Lets try again, reddit removed the last post...

"I'll just browse r/FurAI for a bit..."

Everything was made using Frosting ai. you can check out more stuff on my Frosting profile: https://frosting.ai/profile/ostracodenjoyer

Source: https://x.com/FurryJinzo/status/2113349258191479088?s=20

Wondering how a simple prank turned into this? Start with Part One here!

The other girls moved around you. You tried to follow them with your eyes, but whatever the leader had done to you left your head frozen in place.

A match struck against the side of its box. Fssst. The sharp smell of sulfur filled the locker room as a tiny flame sprang to life. One of the cheerleaders knelt and touched it to a black candle before placing it on the tile directly in front of you.

Julie lit another. She carried it behind you and set it down. Two more candles followed, one positioned to your left and another to your right.

Four flames flickered around your motionless body. Whatever the hell these girls were planning, you were standing right in the middle of it.

The leader circled you, her green sneakers squeaking against the tile as her eyes traveled from head to toe. It wasn't the casual glance of a girl checking out a guy. It was the cool, appraising stare of a craftswoman examining raw material.

“You know,” she said, her voice carrying softly through the locker room, “most people think magic is all big gestures and flashy lights. Hollywood bullshit.”

She stepped in close and slipped her fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. Her touch was soft. Almost too soft. Each slow pull of fabric against your skin left goosebumps rising in its wake, and by the time she peeled your shirt up and over your head, your whole body felt painfully aware of itself.

The locker room air struck your bare chest, cool and sharp.

“Ooooh,” Julie purred from somewhere to your right. “He’s got a happy trail.”

The leader chuckled, her gaze lingering over your chest for a moment before she held out her hand. Julie passed her the leather pouch.

“Maria,” the leader said, “pull up the instructions from the book.”

The girl to your left fished her phone from her pocket and unlocked it. “It says we have to draw the symbols on specific parts of him.” Her eyes flicked from the screen to your bare torso and back again. Then she frowned. “Fuck, Ann, you need to clean your camera lens. These pictures are blurry as hell.”

“Oh, come on,” another girl protested. “They are not that bad.”

A small sigh escaped the leader. “Just read what you can make out.”

She opened the pouch and pulled out a small brush and a narrow glass jar of black ink. Maria squinted at her screen.

“The top one goes on the sternum, just below the collarbones. It looks like…” She tilted the phone toward the leader. “A circle with a diagonal line through it.”

The leader dipped the brush into the ink.

The first touch against your skin was cold. You sucked in a breath as the wet bristles dragged across your sternum in slow, deliberate strokes. You could feel the shape taking form as she worked. A circle. Then the slash through it.

But the cold didn't stay where she painted it.

It sank beneath your skin, spreading outward from the symbol and settling somewhere deep inside your chest. Your breathing quickened. Whatever was in that ink, it was doing more than leaving a mark.

Maria kept reading. “Next is just below the navel. A downward-pointing triangle with a smaller triangle inside it facing up.”

The brush returned. This time it touched down just beneath your belly button, right above the waistband of your jeans. Your breath caught as another wave of cold spread through your lower abdomen, sharper than the first.

Maria studied her phone while the leader finished the last stroke. “Okay… two more symbols. Looks like Ber… Berkano? And Ingwaz?” She squinted harder at the screen. “Whatever the hell that means.” Her thumb dragged down the page. “First one goes on the left pectoral. Second one on the right.”

The leader moved to your left side. The brush touched down again, sending another wave of cold beneath your skin as she painted the next mark across your chest. Then she moved to the right.

By the time she finished the final stroke, four separate points of unnatural cold throbbed beneath your skin. The ink no longer felt like something painted on top of you. It was sinking in. Settling. Becoming part of you.

Maria scrolled farther down. “Last one for him,” she said. “Then we move on to the anchor.”

The word snagged in your mind.

Anchor?

The leader leaned closer to Maria’s phone while the other girls checked their own screens, swiping through photos and notes as though making sure they hadn't missed anything. Then she turned back to you.

The brush rose toward your face.

You tried to pull away, but your body remained still as stone, refusing to obey your mind's desperate commands.

Cool bristles touched your forehead. Slowly, carefully, she began painting a more complex symbol across your skin. You could feel every line as she drew it, every curve and crossing stroke slick with black ink.

But this one felt different.

It wasn't only cold. There was something behind it. Pressure. Intent. As though the woman standing in front of you wasn't merely drawing a symbol, but feeding something into it.

Something ancient.

Something that had been waiting for a shape.

Your heartbeat slowed. The panic clawing at your chest began to dull. You should have been terrified. You knew that. You should have been screaming, fighting, doing anything you could to get away.

Instead, a strange heaviness settled over you. Your racing thoughts began to drag, each one slower than the last, thick and syrupy, until even fear felt distant.

