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With Catlike Tread--Lynx Hypno-TF
A one-shot Lynx TF I did as part of a “writing duel” with a friend on discord a while back. Enjoy!
Noven carefully pushed aside a massive fern with his left hand and gazed upon the small hut in the middle of the forest, his right hand clenched around the hilt of a dagger. The hut was small, with a thatch roof covering all but a central hole for ventilation purposes. Around the hut were cages of various animals, a pair of goblin skulls flanking the wooden door. Noven had heard tales of a warlock that had been terrorizing the local populace; though he had never actually worked as an adventurer-for-hire before, the reward for doing the deed was far too high to pass up—especially since no one else seemed interested. After scraping up every ounce of gold he had, the young man purchased a simple iron dagger, a green cloak, a simple gambeson overcoat, and some basic supplies before venturing out into the forest in search of his quarry. After almost an entire day of searching, Noven finally managed to locate the warlock's hut just as the sun began to set.
Perfect, Noven thought as he spied puffs of smoke rising up from the hut, the bastard's home. Stifling a chuckle at his good luck, Noven slowly crept toward the building, thoughts of fame and gold on his mind...
“BRAAAAAAAAWK BUK BUK BUK!”
“MOOOOOO!”
“BAAA! BAAA!”
Suddenly, every animal in every pen—chickens, cows, sheep, among others—all started calling out, as if sounding the alarm. Before Noven could flee, the door to the hut burst open, revealing a middle-aged elf in rough clothing made of woven grass, adorned with thistles and vines. “What's this? An uninvited guest?”
“Sorry to disturb you,” Noven said as he drew his dagger, “just popped over for a quick visit. Nothing personal, but I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me or get stabbed.”
The warlock blinked once. Twice. A look of stoic disbelief. “...You are either a very poor jester,” said the elven mage. “Or you are terribly new to your profession.”
Noven clenched his teeth in anger and leapt at the man. “Shut up! I'm good enough to take you down—”
“Aplitro iet penlio.”
Suddenly, Noven's feet planted themselves in front of the mage, and he felt himself drop to his knees, unable to move a muscle. “W-what? What was that spell?!”
“Something that any genuine adventurer could have easily avoided. More proof of your utter lack of experience,” the warlock said with a chuckle.
Noven struggled in vain, but his body remained in a kneeling position; he couldn't even twitch a finger. He put on as brave a face as he could, trying and failing to hide the fear growing within his heart. “Y-you won't g-get away w-ith this...”
The warlock simply laughed. “Hahaha! You speak as if you are the first to even come here! I've had no less than two dozen would-be heroes come here in the last five days. Only a few truly skilled individuals, but every last one of them was worth ten of you. No, my poor fellow, you aren't even a worm compared to them... and they were already worms compared to me!” Approaching Noven slowly, the elven fiend waved a hand in his direction. “Fortunately for you, I consider myself quite merciful, as far as my profession goes. Take a look at my menagerie and you'll see what I mean.”
Feeling control given back to his head, Noven examined the animals in their cages, confusion briefly overtaking his fear... only for the latter to come back full force as he counted the number of animals and compared it to the number of adventurers alluded to by the warlock. “You... they...!”
“Indeed, they are my previous guests,” said the elf with a nod. “Don't worry, they're quite happy here; the only thoughts in their heads are how wonderful a master I am, and how they want nothing more than to do my bidding forever. They don't even remember being anything else. Thanks to them, I have feathers, wool, milk... everything I need. And lucky for them, I don't eat meat.”
Noven trembled in terror. “L-look, I'm sorry, I'll leave and never tell anyone where you are! Please, I don't want to be—”
“But I have enough livestock for now,” said the warlock, ignoring Noven completely. “So what shall I do with you instead, hmm?” After a few moments, the elf snapped his fingers. “Aha! My word, but you'd be perfect for this role, seeing as you're useless at everything else. I've always wanted a pet befitting a sorcerer of my skill. A mere cat would be rather cliché, though, so I'll be a little more creative...”
“No! Please no!”
“Syl koito iet aplitro.”
Noven's felt his head and gaze lock on the mage; by this point, terror gripped him to the point of silence.
The warlock chuckled as he took out a gnarled staff with a bone amulet hanging from a beaded thread attached to the tip; slowly and gently, the elf began to wave it at Noven. “Just sit right there; this will only take a moment. Sas myal yni ken, sas myal yni rema.”
