Simian Transformation - Tumblr Posts

Jungle Games

This is a story I wrote, inspired by a pair of pictures by an artist named Sarvak on Furaffintiy.net. I’ll include the links below for you to view the art and descriptions that go along with it, if you wish. I hope you all enjoy. :D

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/19036299/

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/19117182/

“Hello, and welcome to the jungle.”

You cry out in surprise as you stare at the hunched figure standing in front of you. A ragged blue hoodie clings to his wiry frame, while the tattered remains of a pair of shorts brush against a pair of toned, hairy legs. A thick, brushy unibrow juts up at you from heavily tanned skin. His blue eyes seemed almost to sparkle beneath the filtered light of the canopy above.

“My, my. No need for such a startled reaction. I mean, I know I was ugly when I was born, but I never made people scream before.”

You gulp, and take a step back from the stranger as you note the swishing mass that shouldn’t exist wagging behind him.

Oh, would you relax? It was a joke. I take it you’re here to visit Lord Sarvak, yes?”

You nod your head dumbly, unable to really say much other than that, considering the oddness of the … creature that stands before you.

“I thought so,” he says, smiling smugly as he casually scratches an itch at his side. Right this way.”

“I, um … didn’t think he’d be expecting me,” you mutter.

Oh, a lot of people come to see him, actually. He’s a rather popular monkey,” the … man … monkey … thing responds.

“So you’re his doormonkey?” you ask.

“Well … yes, I suppose you could say I’m the footman for now.”

“For now?” you ask as you raise a quizzical eyebrow.

“Yes, for now,” he glowers back at you. “Lord Sarvak likes to play games, you see. I was once a visitor, like yourself. I wanted to get rich, to feel fulfilled, have fun, not have to work all day at a job that numbs my brain, the usual sorts of desires that draw people to him. Well, that, and I have a few debts I’d like to pay off.” He chuckles as he begins to guide you through the damp rainforest. There isn’t that much of a path, per se, but it seems the area had been walked enough to make a sort of a trail. “I assume you came to him for similar reasons. He’s willing to grant those wishes, and more besides, but he wants to have his fun with the process. So, rather than give a free ticket, he plays games with his petitioners. In my case, we made a bet. I get to be his servant for half a year, and if I’m still my same old self by the end of it, he’ll make me a very wealthy man, and even provide me the means to return home whole and hearty.” He hunches forward, and tenses his muscles, then jumps upwards to snatch a fruit off a low-lying branch, before taking a big juicy bite out of it, exposing his sharper canines as he eats greedily.

“Um … no offense, but you don’t exactly look too human,” you say pointedly.

Well, of course I’m not looking very human. What did you expect in the simian court? Master Sarvak had to make some … adjustments, so I could fit in my role better. That doesn’t mean I’ve changed up here or in here,” he said, pointing to his head and heart with a free hand.

You’d rather not risk upsetting your only guide in a potentially dangerous jungle further, so you decide to change the subject. “So what’s it like? Meeting Sarvak, I mean.”

Your guide furrows his brow as you walk, pondering the question. “It is … ook ook … difficult to describe. The first time I stood in his presence, I knew immediately how wonderful and merciful a simian he was.”

“How so?”

He breaks into a high-pitched sort of laugh that scratches through his vocals, until it becomes more like a screech. “Oh, you’re funny. Master Sarvak has taken very good care of me in his employ. All the bananas I could ask for, a tree to swing around in, the distinct pleasure of being his servant….”

“And what about your home?”

He taps his lightly bearded chin with a leathery finger. “My home? Well, it’s not much to look at by your standards. I get a lovely tree house, a never-ending stalk of bananas, fresh juice every morning and night, a hammock and bed to swing around or sleep in as I choose, and all the vines I could ever want to swing around on. It’s especially fun when you’re harvesting fruits from the trees. They’re so tender, so juicy and sweet. It makes my tail wag just thinking about them!”

You do your best to dodge the appendage, while still remaining courteous. “That’s … not exactly what I meant,” you explain.

“Hmm? Oh, you meant my human home. Well … I don’t know if there’s much to say about it, really. It was just a studio apartment. I remember … four walls, and a magic screen to look out into the world. Master Sarvak has something similar, only he calls it a scrying glass. I remember a fire stick I used to start a woodless fire, and it would keep burning, until I was finished. Now that really was something.” He paused a moment as a dazed expression passed over his face. “Funny … I can’t quite … recall the name for it. It’s been so long since I thought about that place. So … very long. Actually … what did my home … look like? How … how long has it actually been?” He lets out an animalistic grunt, and scratches at his side as he struggles to break through the haze. “I … I, uh … suppose it doesn’t matter.” The scratching becomes more rhythmic, relaxed, and a smile pulls at his face, expanding into a grin that exposes sharper canines and thicker incisors. “Yes … doesn’t … doesn’t matter at all.” He lets out few more simian hoots. “Must attend my duties.”

He clearly seems lost in his own world, and you’d rather not get lost with him, so you do the only think you can think to do. You tap him on the shoulder to gain his attention. “Um, are you okay?” you ask.

“Hm?” He looks at you, and the fog in his eyes clears a little. He shakes his head. “Sorry. That happens sometimes when I think of the master. It’s good to think about the master.” The scratching has risen somewhat on his hairy body, and suddenly he stops, and plucks something off his skin. “Yes … good.” You watch as he sticks it in his mouth, and starts to chew. You can’t believe what you’ve just witnessed as the crunching of an exoskeleton echoes in the quiet jungle air.

You gape silently at his actions, and he looks back at your face, and rolls his eyes.

“Well excuse me. I’m hungry. The bugs make for a tasty snack. Puts hair on your chest, sharpens your teeth for the ladies.” His eyes burn suddenly with an unreasoning anger, and he beats his chest with curled fists as he unleashes a series of territorial screeches. “AH HAH AH HAH AHHH!” He coughed afterwards, and cleared his throat as he regained control of himself. “Forgive me. That behavior was … uncalled for.”

“Do you need me to–?” you start.

He raises a halting hand. “No, no. Don’t worry. It comes with the territory. The form comes with the instincts, including the need to display dominance.

You watch with some surprise as his ears twitch, and then start to stretch, becoming larger and rounder. “Um….”

“Yes?” he asks as he turns to face you.

“Your ears.”

“Yes? What about my ears?”

“They just grew. Isn’t that bad for your bet?”

He looks at you like you’ve just grown a second head. “What are you talking about? They’ve always been this big.”

“Always been….” Your heartrate is starting to rise.

“Yes, always.”

Sweat begins to bead at your forehead, and you feel the hairs rising on the back of your neck. Perhaps coming here wasn’t the best idea, after all. “Um … how long have you been working here now, then?”

“Oh, I’d say about a month or so,” he answers.

“And … what happens to you, if you lose this bet of yours?”

“If I lose? Why … Master would … he would…. Something about a … runner-up prize…. Why can’t I…?” He claps both hands over his head for a moment, and scrunches his eyes shut in intense concentration. Or was it pain? You couldn’t quite tell. Then a cool breeze shakes the branches, and the soft tone of bells rings in the air. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, and then sighs. He stops, and you watch as his tail seems to wrap around his ankle, and rub it. His foot changes before your eyes, the skin taking on a glossy sheen as it thickens to a leathery consistency, and the big toe lengthens to become a thumb-like appendage, while the toes shift to become just like fingers. The second foot joins in a matter of seconds, and soon he turns to face you again. “Come,” he almost seems to drone, “Master is waiting. Mustn’t keep Master waiting.” He lets out a few gentle simian ooks as his sideburns thicken, and lengthen down the sides of his face and jaw to form a sort of furry mane.

“Um, you seem to be … well, that is to say….” You find yourself at a loss for words for a moment, then finally out and say it. “Something’s wrong with your face.”

He reaches up with his hands, and starts feeling over his cheeks, his nose, his brow, even the inside of his mouth. As he does so, you watch as his nostrils become more pronounced, and his mouth seems to pull out with his hand, forming a sort of semi-muzzle. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my muzzle?”

“For one, you didn’t have it a few seconds ago.”

Your guide furrows his brow, and you watch as it thickens. The ridge stretches out like a clay pulled by a sculptor’s hand, before it compacts and swells, spreading like roots down the sides of his face to form a sort of natural hollow for the eyes to sink within.

