As much fun as Izzy was reluctant to admit he was having; watching the kids turned dragon hatchling and unicorn foal running around and between cosplayers, while their newly transformed parents struggled to make their way through the crowd to catch them, he knew he’d have to get moving. If he stuck around too long, Coyote might get the idea to let the kids help spread the “fun,” as well.
Speaking of fun, he had to admit, watching someone actually enjoy their change had improved his mood, slightly. Maybe he could find a few more folks that wouldn’t mind being their costumes, as long as Coyote was basically holding his body hostage.
But who to change? There were probably some superhero cosplayers that wouldn’t mind it, seeing as they’d probably still look mostly normal, but at the same time, he didn’t want to just be handing out potentially lethal powers to just anyone if he could help it. He’d already taken a risk in making the robot, aliens, and dragons while TRYING to terrify people into leaving. He didn’t need some repressed nerd getting super-strength and deciding now it would be HIS turn to be the bully.
As he meandered into the artist’s alley, he saw a group of people lined up in fursuits, (and a handful making do with cat-ear headbands and the like,) waiting to buy something from one of a handful of furry artist booths. Some of the booths hosted cartoony art, some artists were going for as much realism as drawing animal people would allow, and some hosted pictures of nude anthros that really pushed the limits of the “SFW” policy this area of the artist alley was supposed to have. Izzy, frankly, was only surprised that the artist had that much restraint.
As far as Izzy was concerned, there were two categories of furries: those that had sex in those big, stupid costumes, and those that incessantly insisted in every online discussion that not all furries did that (while probably secretly fantasizing about being able to do what the former did). He really didn’t like the idea of dignifying their dreams, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that, if there was any group that probably genuinely wanted to be what their costume was, it would be the group that spent way too much money to look like their imaginary self.
And who knows, maybe if they DID start… eugh… “Yiffing…” in public, maybe THAT would get people’s attention that something fishy was going on.
Looking through the lines, he counted six in full suits; a white wolf, a tabby cat, a brown sheep, a moth, a black and red dragon, and a vixen suit with a brown loincloth and wrappings around the chest, and carrying a staff, the additional “clothing” sewn into the suit. There were a handful of less thoroughly costumed individuals in line as well, which Izzy couldn’t identify from just ears or tails.
He pointed to the crowd around the booths. “Those ones.”
Heh, about time you picked some of these guys. Too bad we don’t have any coyote lovers in this crowd here, but I appreciate their sense of style, nonetheless.
“Yeah, who’d have guessed you loved the freaks?”
What, jealous you can’t show your real self out in public because you’re worried about what society thinks?
“No, I just understand how to act normal.”
We’re gonna have to fix that before the day is done.
The magic took effect, starting with a guy in a white wolf suit. The bulky outfit shrank down around him as he let out a gasp, and both the artist in front of him, and the people behind him in line turned to look, making sure they weren’t seeing things. Within moments, the suit had become skin-tight, and the fuzzy cloth material took the coarse texture of genuine wolf fur. Life sprang into the ears, tail, and snout, as the latter two opened up to match their true counterparts, and the suit’s large hard, plastic eyes shrank and softened into true yellow eyes. He felt over his new fur cautiously, eyes wide as he took his changes in.
Of course, it wasn’t long before the onlookers began to change, as well.
The operator of the booth in front of the wolf, the artist with a more cartoony style, suddenly found gray fur growing over his face, and black fur growing over his ears as they bent into a triangular shape. Within moments, he shrank two feet, his too-large clothing, was replaced with a coat of gray and white fur, and a black cape. A bushy fox tail grew behind him as his hands and feet became wide and paw-like. His wider, cartoon eyes half closed in annoyance. He glared off to the side at an invisible audience, and mumbled “I hate it when this happens.”
The girl in the tabby cat suit shivered as her suit tightened around her, as well, squeezing her frame to a size that Izzy had to assume was a lot slimmer than she’d started, while her legs and feet became digitigrade. She hastily moved to cover her chest and crotch when she suddenly realized she’d gone from completely covered to nude save for her new body’s own fur.
In the line to her side, the girl in the sheep fursuit was curiously patting at the wool in her costume as it grew to become a part of her, then briefly flailed for balance as the hoof-shaped shoes became actual hooves, the horns on her costume’s head went from cloth to keratin, as did the hoof “nails” at the end of what had been her suit’s gloves. As the black cloth on the costume’s face became new skin, her new eyes blinked, opening to reveal pupils shaped like horizontal slits.
The other people in line moved away from the guy in the dragon costume as it tightened around its wearer, the air around him feeling just a little hotter. The cloth changed to rigid, firm scales, while the hollow plastic horns and claws filled out and became solid. He reached back, feeling over his tail and wings as they began to twitch and move on their own, and coughed as the costume's snout became movable, the cloth tongue slimming down into a serpent’s split tongue.
“Is this for real?” His new, gruffer voice could be heard mumbling.
The girl in the moth outfit looked down at her own costume’s arms, all four of them. The bottom two had been attached to the upper two by string at the wrists, allowing them to mimic the motions of the upper arms. But now, those strings were gone, and she could move all four of them independently of each other. To say nothing of the reddish-orange, gently-flapping wings on her back. The material had reformed into chitinous skin, with puffy white fuzz growing over her torso and head.
The vixen suit shrank around its wearer next, the loincloth and face paints that had once been sewn-in features of the costume separated as cloth turned to fur, a red wig became a mane of red hair, and tail, ears, and snout animated.
Others in the small crowd of furries, wearing less complete “costumes” changed as well. The artist selling her finely detailed, realistic art, despite only wearing a badge with her character on it over her clothes, became a fluffy snow leopard. The male artist selling the barely work-safe furry art, similarly found himself becoming the impossibly curvy bunny girl his badge depicted, her clothes struggling to fit her new frame. Among the other in line popped up a male blue jay, a neon-green shark-girl, and a chocolate-brown, five-tailed kitsune-man.
And of course, as most of the non-furry crowd made it a point to keep their distance from “that” part of the artist’s alley, once again, only the victims seemed to notice, much to Izzy’s frustration.
Still, when he watched the initial shock wear off, there seemed to be a lot more cautious curiosity, and even outright joy among those changed here. The new kitsune and wolf hugged their tails, the dragon and moth marveled at their new wings, and the others were whispering among themselves, startled initially that they couldn’t seem to intentionally call attention to their changed states, wondering how to get others to recognize them when they left, but also marveling about how “it’s finally real.”
It was a pleasant change of pace for Izzy, even if he was still weirded out by the crowd.
As his eyes fell over the vixen dressed like a shaman however, he noticed she was already looking his way. And once they made eye contact, she started walking toward him.