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Rey may have had one hell of a party, but the night was just about to begin.
A punk TF written as a birthday present for
Reynard ! It was definitely a fun write using music as a hypnotic trigger~
As always, comments and critiques are appreciated!
“Well, I’m beat.”
Rey sat a cup of tea down on the coffee table and flopped onto the sofa. The cross fox let out a sigh at the state of his apartment. All his friends had been here, and they held one hell of a party. Balloons and biodegradable confetti covered the floor. A multitude of half-finished cakes and baked goods took up the entire table and shredded gift wrap covered the chairs. He may have gone too far with the celebrations, but it sure was fun! Still, he was now left with the stress of cleaning everything up.
“What a rowdy bunch.”
The vulpine needed a break before he’d clean up the mess, spent from an entire day of birthday celebrations. Zen, his partner, had taken an early night and the last of the guests had left, leaving the drained fox all alone in peace and quiet.
Too quiet.
The fox got up and searched around the pile of gifts, remembering something that he got.
“Where could it be?” Rey muttered to himself as he dug through the pile, though carefully setting each gift down as he went through them.
“Here you are!”
Rey fished out a leatherette box from the pile. He lifted the top cover off, revealing a small device. The gift was from Bing and by how he described it, it was a high-end music player. The fox took it out of the box, actually feeling it for the first time. Rey had glimpsed it when he was unwrapping gifts, but only now did he properly examine it. The heft surprised him, despite being about the same size as an old iPod. Unlike an iPod, though, this player had a glass front with leather sides and back.
“This must’ve been expensive…” Rey told himself, feeling the device in his paws.
It was certainly high-end, but as Rey examined it closer, he grew confused. Despite its exquisite build quality, the design of the was… peculiar. The leather-covered back had a variety of decorative stitchings and embossings. Skulls, flames and a large A symbol adorned the back. On the sides, the volume rocker and play button were metal studs, similar to that found on clothing. There was even a physical volume wheel that was reminiscent of those found on guitars and amps. Turning on the device revealed a home screen that was even more garish with a wallpaper that seemed more suited to the wall of a rebellious teenager than an audiophile device.. The entire design made the fox wrinkle his nose. It was… abrasive, loud, vulgar even. It was very… punk.
Rey was bewildered. He wasn’t punk at all! He didn’t listen to any of the music, nor dressed or acted like one. Apart from belts and some nice loafers, he didn’t own a bit of leather. Rey was a polite, well-mannered, and law-abiding citizen, the very opposite of a punk! And so was Bing. Rey knew that the turtleneck wearing binturong wasn’t the type to be caught dead at a rock concert. So why did Bing even gift him such a thing if it was so out of both of their styles?
Perhaps it was the only model in stock, or maybe it was some special limited edition? Either way, Rey couldn’t find any sort of receipt in the box and it would be a shame to let such a thing go to waste. Perhaps he could change it to suit himself more? Rey just wanted to listen to some tunes, and he had a perfectly functioning music player to use. Heck, there were even a pair of earphones in the box too, albeit wired rather than fancy Bluetooth ones.
The earphones fitted snugly and comfortably in Rey’s fox ears. It was only when he connected the earphones did Rey have a realisation. The new device probably had nothing preloaded. Couldn’t hurt to check, and sure enough, there was a single playlist waiting for him!
“Play Me Rey!” was the title.
Bing must have loaded it in for me, probably has some of my favourites!
Opening the playlist, however, revealed a list of songs and bands that Rey had never heard of. More so, some titles of the tracks were just… obscene. Rey didn’t even need to play them to know what kind of music made up the playlist. The fox grabbed his earphones out. What a bizarre gift. Everything about it perplexed Rey. It was so unlike both Rey and Bing. He might need to chat with Bing later to ask what it was all about.
But as a paw grabbed an earphone, the fox found his digit hovering over the play button. He couldn’t move his finger away. Something pulled the fox to press it, compelling him to play the music.
The playlist was made for me. What was the worst that would happen?