“And now your brow is changing!”

He folds his arms, and rolls his eyes. “Well, a thick brow is part of the package. I’m a monkey servant, remember? … Monkey … just … monkey. Yes.” His gaze became distant again as the whites of his eyes began to disappear. “Hmm?” He sees your expression, and shakes his head to try to clear it. “Sorry. I’ve been feeling … scattered lately.”

You definitely don’t like where this is going. “Why don’t you tell me your name? You never did introduce yourself.”

“My name?” He shakes his head. “Master made me promise not to speak it, while I serve him. A proper challenge for a proper servant, he said. You may call me Domaap. It is the name Master told me to use.” He smiles dazedly at you.

“Um … why are you grinning like that?” you ask. “It’s sort of creepy.”

“Because I’ve come to enjoy hearing the name,” he explains as you reach a hill of roots. He begins climbing, and you have no choice but to follow. Naturally, given his simian anatomy, it comes more easily to him than it does for you. “It fills me with pleasure. The other monkeys think it’s a joke of some sort. I don’t understand how it is, myself.”

“You’re telling me he made you his servant, and you still can’t understand monkey speak?” you ask, surprised. You’ve worked up a good sweat by now as you continue to climb.

“Well, of course I speak simian. When you live in a jungle where the main population is monkeys who are bound in service to an even larger, more powerful magical monkey, you kind of have to know how to speak the language. It’s just a proper name, from what I can tell. I understand the speech. That doesn’t mean I have the meaning of every name memorized,” he pointed out logically as he reached the top and extended a hand down. You take it, and he pulls you up the rest of the way. “I can teach you some of it later, if you’d like. It’s actually quite simple to learn, more a matter of simplifying thought patterns mixed with body language and the occasional exclamation.”

“Like cursing?”

“More like hoots and screeching. It’s actually rather fun, once you get past the initial embarrassment. It’s far more entertaining to listen to them, once you get the knack for it. They’re simple, but passionate, and all dedicated to the master.”

“Why do you keep referring to this monkey as Master?”

Domaap shrugs as you continue to walk along the top of the natural wall. “I call him Master, because he is the master here. Everyone knows it, and everyone lives according to that fact. He gives us our jungle, grants us a home, rules us fairly.”

“Us?”

“Well, yes, us. I am a simian right now, so that means I fall under his rule, too. Any time we obey him, pleasure is our reward. I still remember when I first grew my tail and hung from the trees with it. It was such a rush. Master gave it to me as a reward for such speedy and efficient service when dealing with petitioners. Sure, it took me a while to learn how to climb properly, but once I had that down, the sky was the limit, quite literally. I could go anywhere in the canopy, swing from limb to limb like it was nothing. Back and forth, and back and forth, and back … and back … and … back….” He slumps further forward as a crack sounds from his spine. You watch as he swings his arms freely, and they lengthen. Soon enough, the sound of his knuckles scraping the ground reach your ears, and you watch as the skin around them cracks and darkens, while they swell larger. His fingers stretch out, and curve naturally as he alters his stride completely to match his new form of locomotion.

“Domaap?”

He turns his head back to face you, and grunts questioningly.

“Um … was part of your deal becoming a complete monkey?”

He grins, exposing his sharper canines as his lips fold outwards. “Mon-key … Master,” he grates out slowly, then slams his hands on the ground a few times, jumping excitedly on the forest floor, while his fur, because that’s basically what it is now, thickens into a proper coat. “Good … ha–ppy.” He leaps into the air, grabbing one of the low-lying branches, and starts swinging as he hoots out what you think is a simian equivalent of a laugh. The trees shake and tremble around you as that laughter echoes, and returns. It redoubles as the boughs in the higher parts of the trees shake with movement. You swallow forcefully as you realize you’ve been shadowed the whole way. There had to be hundreds of them.

You feel a sharp pain, and smack the back of your neck, pulling back to reveal the bloated remains of one of the biggest insects you’ve ever laid eyes on. Domaap hoots excitedly, and leaps down from his branch to take what remains he can with his fingers, then shoves them in his mouth. When he looks up at you again, the whites in his eyes have all but been consumed, leaving a sort of golden hazel iris to stare back at you.

…

But they had been blue.

“Domaap, how many people have actually won Sarvak’s games?”

His shoulders shake as he hoots gently in what you assume to be the simian equivalent of a chuckle. “No … know,” he grated out. You watch with a rising sense of horror as a forest of hair sprouts and spreads up his shoulders and neck, thickening along the way. “Just … serve Master.” He thumped his chest with a fist, then motioned towards you. “Come.”

The humid jungle air soon leaves you covered in sweat, and a low-lying fog begins to stream around your ankles as you follow your guide. Your hidden followers peek curiously out from the tree boughs. Some are completely feral, including in size. Others still maintain some small semblance of their humanity, namely in the form of tattered clothes.

You stop at the foot of a massive tree, where a curious plant is growing with a single broad, sturdy green leaf the size of a platter. A pool of rainwater has collected inside, and your host reaches in with a cupped hand to sip. He smiles at you then, and leans forward on his knuckles, before motioning to the leaf. “Drink,” he grunts. “Help … talk to Master.” His brow furrowed further, as though he were struggling to recall the words. “Speak … sim … sim–ian.”

“And if I don’t?”

He shook his head. “No … see … Master. No … talk … Domaap. No talk. No … no ….” He groaned out the last word, then hooted as he slapped his leathery palms onto the forest floor. The trees came alive with screeches, hoots, and hollers that pealed like laughter as he pulled off his shirt to reveal a fur-covered chest. He beat against it a few times, then grinned, and hooted excitedly as he watched the fur spread down his arms to thicken into a proper coat.

“Domaap?” you ask hesitantly.

The new monkey rises up onto his two feet, and stares uncomprehendingly at you. His tail sways behind him as he points to the leaf, and mimes drinking one more time, then leaps up onto a tree trunk to climb onto a low-hanging branch and hang upside down with his tail. He folds his arms, and looks expectantly at you.

You look back the way you’ve come. The fog has all but eliminated any sign of the track you’ve taken. Even if you could manage to stumble back the way you came, it was highly likely a predator of some sort would find you, before you managed to escape the forest’s boundaries. Domaap continues to stare at you, cocking his head left and right as he scratches his scalp with a finger. The familiarity seems to have faded from his expression, and all you can see in those eyes now is a strange sort of curiosity, as if you were the first human he had ever laid eyes on.

At this point, it’s rather clear. You have no choice but to do as he suggested, or else risk being lost in this jungle for the rest of your days. You brace yourself, then walk resolutely to the leaf. The water is still, completely undisturbed as you peer over the leaf’s edge. You can just make out the shadow of your face, but nothing else. A single drop falls from the tree above to ripple the surface, and you cup your hands nervously, before reaching out to take the liquid.

The cold water raises goosebumps on your skin as the excess runs down your arms, while you tip your hands up to slurp at the water. Your throat tingles for a moment, and you clear it forcibly to relieve the sensation. Then you look up at the monkey again, take a deep breath, and sigh. ‘Here goes,’ you think to yourself. “Domaap?”

The monkey looks your way. “About time you took the hint,” he groused as he dropped to the jungle floor. He smoothed back his messy hair, then hunched forward to lean on his knuckles again. “If you’re that hesitant, there’s no way you’ll be able to face the master and win.”

“What … was that? I mean, I assume we’re talking monkey, but it all sounds like English to me.”

Domaap shrugged. “The water is mixed with nectar from blossoms on the tree. The nectar drops when the pool is ready, sort of like the tree already knows. You’re lucky. You got a fresh dose. That means you’ll be able to speak with and understand us a lot longer than most.”

“And what happens when there’s more nectar than water?”

Domaap grinned, baring his sharper incisors. “Then the forest really likes you,” he said mysteriously. Then he turned, and waved his hand behind him. “Come on. Master Sarvak won’t wait forever, and he’ll have my tail, if I don’t get you to him soon.”

You walk nervously behind him as the creaking of tree boughs and the occasional whisper rushes past your ears. The longer you travel, the more prominent the voices seem to become.

“Fifty bananas says the newbie doesn’t even make it to the game,” one says.

“Twenty on chickening out,” another clamors.

You blush as you hear another voice ask whether you’re single.

“Pay no attention to them,” Domaap suggested as he looked to the trees.

