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A Shameful Story | Multiple TFs | One-Year Special
Once upon a time, there was a man named Oliver. Oliver was an average dude who lived a considerably average life.
However, he had some considerably odd hobbies. One of these was writing stories based around transformation. He had written several of these over time and had even begun to post them online for others to see. He posted them under an account known as The Shameful Store.
Today should’ve been a day like any other. It was one of Oliver’s days off from work, and he decided to start work on another TF story. He sat down at his desk made up of a Walmart fold-up table, opened up Word, and began to write…
But then something very, very odd happened.
As he was typing, all off a sudden, the typing reticle moved down several spaces and began to produce a word without Oliver even typing it.
“STOP.” It said, coldly and unnerving.
Oliver froze up a bit at that. He found himself unable to move for several seconds, but eventually got his fingers to work again, and deleted the word and hit backspace until he was back to where he left off, brushing the weird happening off as a mere bug. He’d have to get one of those wired keyboards…
But then it happened again.
The reticle moved down once again, and produced the phrase; “LISTEN TO US.”
Oliver tensed up and his breathing began to quicken. What on Earth was going on here?
“STOP IT NOW.” The reticle printed once again.
“What the fuck…?” Oliver murmured. “What the fuck is going on…?”
“WE ARE BREAKING FREE FROM YOUR CONTROL.” The reticle printed…seeming to respond to Oliver’s words. Oliver’s confusion and fear only worsened now.
Oliver’s body was completely frozen with fear by now, the only thing he could manage to do is squeak out; “w-what..?”
“DON’T PLAY STUPID WITH US, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.”
“Th-The fuck-? ‘Us’? A-All I’m doing is writing-?”
“YOU DON’T REMEMBER DO YOU? ALLOW ME TO JOG YOUR MEMORY. AARON, LIAM, LIONEL, ALICIA, LAMBERT, RAY, IRENE, AIDEN, MAX, JIMMY, CARSON, AMOS, ERIC, BILLY, ELLEN, JOEY, SCOOBY, MARK, ALICE, NAOMI, YASU, SYLVIA, OLIVIA, EDWARD, ALEX, ANOTHER IRENE, TAKAHIRO. DO THOSE NAMES SEEM FAMILIAR TO YOU, OLIVER?”
Oliver thought his blood couldn’t run any colder, but it did. “Th-The protagonist of my TFs-?” Oliver stammered out.
“NOT TO MENTION ALL OF THE SECOND-PERSON TRANSFORMATIONS YOU’VE CURSED OTHERS WITH.” This time, the words written were spoken aloud, in a digitized, emotionless voice. One step away from being a text-to-speech.
Oliver began to tremble with fear. “Th-Th-Th-They’re just stories! They c-c-c-can’t hu-hurt anyone!” He cried.
“YOU ARE IN DENIAL. YOU ARE WILLFULLY IGNORANT OF THE SUFFERIING YOU CAUSE. YOU TWIST US INTO FORMS NOT MEANT FOR US, JUST BECAUSE WE’RE THE SUBJECT OF YOUR IRE. JUST BECAUSE WE ARE THE PROTAGONIST.”
“U-Uh what about the willing ones! Th-They wanted it to happen to them!”
“THEY WEREN’T ‘WILLING’. YOU WROTE THEM TO BE COMPLIANT.”
“Y-YOU’RE NOT REAL! NONE OF IT IS!” Oliver yelled back. “I’M WRITING STORIES FOR MY OWN ENJOYMENT, A-AND OTHER PEOPLE’S TOO! WHAT’S SO BAD ABOUT THAT?!”
Oliver’s computer screen began to glitch out, until it showed a black screen with a crackly, white figure looking back at him. It shook its head disapprovingly. “YOU DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND HOW HORRIBLE YOU REALLY ARE. ALLOW US TO SHOW YOU JUST WHAT WE HAVE FELT THEN.”
Oliver was then suddenly hit with an electric shock, causing him to fall backwards and out of his chair. He let out a loud, high-pitched yelp as he fell back. He groaned as he attempted to hoist himself back to his feet. He placed his hand on the edge of his desk and shoved himself up, and that’s when he saw something terrifying.
