A scaly hand shoves a cup of hot cider into your hand. You take a sip.
It's really good. You taste ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, and something
else. It's sweet, hot, and it makes you feel better. The cup soon is
empty, and you are eager to spin the wheel.
You look at the wheel. On each space on the wheel hangs a different
wrestler's trunk, thong or loincloth. They are various sizes,
materials, colors, and textures. Some look like fur, others like
leather, some are clearly synthetic.
"What do you mean different anthros? How can you tell from just the
wrestling trunks?"
"You cannot. That's the trick. Spin the wheel. Change into the pair
of trunks that you win, and become a new creature. Spin!" hissed the
lizard man.
"Right, here goes," you say grabbing a metal spoke on the wheel and
giving it a big spin.
The wheel races round and round. The clacking noise of each spoke
racing passed the arrow that will designate your new form is somewhat
irritating. The wheel starts to slow down. Clack, clack, clack,
clack, clack.
You feel suddenly cold, and look down you're wearing only a pair of
dark blue wrestling trunks with red and white stripes.
"Hey, it hasn't stopped yet?" you say.
"Those aren't the wrestling trunks you'll wear. Those are the ones
the seamstress will hold. You get them back after you wrestle. You
win, you get them back unaltered. You lose, well, you get them back
remade into little girl panties. Clothes make the man or little
girl," growls the hyena man.
"Uh?"
There is a roar from the crowd in the main tent. Followed by cheers,
boos and catcalls. The tent flap lifts and an eight foot
anthrocreature enters with his head bowed low. His neck is at least
two feet long, so the effect is pronounced. His eel-like head is
dominated by sharp dagger like teeth.
"Aw, Moray, you lost 3 bouts! Guess, you're out," says a solicitous
goat man putting his furry arm on the grey wrestler's smooth shiny
leathery skin.
You hear a sewing machine whir loudly as the clacking of the wheel
continues. A clawed hand reaches out of the crowd of anthrowrestlers
and grabs the eelman's yellow trunks ripping them off him. Instantly
his body quivers, shrinks and changes to a light tan. Hair erupts on
his head. His hands cover his crotch as his body retracts into human
form.
"Moray is Tom Murray?" you gasp. He's a young professional wrestler
who disappeared earlier in the week.
The sewing machine stops and a flimsy pink and white lace panty goes
flying across the tent room and hits Tom Murray squarely in the face.
A giraffe man and zebra man rush up carrying a changing screen which
the fold around naked Tom Murray.
"Put them on!" Put them on!" chants the crowd.
You hear Tom Murray sniffling. You can see his barefeet below the
screen covering him from the neck down. He raises one foot. You see
the tiny panties as he steps into one leg opening. Your eyes widen.
His big hairy leg disappears into the pink and white lace, but a
dainty tiny pale smooth foot and leg come out. He raises the other
foot. You see the horror and bulging eyes peering over the changing
screen. As the other foot enters, his head vanishes below the screen.
You hear Tom Murray's deep voice say, "Oh!"
And then a tiny sweet little girl voice continues, "No!"
The changing screen is removed. There stands a cute 39 inch little
blonde haired girl in a pink flowery little dress. Her hair is all
blonde curls. She is wearing black Mary Janes (patent leather little
girl shoes). The giraffe man grabs her tiny hand and escorts her back
to the main tent. She leaves sniffling and glancing over her shoulder.
You see that one of the stands is filled with cute little girls. You
know Tom Murray will be joining that group.
"Come along, Marie," says the giraffeman as the flap closes behind
them.
Clack, clack...clack. Click.
"And we have a winner!"
You turn to look back at the wheel.
"Uh, what did I win?" you ask.
"Only one way to find out!" grunts the gorilla man reaching up and
pulling the trunks off the wheel and throwing them to you. The
hyenaman and zebraman carrying the changing screen over to you, and
fold it around you.
"Hand me your human trunks," demands the hyenaman, "And put on your
new anthro ones!"
"A pound of peanuts says he'll end up a herbivore," bets the elephant
man.
"Peanuts? I'll wager your peanuts against a 10 lb steak," roars the
lion man, "That he ends up a carnivore!"
There seem to be more anthrowrestlers. They must have come in after
Murray/Moray lost. You fumble with your blue trunks and hang them over
the side of the changing screen. The hyenaman eagerly grabs them.
You swear he's sniffing them as he runs them over to the corner of the
tent where the seamstress' sewing table is located.
You step into your new trunks...