“So, bananas are currency here?” you ask, desperate to change the subject and follow his advice.

Domaap shrugged. “Bananas, other fruits, sometimes tools or services. It varies. After all, what’s a game without a little betting on the side, eh?”

“How many have you bet on?”

“Oh, a few,” he said modestly as he brushed his knuckles over his chest. “I understand you humans better than most. It gives me an advantage. Honestly, though, what I’d like to do is explore the forest more. Being Master’s servant is fulfilling, and I am happy to do it, but I can’t go very far, unless I’m bringing new guests to him. The others tell me about all these places in the forest, and I can’t go, because Master needs me. It’s how most of the others get back at me for winning.”

“And how long did you say you’d been serving him again?”

“As long as I’ve been in this forest, so pretty much all my life,” Domaap said. The air seemed to waver around him momentarily as the fog swept over his shorts. You blink in surprise to try to ease the strange sense of strain that’s suddenly assailed your eyes. A few moments and one eye rub later, you open your eyes to see an emerald-green loin cloth wrapped tightly around his waist and nether region. It pops brightly against his dark fur, leaving little to the imagination. “Master has been very kind.”

“I … see that,” you say as the pit in your stomach sinks even lower. Desperate to take your mind away from that foreboding sensation, you decide to change the course of the conversation. “The trees here are so large. The forest must be very old.”

Domaap chuckles as he leaps onto a low-lying branch, and swings lazily, before somersaulting in the air, and landing perfectly back on the forest floor again. “Master made it himself, long ago. No woodcutters here, no developers. The forest protects itself, protects us. Master called it … alchemy, I think.”

“He made all this with alchemy?” You look up at the thick trunks, the spidering boughs, the heavy green vegetation casting the forest in an unearthly light. You take another breath of the mist, and a hint of something floral catches your senses, almost like a pollen.

“Yup. He helped the forest grow, develop ways to protect itself, even communicate sometimes. You could say … she’s sort of like a mother to us.” Domaap pauses at that, and rubs a hand appreciatively against one of the massive trunks. The boughs rustle, and the perfume becomes stronger for a few moments. Then you look up to see a blossom floating gently down. Its petals are a fiery orange tinged with licks of yellow and red near the edges.

A mischievous breeze stirs the mist, directing the flower’s course, until it lands in the monkey’s cupped hands. Beads of moisture shone like jewels along the flower’s petals as the two of you stare. Then Domaap lifts the flower up to his nose, and takes a deep breath. You watch in utter disbelief as the dark fur around his face begins to shift. It’s subtle at first, but like a ripple in a pond, a wave of color suddenly rushes out, consuming his head fur, then rolling over the rest of him. Fiery red blazed down his back with golden streaks and the occasional cinder-like orange. The fur around his torso shone like sunlight as the gold became more pronounced. The gold, orange, and red coursed down his tail, merging into a brilliant band, before fading off to streaks of gray, black, and white at the very end. The very visage of the flower became etched on either bicep just below the shoulder in black, not unlike the core from whence the stamen in the flower rose.

Your body feels tense, after seeing this latest transformation. Domaap looks at you in turn with a bashful smile. “That was … I suppose what you would call a kiss,” he says as he takes the blossom and mounts it by his ear, then clears his throat. “I’ll place it next to my hammock later. For now, it’s time you met Master. It won’t be much farther now. Come, come,” he waves as the two of you press on together.

The path isn’t nearly so difficult now, but your anxiety has reached a new level. Every shake of a bough, every stray breeze, every twig snap makes your heart hammer faster against your chest. You start to feel lightheaded, and you wonder if it’s you or the forest. “Does … does the forest ever … do things to people?”

“It wouldn’t be able to defend itself, if it couldn’t, now would it?” Domaap asked with a mischievous wink. “Don’t worry. You’re a guest. She won’t do anything to you, if you behave.”

“… Behave. Right….”

“She had fun with the last developers that came through here. They made good additions to the forest. You know, saplings, fungus, maybe a couple of predators.” He shrugged. “They don’t hunt us, of course. She won’t let them.”

“Predators….” You can hardly believe it.

“Well, that is what alchemy is, after all, isn’t it, changing the nature of one thing to make it another? Does it really matter whether it’s lead or a creature?”

“I suppose not,” you finally say. “It’s … not painful, though, is it?”

Domaap shrugged. “It depends on the visitor. If they deserve the pain, they’ll have pain. If they don’t, they won’t.”

“And … how do they know, the forest and Sarvak, I mean?”

“A little magic, a little alchemy, and maybe a game.” He grins at you. “Everyone loves games here.”

“And … if I meet your master, he’ll make me play a game with him.”

“Yup!” Domaap’s grin widens. “Don’t worry, his games are fun. He won’t let anybody hurt you.”

“It’s not getting hurt that I’m worried about,” you mutter back.

Domaap suddenly stops, and shoves out an arm to hold you back. A thick layer of leaves and brush stands before you, and the mist writhes out from the barrier. “We’re here. Make sure to mind your manners. We don’t take kindly to people who disrespect Master,” he warns. Then he reaches out to the leaves, and brushes them gently.

The foliage moves aside, rustling almost warningly as it parts. The fog washes over you in a wave, causing you to shudder, despite the warmer climate. You feel the strong leathery grip of a hand clasping yours firmly, and suddenly you find yourself stumbling through the curtain of fog into a massive clearing. Sunlight sparkles through the mist, causing the moist earth beneath your feet to emerge from hiding. Tiny specks of light dot the trees above you in boughs, where a series of vines and boughs appear to have grown together to form a series of shelters. These doubtless were the treehouses Domaap had mentioned earlier. Bamboo shoots and other forms of grass stuck up at various locations near the bases of the trees, stretching like fences to guard against intruders. There, in the center of the clearing, a tall, well-toned monkey balances on a gnarled wooden staff with one foot mounted on the top, while a second supported further down where the wood of the staff spiraled outwards, before tightening back up again in its downward course. His eyes are closed, but his fiery orange fur blazes in the misty clearing. His tail swishes idly behind him, its end a bright golden tassel that seems to trail sparks in the strange half-light of the clearing. Or was that just fireflies?

You blink a few times just to be sure, before returning your attention to the monkey man. His dark-chocolate-brown skin only served to further emphasize the brightness of his fur. You note how his ear twitches, and his lips curl up into a smile. He opens his eyes to expose playful golden orbs hemmed by red along the edges. His pupils are dark and probing as he peers up and down.

“So, this is our new arrival, hmm?” he asks as he looks you over. “Interesting.” He leaps up, performs a triple front flip, and lands gracefully on his hands and feet, before rising back onto his legs again. You do your best to keep your gaze away from the rather prominent bulge pressing against a blue loin cloth as he approaches you. “I’m guessing Domaap here has already explained the rules of our little home to you, yes?”

You gulp, and nod gently.

“Good. That will make this much easier. Domaap?”

Domaap steps forward and bows to Sarvak. “Yes, Master?”

“I want you to go join the others and harvest a couple of bushels of golden bananas.”

“Wh-what?” Domaap balks.

“You heard me. I want to have the prize ready for our guest. After all, one must be able to show an offering of good faith to one so brave.”

“But Master….”

“Now, Domaap.”

Domaap’s eyes grow unfocused for a moment. “Yes, Master. I’ll leave at once,” he says dazedly.

Sarvak reaches out, and pats Domaap on the head. “Good monkey. Treat yourself to a banana on your way back.

Domaap looks up adoringly at Sarvak. “Oh yes, Master. Thank you, Master!” He grins, baring his teeth, and exposing his sharp canines.

“Off you go, now. I want to play this game alone.”

You watch as Domaap scurries off with a few excited hoots of joy. He leaps onto a nearby tree, and the boughs shake as he jumps with practiced ease from branch to branch. If you hadn’t met him earlier, you’d have sworn he was a native.

“And score another one for me,” Sarvak says with a smirk, then chuckles. “I do so enjoy watching humans. They’re such funny little creatures, so assured in their own sense of superiority as the ‘dominant species,’” he says as he performs a set of air quotes for your benefit. “Give them a few changes, though, a little push here, a tiny nudge there, and … well, they don’t seem to care about being human anymore. Most of them rewrite their memories of their own accord.” He chuckles again, sighs, then shakes his head. “Humanity is overrated, anyway. You people are so focused on things like industrialization, a concept of money as power, boxing every little part of the world into your own standards and definitions, dismissing things like magic and potions with a contemptuous wave of the hand. After all, mankind is too advanced to believe in such things anymore,” he scoffs. “And they call us the ignorant savages.”

