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Another Anthrocon "Sketch" story, this one was for my friend 
illustriousmonad and features a SFW man -> anthro hawk reality shift transformation. Short and sweet!
1.5k words
If you like my work, feel free to favorite, comment, and watch me on FA!
Photo Birb
Sketch Story for Monad
Marquis Orias
SFW Bird TF
Photos captured a moment, an essence, a vibe; Monad knew each lens magnified and refined reality, saving those memories of friends and strangers, nature and humanity.
Being offered a spellbound camera, then, piqued his interest. The rest of the curio shop consisted of outdated and dusty hardware. A few old IBM PCs. An Amiga or two. Plenty of early 2000’s digital cameras. Even an assortment of rusty slide rules.
“For free? No, uh, contracts, warranties, or stated liabilities?” Monad raised an eyebrow at the aged shopkeeper twiddling his thumbs behind the counter.
“On a camera? Why would there be? It’s just a tool. If there were documents, they’re either yellowed and torn or cast away into the recycle bin.” The shopkeeper pushed the dusty polaroid closer to him; its worn leather case showing cracks in the light. Dusty, as if it were to fall apart at the slightest touch.
But Monad did touch the camera. He caressed the case; he let his fingers glide across the spring-loaded flash. Chemical history. Vintage polaroids.
He should have been excited. Should have been. But Monad wore his concern flush across his face, and the bespectacled shopkeeper detected it.
“What’s wrong? A free antique is a free antique” A wry smile formed across the shopkeeper’s lips which Monad figured did not help his case in any way.
“My concern is kinda silly. But… uh. There was this old Goosebumps story.”
The shopkeeper did look like R.L Stine, now that Monad was thinking of the direct comparison. The balding hair. The glasses. The sunken eyes. Even the ambiance of the shop screamed something straight out of an episode of the 90s television show. No sentient dummies, but Monad hadn’t yet scoured every aisle.
“We don’t keep many books in stock. Just seven or eight copies of Stephen King’s The Tommyknockers, but that’s mostly because I have a personal vendetta against Stephen King and love stocking his most personally-despised novel.”
“I uh… I see. But this Goosebumps book had a cursed camera that displayed images of terrible fates befalling its subjects. And then those fates would come true in real life.”
“That’s the kind of twisted tale that’ll stick with you for years.”
“Exactly! I’m just hoping that this camera doesn’t do that. I want to take pictures of friends and stuff at this upcoming convention–”
“I guarantee, and while there’s no money involved here, I guarantee on my life that this camera is not cursed and will not turn your friends into their fursonas–”
Monad raised an eyebrow. “H0w do you know about… those?”
“Internet.”
“Fair, but how did you know that I was going to a furry convention–”
“Creepy shopkeeper intuition. We train for years to be able to read peoples’ souls and desires.” The shopkeeper gave Monad a curt nod. “Enjoy your camera.”
—
“Ladies and gentlemen, please huddle together for a picture!” Monad gestured for his friends to line up for a convention photoshoot. “Loving the fursuits and partials alike!”
The local furry convention had good turnout, better than Monad had expected. Friends and strangers who became friends gathered together to share artwork, ideas, and show off their costumes both planned and improvised. Capturing the essence of those moments was critical for the photo collage that Monad wished to put together. Something for the album.
He’d stuck to mostly digital, but he had brought the camera despite his reservations about the shopkeeper’s disingenuous words. The shopkeeper had been so insistent that the camera wasn’t cursed, that it’d nearly convinced Monad that it was. But spells… curses… those were all fairytales. No way it was legit. Just an old polaroid, and it’d take a vintage photograph well.
Everyone loved vintage.
Setting down his digital camera, Monad rummaged through his bag for his thrift-store haul. He’d cleaned its lenses, and he’d inserted fresh batteries and filmstock.
“Dude, is that a polaroid?” One of his friends asked as Monad lifted up the camera.
“Yup! Got it from an antiques shop. Ready to get a little retro?”
“Sure thing!”
Snap. Click. Brrrr.
Snap. Click. Brrr.
Monad laid out each polaroid on a nearby table to let them develop. He didn’t bother shaking them, no time to reenact Hey Ya while his friends still wanted more pics.
