . . . to grow on me. I quickly tear open my tan jacket and then undo my button-up shirt. As I pull open my shirt, I see something horrible: white, brown and black fur beginning to grow on my body.
It begins to spread over my entire chest and body. I gasp for air and then drop to my knees. I throw my hands up in front of my face as I feel something happening to my hands. My skin on my palms and at the end of my fingers begins to turn black and grow, like calluses.
I scream in pain as claws begin to grow from my nails. Fur sprouts from the skin and doesn’t stop growing until everything on my hands completes. I scream in agony through every second of it. I then grow my hands up over my head as pain grips my legs, behind and head.
I almost cut my scalp open when my claws go to my head. Horrible agony makes me scream as it feels like a truck has run over my face. I have been keeping my eyes clenched shut up until now, but now, my eyes dart open and look to what is going on. I feel like that truck has now put a hook through my nose and has begun to drive off.
A muzzle begins to pull from my skull, my teeth sharpening and my nose following it and shrinking into a black dog’s nose at the end. Fur sprouts on the muzzle, in the same patterns and colors as the rest of the fur. I scream and then howl out in pain. I drop to the ground as new pains grab my ears and mouth.
I writhe around on the ground as it feels like my ears are being pulled upwards by angry wrestlers. I scream and roll around on the floor as my ears migrate northwards. The pain only stops when they are almost on top of my head. When the pain in my head stops, it takes only seconds until the pain in my mouth, as my tongue reforms and teeth grow, to stop.
When they stop, I open my eyes and look upwards. I see the businessman standing over me. He smiles and looks down at me. I look up at him, wanting to demand what is going on. But when I get the chance, new pains form on my behind and around my legs.
“What?” I ask and then howl in pain. “What have you done?”
“Only something grand, my lower class friend.” The businessman says. “While I tricked you into thinking someone was stealing your crumby motorcycle, I dropped two pills filled with powerful chemicals into your cheap beer. I see that the chemicals are doing as expected and my experiment is a success.”
“Experiment?” I demand.
I throw my arms around my body and writhe around as my eyes close because of the pain. Even though I cannot see this man, I can definitely hear him. I hear him kneel down, the fibers in his suit stretching around his legs, and then his breath as his face nears me.
“Oh, yes, experiment.” He says. “You see, people will pay millions to come and see monsters and creatures. Zoos are old hat, but what if they were filled with half-human animals? You’re the first of hundreds of animals I am calling anthros. But, what’s the fun in keeping those animals for myself? The upper class will pay millions to have creatures like you as their servants.”
“Servants?” I ask.
I feel something begin to pull from my behind, no, my spine. I howl in pain again and roll onto my stomach to keep from putting any weight on this new pain. I hear a tearing sound and then feel as a new appendage pulls from the bottom of my spine. Then fur begins to grow on it as a chill rushes across it. Only forty seconds after it begins, the pain is gone, but only to be replaced by more pain in my feet and legs.
“Oh, yes, slaves.” The businessman says. “Of course, I won’t call them slaves. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. Slavery of humans is illegal, but slavery of anthros, that’s a whole other story. The government, they can’t touch us. People won’t see you as human, ever!”
“Yes . . . they will!” I scream. “Stop . . . stop doing this!”
“Hell no!” The businessman booms. “There’s no way in hell I’ll stop this. Not when there’s money to be made.”
I howl again, a dog’s howl coming from my mouth, as the pain screams into my mind from my legs. I thrash around my legs until my shoes fly off. Then the pain truly begins. I hear bones crack and scream in agony. After ten seconds, I stop thrashing. There’s no point in it.
I feel as my feet stop working as usual. They reform. My legs stretch and move, painfully. I slowly look downwards and past my muzzle to see what is going on. I see paws, like a dog’s paws, begin to form where my feet once were. My leg’s are no longer in upper and lower sections.
It’s so hard to explain. I have three pieces to my leg. An upper leg, a lower leg and what appears to once have been the arches of my foot and ankle, although thick, strong muscles are now there. It almost appears to be part of my leg now. My feet are now paws, with claws and fur.
Within five minutes of the beginning of this ordeal, this is all over. The pain vanishes. I open my eyes and breathe steadily. I look out across the room and look to my muzzle. It almost looks like the muzzle of a dog, like the one I had as a kid. I take in a deep breath and look to my hands. They look like the paws of a dog, with claws and pads and fur.
Then I look up and to the businessman. He smiles and stands up straight. I slowly get onto my hands and knees and then climb up onto my feet . . . er, paws. As I steady myself, I look down over my body. I feel like I am a dog, or, at least half a dog. I quickly look around and then rush towards a mirror hanging on the wall.
I lean against the wall and look into the mirror. I look and see a German shepherd with my hair and eyes looking back. I put a hand before the mirror and shake it around. The creature in the mirror follows me. I gasp and see the dog’s reflection react with mine. I stumble backwards and turn around.
“You’re a monster, kid.” The businessman says. “You can’t ever go home.”
I look to the businessman angrily before looking downwards. I look at my strong body and then bare my clears in front of me. I then look up at the businessman and growl. I smile and step forward before baring my teeth like an angry police dog would.
“Yeah, I am.” I say. “How are you going to control me?”
The businessman suddenly stops smiling and begins to step backwards. I growl louder and step forward a few more times, ready to pounce on him.
“You didn’t think this out too well, did you?” I ask.
I growl loudly and kneel down. I then launch myself forward and at the businessman. He screams in fear and turns around. In seconds, I land on top of him and begin to tear at his body. The bartender and the other patron of the bar watch on with interest and horror.

I slowly walk out of the bar, cleaning off my claws and body with a piece of black cloth. I then throw the cloth to the ground and turn towards my bike. I stroll towards my Harley and then mount the motorcycle. I put the key into the ignition and ignite the engine. I don’t even bother to put on a helmet, it wouldn’t fit anyways.
I kick out the kickstand and step back, guiding the motorcycle safely backwards. I then turn the bike around and guide it onto the road, heading due east. I need to go home. I came out west to find myself and I found myself. I hear sirens begin to cry out behind me. Too bad those cops never will. And I don’t think they’ll find too much of that businessman either.