A strange fog swept into Noven's mind; suddenly, it became very hard to think. He struggled briefly, but his eye caught the swaying amulet which glowed brightly as it swung from the head of the staff.
“Sas myal yni ken, sas myal yni rema.”
Noven tried to put his thoughts together, but the foggy sensation seemed to grow in direct proportion to his struggle. The more he tried to fight it, the more confused he became. His fear faded, replaced by the sensation of being lost, confused, cloudy-minded. Where was he? What was he doing? Who was the man with the stick and the glowing thing? Was he a friend?
“So hard to think,” The warlock said, his voice suddenly gentle. “Yes, so very difficult to think. That's not surprising. You're very, very, very stupid. Aren't you stupid? Just very stupid?”
Something about the man's words struck Noven as being completely and utterly true. Somehow, he knew that every single word his host spoke was fact, pure and simple. And if the nice man said he was stupid, then... “I'm... stupid. I'm very very stupid...”
“That's right! Just so very stupid. But you like being stupid. Stupid means no worries. Stupid means you can obey better. And obeying makes you happy, doesn't it?”
A smile slowly formed on Noven's face. Yes, being smart was no fun. Being stupid and brainless was much better and made him happy, and made it easier to obey, which made him even happier. “I like being stupid... I like obeying. Obeying makes me happy.”
The man smiled. “Very good! You're doing exactly what you should be doing.”
Noven's smile grew wider and wider. The nice smart man with the stick and the glowy glowy was happy, and Noven was happy that the man was happy.
“Yes, I'm so much smarter than you'll ever be, so it only makes sense to do everything I say. I'm your master.”
“Master,” Noven said, his smile now ear-to-ear. “Master smart, I dumb.”
To Noven's delight, Master nodded and continued to swing the stick and glowy glowy. “Don't you want to stay here forever? To let me feed you and give you shelter? Don't you want to be my pet?”
“Uh-huh,” Noven said. There was nothing he wanted more. “Me... me wan' be Master pet. Stay wif Master, be pet.”
A laugh from Master. “Well then, I suppose I'll grant your wish. Hmm, what shall I call you... how about 'Softpaw'? Yes, your name is Softpaw, and it's always been Softpaw, and you've always been here with your Master.”
“Me Softpaw. Me always Master pet.” Softpaw was happy that his name was Softpaw and that he'd never been anywhere but by his Master's side, as he should be.
“Alright, time to wrap this up,” Master said, making the entire staff glow. “Neido scima, neido idos, rha atropi imen lynas!”
A ball of bright blue light shot from the tip of the staff and struck Softpaw in the chest; suddenly, he could move again, but even if he wanted to leave—and he didn't, that would be silly—a strange tingling sensation swept over his body, causing him to collapse to all fours. The tingling grew all over his skin; it wasn't unpleasant, but it was definitely odd. Unbeknownst to him, the cause of the feeling was a thick layer of fur sprouting out all over his body. As the fur grew, he felt an even stranger sensation spreading through his bones and muscles. His heels lifted up off the ground, his feet lengthening as the bottoms of his toes thickened and turned black. A similar change came over his hands, his fingers clenching up. All the while, Softpaw felt himself growing larger and stronger. A feeling of pressure built up on his rear as a short tail formed. Softpaw growled a bit; his cl... stuff he had on him, whatever they were called, they were wrong and getting in the way. Thankfully, his feet and hands—now full-on paws—were growing large enough that the bothersome coverings started straining to hold them in. Sharp claws formed, and soon after a loud pop was heard as the shoes finally exploded off, freeing Softpaw of the annoyance. The rest of the stupid constricting stuff began to rip apart as well, unable to contain his growing form; he found a purring sound escaping his lips as he felt them split apart and fall off, leaving him free of any stupid covering. Speaking of his lips, he felt them stretching out with his nose, his smile remaining even as it changed shape along with the rest of his face. He closed his eyes in serene bliss as he felt his ears slide upwards, his teeth sharpen, and his snout finish forming. New smells and sounds flooded his brain, a world of sensation that filled him with wonder—but none so incredible and relaxing as the scent of his Master. Opening his eyes and stretching, Softpaw let out a deep, feline yowl.
“Ah, yes, that's perfect. An oversized lynx is just perfect for my magnificence,” Master said, putting his staff away before kneeling down. “Good cat. You'll make a fine pet... and an even better guard animal.”
Softpaw felt Master's hand scratching him behind his ears, eliciting a deep purr. He couldn't think of anything better than this. Not that he could think of much to begin with. But at least he was a good kitty.