You gulp as the crushing realization of just how far in over your head you’ve gone practically shatters your psyche. Your body begins to shake, and you struggle to keep yourself together.

Sarvak takes one look at you, then sighs, and shakes his head as he clicks his tongue chidingly. “One of those, are you?” He’s by you faster than you can blink, and you feel his strong arm around your shoulders. His fur tickles where it brushes your neck and cheeks, but it feels warm enough, and … surprisingly, he doesn’t stink. “Look, I’m not some power-hungry spirit determined to take over the world, okay? And I’m not here to destroy humanity. Everything has its place in the world, even humans.” He shrugs as he leads you to a high-backed swing made from interwoven vines you’re certain wasn’t there when you first walked in. “I guess you could say I’m just the bookkeeper. I watch over my forest, take care of my charges, make sure they’re well fed and sheltered, maybe play a few pranks on visitors, if I feel like it. If anything, I’m more like an overprotective father than I am a ‘master.’” He chuckles at the wavering warble he added at the end, and despite yourself, you find your heartrate starting to slow. The shaking eases. He turns to smile at you, and you don’t see a hint of malice. If anything, you see … pity?

“Where exactly is this place, anyways?” you finally manage to say as he guides you to the vines and presses you firmly into the swing. He’s surprisingly strong. Then again, he’s a monkey. They’re supposed to be strong.

“Somewhere in some jungle in the world.” He shrugs. “The forest likes to move around from time to time.” He leans back, and a surge of spongy flora suddenly rises from the ground to meet him as he seats in an organic equivalent of an easy chair.

“This … is weird,” you finally admit, “and freaky.”

Sarvak shrugs. “Things like this always are for you humans. It’s par for the course, really. Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

You swallow nervously, then look back over to him. “Domaap said … the forest protects itself. It’s sentient, then?”

“I’d say closer to sapient, but yes. As you can see, she’s most considerate.” He smiles and pats the chair appreciatively. “Though she hasn’t exactly spoken yet, so it’s not entirely certain where she stands on that scale we mentioned earlier.”

“And people have tried to hurt her before?” You wince as you feel the vines tighten somewhat beneath you.

“Yes, they have,” Sarvak says softly. “Humans are always creating new ways to develop, or harvesting new ingredients for their medicine. I can’t fault them on the harvesting, but the destruction they bring about to do it sometimes borders on the ludicrous.” He shakes his head, then sighs. “So yes, we’ve had to defend ourselves a few times before. You could say that’s where the memories go, in part, when humans lose my games. The forest needs to know what advances man has made, so she can counter them in the event of an attack.”

“And how do humans find their way here?”

“How did you?”

“I … read a book.”

“Correction. You read a portion of a book, one you found on … the internet, I believe it’s called, isn’t it? You’re not even sure how you found it, but you read it, and here you are, waiting to get some easy money.”

You squirm under his knowing gaze. “Life’s been a little rough to me,” you say weakly.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me about it.”

You try to avoid his gaze.

“Eyes on me, please. It’s rude not to hold contact with a host,” he points out.

You fiddle with your hands, squirm a bit, but ultimately, little by little, you raise your head to face him.

“That’s better. Now, come along. Tell me the truth.”

You’re suddenly struck by a strange sense of vertigo, and you lean back in your makeshift swing for support. “I … I, uh….” And then you start. It comes haltingly at first. You want to obscure the details, leave your life your own, but the more you talk, the harder it is to keep your lies straight. You furrow your brow in confusion as you talk about dropping out of high school to live on your own. How was he doing this?

“Easy now. I won’t judge,” Sarvak promised. “I just like to hear the stories. Come now; tell me more. No more guilt. No more worries. No more fears. Just relax.” You hear the gentle creek of the vines in your seat, and you wonder idly when you’d started swinging. “Just look at me and relax. Let it all out. You’ll feel so much better, if you do. It’s always better to tell the truth, you know, don’t you agree?”

“I, uh … suppose so.” A sweet scent fills your nostrils, and you feel the gentle tickle of blossoms against your skin. “Mmm … smells … nice.” A light tingling rushes over your body, and you shudder as you feel the tension start to leave your muscles.

“See? You’re feeling better already. Come. Tell me more.”

And you do tell him more. You’re not sure how long you’ve been talking, when you suddenly see a rough wrinkled hand shoving something long and yellow in your face.

“Banana?” a familiar voice asks.

You break your contact with Sarvak for just a moment to stare up into the simian face. You feel dazed, thirsty. Your stomach growls.

“Thank you, Domaap. You can leave the bananas there,” Sarvak says casually. “And could you fetch our guest something to drink?”

Domaap grunts his acknowledgement and walks off into the underbrush again. You’re surprised to find yourself holding the proffered banana in your hand, already peeled.

“Go on. Eat,” Sarvak prods as he takes one from his own stalk. “I guarantee this will taste better than anything you’ve ever tasted out there before.” He bites it, swallows, then smiles as he stares at you. “Well, go on,” he prompts.

You look down at the banana. It almost seems to glow, but you’re sure that’s just a trick of your eyes. You sniff it, and smell a strong, sweet scent. A moment later, you’re staring bemusedly at an empty peel. A strong, fruity taste hangs in your mouth, and you look confusedly at the monkey across the way.

“Well, go on, big nose. There’s plenty more where that came from,” Sarvak presses. “Eat.”

And eat you do. Your nostrils flare, and you chomp down on banana after banana.

“That’s it. I told you they were better than anything else, didn’t I?” he asks.

“Yesh,” you acknowledge through puffed lips. Your jaw is working like a pair of pistons, but you don’t care. You don’t stop. You have to eat.

“To use a phrase one of my brethren were so keen on using, before he joined us, ‘it’ll put hair on your chest.’” He chuckled. “Among other places.”

You hold back after a time, and slouch into your seat. The vines are creaking more heavily now, and you blink your eyes sleepily as you brush some of your hair out of your face. You scratch at your stomach, and grunt at the strange pulling sensation you’re getting from your clothes. It’s rather uncomfortable. But then you’ve got a coconut cup shoved in your face, and you’re drinking something thick, smooth, and creamy. You forget about the strange sensation.

“Drink it all up,” Sarvak says. You do, and the strange bloating sensation you felt before is relieved, though not the tug of the clothing on your skin. Your brow furrows again, and you look up at the strange protrusion over your eyes. It’s bushy and thick, like a bunch of stray eyebrow hairs, but you don’t understand how that could be. You knead and pull at it, but that doesn’t seem to help. If anything, it seems to make it worse.

“Leave it,” Sarvak instructs, and you do so without a second thought.

“Time to talk again?” you ask. Your vocal chords feel strained. The itching sensation has increased, and things feel … almost swollen as you swallow again. You reach up to scratch an itch at the top of your head, and a thrill of pleasure flows down your body as you continue the action. You’re hardly aware of the strange pushing sensation against your kneading fingers. Indeed, you’re too enthralled in pleasure to be much aware of anything.

“That’s right,” Sarvak says gently. “But first, you need to relax more. Kick off those shoes. Stay a while. I think we’re close enough now to be past formalities, wouldn’t you say?”

You nod and grunt, since your mouth is too full of banana right now to respond properly. In a matter of seconds, your shoes are flying through the air, and land on either side of Sarvak’s chair. You wriggle your toes in your socks, and sigh.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Yes….”

“So much better without those pesky shoes.”

Your brow furrows. “Stupid things,” you grumble. Then the pleasure washes over you again, and you sigh as you lean back in the vines and stretch your feet on the clearing’s floor.

“That’s right. Now, where were we?”

And so you resume, and you look gladly, almost eagerly into his eyes this time. You’re struck by the occasional lightheadedness, but when that happens, you just grunt, and scratch yourself a little to give you time. You think Sarvak knows, but he’s so nice, just lets you do what you want, and smiles. He doesn’t even blink an eyelash when your clothes start to rip. He’s such a great guy. You really do like him, and he’s giving you all the bananas you could ask for. What a gracious host. You smile as you chew, and your swollen jaw shifts in proportion with the muscle strain. You hardly even notice the twin pops as your socks burst open, like the seams in your pants, to reveal rough, leathery feet. In a matter of seconds, you find yourself peeling bananas with your toes, then passing them up to your hands to chew.

