Paul and Chuck parked outside of Jeff’s house.
The anthro bear lived with his former pro-football playing father out in the suburbs. His house was a retro split-level that was large but modest. It wasn’t quite what you would have expected from someone whose dad was a millionaire, but Jeff’s dad had never been one to show off.
Paul had just started interning at an office downtown. He was one of Finn’s friends from High School, though instead of going to college, he’d started working. Chuck was an overweight black security guard whom he’d met at work. They’d started talking during a lunch break and Paul had mentioned DnD. Chuck had gotten excited. Apparently, he’d always wanted to play but never had enough friends to play with.
He hadn’t told Finn that he was bringing Chuck over, but it shouldn’t be a big deal. Finn only wanted to play with 6 people maximum, but the other guys were really flaky. Chuck was…and Paul hated to say it…thirsty for friendship and socialization. No way would he flake out, it would literally be the highlight of his week. Chuck was wearing a shirt with a D20 on it, so he was clearly taking this seriously.
They walked up the pathway and knocked on the door.
The door opened, revealing a huge middle-aged ram. He had a big beer gut which was balanced by the thick muscles in his arms, legs and chest. The ram was holding a bottle of beer and a wearing a football jersey and mesh shorts. The smell of beer and barnyard musk wafted off of him.
“Hey there boys!” The ram boomed, a wide smile on his muzzle, “You here for Finn’s game?”
“Uh, yes sir,” Chuck said, eyeing up the ram and shifting in place, trying to hide his boner.
“He’s in the basement, go behind the stairs, that’s where the basement door is.” The ram smiled and moved out of the way.
Paul and Chuck made their way around the front staircase and opened the door. The light was on in the basement, and they could hear someone chuckling and muttering to themselves. Which was strange, because Paul was sure that Charlie and Jeff were there, and those guys weren't quiet.
“Come on,” Paul said, and walked down the basement steps.
Chuck followed after him.
Finn, an obese little fox, was giggling between swigs of Mountain Dew, eyes focused on a strange crystal ball set on the table in front of him. Papers and pencils and notebooks were stacked nearby, and occasionally he would make a note and pull out his phone.
“Finn?” Paul said.
Finn jumped, staring at the two as if they’d caught him with his pants down.
“W-what are you doing here?”
“I’m just a little late, sorry. Was bringing Chuck here up to speed.” Paul smiled.
Finn glanced at Chuck.
“Hi, I’m Chuck,” Chuck volunteered.
“I’m Finn.” The obese fox smiled. “Normally, I’d be upset that Paul invited someone without my permission, but we are low on players. The other two haven’t shown up or called to let me know anything. So, welcome aboard!”
“Thanks!” Chuck smiled.
“So why were you late, Paul?” Finn asked sharply, turning his attention to Paul. “Not even a text to let me know?”
“I’ve never played DnD and Paul was helping me out.” Chuck said.
“Oh. That’s nice of him. Do you have a backstory? Is your character ready?” Finn asked.
Chuck handed the papers over with a smile. “I hope you like it.”
“Yes, well…” The fox read quickly, “We don’t have dwarves.”
“No dwarves?” Chuck asked. “I thought it was 5e?”
“Unfortunately, WOTC decided they wanted to get dictatorial with their OGL, so this is going to be something of a homebrew. Mostly just Anthros. Ever play Iron Claw?”
“No, never heard of it.” Chuck smiled.
“Right, and you’ve probably never played it even if you had.” The fox mulled over the background. “Any particular animals you’d like?”
“Uh…ram?” Chuck asked, blushing at the thought of the older ram he met upstairs.
“Like my dad huh?” Finn smirked.
“Yeah, exactly like that.” Chuck looked away, embarrassed.
“Hey, don’t be ashamed. Jeff calls him a DILF all the time.” Finn smiled. “Okay. Class?”
“Barbarian.”
“We have one. Or, shall I say, had.”
“Is that a no?”
“Not necessarily.” Finn tapped a pencil to his muzzle, looking over the papers scattered across his desk. “I’m going to circle back around to that later. We might be able to help you fit better into the party.”
“Guys?” Paul waved at them. “I’m gonna head upstairs and microwave my snacks.”
“Okay, we’ll be a few minutes.” Finn said.
Paul left. Chuck and Finn resumed going over his background and character sheet. While they did that, Chuck noticed that Jeff and Charlie weren’t around. Had they gone out somewhere for food?
“Uh, I’d like them to be Celtic, if that helps.”
“Sure. I see you have a maul as your weapon. Uh, outfit?”
“Traditional Tartan kilt.” Chuck smiled.