Noven carefully pushed aside a massive fern with his left hand and gazed upon the small hut in the middle of the forest, his right hand clenched around the hilt of a dagger. The hut was small, with a thatch roof covering all but a central hole for ventilation purposes. Around the hut were cages of various animals, a pair of goblin skulls flanking the wooden door. Noven had heard tales of a warlock that had been terrorizing the local populace; though he had never actually worked as an adventurer-for-hire before, the reward for doing the deed was far too high to pass up—especially since no one else seemed interested. After scraping up every ounce of gold he had, the young man purchased a simple iron dagger, a green cloak, a simple gambeson overcoat, and some basic supplies before venturing out into the forest in search of his quarry. After almost an entire day of searching, Noven finally managed to locate the warlock's hut just as the sun began to set.
Perfect, Noven thought as he spied puffs of smoke rising up from the hut, the bastard's home. Stifling a chuckle at his good luck, Noven slowly crept toward the building, thoughts of fame and gold on his mind...
“BRAAAAAAAAWK BUK BUK BUK!”
“MOOOOOO!”
“BAAA! BAAA!”
Suddenly, every animal in every pen—chickens, cows, sheep, among others—all started calling out, as if sounding the alarm. Before Noven could flee, the door to the hut burst open, revealing a middle-aged elf in rough clothing made of woven grass, adorned with thistles and vines. “What's this? An uninvited guest?”
“Sorry to disturb you,” Noven said as he drew his dagger, “just popped over for a quick visit. Nothing personal, but I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me or get stabbed.”
The warlock blinked once. Twice. A look of stoic disbelief. “...You are either a very poor jester,” said the elven mage. “Or you are terribly new to your profession.”
Noven clenched his teeth in anger and leapt at the man. “Shut up! I'm good enough to take you down—”
“Aplitro iet penlio.”
Suddenly, Noven's feet planted themselves in front of the mage, and he felt himself drop to his knees, unable to move a muscle. “W-what? What was that spell?!”
“Something that any genuine adventurer could have easily avoided. More proof of your utter lack of experience,” the warlock said with a chuckle.
Noven struggled in vain, but his body remained in a kneeling position; he couldn't even twitch a finger. He put on as brave a face as he could, trying and failing to hide the fear growing within his heart. “Y-you won't g-get away w-ith this...”
The warlock simply laughed. “Hahaha! You speak as if you are the first to even come here! I've had no less than two dozen would-be heroes come here in the last five days. Only a few truly skilled individuals, but every last one of them was worth ten of you. No, my poor fellow, you aren't even a worm compared to them... and they were already worms compared to me!” Approaching Noven slowly, the elven fiend waved a hand in his direction. “Fortunately for you, I consider myself quite merciful, as far as my profession goes. Take a look at my menagerie and you'll see what I mean.”
Feeling control given back to his head, Noven examined the animals in their cages, confusion briefly overtaking his fear... only for the latter to come back full force as he counted the number of animals and compared it to the number of adventurers alluded to by the warlock. “You... they...!”
“Indeed, they are my previous guests,” said the elf with a nod. “Don't worry, they're quite happy here; the only thoughts in their heads are how wonderful a master I am, and how they want nothing more than to do my bidding forever. They don't even remember being anything else. Thanks to them, I have feathers, wool, milk... everything I need. And lucky for them, I don't eat meat.”
Noven trembled in terror. “L-look, I'm sorry, I'll leave and never tell anyone where you are! Please, I don't want to be—”
“But I have enough livestock for now,” said the warlock, ignoring Noven completely. “So what shall I do with you instead, hmm?” After a few moments, the elf snapped his fingers. “Aha! My word, but you'd be perfect for this role, seeing as you're useless at everything else. I've always wanted a pet befitting a sorcerer of my skill. A mere cat would be rather cliché, though, so I'll be a little more creative...”
“No! Please no!”
“Syl koito iet aplitro.”
Noven's felt his head and gaze lock on the mage; by this point, terror gripped him to the point of silence.
The warlock chuckled as he took out a gnarled staff with a bone amulet hanging from a beaded thread attached to the tip; slowly and gently, the elf began to wave it at Noven. “Just sit right there; this will only take a moment. Sas myal yni ken, sas myal yni rema.”
A strange fog swept into Noven's mind; suddenly, it became very hard to think. He struggled briefly, but his eye caught the swaying amulet which glowed brightly as it swung from the head of the staff.