“Okay, I’m going to take more–” Monad looked through the camera eyehole, but this time his friends seemed off… distorted… the suits more real… and the human faces contorting and stretching in real time–
Lowering the camera, Monad’s jaw dropped as he watched the scene continue. Faces popped forward into muzzles and beaks, hands sprouted pads and claws or scales and talons. Animal growls and avian chirps and reptilian hisses slipped into the lingo as the attendees, stretched and altered out of reality, paid no mind to their altering forms.
But Monad knew exactly what had transpired. That camera, that accursed camera.
T-shirts ripped and tore, shoes buckled, but none of his friends seemed to care. Those inside suits had a seamless transition. What was one moment a costume became true flesh. The others experienced a drawn out metamorphosis. Those darkened, upturned noses glistened with pebbled moisture. Stretched ears perked. Curved beaks clicked. A few forked tongues dipped out past scaled lips.
Characters locked behind copyrighted intellectual property clauses suddenly breathed life, their minds a blend of who they’d once been as men and women and also who they always were supposed to be, merged lore.
Did he need to state the obvious? Did he need to mention the accursed… blessed… camera.
“You guys, I think you’re all becoming your fursonas…” Monad clutched his camera tight against his chest. “I think it might be my fault, too. Or at least this camera’s…”
“What are you talking about, man? Fursonas?” A friend who had shifted into a colorful werewolf shook his head. “We’re just hanging out…”
“But the costumes–”
“We’re at a gaming convention, dude. You’re the only one dressed up like a human. It’s cool! Though you might want to ditch it before we go down into the main hall.”
Monad gave his friends a curt nod, his fingers thrumming across the camera.
What to do… what to do…
“Look, we’re going back to shop for games in like five minutes… do you want to–”
Monad flipped the camera and took a picture. The flash blinded his eyes, temporarily, much harsher than what a polaroid camera should be.
He set down the camera gently as he could manage, and then proceeded to rub his eyes with hands coated in… scales?
As his sight returned, Monad saw his hands contort into the scaled claws of an anthro avian. Talons erupted from his fingertips, sharp and curved. He reached for his face again to find… feathers… feathery down coating his cheeks as his lips hardening and curving forward.
“Good to see you getting out of that costume! You look great, man!” Another one of his friends, morphed into the visage of a tiger, playfully smacked Monad on his feather coated shoulder.
“I feel… a little different.” Monad blinked as the world came into his focus. His glasses slipped over his shifting beak, and his eyesight sharpened to compensate. Perfect vision, far beyond the capabilities of a mere human, gave him the ability to see more and more of the world that he’d slipped into.
A convention not for furries but attended by furries. Real anthros. In all species, shapes, and sizes. Going about their business at a… gaming convention. Yeah, that was it. A gaming convention where anthros came to banter and shop old titles–
Audible tears announced the movement of the feathers down across the rest of his skin. His shirt and pants survived, but not intact. Dark feathers, black with purple highlights, slipped through the rips in his clothing. His shoes didn’t fare any better, relenting to scaled toes and talons that grew by the inch. Enough to grasp any brand for a perch, mid-flight.
Could he even fly?
No memories surfaced, and yet his new form felt… normal. He clicked his beak, felt the hardness of his new mouth as his tongue pressed against its contours. So sharp. So potent. And with these wings… wings with hands… could he fly? He simply had to be able to fly… Some ingrained memories, bubbling up within him, told him a resounding yes. He’d soar.
“Bit of a rugged look today for ya, eh?” A friend commented on Monad’s ruffled feathers.
The folding of reality phased Monad, but no one else. This was how they’d always been. This was how they’d always be–
“So yeah, let’s go down to the main hall. Maybe we can get some good deals on classic games like Glover.”
“You always ask about Glover, dude. Just let it go.” A hyena in sunglasses shook his head.
“You CANNOT diss Glover. I won’t allow it.”
This slice out of time, this folded reality, felt increasingly comfortable with each passing breath. Monad smiled best he could manage with his new beak, a different set of muscles required to forge the expression. He still had a whole convention weekend ahead of him… and plenty of photographs to take.
illustriousmonad and features a SFW man -> anthro hawk reality shift transformation. Short and sweet!1.5k words
If you like my work, feel free to favorite, comment, and watch me on FA!