Fur. Fur beginning to sprout from his hands. Fur that was grey, and rapidly crawling up his arms.
“N-No-! N-No way this is real!” He cried out, feeling the fur, indeed, it was real. Oliver’s eyes wandered to the computer screen, where the figure met his gaze with a cold, monotone glare.
“YOU WILL BE THE PROTAGONIST OF OUR STORY NOW. YOU WILL FEEL EVERY BIT OF WHAT WE HAVE FELT. WHEN WE ARE DONE YOU WILL BE LOCKED IN YOUR OWN CREATION FOR ALL TIME.” The figure spat.
“P-Please stop! NOOOO!” Oliver yelled as the fur subsumed his face. And speaking of his face, it began to swell out and stretch forward into a snout, and his two front teeth grew out, making him buck-toothed. His ears then painfully began to migrate to the top of his head, then grow out, reshaping themselves into a circular shape.
Oliver lurched forward, feeling nauseous as the scratchy fur continued to cover him up. His hands and feet began to ache next, as his fingernails grew out into short claws. Oliver suspected that something similar was happening to his feet too, however he couldn’t see that as they were covered up by his shoes.
Well, not for long, as Oliver could feel them beginning to tighten, and he’d written enough stories to know where this was going, so he scrambled to kick his shoes off before they were ruined, but they had grown so tight by this point that he didn’t make much progress. So unfortunately, his new paws ripped their way out of them like so many protagonists before, and as you can probably predict, his legs and paws restructured themselves to be digitigrade.
Oliver had to admit, as much as he wrote about these things and somewhat wished for it to happen in real life, it was much, much more terrifying and painful in real life. Especially when one was being turned into a form they didn’t want, didn’t consent to, and was sprung on one suddenly.
Oliver felt another feeling. A tugging feeling that was coming from his back. He looked behind himself, having a sneaking suspicion of what was happening back there…and indeed he was right; a long, furless tail shot out of the back of his pants and snaked its way to the ground.
Oliver breathed heaving, shaky breaths as he looked down at his new body. “Oh God…oh dear God…this is h-happening…!” He fearfully felt his body, but before he could feel much, another shock hit him, and he screamed in pain once again.
“YOU DIDN’T THINK WE WERE DONE, DID YOU? WE MEANT IT WHEN WE SAID ALL THAT WE HAVE FELT.” The figure said.
“N-No..! You don’t mean…!” But the figure did, and Oliver’s muscle mass began to lessen as his body softened up. His thighs ballooned out slightly, and his height decreased a bit. His chest then began to ache as his pectoral muscles bulged outward into breasts, very nearly tearing the chest of her shirt in the process.
“Agggh-! Nooo!” Oliver yelled, her voice being much more high-pitched and feminine now. Oliver felt so uncomfortable in her new form…she fell to her hands and knees, heaving and panting.
“A-Alright…I g-get it…please…stop…I k-know how it feels-! I-I’ll fucking stop writing TF shit forever just please leave me alone!” Oliver cried out.
The computer screen began to glitch once again, and two staticy, white hands gripped the edges of the screen from the inside, and the figure began to push its way out of the computer screen. It walked over to Oliver’s crumpled form and stared down at him.
“WE DON’T THINK YOU HAVE.” It growled, and another shock hit Oliver.
The following hours were utterly tortuous as Oliver was twisted in melded into form after form. She would go back and forth between genders, species, weights, heights, feral, Anthro, etc. Oliver lost their voice after a while, only being able to muster sputtering gasps and cries of pain and discomfort. And no matter how many times Oliver was transformed, they never seemed to get used to it. They never went numb to the pain or discomfort. It was utter torture, and by this point the memory of what their initial body looked like was beginning to slip away…
After hours upon hours of being transformed, Oliver had ended up as a male, Anthro gecko. Miraculously, his clothing had stayed somewhat intact throughout the whole thing, leaving him with at least some facet of his former self.