Rey hit play and froze in place. Loud, distorted guitar strings pierced through his ears and right into his brain. It was like a buzz-saw, industrial equipment, a droning buzz drilling into his mind. He shut his eyes as if trying to block it, only for dry, heavy drumming to smash through and make them shoot wide open. He clutched the player tighter and tighter. The music made Rey’s stomach churn. He felt like vomiting, like groaning, like screaming!
He wanted it off! He wanted to pull the earphones out of his ears and throw the player into the bin! The music was horrendous. It filled him with such visceral disgust he never felt before. Yet he continued gripping the player and his paw let go of the earphone, falling to his side. He tried to move, to unstuck himself and do something, but he wouldn’t move… except for a small jiggle of his foot to the rhythm of the drums.
Rey was far too focused on fighting the music to see the changes that were happening to him. The unconscious steps to the music turned into stomping as a thick rubber sole formed at the bottom of his paws. Shiny, black leather wrapped itself around his paws with lacing and buckles, pulling them tight, leaving his once exposed paws in a pair of heavy knee-high motorcycle boots.
He did all he could to block out the noise except turn it off. His eyes darted around, but the fox saw nothing. All his focus was on the assault on his very own mind, something he was losing at. The repeating bass lines hooked him and reeled him in. The ensemble pushed out any other thoughts him and placed him in something of a trance. Then came the vocals. Nasal and rough, they weren’t singing; they were snarling. Like wild animals growling in his ears. Angry, violent, dripping with contempt. It was horrible, aggravating yet he could clearly hear, no, understand the lyrical contents of what was being lashed out.
Rey started to slowly bop his head while still grimacing and groaning. He gained steel piercings in his triangular ears as his head moved more and more. The tuft of fur that was his hair grew longer, higher, taking in more of his cross-fox colouration rather than a greyish black as it warped into a mohawk with fiery orange tips. His hands shook, moving up and down in tune with the music as spiked leather cuffs formed around his wrists.
The lyrics were outrageous, shocking. Brash and brutal. Confrontational and in your face. There was no tact to the words they shouted at Rey. Messages of fighting against authority of the unjust world and the grim realities of life filled his head. Societal norms and the political system were belittled and decried as lyrics that described a life of sex and drugs were interspersed in between. The Fox nodded, not only to the lyrics but to the music itself.
But he should be disgusted, outraged! At the system, no! At the music! This talk of rebelling, of anarchy, was not like him. Or was… it? After all, why should he give a damn about what other people thought of him? He should go his own way, his own style, his own tempo. A tempo of harsh guitars and fast drums, a life of debauchery and rock and roll. Just like the music.
His mind continued to fight, yet he himself continued to change. The white shirt that he wore underneath a red plaid button up darkened, turning black. His button-up too darkened and grew larger and heavier, turning shiny. Spikes and studs formed on the shoulders and lapel as pins, buttons and stitchings with anarchist and anti-conformist messages spread all over the now black motorcycle jacket. His once simple and casual outfit turned into something far more unruly and crass, something far more befitting a punk.
“F-fu…” Rey muttered. He was never one for profanity. He was always polite, proper. But why? Why should he be polite!? Why should he conform to society!? It didn’t fucking matter, he didn’t need to fucking care! He should be who he truly is. He was Rey, the mother-fucking punk!
“F-Fuck… fuck… fuck yeah!” Rey shouted at the top of his lungs, matching the cresen… no, the climax of the music.
It was… liberating! The fox felt free. What was once simply noise was now a harmonious racket. His body broke from its trance as it thrashed and danced to the beat. His heavy boots kicked and knocked over the furniture as the very last piercings on his eyebrows and nose completed the transformation. But the fox had more to do. He began shouting and head-banging to his music, the chains on his jacket jiggling free.
The apartment itself changed in time with the beat, to match Rey’s own rocking out. The art and pictures on the wall changed to band posters. The IKEA living room set become dilapidated and torn. Books became vinyl records and cassette tapes, and a banging HiFi took over his TV set. The balloons and confetti turned into whisky bottles and beer cans, and greasy fast foods replaced the dainty cakes. Heck, even an electric guitar with an amp now took the corner where he once had a desk and a tray of sweets on the coffee table turned into an ashtray full of cigarette buds.
