Screw This Fic: Weird Fetish Fics

Screw This Fic: Weird Fetish Fics

A Story by J. R.
"

It's been a while.

"


This little ditty is called "Jean Umbreon And Kyle Evee" and it is written by a lady named Azimuth who, no bullshit, did this as a commission. That's her thing, she does written commissions.

For a change of pace. the story's in white. My comments are in blue




Kyle wandered around his house quickly, removing his jumper and throwing it onto a chair, shutting all the blinds and windows of the house, locking the doors.


Right out of the gate and you fucked up.
To “wander “means to move in a leisurely and aimless way, a guy rushing through his house shutting and locking everything is the exact opposite of that.


He double-bolted the front door and then wandered upstairs to bolt the windows too. The guy, probably more than 20, seemed rather subdued, if nervous and twitchy, and definitely paranoid.

Yeah, I kinda guessed he was paranoid after he locked down his house. Also, you ever heard of Show, don’t tell? If you have to directly tell the audience what your character’s personality is, you have already failed as a storyteller.

But it wasn't paranoia if he knew it was real. They weren't really after him, but he did have his little shameful secrets: Kyle was a were.

So he’s a man in Old English?


The ideas of were-creatures had been a myth for a very long time.

Guess what time it is, kids: It’s EXPOSITION TIME!

And knowing how pokemon were, with their level of understanding ranging from below to above human and everywhere in between, the idea that some magic did exist to curse a victim or a family with lycanthropy was not really so foolish. Kyle knew how foolish it wasn't, certainly.A were-Pokémon is such a stupid concept. Every month you turn into a brightly colored animal that can be subdued by a 10 year old kid throwing balls at you.

Most of the tales told of Poochyena and Mightyena, it's true: tales of people who would undergo the most fantastic metamorphoses every full moon,

Only the best transformations guaranteed. Lycanthropy: Accept no substitutes.

their bodies changed and their minds warped by the experience and the curse itself. Some told of half-pokemon, and others told of full beasts. A few staples of society borrowed the were concept and applied it to other pokemon, most notably in games of heroics and adventures, where even such things as Rattata and Swinub were possible weres.

I can imagine Were-Rattatas would be the red headed step children of the were-Pokémon world. Every full moon, you would get your a*s kicked by every level-grinding trainer around.

Kyle finished bolting the upstairs and finally retreated to his room, shifting everything out of the way and leaving just a chair for him to sit on.


As opposed to a chair for him to stand on


Thrashing about was possible, nay plausible, and he didn't want to leave any obvious sign he'd had any struggle in here. I don’t think you know what plausible means.

That would be bad. As the day fell and night took its place, he waited with anticipation and with sorrow, nervous and mildly worried.

HOW DO I ADJECTIVES? MORE ADJECTIVES MEANS BETTER, RIGHT?

No, even Kyle liked the tales as much as any were would;

The use of ‘were’ in this story is awkward as f**k. And when fetishes are involved, f***s are as awkward as they get.

there's a difference always between the movies and the reality, and even as close to home as they might hit, they were still worth the watch. He could watch as someone howled at the moon and grew dark and fuzzy, eyes shining in pain and mixed emotion, a few accidental special attacks lighting up the area, a late passerby knocked down, his wallet stolen, scared off by the shock and the help of Scary Face, not that a still-changing were needed the help; and he could smile and nod and dream of things being simpler.

Holy f**k at the commas


The night approached him ever quicker, and he left his lights off. He left all the lights off, really: it wasn't worth trying to make anyone think there was someone here. That would be bad

No s**t, Sherlock. I kind of guessed that back when you were locking your place down

Nothing to do but wait, tapping the table with a few fingers erratically, tapping his feet, crossing and uncrossing his legs, waiting for he had nothing else he could possibly think of right now.

That word is the place wrong in

And then.. it began. He opened his mouth forcibly, Almost as if it was forced open or something…

closing his eyes and groaning as the force of the curse took hold of him,

Dysentery is one of those things they don’t tell you about Lycanthropy.

pushing out his fingernails, making 'em long and spiky.

And now he doesn’t have to spend money on manicures.

He got so warm that he scrambled his way out of his clothing, returning to the chair carefully, taking it easy: now quite naked and perspiring heavily in the middle of his room, dark black fuzz covering his hands like little black ants were swarming over it.

Hair: It looks just like ants.

His legs buckled and his mouth started to crackle

He's a were-Rice Crispy

and lean forward, and he growled at himself and his changing.

KYLE used GROWL! No effect!

