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![[C] Feyro in Gothic Cat Suit](http://t.furaffinity.net/62798233@150-1761702617.jpg "[C] Feyro in Gothic Cat Suit")
1152 submissions
![[C] Tsuki the Clown](http://t.furaffinity.net/62434062@150-1759023438.jpg "[C] Tsuki the Clown")
![[C] Amara Bopper](http://t.furaffinity.net/62413494@150-1758867192.jpg "[C] Amara Bopper")
At midnight, the Cirque du Lapin appears. Reserved only for those with the most incurable levels of curiosity - or with nothing left to lose - the shadow circus cannot be found by conventional means. Those who are “invited” know precisely where to go: often led to dead end lots in the middle of nowhere and detached from civilization, yet a bright blue haze fills the night sky, promising something both surreal, terrifying and fun.
The Cirque sprawls out far and goes deep; whimsical jesters dance and twirl. Clowns smile and spin and dance. Everything is a stage or a hallway to a new room. There are mysteries behind every corner, waiting to be understood. But of course, amid the honeymoon period of something too fantastical to be true, the facade slowly wears off. Much like a smiling mask that barely hangs on to it’s wearer during a performance, it ultimately begins to slip.
“Lil Miss Sylkenhose” crawls on the floor, squeaking and honking in panic. Amid trying to reach out for help with her gloved hands, Sylken’s phone does a magickal POOF! The phone grows a puffy afro and a clown nose where the bottom button once was, now asking for a HONK to get out of the unlock screen. Her legs squirmed and squeaked together, proving her namesake correct. Everything was round and produced a curve, placing fat in places she’d never experienced before. She tried not thinking about what became of her genitalia, but the bodysuit packed tightly within her nethers and gave a good first impression of what the opposite gender experienced.
A figure laughs in the distant dark. “A clown suit? What suit? HAHAHA!” He reviles perfectly in Sylken’s peril - or whatever her name used to be. She stared back with a smile, but it was not her own: it betrayed her inner feelings of terror. Old identities get scrambled once sealed up beneath the skin of new ones. Family and friends are familiar, but it all seems as if you walked into a life you never lived before.
--
The return of an old tradition of mine.
Posted using PostyBirb
The Cirque sprawls out far and goes deep; whimsical jesters dance and twirl. Clowns smile and spin and dance. Everything is a stage or a hallway to a new room. There are mysteries behind every corner, waiting to be understood. But of course, amid the honeymoon period of something too fantastical to be true, the facade slowly wears off. Much like a smiling mask that barely hangs on to it’s wearer during a performance, it ultimately begins to slip.
“Lil Miss Sylkenhose” crawls on the floor, squeaking and honking in panic. Amid trying to reach out for help with her gloved hands, Sylken’s phone does a magickal POOF! The phone grows a puffy afro and a clown nose where the bottom button once was, now asking for a HONK to get out of the unlock screen. Her legs squirmed and squeaked together, proving her namesake correct. Everything was round and produced a curve, placing fat in places she’d never experienced before. She tried not thinking about what became of her genitalia, but the bodysuit packed tightly within her nethers and gave a good first impression of what the opposite gender experienced.
A figure laughs in the distant dark. “A clown suit? What suit? HAHAHA!” He reviles perfectly in Sylken’s peril - or whatever her name used to be. She stared back with a smile, but it was not her own: it betrayed her inner feelings of terror. Old identities get scrambled once sealed up beneath the skin of new ones. Family and friends are familiar, but it all seems as if you walked into a life you never lived before.
--
The return of an old tradition of mine.
Posted using PostyBirb
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1804 x 1500px
File Size 788.6 kB
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