Steve opened the targeting window and selected the man who had walked over to the door.
“Austin is playing Battlemace® in the community center.”
Steve laughed at the absurdity of that sentence. This app, which as far as Steve could tell was some sort of ancient, malicious entity that enjoyed turning men into pregnant anthros had, nonetheless, made sure to put the ® symbol after Battlemace.
Chuckling, Steve muttered, “I guess it didn’t want to me to think that it didn’t know that Battlemace was a registered trademark of GamesEditor.”
Getting back to the task at hand, Steve had half expected the presence to inject another phrase into his mind like ‘pregnant panda’ or ‘laboring lioness’, but the app seemed silent.
So, what could he do with this? ‘Austin’ seemed like he was the type of person who took charge of a situation and Steve was curious about something: how would the app deal with abbreviations, especially niche ones? Would it know what they were or count them as two words instead of one? Austin’s personality combined with Steve’s curiosity led him to think of the perfect change.
Steve selected “playing Battlemace®” and changed it to “anthro GSD”. He’d honestly expected an error message to pop up preventing him from using GSD, but instead the app just showed the reformed sentence “Austin is an anthro GSD in the community center.” So now came the question, what would the app think a GSD was?
Looking back through the plate glass wall, Steve saw a table whose players were still engrossed with the game in front of them. Turning to the other table, Steve saw a much different scene as the players there were all staring, slack jawed, at Austin. For his part, Austin had his hand stretched out in front of him while he stared at the brown fur that was rapidly covering the back of it.
Austin’s eyes went cross as he tried to stare down at the blackish muzzle extending out from his face. At the same time, the furry hand that Austin had previously been staring out now shot to the top of his head as he pressed down on the stiff, pointy ears that had extended almost 6 inches above his skull.
Finally, Austin’s clothes shimmered and blurred, until the world around it seemed to refocus, leaving Austin wearing what looked like a police dog vest that had been reshaped for a humanoid body. As Steve’s eyes went lower, he saw that the bottom half of Austin’s body was completely devoid of any clothing, though it wasn’t as though he needed it.
Other than the furry tail extending out from just above his butt, the thick brown fur that covered Austin’s body was dense enough to hide his lower bits. Or at least it was when looking at the new anthro German Shepherd from Steve’s vantage point in the parking lot.
One of the other players at Austin’s table pushed his chair backwards and stood up as he pointed at Austin who, for his part, just sat there, staring down at his new body with a dumbfounded look on his face. Steve thought about how lucky Austin was to have managed to stay a man, all while he watched as the players from the other table got up and walked over to the anthro dog.
The players in the center all began congregating in a circle around Austin, blocking Steve’s view of his handiwork. From his vantage point, Steve could only sit in his car and watch as the men who had remained human for the time being talked and pointed at the anthro that was obscured from Steve’s view.
Steve almost wanted to know what they were saying but, truthfully, he already knew. They were coming to the realization that Austin hadn’t managed to quickly change into some sort of fursuit. No, the fur that covered Austin’s body was real dog fur growing out of real dog skin. There wasn’t a human underneath that – just the human/dog hybrid organs that now sustained Austin’s anthro body.
Austin, on the other hand, was probably so confused at what had transpired that he still didn’t comprehend his new situation and was trying to get the other players to explain what was happening to him.
“Ding”
Steve opened up the app and saw his original sentence still there: “Austin is an anthro GSD in the community center.” It was a short and easily editable sentence. Plus, if Steve remembered correctly, he could edit it up to 3 times before he was forced to generate a new sentence.
Still should he continue on with editing this sentence? Perhaps he should generate a new sentence for Austin, or give Austin a break and target someone else? Steve counted a total of 14 people in the center, which meant that there were plenty of other opportunities waiting for him.
Looking at the phone, Steve’s finger hovered just above the screen as he pondered his options.