A gold O drew itself on his head in fuzz, shining colours as the little light of the moon showed into the room,

Grandma, what a painfully small vocabulary you have!

its influence making Kyle writhe and grip the chair as his arms covered in the coarse black fur and his ears were stretched out, and he whined as loudly as he would dare while they lengthened, grew outwards, darkened.

It’s like the transformation scene from Pinocchio, except asinine and poorly worded.

Those gold fur tufts were his marks, of course: the circles of an Umbreon, a fairly common subject of non-mainstream were stories.


“Wolves are too mainstream, I turn into an Umbreon. You’ve probably never heard of them.”



Really, some of them were quite close when describing the feelings.

“Wow, turning into a monster DOES suck! I can relate!”

Most of them, however, were done by someone with no understanding of quite what the cursed shifting of one's form is like.

As it turns out, the process is very dull if this fic is any indication.


He knew, eyes gritting closed as his face clicked and pushed out some more, bridge disappearing and teeth changing shape.

This is a scene where a person’s muscles, bones, and bodily tissue slowly twist, pull and reshape themselves into an entirely new form. It is supposed to be agonizing, yet it’s described in such a dry and uninteresting way.

The shifting and sudden formation of more vertebrae in the tail made him yelp, odd little noises from an inhuman throat as it began to stretch out, fur seeping and asserting itself upon it.

The fur had decided it was time to be more assertive in life.

Eventually his eyes shone red and his stature started to expand a bit, the fuzz getting thicker and thicker, covering all his body in the black swirls

Swirls of blackness in every bite!

, from head to toe, up along the ears and inside them, around his rump and between his legs. He started to grow outwards,

I forgot, is this describing a guy turning into a were-beast or a potted plant?

fuzz thickening, eyes growing. Kyle reached the peak of his change, the end of the pain cycle echoed by the physical clicks of bones deciding they wanted to be somewhere else, and going there.

Like in a different story

Mmm. The storm passed.

I’m gonna go out on a limb and say this was not proofread at all.

That didn't mean much for Kyle, though, who slumped back against the chair in his fuzzy Umbreonified self and waited for things to continue. And they did.

Unfortunately for the reader

He started to grow out a little, muffledly,

Yeah, just toss another adjective in there, it’s not like they have to mean anything.

feet pulling up slightly and expanding, getting a bit less human but keeping their size.

IF THEY EXPANDED THEN THEY DID NOT KEEP THEIR SIZE YOU IDIOT

His handpaws This is such a stupid damn word. Hands are not paws, paws are not hands. Combining the two does not make sense.swelled up a little, some fingers fusing, leaving him with an un-opposable thumb.

“Now how am I supposed to masturbate?!”

And then he tightened his hands and lifted his head with a gulp as he felt himself be squashed, his legs squishing flat as everything inside them decomposed and disappeared, the flattening ignoring his paws and just going up his legs and belly. His feet dropped off, though no blood resulted and they stayed upright, quite stiff.

You could say he was a flat character.

As the flattening continued up his torso and along his arms, his 'legs' fell from the main of his body and stayed upon the chair. His upper fell back against the chair as he sinked upon it, arms sinking and squishing, and flapping a little in the draught before going still. His head fell forward and landed on its side on top of his now flat legs, eyes still shining.

Looks like he really went to pieces

All went quiet, since all was done. The gleam of artificial fuzzy fabric continued to shine in the little moonlight there was, as Kyle sat detachedly in pieces on his chair, for Kyle was in fact an Umbreon were-costume.


Somebody thought the idea of a were-costume wasn’t abysmally stupid. Think about that for a minute.

Yes, each and every full moon, the poor lad would pretend he wasn't in and hide in his locked room just in case someone did come in, and he'd spend a full moon as fuzzy bits of shaped fabric.

Even the narrator thinks this is idiotic.

He still got a good night of sleep though, usually, for while being an object it's easy to lose track of time, and just drift off...

How exactly does he turn back into a human in one piece? He falls apart as a costume so how do the parts of the costume turn into a single human?

#

Jean opened the door to the silent room without warning, not an hour or two later.

Wasn’t the whole house locked up a while ago?

The house was empty?
So where'd her friend Kyle gone? She knew, sure, he'd -said- he had something else to stay in for that night and not to come down, but she knew he was just playing coy and here she was to get him.


What an inconvenient contrivance! What wacky predicaments are in store for our completely uninteresting characters?


Jean did like him, though she wasn't sure why; he seemed a familiar face when she met him and that only got better as time went on. Still, he never got serious and she didn't quite know why, but.. was kinda glad; at least as a friendship they'd never have a good reason to fall out, ever. That made her smile.

If only we had a reason to give a damn about these two.