“So there it is. I was just … tired, I guess,” you finally say from your spot on the ground. You twirl your last banana idly between your fingers as you readjust the remains of the vines into a nest, shoving the fragments of cloth in with some spare leaves growing within reach to form the extra padding. “Tired, and,” you yawn, “waiting … for someone like you.”

“And I’ve been waiting for someone like you,” Sarvak said intently. His eyes were so pretty. They seemed almost to glow as you stared into them. You felt so safe. “Domaap is an excellent servant, and he loves his duty, but he gets tired of being by my side so often, and he wants to explore the forest. I can’t say I blame him. She has much to offer, and she does so love surprising her children.” He sips from his own cup as he eyes you. “I don’t need more servants pampering me hand and foot.” He rises from his chair suddenly, and walks over to you. It’s … funny. You don’t remember him being so short before. He barely comes to your chest. “I need someone strong to support me, to protect me when people come with ill intent. Some come to steal from me sometimes. Others … others try to kill me.”

A guttural snarl rises naturally from your throat. “Why?” you demand harshly. Your eyes narrow. Your free hand clenches into a meaty fist as you bear your teeth. A tingling sensation runs over your jaw, and you’re hardly aware of how your canines have lengthened somewhat and your mouth has shoved forward with your new snout to form a sort of proto-muzzle as you snort angrily.

“Money, power, land, ingredients, reagents, fear, take your pick,” he sighed with a shrug. “The point is that I need someone to guard me, to protect me in the event someone tries when they get close. My little monkeys would be lost without me. And well, if I die….” He left it hanging in the air.

You struggle for a few minutes as you try to catch the monkey’s meaning. You know Sarvak wants you to finish it, but you’re not sure how. Then, slowly, a tiny bubble of memory bursts its way to the surface of your thoughts. He was the bookkeeper. He’d said that. Keeps earth’s books balanced, or … something like that. “Earth dies, too,” you finish gruffly.

“Exactly. Very good.”

You grin at his praise and puff out your chest proudly as you strike it with your fist. “I’m smart,” you grunt.

“Yes, very smart for such a big ape,” he agreed.

That … didn’t sound right … did it? But … Sarvak said to tell the truth, and … he was telling the truth, too, right? So … that means … you had to be an ape. But … but….

“Shhh….” He hushes you gently as he pulls your head down to stare at him again. “Our game is nearly over, my massive friend.”

Those eyes….

“Very nearly over, over the edge, over your old life, over humanity.”

“O … ver….” You can’t look away. You hoot gently, meekly, to voice that small piece of concern, so very small compared to the bulk you now feel in your body, that raw brute strength.

“But here’s where the game gets interesting. See, I’m going to take a risk, my friend. I’m going to give you a choice. True, it’s only fifty-fifty, but it’s a gamble all the same, which makes it such a wonderful game. You can go back to that old life of yours with a dead-end job and nowhere to go. I’d even be willing to part with some of my valuables to send you on your way, let you live the life you always wanted over there: comfortable, peaceful, rich. Of course, you’d likely end up living in some city high rise with all those noisy cars and rowdy neighbors, and you’d be doing everything in your power to protect the valuables in the first place. Honestly, it’s far too stressful, in my opinion.”

His tail flicks over your vision, and the bright lights make your head feel all funny and fuzzy as he taps the edge on the banana in your hand. The peel starts to glow with a gentle golden light, just like the tail. It feels warm, and a light tingle passes from it into your much larger hand. “The other option, my friend, is quite simple, and you like simple, don’t you?”

You feel your head nodding. Simple was good. You liked simple.

“All you have to do is eat that banana. Do that, and you can stay here, where it’s simple, calm, peaceful. You’ll have all the fruits you could ever want, including our long yellow friends there,” he added with a wink. “You can be my guard, someone to watch my back, intimidate any people who get the wrong idea about their visits here. You know, the ones who want to hurt me.”

You growl again as the haze of anger descends.

“You can teach them a lesson, make them understand how wrong they are. I can show you how.” The tail caresses under your chin. “How to be dominant. How to lead them. How to reform them. Or, if you prefer, well, you can do it the other way, I suppose.”

“Other … way?” you hoot, confused.

“Oh, you know, like when you break a twig. I don’t like killing, but if it comes down to it, sometimes you have to.” He shrugged. “That would be completely up to you, of course. But there’s no need to think about that right now. No need to think at all.” He’s staring at you gain, and your eyes are locked with his. “Thinking is over now. You don’t think much now anyway, do you? You prefer to act.”

“A-a-aaahhhhct….” Eyes … so pretty … so … nice…. Thinking over. No think.

“So act. Eat or don’t eat. Choose now, you silly ape.”

For just a moment, images flash through your mind. You see the small apartment you rent, the abusive manager, the cursing roommates, the mocking “friends.” You look at the banana, and your mind clears as the full impact of what that choice would mean blazes through the fog like a comet. Then you look down at Sarvak, those glowing eyes, that sultry voice. He was kind, hospitable, friendly, and he was offering you a new life in a place where you would be well taken care of, where you could decide your fate without other people to boss you around, well, except for Sarvak. He would technically be your boss, since you’d be his guard, but that was beside the point. It was beautiful here, beautiful like those eyes. So … beautiful.

And just like that, the comet passes, and the darkness rushes in to fill its place. Funny words like choose, ape, and simple echo over and over in the caverns of your mind, and they keep getting louder the longer you stare at the banana. You scratch at the ridge on top of your head, and the pleasure calms you. The darkness thickens. The caverns expand. Somewhere, deep down, you feel something give. You grunt. You hoot. You peel the banana, and as you raise it to your dimming eyes, you fumble for the words that will seal your fate. “I’m just a big, dumb ape.”

You take the bite, and Master Sarvak smirks as you polish off the banana and toss the peel aside with the last vestiges of your humanity. You shudder in pleasure as Master Sarvak speaks, “Yes, you are, Pumbavu. Yes, you are.”

You are Pumbavu.

You are a dumb ape.

And you are happy to serve your new master until THE END.

A Final Service

The demotion had been painful, the discharge even worse. Now Patrick Konahee stood in the empty white testing room with little more than a pair of boxer briefs that clung to his frame. He hadn’t been allowed the chance to serve his country properly. He’d been slandered, maligned, mocked, betrayed. But he still loved his country, an he wanted to serve however he could. No one would know of the advances he helped to make possible, but at least he would have done something for the people he loved.

“Are you ready, Mister Konahee?” the doctor’s voice asked over the loudspeaker.

“I am,” Patrick replied.

“Then we’ll begin the test now.” A warped screen not unlike an old television monitor rose on a hydraulics system, until it reached Konahee’s height.

“All right, Mister Konahee. Stare into the screen, please.”

Patrick did as he was bid. After all that military training he’d received it was almost instinctual to follow the orders of a superior. He caught a brief glimpse of his striking blue eyes and carefully coiffed hazel hair, before the device clicked on and began to hum. A plain white light pulsed gently over the glass.

“Okay, what now?” Patrick asked.

“Just keep staring, Mister Konahee, and don’t stop until we tell you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Patrick said. He continued to stare ahead, blinking occasionally as his eyes required. A creeping tingling sensation passed over his skin, and his hairs stood on end. “Sir, I’m getting a case of goosebumps. Don’t know if it’s me or the device, but I thought you ought to know.”

“Yes, yes, Mister Konahee. Thank you for the update. Now please, keep staring. Rest assured, our monitoring equipment is catching all the relevant data.”

Patrick continued to stare. A dull prickling began at the base of his chin. He scratched it, and was surprised to feel the gentle scraping of a few stray pieces of stubble.

‘Odd. I could’ve sworn I got it all when I shaved this morning,’ he thought to himself.

The humming intensified and the white light suddenly felt much less boring. The tingling became stronger, and Patrick could swear he heard the whisper of hair scraping hair as he slowly opened his mouth to gape at the screen. His pupils began to dilate as a ring of black developed around the blue of his irises, creating a striking gaze. His brow furrowed, and stray hairs drooped over the edges of his vision.