You felt the brush's wet tip pull away.

“There.” The leader stepped back and admired her work. “Now for the anchor.”

Kassia stepped into view, Billy's battered mascot head cradled in one arm. Her bored expression shifted, the corner of her mouth curling into a faint smile as she withdrew a small brush from inside the head. She tucked it behind her ear before holding Billy out toward the leader.

“It’s all ready for you, Elena.”

Elena took it. For a moment, she just held the thing in front of her face, staring into its dead plastic eyes like she was waiting for something inside them to stare back.

Then she began to chant.

Her voice was low and even. The candles flickered; the shadows along the walls deepened. The other four girls joined her, their voices sliding together until it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. The words were foreign and heavy, their strange cadence making the hair along your arms rise.

Then you felt it.

A pull toward the mascot head in Elena’s hands. Not curiosity. Not fear. Something deeper, as though the mask were calling straight to whatever sat behind your thoughts. Your body stayed locked where it was. Elena stepped closer and lowered Billy’s head over yours.

The chanting grew louder, faster. The words blurred into a muffled rhythm through layers of faux fur and fabric. Your view of the locker room disappeared as Billy’s head settled over yours.The eyeholes offered little more than a haze of shifting light. Inside, the air smelled of old fabric and stale sweat.

A strange tingling stirred in the soles of your feet and began to climb through your calves. At first it felt like pins and needles, the same dull static you got from sitting on your own leg too long. Then it sank deeper, threading between muscle and bone until your legs felt loose and wrong. The sensation didn’t hurt. Somehow that only made the knot of terror in your gut twist. You could feel individual muscles in your thighs tighten, ease, then settle into a slightly different tension, pulsing in a random rhythm as though something were testing how they were meant to hold.

The symbols on your skin grew hot. It wasn't a surface burn like touching a stove. It was more like a deep internal heat that spread outward from each mark and softened the tissue around it. With every word of the chant, another adjustment moved through you. A muscle along your ribs drew tight, held, then released into a new line. Something popped in your lower back, the same sharp release you got when you stretched just right and a stiff joint gave. You hadn't stretched, though. You couldn't. You tried to scream, but your lips wouldn't open. A weak whimper escaped into the padding of Billy's head, too quiet to rise above the chanting.

A hand gently pressed against your crotch. You couldn’t see who. Fingers curled around and began to rub slowly and deliberately, matching the rhythm of the chant. Your cock twitched beneath her attention, growing hard under the touch. Your jeans loosened as your zipper and button were undone, the soft hand wrapping around the shaft and beginning to stroke. With each gentle pump the shaft began to draw inward. It eased and trembled. Your eyes rolled back as the familiar length you were so proud of started to pull back while your balls tightened and rose against your taint, the subtle weight of them lifting and folding upward into the pulsing heat gathering between your legs. A thin trickle of precum leaked out and cooled on your hot, sensitive skin. Panic surged. The nerves already shifting under the touch answered with something you never thought you would associate with this.

Pleasure.

The movement of her hand stayed steady. The length softened and retracted a little more, the head growing less distinct as it was drawn back into the body. Your balls compressed. A moan slipped out as the familiar heavy pull between your legs eased away until something tighter and warmer sat in its place. Your mind reached for the memory of how it was supposed to feel, of having your dick and balls where they belonged, and found only the new pressure building under the hand. Your hips tried to rock into the touch and were denied. The pleasure continued to build, thick and involuntary, rolling through the reshaping flesh with every stroke. The head grew more and more sensitive as your balls tightened and released. You didn’t know how you knew, but this would be the last time. The hand pulled away. Someone made a disgusted noise. A few girls snickered, and the chant faltered before they managed to pick it up again.

Two of the chanting voices slowed their cadence and drew closer. You heard one speaking in a high, almost excited tone, while the other sounded lower, almost bored. Their hands moved across your bare chest as they leaned close enough for you to hear them through the padding of Billy’s head.

“Let go…” the one on your left said.

“Let the old you fade away…” the other responded.

“Become something new…” the excited voice on your right continued.

“Something better…” both said, the words overlapping in a soft echo.

Their palms worked over the flesh as it continued to swell beneath them. Slow, firm squeezes made the new weight fuller, the skin drawing tight and warm where their fingers pressed. Each knead sent a deep throb traveling downward. Your nipples hardened against their palms, so sensitive that even a light brush turned the contact into a rolling pulse that sank straight between your legs. The girls shaped with practiced hands, lifting and cupping, then circling the stiff peaks until the changing flesh yielded beneath their fingers.