And really, she knew Kyle was playing because he was quite the life of any party she'd seen him at, and no way he'd miss this one. Ah well. If she couldn't find him, she couldn't find him, and he really didn't seem to be in, though his room had been tipped around a bit.

Nice cover-up, Kyle.


Hmm. She flipped the light on and gasped, running up to the black fuzz and peeking around as if to make sure nobody was about before examining it further.


She’s checking for people in a house already established to be empty. GOOD JORB THERE.


"Wow! I didn't think Kyle the sort.." she exclaimed,

“My boyfriend is a furry!”


as if telling the head her surprise would quell it. It actually did work, strangely enough.


Telling what head? It never specified her interacting with the costume head prior to this, and yet it goes on like it did.


But no, Jean was a crafty one and she knew how Kyle's mind worked.

It didn’t

This was her prize for coming to get him so they could meet up in themed costume at the party later on. Nobody'd suspect it since nobody thought he was going, and she'd been seen buying fairy wings not a few days ago, so everyone -thought- they knew what she was. Ha! Such a resourceful guy!

These little interjections would be a lot better coming from a character and not the damn narrator.

She'd have to give him thanks later. For now, though, she was going to be fashionably late, and she started putting on the costume, slipping off her shoes and stepping into the fuzzy paws. Mmmm.. warmth.


See what I mean?



At least she wouldn't suffer not having her coat any more.
She giggled and took them off again to put the fuzzy trousers on, stepping into the paws again and fluffing out the tail at the back. "So cute!" she told it, twirling it in her fingers and watching the gold shine in the light. Following that she put on the torso like a coat and zipped it up at the front, clapping her big floofly paws and grinning with delight just before taking the head and testing her walking skills.

Gotta brush up on that walking, you might forget how.


The tail swished as she walked, which pleased her no end. The head inevitably went on and she also inevitably found a mirror, patting her ears. Such a well made costume, teehee. She was going to turn heads and love doing so.

“Hey Ted! Check out the weirdo in the fursuit!”


"Yay!" “Would you f**k me?” “I’d f**k me.” she told her reflection.

"Rawr!" she noised at it, pawpawing her own image and giggling. "Okay, I should get moving really quickly. Agility time!"

Anybody who says ‘Agility time’ out loud needs to be punched. Repeatedly.


Jean switched off the light and wandered out of the house, locking it back up with her key. She had a key, it came in handy at times.

Yeah, keys can be pretty useful. Maybe in the next paragraph she will muse on the tendency for water to be wet.


Kyle knew this, so of course only she could get to the costume for her. Kinda glad he didn't lock his door,

Kyle spent the first part of the fic locking everything down and the door magically becomes unlocked so she could come in. HOW DO I CONTINUITY


really: usually he did when he was out of the house. Another sign! She decided to stop dwelling on her good fortune and instead set about quickly walking to the party.


Again with the complete overuse of adjectives and adverbs. A single verb would have done a better job than ‘quickly walking’. This isn’t even a nitpick, this is Creative Writing 101 material.



#

Kyle wasn't there when she arrived, but many other people were, and she bided the time with drink and talk.


Boy, it sure would have been nice to see the drink and talk.


Being in a good mood meant too much of both, which is why Jean found herself waking up on the sofa in a darkened party aftermath and there was a midget in a gimp suit lying next to her, with a few similarly intoxicated people littering the floor. Hooray for clichésShe burbled and shook her head, blinking: weight? ... Oh, the costume. She held her aching head and grinned. Wonderful costume, no wonder she'd fallen asleep.

You sure it wasn’t all the booze?

It wasn't sun-up yet, but she decided to head back to Kyle's anyway: he wasn't around here, so he'd probably shown up after she dropped off and went home when the party ended.

She’s taking the fact her friend didn’t do anything to help when she was falling down drunk rather well.


Aww, she thought, she didn't get to see his. Must have been cute, though.


This would have worked so much better as dialogue. It’s just stupid as narration.



She giggled thinking about it, paw to her head as she stepped over the dormant people and out the front door, closing it behind her.
About halfway back along the not-quite-darkened streets, Jean felt slightly woozy. Not that she wasn't hung over, but this was different, it was more sudden, like a cramp.

If it was like a cramp, it would hurt. Also, a hangover is a lot worse than being woozy.


Still, the sun was on its way up then, so she could at least see where she was going.

Then she felt herself go stiff while the costume itself started to move.

Jean used HARDEN!

This startled her a lot, and she stopped her walking.


Look at this riveting prose. I am so excited that I am about to go to sleep.



That was good, because the costume started to contract around her, pressing up to her and tightening her in.


The f**k does “Tightening her in” mean?