“That’s…Scottish, but you originally wanted to be a Dwarf…yeah, sure, I could maybe combine both.” Finn picked up his phone with his paws and started tapping furiously away. “Scottish-Celtic fusion. Thick accent, loves beer too much, overly personable, oh yeah, you’re gonna be perfect!”
“Cool!” Chuck grinned.
“Do you mind if I set you up with a homebrew class?” Finn asked.
“What is it?”
“Well, It’s a Barbarian subclass that combines Rune Knight. Since you’re going for that fusion, I thought making something that uses Runes might be fitting.”
“Sounds great.” Chuck paused. “By the way, where are the other players?”
“Hmm?” Finn said, too busy typing info into his phone to look up. His paws were a blur, which impressed Chuck immensely. He couldn’t type that fast without making mistakes. Then, with a flourish, the fox hit enter. “There! So, what were you asking?”
“The other players?” Chuck said, itching his chest as dense hairs began to sprout and spread.
“Already in the game.” Finn smiled and pointed behind Chuck. “Look!”
“But where-?” Chuck turned his head and suddenly fell off balance. He managed to catch himself on the table, but the texture was wrong. No longer was it the cheap plastic fold-out, but rough-hewn, smoothed by years of use. “Wh-what’s going on?”
“You’re going to have so much fun!” Finn giggled
The walls around Chuck began to shimmer, concrete becoming white wattle-and-daub with thick logs acting as support. He turned to stare at Finn in disbelief only to see the fox’s form fade away along with the rest of the basement. In his place was a bunch of tables and what looked like a bar.
Sound suddenly struck his ears as people began to populate the empty tavern. Anthros of all sorts, dressed in medieval garb, were laughing and talking. The smell of booze and roasted chicken and gravy filled the air. Chuck stared around in shock as he realized he had been transported to the game world.
A cold breeze made Chuck shiver. He looked down just in time to see his clothes rustle and then disintegrate away, leaving the fat black kid completely naked. Chuck covered himself hurriedly, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. It was like something out of nightmare!
But none of the anthros had. In fact, it didn’t appear that anyone had even noticed the hairy human in the middle of the tavern. Chuck paused at that thought. Hairy? He glance down, only now noticing the thick ruff of fur that was spreading from his chest and gut and across his whole body.
Chuck’s eyes went wide as he realized he was transforming, likely into the ram he’d described to Finn. Somehow, with magic or something, he’d been transported to a fantasy world and was now becoming another citizen. Chuck grinned and rushed over to the bar. The bar had a mirror set into the back wall and he didn’t want to miss a single thing!
His heart pounded with excitement as the fur traveled up his chest and down to his large hands, the tan fur darkening to a brown as it wrapped around his back. The fur that traveled up his belly and neck was more of a creamy color. It was the exact same color pattern Finn’s dad had.
His face began to itch as a thick coarse fur began to grow on his face. It was shorter around his eyes and on his forehead but grew into a beard around his chin and throat. Even his hair changed, thickening and straightening into a stylish ruff at the top of his head. Almost like Finn’s dad’s hairstyle, but longer, carved stones weaving themselves into the strands of his goatee and hair.
Finn had told Chuck he was creating a styled fusion of two cultures and general dwarfish lore. Chuck smiled and ran his hands through his hair, careful to not disturb it. He had fur! While he was busy admiring his new coat, the next changes began.
With his next breath, his body swelled, muscles twitching pleasantly. Chuck’s spine popped, making him dizzy as his line of sight shot up a few inches. His ribs creaked as his chest barreled out and his shoulder spread and broadened in a series of creaks and crunches. It didn’t hurt, it almost felt relieving, like stretching after sitting in a cramped position.
The twitching in his muscles quickly grew in intensity, then they began to contract and expand. His gut and body fat was quickly being sucked away, fueling the growth of his muscles. Moobs firmed and thickened into heavy slabs of meat that shoved forward, forming a shelf. Flabby arms grew biceps the size of bowling balls, forearms firming and thickening. Wave after wave of muscle piled onto Chuck’s upper body, making him look hunched.
The change spread down to his hips, his pelvis expanding and his ass inflating with pure muscle. Chuck grunted and shifted in place as his cock thickened and grew, snaking down his thigh. As his balls swelled, Chuck touched his groin. His hands grew wide and meaty as Chuck felt himself, marveling at the strength he felt coursing through his body and the tips of his fingers hardened into thick black hooves while his palm grew calloused.
The changes weren’t done yet, traveling ever lower.
Chuck’s legs started to expand and bulge with more muscles. His heels lifted as his stance began to conform to one more appropriate for a digitigrade form. Chuck’s toes fused, the toenails growing dark and thick, forming bony cloven hooves. Then the changes seemed to travel back upwards. Thick, soft fur began to grow up from the base of his hooves and up into his legs. The hair reached Chuck’s hips and he grunted, leaning forward and revealing his ass crack. His tailbone moved, swelling into a nub, then extended forward a few inches, fur poofing around it. It waggled tantalizingly in the air behind him.