Photo Birb
Sketch Story for Monad
Marquis Orias
SFW Bird TF
Photos captured a moment, an essence, a vibe; Monad knew each lens magnified and refined reality, saving those memories of friends and strangers, nature and humanity.
Being offered a spellbound camera, then, piqued his interest. The rest of the curio shop consisted of outdated and dusty hardware. A few old IBM PCs. An Amiga or two. Plenty of early 2000’s digital cameras. Even an assortment of rusty slide rules.
“For free? No, uh, contracts, warranties, or stated liabilities?” Monad raised an eyebrow at the aged shopkeeper twiddling his thumbs behind the counter.
“On a camera? Why would there be? It’s just a tool. If there were documents, they’re either yellowed and torn or cast away into the recycle bin.” The shopkeeper pushed the dusty polaroid closer to him; its worn leather case showing cracks in the light. Dusty, as if it were to fall apart at the slightest touch.
But Monad did touch the camera. He caressed the case; he let his fingers glide across the spring-loaded flash. Chemical history. Vintage polaroids.
He should have been excited. Should have been. But Monad wore his concern flush across his face, and the bespectacled shopkeeper detected it.
“What’s wrong? A free antique is a free antique” A wry smile formed across the shopkeeper’s lips which Monad figured did not help his case in any way.
“My concern is kinda silly. But… uh. There was this old Goosebumps story.”
The shopkeeper did look like R.L Stine, now that Monad was thinking of the direct comparison. The balding hair. The glasses. The sunken eyes. Even the ambiance of the shop screamed something straight out of an episode of the 90s television show. No sentient dummies, but Monad hadn’t yet scoured every aisle.
“We don’t keep many books in stock. Just seven or eight copies of Stephen King’s The Tommyknockers, but that’s mostly because I have a personal vendetta against Stephen King and love stocking his most personally-despised novel.”
“I uh… I see. But this Goosebumps book had a cursed camera that displayed images of terrible fates befalling its subjects. And then those fates would come true in real life.”
“That’s the kind of twisted tale that’ll stick with you for years.”
“Exactly! I’m just hoping that this camera doesn’t do that. I want to take pictures of friends and stuff at this upcoming convention–”
“I guarantee, and while there’s no money involved here, I guarantee on my life that this camera is not cursed and will not turn your friends into their fursonas–”
Monad raised an eyebrow. “H0w do you know about… those?”
“Internet.”
“Fair, but how did you know that I was going to a furry convention–”
“Creepy shopkeeper intuition. We train for years to be able to read peoples’ souls and desires.” The shopkeeper gave Monad a curt nod. “Enjoy your camera.”
—
“Ladies and gentlemen, please huddle together for a picture!” Monad gestured for his friends to line up for a convention photoshoot. “Loving the fursuits and partials alike!”
The local furry convention had good turnout, better than Monad had expected. Friends and strangers who became friends gathered together to share artwork, ideas, and show off their costumes both planned and improvised. Capturing the essence of those moments was critical for the photo collage that Monad wished to put together. Something for the album.
He’d stuck to mostly digital, but he had brought the camera despite his reservations about the shopkeeper’s disingenuous words. The shopkeeper had been so insistent that the camera wasn’t cursed, that it’d nearly convinced Monad that it was. But spells… curses… those were all fairytales. No way it was legit. Just an old polaroid, and it’d take a vintage photograph well.
Everyone loved vintage.
Setting down his digital camera, Monad rummaged through his bag for his thrift-store haul. He’d cleaned its lenses, and he’d inserted fresh batteries and filmstock.
“Dude, is that a polaroid?” One of his friends asked as Monad lifted up the camera.
“Yup! Got it from an antiques shop. Ready to get a little retro?”
“Sure thing!”
Snap. Click. Brrrr.
Snap. Click. Brrr.
Monad laid out each polaroid on a nearby table to let them develop. He didn’t bother shaking them, no time to reenact Hey Ya while his friends still wanted more pics.