Between your legs, the sensation answered differently. Not the old weight. Not the familiar squeeze of fabric pressing your shaft to your hip. Something tighter and slicker clenched with every movement of their hands, a low, unfamiliar ache that rose and fell in time with the pressure on your chest. Your hips gave a small, helpless twitch against the spell that still held the rest of you rigid. Your nerves cried out for movement while something quieter stirred beneath your thoughts, an unfamiliar instinct that already seemed to know how this body wanted to respond. You tried to move your hips again, deliberately this time, but the spell wouldn’t let you.

“Become Betty…”

Elena’s voice rang clear inside your head, untouched by the muffling fabric or the chanting around you. For a moment, you couldn’t tell whether she’d spoken aloud at all.

The one on your left pinched and pulled at your nipple between her fingers, rolling it slowly back and forth in a teasing motion. The sensitive nerves shot down your spine like lightning. That ever-shifting feeling between your thighs called for more, wet and insistent, the muscles fluttering as if they already knew what they were being reshaped for. Your back curved, pressing your new chest into both witches’ hands as far as the spell allowed. The moan that left you was higher, almost needy, the sound strange in your own ears.

The movement startled you. Until now, Elena’s spell had held you rigid as stone. But your muscles were beginning to respond again, whether you wanted them to or not. You tried to move, to break free, but a thought surfaced in the back of your mind. Stay.

Beneath the chanting, you heard fabric strain. The padding inside Billy’s head pressed tighter against your skull, as though the costume itself were shrinking. Panic jolted through you as your breath became labored. Some half-buried part of you screamed to tear the thing off, to rip Billy’s smiling head away, but your changing body stayed helpless beneath the hands still working over you.

The chanting rose in pitch. Every painted symbol seemed to burn deeper into your skin. The hands against your chest shifted with the changes beneath them.

“Fuck… ah, ah… ahh…”

It was all you could force out through the mask as it sealed against your face. The fibers melded with your skin, settling and fusing until you could no longer tell where the costume ended and you began. A faint current from the air conditioning brushed the inside of your new furry ears. The sensation sent a full-body shiver that made the strange wet ache clench.

Heat swelled beneath your skin and spread through muscle and bone. Everything inside you turned loose and heavy. The resistance that had still been there a moment ago simply… stopped. Your body turned soft under the heat, pliant, ready for whatever shape the hands and the chant wanted next.

Your muscles shifted and stretched beneath your skin. Arms, legs, and chest writhed as coarse black fur pushed through in uneven waves. An insistent itch followed the growth, spreading faster until the smoothness of your old body was gone beneath it. Every new patch of fur made the skin underneath feel raw and sensitive. That wet, confusing ache returned, slick heat building in your groin and answering with another slow clench around nothing, as if wanting but unable to figure out what.

The transformation reached your feet. Your toes curled helplessly, flexing again and again until they locked. The bones compressed. The balls of your feet hardened as the skin thickened into something rigid. A strange pressure formed down the center of each foot and grew until the hardened surface split into two distinct halves. Panic flashed through you, but it had nowhere to go. The change kept moving.

A new pressure built at the base of your spine. At first it was only a faint ache, deep and insistent. Then it became a push. A steady, stretching force that made your ass clench and your breath catch. It felt so uncomfortably wrong, yet somehow it carried the same strange satisfaction that had followed the rest of the changes.

Something began to extend behind you. It felt like a hard tug right at the end of your spine, as if something was being drawn out of you. You hadn’t seen it, yet some unfamiliar part of your mind already knew what it was.

“Awww, look at her tail, it’s so cute,” a voice muttered nearby.

Your jeans, already strained past their limit, finally gave way. The fabric split around your thickening hips and thighs with a series of loud rips. Somewhere in the circle, someone gasped between lines of the chant.

A blurred flicker of flame caught your attention. Through the darkness, shapes began to emerge. Figures moved around you, their outlines shifting in the unsteady candlelight. Little points of orange and yellow danced at the edges of your vision. You blinked, struggling to focus. The darkness inside Billy’s head was slowly lifting, though you couldn’t understand why.

A new scent reached you. Warm candle wax, distinct from the stale sweat and industrial cleaner. Beneath those familiar odors was something else. A faint earthy sweetness.

The chanting quickened, frantic. Your tail twitched behind you while your altered legs trembled beneath your weight. Every sensation overlapped. Shifting bones. Unfamiliar fur. The phantom tightness of the mask around a face that was no longer entirely yours. The heat still pulsing low in your groin. The voices rose together. Everything in you tightened until it felt like something was about to give. You were still terrified, but the urge to fight was fading. At the height of the chant, everything stopped. The voices cut off. The pressure vanished. In the sudden silence, a trembling bleat escaped you, higher and softer than any sound you remembered making.

Some weekend cardio

Changes

• Remove licensed models from the merge while keeping the controls
• Better hand recognition
• Better handling for Furry characters

Anima B1 + A11 + 2.9B structure

Link: https://civitai.com/models/2619104?modelVersionId=3425247

Enjoy