Chuck wriggled his nose as he felt the changes reach his head. His nose grew dark, nostrils flaring as it grew wide and blocky. He smiled as he watched his lips darken and a set of blunt teeth filled his mouth as it pushed further out in front of his skull, elongating into a muzzle. Two dark brown bony horns pushed themselves out of his skull, angled backwards. They widened and curved as they grew in until they fully rounded, spiraling around ears that had stretched into points were now pointing to the sides instead of resting on his face. Those ears flicked wildly as Chuck admired himself.
He looked almost identical to Finn’s dad, if his dad were younger and in his prime. Chuck took a moment to stretch and pose, intentionally waggling his tufty tail and watching his muscles bulge, thick veins pulsing under his hide. His dick slapped his furry stomach, and Chuck took a moment to feel it, ear wriggling in delight as he stroked his massive girth.
Normally, he’d be too self-conscious, but no one seemed to be paying attention.
“Maybe this is normal in Finn’s campaign?” Chuck thought to himself, acutely aware of the fact that he had somehow entered a completely new reality.
“Well, no one’s paying attention anyways,” he thought as he continued to rub his new, massive cock.
As if on cue, clothing began to stitch itself onto his new form. Tartan cloth wrapped itself over thick leather armor. The plaid pattern on green cloth was woven in Celtic runes, stitched with gold threads. Even his breastplate had runic patterns on them. Strangely, while it fit him properly in the chest, the outfit was rather loose around his midsection and upper haunches.
There was a heavy *clunk* as a large maul with a runic head and a shark skin grip appeared out of thin air.
Chuck reached for it and hefted the Rune-covered maul, marveling at how light the weapon was. The shark-skin grip was perfect for his rough, calloused hands and he took a few experimental swings, careful not to hit anyone in the crowded tavern. No one even flinched, convincing Chuck that he was still invisible to him.
“So, how do you like it?” Finn’s voice came from behind the new ram.
Chuck turned, giving the fat fox a wide, toothy grin. “I love it! Clothes don’t quite fit, though.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll grow into it. Wanted you to enjoy your prime for a bit.” Finn pointed at the bartender. “Go ahead and order a beer, my dad loves them, so you will too.”
“I don’t have to be exactly like your dad.” Chuck smiled.
“You did say that was what you wanted, but good point.” Finn brought up his phone. “Yeah, you’d be in lots of fights and training to be the same level as the others without going on adventures. Let’s calculate that into it.”
“Is that what you’re using to change things?” Chuck asked.
“Hmm?” Finn looked up as the device beeped. He glanced back down and chuckled. “Wow, you’ll be a lot bigger than my dad.”
“Why don’t you change yourself?” Chuck asked.
“I will, but I kinda have decision paralysis.” Finn shrugged. “Plus I can take over any NPC I want.”
Chuck sat down at the bar and waved down the bartender. The bartender was a large, fat hog with a scruffy blonde beard. He blinked, as though he hadn’t noticed the muscular ram sitting at the stool until then and grinned.
“How goes it Hagerd?” the barkeep asked.
“Oh!” Chuck glanced at Finn, who made a gesture of encouragement. “Uh, it’s going good, barkeep.”
“Barkeep?” the bartender chuckled. “You talk as if you aren’t in here every night.”
“Uh…” Chuck glanced at Finn, but the fat fox was fiddling with his phone. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him. He put on a bad Scottish accent and addressed the hog, making up the first name that popped into his head. “Sorry, Fergus. Can ya get me a pint?”
“Just a pint?” Fergus snorted. “Alright Hagerd, I’ll get you a mug.”
Chuck smirked and turned to check out what Finn thought of his improvisation, but the Fox was still typing things into his phone.
“Ya gonna be on the phone all night or what?” Hagerd asked, and frowned.
Why was he talking to Finn with an accent?
“Here ya go, Hagerd.” Fergus said, slamming a big mug of beer on the counter by Hagerd’s elbow.
Hagerd’s nostril’s flared. The beer smelled amazing! Roasted barley, hops, sugar, it was an aroma that had his mouth watering. Hagerd picked up the mug with one hand and took a big swig. Flavor exploded in his mouth. Normally, he wasn’t much of a beer guy, but the depth of flavor in the tavern’s ale was incredible! It even managed to be cold, too, which he hadn’t expected in a medieval bar.
“Gah! Tha’ hits the spot!” Hagerd smacked his lips and burped.
“You always say that,” Fergus rolled his eyes. “I’ll prep the barrel.”