“Okay, I’m going to take more–” Monad looked through the camera eyehole, but this time his friends seemed off… distorted… the suits more real… and the human faces contorting and stretching in real time–
Lowering the camera, Monad’s jaw dropped as he watched the scene continue. Faces popped forward into muzzles and beaks, hands sprouted pads and claws or scales and talons. Animal growls and avian chirps and reptilian hisses slipped into the lingo as the attendees, stretched and altered out of reality, paid no mind to their altering forms.
But Monad knew exactly what had transpired. That camera, that accursed camera.
T-shirts ripped and tore, shoes buckled, but none of his friends seemed to care. Those inside suits had a seamless transition. What was one moment a costume became true flesh. The others experienced a drawn out metamorphosis. Those darkened, upturned noses glistened with pebbled moisture. Stretched ears perked. Curved beaks clicked. A few forked tongues dipped out past scaled lips.
Characters locked behind copyrighted intellectual property clauses suddenly breathed life, their minds a blend of who they’d once been as men and women and also who they always were supposed to be, merged lore.
Did he need to state the obvious? Did he need to mention the accursed… blessed… camera.
“You guys, I think you’re all becoming your fursonas…” Monad clutched his camera tight against his chest. “I think it might be my fault, too. Or at least this camera’s…”
“What are you talking about, man? Fursonas?” A friend who had shifted into a colorful werewolf shook his head. “We’re just hanging out…”
“But the costumes–”
“We’re at a gaming convention, dude. You’re the only one dressed up like a human. It’s cool! Though you might want to ditch it before we go down into the main hall.”
Monad gave his friends a curt nod, his fingers thrumming across the camera.
What to do… what to do…
“Look, we’re going back to shop for games in like five minutes… do you want to–”
Monad flipped the camera and took a picture. The flash blinded his eyes, temporarily, much harsher than what a polaroid camera should be.
He set down the camera gently as he could manage, and then proceeded to rub his eyes with hands coated in… scales?
As his sight returned, Monad saw his hands contort into the scaled claws of an anthro avian. Talons erupted from his fingertips, sharp and curved. He reached for his face again to find… feathers… feathery down coating his cheeks as his lips hardening and curving forward.
“Good to see you getting out of that costume! You look great, man!” Another one of his friends, morphed into the visage of a tiger, playfully smacked Monad on his feather coated shoulder.
“I feel… a little different.” Monad blinked as the world came into his focus. His glasses slipped over his shifting beak, and his eyesight sharpened to compensate. Perfect vision, far beyond the capabilities of a mere human, gave him the ability to see more and more of the world that he’d slipped into.
A convention not for furries but attended by furries. Real anthros. In all species, shapes, and sizes. Going about their business at a… gaming convention. Yeah, that was it. A gaming convention where anthros came to banter and shop old titles–
Audible tears announced the movement of the feathers down across the rest of his skin. His shirt and pants survived, but not intact. Dark feathers, black with purple highlights, slipped through the rips in his clothing. His shoes didn’t fare any better, relenting to scaled toes and talons that grew by the inch. Enough to grasp any brand for a perch, mid-flight.
Could he even fly?
No memories surfaced, and yet his new form felt… normal. He clicked his beak, felt the hardness of his new mouth as his tongue pressed against its contours. So sharp. So potent. And with these wings… wings with hands… could he fly? He simply had to be able to fly… Some ingrained memories, bubbling up within him, told him a resounding yes. He’d soar.
“Bit of a rugged look today for ya, eh?” A friend commented on Monad’s ruffled feathers.
The folding of reality phased Monad, but no one else. This was how they’d always been. This was how they’d always be–
“So yeah, let’s go down to the main hall. Maybe we can get some good deals on classic games like Glover.”
“You always ask about Glover, dude. Just let it go.” A hyena in sunglasses shook his head.
“You CANNOT diss Glover. I won’t allow it.”
This slice out of time, this folded reality, felt increasingly comfortable with each passing breath. Monad smiled best he could manage with his new beak, a different set of muscles required to forge the expression. He still had a whole convention weekend ahead of him… and plenty of photographs to take.
Category Story / Transformation
Species Hawk
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 95.7 kB
Listed in Folders
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