“Uh, Sirs, I’m starting to feel a little ... funny,” Patrick said. He grunted and scratched at an itch on the bridge of his nose, where the beginnings of tawny hairs had sprouted to match the hairs at the upper portion of what was rapidly becoming a fully developed beard.

“Keep staring, Mister Konahee.”

“But--.” Patrick let out a low groan. His voice cracked as his nostrils flared and began to rise. His clean-cut features became more rugged as the sharp angles of his jaw and cheek bones gradually began to press out, becoming more apparent.

“Relax, Mister Konahee.”

Patrick hunched forward as thick hairs began to sprout over his chest, arms, and the backs of his hands. He panted, and his shoulders broadened as deep furrows carved their way across his forehead. His skin thickened and began to darken as he grunted and scratched casually at his crotch. A dull smile pulled at his lips, exposing the hints of more prominent teeth, particularly his canines.

“That’s right. Just let go, Mister Konahee. Do what comes naturally.”

A loud crack sounded as Patrick’s skull began to shift, creating a natural slope that rose up into a cone atop his thickening and darkening hair. An ominous creaking was soon followed by a loud crunch as Patrick’s ribcage expanded forcefully. His chest heaved as his grunts devolved into low growls and guttural exclamations. His brow slowly swelled into a shelf-like border that overshadowed the blue of his iris and darkened it as his pupils continued to gain more prominence.

His legs bowed as calves and thighs gained mass and the arch in his feet dropped flat with a loud pop. Toes expanded and lengthened into prehensile digits, including a thumb, while his arms lengthened and his fists struck proudly against his swelling pectorals. Biceps, triceps, and flexors quadrupled in size as his new coat of fur consumed them. By now, his skin had become black and leathery. Fabric popped and tore apart as he dropped forward onto his knuckles and his back snapped to realign with this new posture.

Nose and palate jutted forward with his jaw to create a beastly maw. Lastly, his body swelled into immensity as a silver patch appeared on his back between the shoulder blades arching down.

The new gorilla huffed and panted as it stared at the screen. Its limbs trembled. Finally, it dropped to the floor, rendered completely unconscious. The whining and humming died as the screen shut off. A large bowl full of fruits and various bugs soon rose from the floor, alongside a great bowl filled with water.

“It appears the experiment was a success,” the doctor said as he pressed another button, lowering the screen on the strange monitor to reveal a weapon not unlike a glue gun in its design. “Devolution is, indeed, a possibility. We need only enhance the rate of the weapon to ensure it can transform its target quickly.” He smirked and turned to his aide. “Get word to the President. Project Regress is a go.”

A Costly Boast Patreon Preview

Jackson smirked as he finished posting on his tumblr feed. Sure, the pic had been more of a joke at the time, but he did look good, and he knew his watchers would want to see more of his sculpted body and rugged features. He was a magnet for both men and women, after all.

I’m the biggest gorilla in the forest. 

He’d added the caption at the end for the sake of the persona he’d developed for his web posts. And, he had to admit, if did feel good to show off.

With his work finished, he shut down his computer and grabbed his cell phone. It was time for another nature walk. He strode out in his cargo shorts and grinned up at the sun. Winter had passed at last, and the sheer amount of green was enough to make anyone’s head spin. It was simple enough to pass along the trail behind his house and admire the view it afforded. The sight of the river and buildings in the distance always left him in a pensive state of mind.

After he’d spent enough time musing over the view, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. Might as well check for any replies.

Jackson smirked at the number of likes and reblogs. His body was definitely a popular commodity. Then he scrolled down to the comment and frowned.

A user named Goodf3ll0w had written, As you boast, so shall it be. A special gift to you from me.

Jackson frowned and scratched at his head. “The hell...?” he muttered.

To read the rest, consider joining my patreon. For as little as a dollar a month, you’ll be able to see my stories first thing on my patreon account. Higher pledges gain greater rewards. And trust me, this is definitely a story you’ll want to see.

I may post it to the general public in a couple of weeks. We’ll see. Anyways, thanks for reading, and for those who chose to do so, for contributing. :D

~Omni

I said I might do this, and I decided I will this time. Here is the entire Patreon story I published a premier for earlier this month. I hope you all enjoy. If people are interested, and you haven't already, feel free to visit my patreon  and subscribe for multiple benefits and to give me the freedom to write more of these great transformations for you all.

A Costly Boast

Jackson smirked as he finished posting on his tumblr feed. Sure, the pic had been more of a joke at the time, but he did look good, and he knew his watchers would want to see more of his sculpted body and rugged features. He was a magnet for both men and women, after all.

I’m the biggest gorilla in the forest.

He’d added the caption at the end for the sake of the persona he’d developed for his web posts. And, he had to admit, if did feel good to show off.

With his work finished, he shut down his computer and grabbed his cell phone. It was time for another nature walk. He strode out in his cargo shorts and grinned up at the sun. Winter had passed at last, and the sheer amount of green was enough to make anyone’s head spin. It was simple enough to pass along the trail behind his house and admire the view it afforded. The sight of the river and buildings in the distance always left him in a pensive state of mind.

After he’d spent enough time musing over the view, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone.

Might as well check for any replies.

Jackson smirked at the number of likes and reblogs. His body was definitely a popular commodity. Then he scrolled down to the comment and frowned.

A user named Goodf3ll0w had written, As you boast, so shall it be. A special gift to you from me.

Jackson frowned and scratched at his head. “The hell...?” he muttered.

He put his phone away and continued his stroll through the forest. The trees clustered together on both sides as the trail became rough. Bird calls became more frequent, and he suddenly felt an increase in the humidity. He puffed his chest as he strode along a particularly steep incline that he didn’t recall passing before.

The foliage thickened as fronds and other low lying bushes sprouted with thick leaves to obscure the view beyond the path. Moss and lichen spotted trees that seemed almost to tower into immensity. Oaks, palms, redwoods, sequoia, and who knew what else. He breathed heavily and a wave of dizziness overcame him as a pungent sweet odor struck his nostrils.

Jackson groaned and leaned against a tree to regain his sense of balance. The dizziness eventually passed, but the sweet smell remained. He didn’t feel so good. He turned around to go back, but when he did, he found no sign of the previous path, only a network of barely worn trails branching through the trunks.

“What the...?” He blinked blearily and strode toward one of the paths. He felt the rough remains of slippery roots and dried leaves crunch and squash beneath his soles. A curious series of hollows had formed naturally between the roots, and long-dead leaves and other greenery lay in an approximation of a nest of sorts. What kind of animal would need to build a nest that large?

Jackson grunted and scratched at his chest as he continued his journey. Better not to stay and find out. He thought he heard the tinkling of laughter, but when he turned his head to find the source, the laugh would jump to another part of the woods. He let out a low growl of frustration, then decided to finally let the noises go. Instead, he huffed along a random track. Surely, he’d be able to find a proper way out eventually. After all, he’d taken this forest track hundreds of times before. He knew it like the back of his hand.

He rubbed at his ears with his fingers when a dull tingling decided to tickle at the skin along the surface, then shuddered at the sensitivity.

“What’s wrong with me?” he murmured to himself as he let his hand drop and furrowed his brow. He trudged through the path as the foliage thickened and began to brush against his skin.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been going on. He’d been walking for what felt like hours, but the sun still filtered through the canopy above with the same light.

“I need a break,” Jackson said as he dropped onto one of the larger tree roots to the side of the road with a heavy thump. He hunched forward to catch his breath. His skin was sleek with sweat, and his feet were covered in a layer of dirt. His stomach complained with a loud grumble. “And now I’m hungry. Great.” He grunted and tried not to think about his current situation, until something hard bounced off his head.

“What the--?” he growled and rubbed the place where he had been struck, then looked down in some surprise. The fruit was long and curved, like a boomerang. Its green flesh was tough, but yielded slightly to the touch. A series of silver patches gave the peel an almost metallic glint that caught at the eye. “Now where did you come from?” He looked up into the canopy, but found no signs of the fruit in question. Either it was too high up there to see or someone was deliberately playing him. He didn’t like either prospect.

All the same, he was hungry, and the food was there. He weighed the pros and cons, turning the fruit in the light all the while. It seemed almost like a mutant banana. Could the silver have been mercury? If so, it was poisonous in the extreme. But that didn’t make sense. Fruits didn’t develop mercury in them. It would have been filtered by the roots of the tree, and probably would have killed the tree itself. ... Right?