“Whooo!” Rey shouted with a smile as the song finally ended. “What a bloody brilliant song!” His tone and inflexion were more crude and growly, lacking the prim and properness he once had as he mimicked dragging a cigarette.
“I need to thank that Binger.”
Rey looked around the room, feeling comfortable in the messy and dark punk’s den as he looked for his cup. Taking a sip, he grinned at the taste of coke and whiskey. Refreshing. The Fox padded his leather jacket, searching for a pack of ciggies and lighter, lighting one up as he went through the playlist once more. He could only grin as some of his favourite bands and albums were loaded in, ready to accompany another session of rocking out. Rey was just about to play another track when his phone rang out with a distorted guitar riff. Grabbing his phone, he saw an image of a dishevelled binturong in the caller ID.
“Sup Binger!”
“Ayyy, Rey! You coming to the concert? We’re waiting for you.”
“Shit!’ Rey let out, going through his jacket pocket once more and pulling out a ticket for one of the up-and-coming punk bands in the city. “Yeah, man, I’ll be there in a bit. My mind kinda went blank for a bit”.
“No stress dude, it’s your birthday! Relax! The night is still young.”
Rey smiled, “Yeah, yeah it is. I’m on my way now!”
Rey stomped to the door and shut it behind him, causing a picture frame of him as he once was to fall onto the ground and leaving the desecrated apartment for the concert. The night was still young and there was a lot more time to rock on.
Meanwhile…
Zen wasn’t sure what the commotion was. At first, he thought it was just a dream, but when he heard shouting and the banging of the door, the coyote gingerly crawled out of bed and walked to the living room.
“Rey? Everything alright? I heard some noi-”
The coyote’s jaw dropped as he saw the state of the apartment, completely unrecognizable from what he saw a mere hour ago. It was far beyond the mess the party left.
“What the…”
The coyote could only stand in befuddlement, staring in disbelief.
A punk TF written as a birthday present for
Reynard ! It was definitely a fun write using music as a hypnotic trigger~As always, comments and critiques are appreciated!
“Well, I’m beat.”
Rey sat a cup of tea down on the coffee table and flopped onto the sofa. The cross fox let out a sigh at the state of his apartment. All his friends had been here, and they held one hell of a party. Balloons and biodegradable confetti covered the floor. A multitude of half-finished cakes and baked goods took up the entire table and shredded gift wrap covered the chairs. He may have gone too far with the celebrations, but it sure was fun! Still, he was now left with the stress of cleaning everything up.
“What a rowdy bunch.”
The vulpine needed a break before he’d clean up the mess, spent from an entire day of birthday celebrations. Zen, his partner, had taken an early night and the last of the guests had left, leaving the drained fox all alone in peace and quiet.
Too quiet.
The fox got up and searched around the pile of gifts, remembering something that he got.
“Where could it be?” Rey muttered to himself as he dug through the pile, though carefully setting each gift down as he went through them.
“Here you are!”
Rey fished out a leatherette box from the pile. He lifted the top cover off, revealing a small device. The gift was from Bing and by how he described it, it was a high-end music player. The fox took it out of the box, actually feeling it for the first time. Rey had glimpsed it when he was unwrapping gifts, but only now did he properly examine it. The heft surprised him, despite being about the same size as an old iPod. Unlike an iPod, though, this player had a glass front with leather sides and back.
“This must’ve been expensive…” Rey told himself, feeling the device in his paws.
It was certainly high-end, but as Rey examined it closer, he grew confused. Despite its exquisite build quality, the design of the was… peculiar. The leather-covered back had a variety of decorative stitchings and embossings. Skulls, flames and a large A symbol adorned the back. On the sides, the volume rocker and play button were metal studs, similar to that found on clothing. There was even a physical volume wheel that was reminiscent of those found on guitars and amps. Turning on the device revealed a home screen that was even more garish with a wallpaper that seemed more suited to the wall of a rebellious teenager than an audiophile device.. The entire design made the fox wrinkle his nose. It was… abrasive, loud, vulgar even. It was very… punk.