“Sas myal yni ken, sas myal yni rema.”
Noven tried to put his thoughts together, but the foggy sensation seemed to grow in direct proportion to his struggle. The more he tried to fight it, the more confused he became. His fear faded, replaced by the sensation of being lost, confused, cloudy-minded. Where was he? What was he doing? Who was the man with the stick and the glowing thing? Was he a friend?
“So hard to think,” The warlock said, his voice suddenly gentle. “Yes, so very difficult to think. That's not surprising. You're very, very, very stupid. Aren't you stupid? Just very stupid?”
Something about the man's words struck Noven as being completely and utterly true. Somehow, he knew that every single word his host spoke was fact, pure and simple. And if the nice man said he was stupid, then... “I'm... stupid. I'm very very stupid...”
“That's right! Just so very stupid. But you like being stupid. Stupid means no worries. Stupid means you can obey better. And obeying makes you happy, doesn't it?”
A smile slowly formed on Noven's face. Yes, being smart was no fun. Being stupid and brainless was much better and made him happy, and made it easier to obey, which made him even happier. “I like being stupid... I like obeying. Obeying makes me happy.”
The man smiled. “Very good! You're doing exactly what you should be doing.”
Noven's smile grew wider and wider. The nice smart man with the stick and the glowy glowy was happy, and Noven was happy that the man was happy.
“Yes, I'm so much smarter than you'll ever be, so it only makes sense to do everything I say. I'm your master.”
“Master,” Noven said, his smile now ear-to-ear. “Master smart, I dumb.”
To Noven's delight, Master nodded and continued to swing the stick and glowy glowy. “Don't you want to stay here forever? To let me feed you and give you shelter? Don't you want to be my pet?”
“Uh-huh,” Noven said. There was nothing he wanted more. “Me... me wan' be Master pet. Stay wif Master, be pet.”
A laugh from Master. “Well then, I suppose I'll grant your wish. Hmm, what shall I call you... how about 'Softpaw'? Yes, your name is Softpaw, and it's always been Softpaw, and you've always been here with your Master.”
“Me Softpaw. Me always Master pet.” Softpaw was happy that his name was Softpaw and that he'd never been anywhere but by his Master's side, as he should be.
“Alright, time to wrap this up,” Master said, making the entire staff glow. “Neido scima, neido idos, rha atropi imen lynas!”
A ball of bright blue light shot from the tip of the staff and struck Softpaw in the chest; suddenly, he could move again, but even if he wanted to leave—and he didn't, that would be silly—a strange tingling sensation swept over his body, causing him to collapse to all fours. The tingling grew all over his skin; it wasn't unpleasant, but it was definitely odd. Unbeknownst to him, the cause of the feeling was a thick layer of fur sprouting out all over his body. As the fur grew, he felt an even stranger sensation spreading through his bones and muscles. His heels lifted up off the ground, his feet lengthening as the bottoms of his toes thickened and turned black. A similar change came over his hands, his fingers clenching up. All the while, Softpaw felt himself growing larger and stronger. A feeling of pressure built up on his rear as a short tail formed. Softpaw growled a bit; his cl... stuff he had on him, whatever they were called, they were wrong and getting in the way. Thankfully, his feet and hands—now full-on paws—were growing large enough that the bothersome coverings started straining to hold them in. Sharp claws formed, and soon after a loud pop was heard as the shoes finally exploded off, freeing Softpaw of the annoyance. The rest of the stupid constricting stuff began to rip apart as well, unable to contain his growing form; he found a purring sound escaping his lips as he felt them split apart and fall off, leaving him free of any stupid covering. Speaking of his lips, he felt them stretching out with his nose, his smile remaining even as it changed shape along with the rest of his face. He closed his eyes in serene bliss as he felt his ears slide upwards, his teeth sharpen, and his snout finish forming. New smells and sounds flooded his brain, a world of sensation that filled him with wonder—but none so incredible and relaxing as the scent of his Master. Opening his eyes and stretching, Softpaw let out a deep, feline yowl.
“Ah, yes, that's perfect. An oversized lynx is just perfect for my magnificence,” Master said, putting his staff away before kneeling down. “Good cat. You'll make a fine pet... and an even better guard animal.”
Softpaw felt Master's hand scratching him behind his ears, eliciting a deep purr. He couldn't think of anything better than this. Not that he could think of much to begin with. But at least he was a good kitty.
Category Story / Transformation
Species Feline (Other)
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 97.2 kB
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