He furrowed his brow and scratched at his head. “Should I or shouldn’t I?”

A more violent protest from his stomach soon answered that question. Jackson sighed as he peeled back the flesh the same way he would the store-bought variety. The fruit itself seemed to glitter in the filtered light. Drops of what looked almost like rock candy were interspersed in a series of criss-crossing patterns over the flesh to give it a gem-encrusted appearance. The scent of the flesh was sweet and strong. Jackson’s mouth watered as he gazed at the tip, where a silvery patch in the shape of a star stretched down in segmented lines over the rest of the fruit to refract the color through the studs that bedecked the rest of the flesh. He swallowed, then took a bite.

The fruit was one of the richest he had ever tasted, putting its cousins back at his house to shame. Jackson let out a low moan, then devoured the rest eagerly. When he’d finished, he looked down at the peel in disappointment. He wanted more.

Suddenly his tongue felt thick and lethargic. He moved it about his mouth a few times, but his jaw didn’t seem to want to function. His arms grew heavy, and his body began to droop. He felt so ... sleepy. Dust sifted down from above, a gold dyed green by the sun’s filtration through the leaves. He breathed, and the sweet scent of the banana or whatever the fruit was still lingered.

The forest began to spin as he stumbled to his feet. “Wh-wha—?” He didn’t get far before he fell to the ground. The world continued to whirl around him, despite his immobility. The last thing he remembered was the distant sound of child-like laughter.

Jackson blinked blearily as he slowly came back into consciousness. He groaned as he worked his arms under his body and pushed himself up. He paused and held that position for a time. Whether out of habit for a morning workout with planks or something else, he wasn’t sure. He looked around the path, then slowly got to his feet. He felt ... strange, bloated. He heard the sound of fabric creaking and straining and patted at his waist and legs to probe for the problem.

Everything ... felt okay. Sure, the waistband was a little tight, but he was used to that sensation. His thighs brushed the edges of the shorts’ cuffs as he walked. He breathed deeply to steady himself. His nostrils flared. He smelled water mingled with that strange fragrance from before. He wasn’t even aware when he’d started moving. He felt the dust in his throat, though, and knew he needed something to wash that sensation away as soon as possible.

The roads had long since become impossible to track. Everything looked the same in these woods. Occasionally, he would stumble and have to catch himself on a trunk or brace himself for a shock against a nearby root. It wasn’t until he’d walked a good half mile or so before his groggy mind finally came up with a more sensible solution. He reached into his pocket and fumbled in the tighter space.

The fumbling soon turned into a groping, then a frantic search followed by a violent yanking that tore the seams holding the pockets in place.

“Shit!” he swore. The phone was gone. His one chance at calling for help or using GPS to navigate out had disappeared.

He knew he had two options. Either he could stay there and keep grumbling about it or he could actually find that water and save himself from potential dehydration.

He chose the latter.

Every few minutes, he would turn his head to strain at the direction of the flowing water. Sometimes it would be louder. At other times, he would have to double back and try another path. Eventually, he arrived at a heavy incline layered with interwoven roots that matched the gabled limbs overhead.

“Damn. Wish I had my phone for this. It’d make one hell of a picture,” he said as he marveled at the natural structure, before he leaned over and began his climb.

The roots were slippery, and he fell on his face more than once in the struggle. The arch in his feet ached from how heavily he’d leaned on them in his climb up. He had to rely on his upper body to get him through the last of the climb. His shoulders and neck throbbed, and his torso felt taut as he finally pulled over the last hurdle to reach the top of the natural obstacle course.

He was soon rewarded. The surging ripple of water over rock echoed through the boughs as Jackson looked on the riverbed. The water sparkled in the light, and he smacked his dry mouth in longing.

The trip down was almost as hard as the trip up. His bare soles throbbed and complained with every step as he worked his quads, hamstrings, and adductors. He huffed breathlessly as the waistband on his shorts cut into his torso and the fabric began to squeeze against his engorged muscles.

“It’ll be worth it,” he said between grunts. His back was sore from all the bending, but he knew he would make it. And then he could wash the aches and burning away in the cool water. The grit of the dirt beneath his feet had long since become little more than a distraction to him, so he didn’t really register when he hit the ground at first. It wasn’t until he found himself staring at his hands pressed against the grit beneath the roots and felt the trebling in arms that he knew he had succeeded. He panted as he thrust himself to his full height again. His arms hung limply and swung lower toward his waist as his shoulders slumped and he hunched forward from the exhaustion of his trek

He gasped as the shock from the water hit, but carried on, until he reached closer to the middle of the bank. The waters were deep enough that he could immerse himself and sooth his aching muscles, not unlike the ice baths he had used once when he participated in football.

He lowered himself under the water and used his hands to grip the sides of the riverbed to avoid getting swept by the current. It was a relief to wash the sweat and grime off. As an extra measure, he opened his mouth to swallow some of the flow. True, the water may not have been purified, but he needed that substance to survive. The hike would leave him severely dehydrated, otherwise.

He didn’t realize just how thirsty he had become, until he felt the water flowing down his throat. The cold liquid dripped off his face and flowed down his chest in rivulets, while his shorts shifted helplessly in the water’s current.

“Man, that felt good.” He huffed as he waded to shore and laid himself out under the sun. His stomach sloshed heavily and his eyes drooped yet again as he laid his hand over his stomach and scratched lazily at his core.

Jackson groaned as he opened his eyes to the darkness. The crickets, frogs, and cicadas chirped incessantly. The night air blew over his recumbent form, but he hardly felt any chill. He reached up to scratch at his head and yawned. How had he managed to sleep the whole day, away?

He stretched his arms, legs, and toes to work out the kinks, then stumbled to his feet. The soreness was worse, and the material for his shorts must’ve shrunk, because the waist band and pant legs both clung tightly to his body. He stumbled to the water to soak his feet and get another drink. His nose felt thicker as he pulled the water off it and across his leathery lips.

“Damn things must’ve been tanned by the sun,” he grumbled. Then he sat in the bank and let the water wash over his sore feet for a while. The way the current played with his toes and soles felt almost like a massage, and Jackson welcomed it. He leaned back on his hands and let out a low deep groan of satisfaction and relief.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there when the music finally reached his ears. His eyes snapped open and he strained with all his might to listen. His head rotated back and forth like a search light as he struggled to triangulate the sound. Finally, he caught the faintest glimmer of light on the other side of the bank, far back in the trees. After spending so long in the dark, it was a simple matter to triangulate the spot for a point of reference.

Jackson didn’t even think about it. The water surged over his calves, then his arms, then his whole body as he launched himself off the riverbed and into the current. The swim against the water’s flow was perhaps one of the most exhausting workouts he had ever performed. His arms and legs burned. His core clenched. His breathing came in animalistic grunts and pants as the water flowed around his meaty hands. Jackson didn’t care. He was about to reach civilization at last, or at least some camper that could help him get out of this place and back into civilization again.

The mud squelched between his hands and toes as he finally made it to the shallows on the other side. “Almost there,” he panted huskily.

The trees and brush were no obstacle to his determination. He bull-rushed leaves and foliage and shoved limbs and branches aside. The music grew louder, and he laughed at the loud pop one of the branches made as he shoved it past its breaking point in a curiously fitting percussion that slid right in with the reedy sound of pipes, the vibration of strings, and the steady thrum of a harp that cascaded like water over a stream bed.

Finally, he thought. He crashed through the last of his obstacles and broke into a clearing filled with … nothing.

Fireflies danced and flickered as the moon’s light shone down on a series of bulbous glowing mushrooms. Strangely grooved rocks dotted the clearing at various points. A series of holes strategically placed within them caused the chorus of whistles as a breeze blew through.

“No…” Jackson fell to his knees. “No.” He clenched his hands into fists to uproot some of the thick turf. “No!” He roared as the world went red. He came to panting on all fours in the heart of the clearing. The mushrooms pulsed gently as his chest heaved. His brow furrowed in a scowl as he puffed out his lips. Fragments of the stones lay in a mess over the overturned earth. Heavy gouges showed where strong hands had torn up clods of dirt and root with the turf. His chest felt taut as he breathed heavily.

“My, my. What violence.” The soft baritone was playful as it whispered in Jackson’s ear.

“Who said that?” Jackson growled. His throat vibrated as his voice grated from is overuse just moments before. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed through swollen vocal cords.