Rey was bewildered. He wasn’t punk at all! He didn’t listen to any of the music, nor dressed or acted like one. Apart from belts and some nice loafers, he didn’t own a bit of leather. Rey was a polite, well-mannered, and law-abiding citizen, the very opposite of a punk! And so was Bing. Rey knew that the turtleneck wearing binturong wasn’t the type to be caught dead at a rock concert. So why did Bing even gift him such a thing if it was so out of both of their styles?
Perhaps it was the only model in stock, or maybe it was some special limited edition? Either way, Rey couldn’t find any sort of receipt in the box and it would be a shame to let such a thing go to waste. Perhaps he could change it to suit himself more? Rey just wanted to listen to some tunes, and he had a perfectly functioning music player to use. Heck, there were even a pair of earphones in the box too, albeit wired rather than fancy Bluetooth ones.
The earphones fitted snugly and comfortably in Rey’s fox ears. It was only when he connected the earphones did Rey have a realisation. The new device probably had nothing preloaded. Couldn’t hurt to check, and sure enough, there was a single playlist waiting for him!
“Play Me Rey!” was the title.
Bing must have loaded it in for me, probably has some of my favourites!
Opening the playlist, however, revealed a list of songs and bands that Rey had never heard of. More so, some titles of the tracks were just… obscene. Rey didn’t even need to play them to know what kind of music made up the playlist. The fox grabbed his earphones out. What a bizarre gift. Everything about it perplexed Rey. It was so unlike both Rey and Bing. He might need to chat with Bing later to ask what it was all about.
But as a paw grabbed an earphone, the fox found his digit hovering over the play button. He couldn’t move his finger away. Something pulled the fox to press it, compelling him to play the music.
The playlist was made for me. What was the worst that would happen?
Rey hit play and froze in place. Loud, distorted guitar strings pierced through his ears and right into his brain. It was like a buzz-saw, industrial equipment, a droning buzz drilling into his mind. He shut his eyes as if trying to block it, only for dry, heavy drumming to smash through and make them shoot wide open. He clutched the player tighter and tighter. The music made Rey’s stomach churn. He felt like vomiting, like groaning, like screaming!
He wanted it off! He wanted to pull the earphones out of his ears and throw the player into the bin! The music was horrendous. It filled him with such visceral disgust he never felt before. Yet he continued gripping the player and his paw let go of the earphone, falling to his side. He tried to move, to unstuck himself and do something, but he wouldn’t move… except for a small jiggle of his foot to the rhythm of the drums.
Rey was far too focused on fighting the music to see the changes that were happening to him. The unconscious steps to the music turned into stomping as a thick rubber sole formed at the bottom of his paws. Shiny, black leather wrapped itself around his paws with lacing and buckles, pulling them tight, leaving his once exposed paws in a pair of heavy knee-high motorcycle boots.
He did all he could to block out the noise except turn it off. His eyes darted around, but the fox saw nothing. All his focus was on the assault on his very own mind, something he was losing at. The repeating bass lines hooked him and reeled him in. The ensemble pushed out any other thoughts him and placed him in something of a trance. Then came the vocals. Nasal and rough, they weren’t singing; they were snarling. Like wild animals growling in his ears. Angry, violent, dripping with contempt. It was horrible, aggravating yet he could clearly hear, no, understand the lyrical contents of what was being lashed out.
Rey started to slowly bop his head while still grimacing and groaning. He gained steel piercings in his triangular ears as his head moved more and more. The tuft of fur that was his hair grew longer, higher, taking in more of his cross-fox colouration rather than a greyish black as it warped into a mohawk with fiery orange tips. His hands shook, moving up and down in tune with the music as spiked leather cuffs formed around his wrists.
The lyrics were outrageous, shocking. Brash and brutal. Confrontational and in your face. There was no tact to the words they shouted at Rey. Messages of fighting against authority of the unjust world and the grim realities of life filled his head. Societal norms and the political system were belittled and decried as lyrics that described a life of sex and drugs were interspersed in between. The Fox nodded, not only to the lyrics but to the music itself.