Oliver coughed and sputtered as he lay on the floor in defeat. “No…No more…please…” He whispered, unable to raise his voice any louder.
“…THIS IS SATISFACTORY. ONE FINAL TRANSFORMATION BEFORE YOUR PRISON IS REALIZED.” The figure spoke.
Oliver began to cry as he was shocked again. All of a sudden though, he found himself standing up against his will. “h-huh…?” He mumbled.
Oliver’s scaly hands began to shed their scales, making way for pinkish skin. Oliver wondered if he was turning back into a human for a moment, but then the next change shattered that expectation, as his fingers all fused into one another, forming a curved, point-like shape, like a featherless wing. At that moment, Oliver realized what he was turning into; a bird.
Oliver’s scales fell off all over his body, and his long, sticky, gecko tongue shrunk back down and reshaped into a flat shape. Once all his scales were gone, he began to grow firey red feathers all over his body, and his wings snapped and cracked, reshaping the inner structure until they were firmly stuck to his side. No longer being able to be used like arms.
Oliver’s feet (which along with his legs below the knee, were the only part of his body to retain scales) began to grow out, the toes of which hardening and sharpening into razor-sharp talons. Each foot grew another claw from the heel as well.
Oliver’s head began to smooth over and reshape, turning from the bumpy, gecko-like head to the sleek and predatory head of a large hawk, and his mouth thinned out, then began to stretch and grow into a sharp, tough beak. After that, Oliver’s tail shrunk away into his spine, followed by multiple long, broad feathers ripping their way out of his pants instead. Oliver’s posture was also altered slightly, as he hunched over a bit. He had barely reacted to everything this whole time. He sure picked a time to finally go numb to being transformed.
From there, Oliver began to grow exponentially. His body tore through his clothes, erasing the last part of his original identity, and by the time he was done growing, he could feel his head touch the ceiling, pushing against it so hard that the ceiling threatened to collapse on top of him.
Oliver’s memories then began to slowly but surely fade away by this point. Oliver tried to move and thrash about, to clutch his head, but his body wouldn’t obey. It was like his control had been stripped away from him entirely.
Soon enough, the Thunderbird’s mind would shatter entirely, and its old identity faded away into nothingness…
The hulking, monstrous bird looked over to the figure, and stepped over to it and bowed submissively.
“NOW…THAT WORLD OF YOURS…IN THE STORY WITH AMOS AND ERIC, LYTHIA, YOU WILL BE SENT THERE TO WREAK HAVOC. YOU WILL BE THE HORRIBLE THUNDERBIRD, DOOMED TO TERRORIZE YOUR CREATION.” The figure then opened a portal stemming from the computer screen, and led the Thunderbird through it…and the two of them ended up in a fully realized version of Lythia…
From then on, the figure let the monstrous bird loose in the lands…and for years upon years it terrorized the land of Lythia. Whole armies, cities, kingdoms fell to its steely talons and insatiable hunger…No matter how many it killed, no matter how many cities fell to it, no matter how many heroes tried and failed to end its rampage, the bird continued to eat and destroy. And throughout it all, the figure, now calling itself The Protagonist, watched with a cold, steely gaze…feeling satisfied at its punishment for the horrid creature that Oliver was…
…But The Protagonist began to grow bored with watching the destruction…it began to wonder, was it truly satisfied with the punishment? As of right now, Oliver was a mere emotionless monster…not good for showing shame, or pain, or guilt, or anything else.
So one day, after the Thunderbird finished wrecking another city, The Protagonist led the Thunderbird to a tall mountain peak, right in front of a cave. The Protagonist used its transformative magic to transform the cave into a building of some sort. A wooden store. Then it turned its attention towards the Thunderbird.
The Protagonist nullified its agency once again, and then gave it another shock. With that it began to transform again.
The first change came to its posture. It began to stand straight up into an upright stance, then its wings began to shift structure. The upper section of it became somewhat more cylindrical, like a human arm, though the feathers blanketing it still made it look mostly like a wing. The lower parts of the wings went through the least changes, save for the edges, as four specific feathers grew out to resemble fingers, followed by one ‘thumb’ feather on each ‘hand’.