Another laugh echoed. “Poor little lost thing. That was very rude, you know. We were having such a lovely party, until you showed up. And after all the trouble I went through to invite you as the guest of honor.” The disembodied voice tutted chidingly. “For shame. Don’t worry, though. Our invitation still stands, and you clearly accepted by coming here, so all will be forgiven. No need to worry your tiny brain about those troublesome details.”

Tiny? “You did this? You took me from my home?” The anger rose again, and Jackson clenched his jaw in anger as the laughter echoed again. His face tingled, but he didn’t care. He had a bone to pick with this stranger.

The music began to pick up again as the man laughed once more. “You left your home and wandered into our lands. It isn’t our fault that you chose that path. Ah, but never you mind. We have such a special gift in store for you.”

“… Gift? What gift?” he snarled.

“What gift, he says.” The clearing echoed with a chorus of laughter as the lights returned to bob and float in dizzying patterns. “Why, the gift of reality, of course, stupid boy.”

Jackson growled and bore his teeth at the lights. “Reality my ass,” he rumbled. “You did something. Tell me. Now!” He felt a heavy impact on his chest and looked down with a furrowed brow. All he saw was his open hand. Had … something been thrown at him? The clearing spun as he turned to try to face his tormentors. The more he turned, the dizzier and more frustrated he became. “Show yourself!”

“Ah-ah, my pet. Not yet. Not yet.” The voice laughed again. “Goodfellow isn’t finished with you. Oh, but it is so much fun to watch you struggle. You can’t keep up with what’s been happening, can you? You poor thing. You’ve eaten our food, drank our water. That was stupid. So very stupid. But what more could be expected of the biggest gorilla in the forest, hmm?”

Jackson gasped. “You!” His breathing grew labored as his eyes rolled around in their sockets to try and track the lights. Surely, there had to be some sort of pattern here, some means to trace the source of his torment.  Some … how.

His stomach rumbled.

“Ah, the beast is hungry. Shall we supply him with something to eat, my friends? What say you?”

The laughter rose to a fever pitch, and Jackson’s ears tingled and rang with the chorus of voices that burst through. Some called to let him starve. Others to play with him some more. Others still said they wanted to make him dance. So many voices. So loud. Jackson growled and clapped his hands over his ears.

“Ah, poor thing. We’re overwhelming him. Softer now, my friends. Softer. Let us ease his simple mind with a little music. That is what drew him here in the first place, is it not? Surely, some piece of him will enjoy a new rendition. And I’ve just the verse.”

The clearing rebounded with mischievous laughter as the reeds, pipes, strings, and harps picked up again.

“As you boast, so shall it be. ’Tis what I said. ’Tis what I see. A wicked snarl so dark and grim would only suit a simian. You followed us. You heard our song. And childlike, you played along, Unknowing of the spells we cast, to draw you to our realm at last. The faery fruit and gurgling stream did seal your fate, or so it seems, As spinning, spinning, your world regressed, No pressing thoughts, save food and rest.”

Jackson growled and huffed as he tried to keep the voices out. They were annoying him. They made his head hurt. “St-stop,” he rumbled as his cheek bones began to push out and his chin receded. His lips pulled back as thick sharp canines protruded menacingly.

“Simpler, simpler, simpler still as music shapes and bends your will. You seek to rule. You seek to lead. The alpha’s role, the general’s need. You wear no crown upon your head, but two great crests are borne instead. Your arms begin to swing and drape to suit the command: Get into shape.”

Jackson huffed and grunted as his arms grew heavier. The annoying lights brushed against him and left his skin tingling with every piece of contact. He increased the pressure, determined to overcome this annoying song. Whoever this was was messing with him, and he didn’t like it one bit. “No. Won’t … win.” He winced at the tingling in his jaw and above his skull. A shudder passed through him as he felt the bones pressing against his hands. But no, that couldn’t be right. He had to be hallucinating. Yes. That’s it. This was a dream, some sort of … of, uh….

He furrowed his brow as the ridge began to jut forward over his eyes, then reached up and scratched at the top of his head in confusion, revealing the ear that had pressed closer to his rapidly changing skull and now remained in that position naturally. He knew the word. Why couldn’t he remember it now?

The longer he scratched, the more powerful the tingling became, and a dull sense of pleasure soon followed. A deep rumble emanated from his chest as his forehead gradually flattened and his skull began to push back against his scratching fingers. The pleasure continued to mount, until he let his other arm drop uselessly to his side. He was too lost in that dim happiness to care about the words that flowed into his newly transformed ears.

“The fellow has an itch to scratch, and soon he’ll have the wits to match the form for his most costly boast as pleasure overwhelms its host. Let magic flow and have its way as body swells and music plays. As brain is overwhelmed by brawn, ’tis hands and feet you’ll walk upon. Let knuckles drag across the ground as we await that glorious sound of human remnants blown apart by every changing body part.”

Jackson squatted in a patch of dirt and felt something unpleasant cutting into his waist, squeezing at his rear and thighs. He let out a dazed grunt. “Hurt … stop….” He reached down to rub at his belly and felt the ridges of his abs comfort him as he ran his broad palm and thick fingers over them in a curve. His breathing came hard, but he could still manage for now. The tingling spread with each stroke, and his breathing became more steady as the slabs were slowly consumed by the mass that grew there, followed by the stimulation of new hair follicles. With each breath, his mouth protruded farther as his skin began to darken. He hardly even heard the pop as the seams on his shorts burst open to reveal red skin that rapidly sprouted a forest of coarse hairs.

“Bigger bone and leathery skin will help you match your ancient kin. Head and neck now realign to fit the structure of your spine. Your shrinking brain and broadening back will soon develop what you lack. A big dumb ape, you now must be. Now shed your last humanity. With lack of thought comes lack of speech. Dumb apes like you hoot, growl, and screech. Too stupid now to disobey or keep my little prose away. Forget. Submit. Do as I say. Our silverback you now shall stay. From now on and forever more, you’ll roam across the forest floor.”

At last, the pressure on Jackson’s waist eased with a final snap. He grunted as he let his knuckles rest on the earth and snorted through his nostrils as they flared and retracted on his new muzzle. His skin darkened as his eyes lost their light, while the black hairs thickened into a massive coat of fur that covered him from his head down to his hands and feet. True to the words of the singer, his back swelled into immensity with broad shoulders and a large rear with squat legs thick as tree trunks. His feet cracked as they expanded into broad flat hand-like appendages, while the large toes adjusted into another set of opposable thumbs. The moment he stood on all fours, his neck and skull snapped into alignment, making it a natural position for him to stand and navigate in. He felt a dull itch on his back and reached behind to scratch at it, oblivious to the bright silver that developed there.

He blinked tiredly at the lights, and soon saw the strangest figures. Tiny little hairless things danced in the grass or the air. Some scampered with tilting red hats that smelled of blood. This made him uneasy, but the blood was not his, and he didn’t want to move for some reason. A strange creature stood in their midst holding a bundle of tiny sticks woven together. It smelled of a creature he hadn’t encountered before, with its hairy legs and hard no-feet. Yet, it seemed … familiar somehow. He grunted in confusion, until it offered him the shiny fruit. He sniffed it experimentally, smelled the sweet juices inside, and took it. It was a simple matter to peel with his meaty hands, and he quickly consumed the food, his concern for the strange creatures forgotten in his hunger and his primal desires.

One of the redcaps chuckled throatily in malicious glee. “Well done, Puck. Well done, indeed. Now that’s what I call a show!”

The satyr grinned and bowed to his audience. “I thank you, kind sirs and madams, for your patronage. It is this humble servant’s hope that he has provided some measure of entertainment for his fellows that will prove enjoyable for many days to come.” He grinned at Jackson as the gorilla laid down to sleep off his transformation and let the magic in the fruit seal the binding. The scraps of clothing he left behind soon degraded into so much cotton and flora, leaving only the metal button behind. Time would take care of that monstrosity, and there was no fear of repercussion from the former human. He was too stupid to piece together his past life. Yes, this was a fun little game with little consequence to the human world. He would have to play with another human soon. And he would hate to see the new toy get lonely.

He stroked his chin and smirked. “Perhaps we’ll give him a troop to play with one day. Now won’t that be fun?”

I’m the biggest gorilla in the forest.