But he should be disgusted, outraged! At the system, no! At the music! This talk of rebelling, of anarchy, was not like him. Or was… it? After all, why should he give a damn about what other people thought of him? He should go his own way, his own style, his own tempo. A tempo of harsh guitars and fast drums, a life of debauchery and rock and roll. Just like the music.
His mind continued to fight, yet he himself continued to change. The white shirt that he wore underneath a red plaid button up darkened, turning black. His button-up too darkened and grew larger and heavier, turning shiny. Spikes and studs formed on the shoulders and lapel as pins, buttons and stitchings with anarchist and anti-conformist messages spread all over the now black motorcycle jacket. His once simple and casual outfit turned into something far more unruly and crass, something far more befitting a punk.
“F-fu…” Rey muttered. He was never one for profanity. He was always polite, proper. But why? Why should he be polite!? Why should he conform to society!? It didn’t fucking matter, he didn’t need to fucking care! He should be who he truly is. He was Rey, the mother-fucking punk!
“F-Fuck… fuck… fuck yeah!” Rey shouted at the top of his lungs, matching the cresen… no, the climax of the music.
It was… liberating! The fox felt free. What was once simply noise was now a harmonious racket. His body broke from its trance as it thrashed and danced to the beat. His heavy boots kicked and knocked over the furniture as the very last piercings on his eyebrows and nose completed the transformation. But the fox had more to do. He began shouting and head-banging to his music, the chains on his jacket jiggling free.
The apartment itself changed in time with the beat, to match Rey’s own rocking out. The art and pictures on the wall changed to band posters. The IKEA living room set become dilapidated and torn. Books became vinyl records and cassette tapes, and a banging HiFi took over his TV set. The balloons and confetti turned into whisky bottles and beer cans, and greasy fast foods replaced the dainty cakes. Heck, even an electric guitar with an amp now took the corner where he once had a desk and a tray of sweets on the coffee table turned into an ashtray full of cigarette buds.
“Whooo!” Rey shouted with a smile as the song finally ended. “What a bloody brilliant song!” His tone and inflexion were more crude and growly, lacking the prim and properness he once had as he mimicked dragging a cigarette.
“I need to thank that Binger.”
Rey looked around the room, feeling comfortable in the messy and dark punk’s den as he looked for his cup. Taking a sip, he grinned at the taste of coke and whiskey. Refreshing. The Fox padded his leather jacket, searching for a pack of ciggies and lighter, lighting one up as he went through the playlist once more. He could only grin as some of his favourite bands and albums were loaded in, ready to accompany another session of rocking out. Rey was just about to play another track when his phone rang out with a distorted guitar riff. Grabbing his phone, he saw an image of a dishevelled binturong in the caller ID.
“Sup Binger!”
“Ayyy, Rey! You coming to the concert? We’re waiting for you.”
“Shit!’ Rey let out, going through his jacket pocket once more and pulling out a ticket for one of the up-and-coming punk bands in the city. “Yeah, man, I’ll be there in a bit. My mind kinda went blank for a bit”.
“No stress dude, it’s your birthday! Relax! The night is still young.”
Rey smiled, “Yeah, yeah it is. I’m on my way now!”
Rey stomped to the door and shut it behind him, causing a picture frame of him as he once was to fall onto the ground and leaving the desecrated apartment for the concert. The night was still young and there was a lot more time to rock on.
Meanwhile…
Zen wasn’t sure what the commotion was. At first, he thought it was just a dream, but when he heard shouting and the banging of the door, the coyote gingerly crawled out of bed and walked to the living room.
“Rey? Everything alright? I heard some noi-”
The coyote’s jaw dropped as he saw the state of the apartment, completely unrecognizable from what he saw a mere hour ago. It was far beyond the mess the party left.
“What the…”
The coyote could only stand in befuddlement, staring in disbelief.
Category Story / Transformation
Species Red Fox
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 48.5 kB
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