Hagerd briefly wondered what he meant by that, but the sweet-savory aroma of the beer was calling to him.
“How’s the beer?” Finn’s voice cut through the sound of the tavern. “You like it?”
Hagerd turned and lifted the empty mug. “Aye, but I ran out.”
“Nah, Fergus has you covered. Nice improv, by the way.”
“Thank ya.” Hagerd paused. “Why do I sound like this?”
“I’ve been having problems with people not staying in character. Since you’re new, I decided to help you out – you might have noticed the new name too, don’t want things to be too confusing for you given that you’re kind of just dropping into that ram’s life.”
Fergus waddled out from the back, and Hagerd waved the hog down again.
“Can I get a top up?” Hagerd tipped his mug over.
“Ya got a whole barrel back there.” Fergus snorted.
“What?” Hagerd blinked.
“You drink a whole damn barrel Fergus said, slapping Hagerd’s flat stomach with a solid thump. “How d’ya think ya got a gut like that?”
Hagerd glanced down at the hog’s trotters. His belly had thumped solidly, but it felt oddly soft. He rubbed his stomach and found a layer of soft flab covering over his washboard abs. Hagerd turned and looked wild-eyed at Finn.
“Finn, I don’t want to be fat!” Hagerd hissed.
“You said, ‘I wanna be a ram’, I asked, ‘like my dad’, and you replied, ‘exactly like that.” Finn shrugged, “I mean, if it’s that upsetting, I can change it, but you won’t be upset once the transformation is finished.”
“I don’t want you to turn me into some fat middle-aged guy.” Hagerd said, “Come on, I’ve read stories like this before. I’m into transformation, but at least let me enjoy being a fit young guy first.”
Finn pursed his lips and stroked his muzzle. “Alright. I guess I have to make some adjustments.”
“Are you just saying that to appease me?” Hagerd asked warily.
“No. In fact, Hagerd, I’ll let you have some time to get into character before you meet your party. A few solo adventures here and there.” Finn finished typing something into his phone. “There. As a token of my trust.”
Hagerd reached down and felt his abs. The fat had receded, leaving him with perfect washboards again. He turned back to the barkeep with a grin and hoisted his mug.
“Refill, please!”
Fergus cocked a brow, and Hagerd thought the hog looked oddly younger. He’d looked old before, not, like, old old, but as old as Dave was. The heavy gut was gone as well, replaced with a muscular little belly. Still, a hog was a hog, and Hagerd noticed his apron pooching out from just the slightest bit of belly fat.
“And yer name is?” Fergus asked.
“Hagerd.” Hagerd smirked.
“I’m called Fergus, welcome to the Sit and Swill.” Fergus smiled and refilled Hagerd’s mug.
“So, better?” Finn asked from behind Hagerd.
“Yeah!” Hagerd grinned, guzzling down the mug in one long slug. He belched happily, wiping the foam from his muzzle. “This beer is the best!”
“Thank ya.” Fergus chuckled, “Refill?”
Hagerd nodded.
“Well, if there’s nothing else…” the obese fox said, getting up, “I have to get back to Paul.”
“Wait!” Hagerd turned, “Are you really fine with this?”
“I mean, the goal of the game is to make you happy, not to torture you.” Finn snorted. “It’s a narrative story. I’m not like the Ty guy in those transformation stories. I’m not here to fuck you over. Why would I? I like having friends.”
“So you’re not like those weirdos that turn their best friends into puppies or Skoda Superbs when they could do that to a bully or criminals and then act sociopathically possessive about it?” Hagerd asked.
“No. And I’m not turning you into a fly where I can live out my snuff fantasies over and over or a donkey that I find both sexy and disgusting all at once or turn you. And if you lose, you don’t have to worry about me keeping you conscious as your head gets stuffed and mounted on a wall, all while a band of ravenous gnolls feasts on the insides that you can still feel – or about that happening after you accidentally fall into a cursed spring that turns you into a deer.”
“That’s good to know.” Hagerd replied.
“Alright, well, I guess I’ll leave you to it until the party comes to pick you up.” Finn stood and pushed in his chair.
“And, uh, no more mind changes after this!” Hagerd insisted.
“Absolutely. You’re just roleplaying from now on. Like I said before, plenty of good one-on-one adventures out there, loaded a few of them into the program for your enjoyment. Uh, two rules-no breaking character, and you have to stay here until the party comes.”
“In the bar?”
“No, the city in general. You can go out to adventure, but no moving residences. You have a key to a small house and a job as a bouncer in this bar…if you ask for it.” Finn punched something into his phone and began to vanish.
“How long until the party gets here?” Finn called after him.
“A while, time works a lot differently here. But don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.” Finn smirked and disappeared.