Yet another commission based on the game "Changed" by  _drdragontim. Enjoy!

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You thought you would never survive to escape the greenhouse. Then again, you're still pretty amazed that you've survived thus far at all. But the last few hours in particular have been pretty rough. First you get separated from Puro, then you fall through a floor, then are forced to evade multiple beasts—including squirrels, giant lizards, and man-eating plants—and all of that without even mentioning the massive white latex beast that your mysterious kidnapper set on you toward the end. If it hadn't been for that bizarre robot—and Puro's timely intervention—you doubt you would have made it out of that particular fight with your life and humanity intact. But survive you did.

Sadly, that seems to be the end of the good news, as you once again were forced to split up from Puro and find your own way through without the aid of your only friend in this entire facility. Not even the apparent lack of traps or beasts is a comfort to you—indeed, the absence of any obvious hurdles in your path or monsters attempting to transfur you only makes you increasingly paranoid as you slowly creep through narrow corridors, only dimly lit by flickering lights, the only sound being that of old ventilation fans that have seen better days.

And wouldn't you know it, one of those very fans makes a very loud sputtering and clanging noise before cutting out completely, scaring you within an inch of your life. As if that weren't enough, a strange hissing noise begins to come from the broken fan, along with the air starting to slowly tint blue—

You quickly slap your hands over your mouth and try not to breathe. Gas! It has to be! You don't know whether it's the kind that will transfur you or the kind that would just kill you, but you're not eager to find out. The fans must have been there to keep the gas from flooding the corridor... you shake your head. No way is this a coincidence. You're certain that your mystery enemy somehow intervened once again and sabotaged that fan. But you can't hold your breath forever; frantically looking around, you spot another fan, this one still operational. A thought crosses your mind and you rush over to it; as you near the fan, the air begins to clear up. You smile and drop your hands as you feel a small surge of triumph at figuring out this little puzzle! All you have to do is move from fan to fan through the corridor, holding your breath as best you can in between, stopping to catch it once again only once you reach a working fan. It won't be easy, but nothing in this place has been thus far anyway. Breathing out all the way to clear your lungs and give yourself some extra time, you clap your hands over your face again and rush to the next fan, never noticing a small black shape that drops down from the broken fan and begins to slowly follow behind you.

As you move through the corridors, you slowly gain confidence in your ability to survive long enough to reunite with Puro. Unfortunately, this confidence is swiftly turned to fear as you hear a skittering sound behind you. Turning around slowly, hands still clapped over your mouth, you spot a small black latex wolf pup staring at you, its tail wagging as it gives a playful yip. Something so adorable has never terrified you so much. You attempt to rush toward the next fan, hoping it will not follow, but follow it does. You soon realize to your horror that running while holding your breath was a serious mistake—your lungs are burning with the desperate need for air, and the wolf pup is still hot on your heels. You are mere feet away from the fan, from safety... but just then, as relief is in sight, your body decides it can take no more—and against your will you drop your hands and gasp for air, the blue gas rapidly filling your lungs, tickling your nose as you breathe it in. The smell isn't unpleasant—in fact, it has a slight fruity tinge to it that you actually find enjoyable—but that just confirms your worst fear. This is not something as quick and painless as carbon monoxide. This must be the transfur gas. And you are breathing it in in massive gasps, ensuring that there is no escape from what you know is coming.

It begins with a tingling sensation on your skin across your entire body, like the pins and needles you feel when your foot falls asleep. This is quickly followed by your body hair slowly growing longer as the tingling feelings around your face, your hands and feet, and your lower back grow even stronger. You can feel your teeth growing sharper, your face stretching out, your fingers shifting, and your tailbone slowly extending as your body hair quickly becomes patches of brown and grey fur. Even though you know full well that struggle is pointless, that the change is inevitable, you find yourself grasping at your body and crying out in a vain attempt to stop the transformation. But to no avail. Your tailbone extends further, growing fur of its own as it stretches the back of your shorts; your face continues to stretch as well, rapidly becoming similar to a muzzle as your new fur grows across your face as well. Even your ability to grasp at your body is gradually vanishing along with your humanity, your fingers shortening and your thumbs moving toward your wrist as your hands slowly become paws, your feet following suit as your legs shift to accommodate a more quadrupedal stance. Your cries become whimpers as the changes begin to accelerate, your fur practically shooting out all across your body as your tail finally bursts free of your shorts, which fall to the floor, leaving you stark naked. Despite your terror—which is admittedly becoming a sort of morbid resignation to your fate—you find yourself growing somewhat curious as to what you are turning into. Your ears now begin to shift upwards and grow pointier as your face finally finishes stretching into a full-on muzzle complete with a black nose, fangs, and a long tongue. Whatever you are, or will soon be, it's definitely some form of canine, though not a black latex beast. Speaking of which, the pup from before—which you had almost forgotten about in your panic—has been watching your transformation, tail wagging excitedly. Somehow you can tell exactly what it is waiting for—a playmate. Soon, it will have one. Your fur has finally finished covering your entire body, and your spine shifts slightly; strangely, it's not enough to keep you from being able to walk upright, but it definitely will make walking on four legs feel much easier and more natural. A werewolf-like beast, then. Your sense of smell increases, meaning the fruity scent of the gas becomes ever stronger—and more pleasing, sending waves of calm over you. Your new ears twitch as you hear the puppy yapping in excitement.

Play! Play! Play!

The fact that you can now understand the adolescent black wolf alerts you to the fact that your changes are almost finished. Bracing yourself, you feel the final few alterations to your hands occur—much more pawlike, with claws on the end, but still with some dexterity. Interestingly, though you can feel wolflike instincts on the edge of your thoughts, you don't feel any dumber, or confused, or feral. You fully remember what you were when you started your journey. And yet this is no comfort, even with the soothing scent making the permanent loss of your humanity slightly more bearable. There is no turning back. There is no escape. You are, now and forever, a denizen of this facility. Putting your face in your hands—briefly having to adjust to your new muzzle—you moan in sadness at your fate. Suddenly, your brooding is interrupted by another series of yips.

Play! Play! Play! Want to play!

Looking over toward the pup, you see it wagging its tail. With a deep sigh, you turn toward it; you may as well indulge the creature and start getting used to your new life. Leaning forward and planting yourself on all fours—feeling an odd sense of rightness as you do—you attempt to give a playful growl. It doesn't quite come out as playful, though, and the pup briefly recoils in fear. Mentally cursing yourself for not being able to immediately pick up on your new language, you try again. This time, it's a little softer, and the pup tilts its head.

Not angry?

No, you're not. At least, not at the pup. You can't help but admit that it's fairly adorable. You do one more soft growl, adding a huffing sound as well. To your surprise, you now feel as if you understand what you just said.

“Not angry. Want to play.”

The pup wags its tail again.

Yay! Play play play play play! Big brother play!

'Big brother', huh? That doesn't sound too terrible. Trusting your new instincts—which seem to tell you what you're supposed to do—you bounce a bit on your forelegs and let loose a few more playful growls.

Big brother play, yes. Play, little brother.

The pup lunges at you with a joyful yip, and you respond in kind; soon, you're both hopping around, giving small nips at each other and making happy wolf sounds. At last, you find yourself tiring out, and roll over onto your back; the pup leaps into your arms and nuzzles your chest. Stroking its head and letting out a soothing howl, you find a smile forming on your muzzle.

Fun, little brother.

Love you, big brother.

As you sit there, you find yourself thinking about Puro; it'll be tough breaking the news of your transformation to him, but at least your new little brother will have a second big brother to play with.