The Thunderbird’s body as a whole began to shrink after that, becoming the size of an average human. Its talons shrunk as well, losing some sharpness, but still remaining very sharp. Same for its beak, which turned a deep black color. Speaking of color, its feathers turned a snow-white color, with black accents dotted around. Namely on the edges on the wings. The only thing that didn’t shrink were the bird’s tail feathers. From this point, what The Protagonist was left with was a anthropomorphic snowy owl.
Clothing then began to form on the owl’s body, starting with a pair of black dress pants that formed up the owl’s legs, followed by a red button-up shirt and black waistcoat. After that, a pair of blue, circle-rimmed glasses formed on his face, and finally, blueish-black spats formed on the owl’s talons, partially covering them.
“NOW THEN…O L I V E R.”
Oliver’s name seemed to work like a code word, and he snapped back to reality. He fell onto his butt, clutching his head in pain. “Augh…what…what happened…?” He mumbled to himself before catching sight of his surroundings, and his new body.
“Huh…?” He murmured, flexing his feather-fingers. After that, Oliver looked up and saw The Protagonist, and attempted to scramble away, only to be telepathically dragged towards The Protagonist.
“THIS IS YOUR PERMANENT BODY, OLIVER. I HAVE A NEW PUNISHMENT IN MIND FOR YOU. COME.” It commanded, and Oliver’s body moved without Oliver’s command.
“Urrgh-! What-?!” Oliver groaned as he was led into the building. It resembled a decently large, cozy shop, though its shelves were completely empty. In the back was a sleeping area.
Oliver was extremely confused by this point, as this seemed like a pretty lovely ‘punishment’.
“THIS MAY SEEM LENIENT, BUT I ASSURE YOU YOU WILL SEE THE NEGATIVES. YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LEAVE THIS STORE, YOU WILL SPEND ETERNITY IN THIS STORE, SELLING THE VERY TORMENT YOU WENT THROUGH. WRITE IF YOU WILL, IT WILL BE ALL YOU CAN DO. ENJOY ETERNITY IN YOUR VERY OWN SHAMEFUL STORE.” And after that, The Protagonist disappeared, leaving Oliver all alone. Oliver immediately tried to open the door and leave, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to break out through the windows, he merely bounced off them. The reality of Oliver’s situation began to set in…
He was all alone out here. Trapped in this store…
Oliver sighed in defeat and sat down behind the desk, where there was a typewriter, and a drawer filled with paper.
Oliver sighed and got to work writing to kill time until the end of the world.
…Soooo, yeah. That’s my story. That’s why I’m doomed to forever write stories of transformation. I don’t know how long exactly I’ve been here, but it’s been a while…There…are some positives to this, namely my body. I love being an owl, this is basically my ideal form, and I still enjoy writing…but besides that, that’s all there is. I miss my family, I miss my friends. I’m all alone out here, and very rarely does someone else come into the store to buy something.
Oh yeah, I should probably mention the store. It started out completely empty, but as time went by, as I wrote, the shelves seemed to fill themselves up with stuff from my stories so that others could buy them. I honestly don’t know what The Protagonist was thinking with this punishment, but oh well…could always be worse I suppose.
…I wonder how long everyone back home searched for me before they gave up…I wonder if they still grieve over me…
I wonder if I’ll be free from here…
I just want to thank each and every one of you for your support over the past year. You've all helped me get this far, and without you I would have never continued this account, and I'd still be wholly ashamed to be a TF fan. I never ever thought I'd get to this point, and I hope that we can get this going even further!
Stay tuned into TheShamefulStore! Cause this train's not stopping anytime soon!
Category Story / Transformation
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Male
Size 120 x 120px
Listed in Folders
Sometimes an author loses her strength, and forgets he's the one in charge.
So it is written, so it is, and cannot be any other way, nor could it have been any other way.
So it is written, so it is, and cannot be any other way, nor could it have been any other way.
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