"Huh? Wha?.." she wondered, feeling very claustrophobic at that moment, eyes closing while she felt she'd be crushed.. before the force disappeared and instead she just felt a warmth in her chest. "Uuuh, I may throw up.." she announced, brushing her hair a bit and stretching her arms. Something was still going on, a tickling of the costume that was still quite tight against her.

You know what’s coming up next.

She felt odd in her fingers and watched the paws of the costume, as the seamed fingers actually separated and began to wiggle just like her fingers... wow, she was really out of it, huh.

Unnecessary comma and another instance of the narrator saying something that would work better as dialogue, at least this fic is consistent.


Ignoring the pull on her ears and the push on her face she resumed staggering for home, though her headache was actually starting to clear up and her eyesight was clearing up excessively. The power of sunlight, thought she, ironically missing the virtue of her statement.

The f**k does that mean?

After a while of walking, she started to feel breeze blowing on her, and looked about herself trying to see if she'd torn the costume anywhere, which would be a shame, since it was so nice. Nope, she hadn't.

Well that was pointless…


The fur felt better than ever to search through, though, and she sat down and brushed it, mmming lightly at how it felt on her skin underneath.


It’s like Azimuth deliberately wrote these passages using the most awkward and clumsy wording possible.



The sunlight made it look.. well, almost real. Scary. Spooky.

Creepy. Kooky. Altogether Ooky.


And quite true, as she realised when feeling up her chest that there was no zip, or seam, or anything to suggest there had been either; her headpiece had no break next to the neck, and she was sobering up quickly enough to realise that something was very, very odd.


Yeah, a costume fusing to your skin is just odd. Not terrifying, just odd.



Her hands felt different, they flexed oddly, and so did her feet.. she wasn't even walking on all of the foot any more!


The costume is changing her anatomy in significant ways and it takes her this long to find out.


She realised the weight of the tail was more than just hanging cloth, it was thick and fleshy and she could _move_ it, and at that she put her hands on her face and just felt ridiculous.

Feeling the pawpads upon her curled, eon-like face, her eyes larger than life, her so soft and slightly chilly nose.. it was lucid and impossible and she could test by putting her fingers in her mouth.

“In case of transformation, induce vomiting.”


The claws, no longer plastic but keratin, knocked real sharp teeth and failed to find a human face. Worry plus exhilaration plus what-the-hell.


Boredom plus Disbelief plus screw-this-fic.


Jean wondered just what one -does- if they've turned into an umbreon person and completely missed it.

Congratulations! You are so motherfucking dense that you didn’t even notice a costume becoming your skin and your body twisting itself into a new shape.


And that warmth in her chest was starting to bug her now.

Some Alka-Seltzer will fix that right up.


She shook her tail, pondered briefly about how weird that just felt, and then scritched her head and tried to work things out rationally.


You’ve been turned into a Pokémon by wearing a costume that used to be a person. Rationality won't do you any good here.



By whimpering loudly and running pawfooted in the direction of Kyle's house.

Pawfooted? I guess when normal people run, they do it “footfooted”


She'd just realised she was now naked and didn't like that idea much at all.

Why yes, this is a fetish fic! How did you guess?

#

When she got to the door she had to stop and catch her breath, holding her stomach.

She was starting to sorely regret eating at Taco Bell.


She could run that as a person, shouldn't it be easier as part pokemon?


Has anyone been as far as to try proofread this story more like?



... While she amazed herself at how natural this was seeming, she did note that - looking down - she seemed to be rather plump.


I’ve heard of a beer belly but this was ridiculous. *rimshot*



This was not welcomed, since she had always possessed a good figure. However, watching her chest revealed it was actually getting visibly more plump.


This is going to turn out to be inflation or something worse. You can never tell with these fics.



This made her double-take. ".. what in the."

So she misses turning into a Pokémon, but she notices getting fat the second it happens? Priorities much?

She felt slightly ill, and coughed a bit, looking at the door.


If I turned into a f*****g monster, I’d be more than slightly ill.



Where was her key now, then?

It fell down a plot hole.

She didn't have it, it was in her clothes which she'd apparently absorbed and thus she wasn't getting in.

Oh, so she’s part amoeba too.


"Why me?" she asked the door. It didn't know.

Doors usually aren’t very knowledgeable. They’re also not especially talkative unless you’re schizophrenic.


Either way, in or out, she decided to get away from the crowds and clambered over Kyle's back gate to the seclusion of his fenced yard.


Yeah, it’s best not to let people see you all naked and furry, though it's a tad late for that.


That was good, there was a chair there and she used it.

This prose is so beige it can be used to treat insomnia.

Nope, she didn't feel so good at all, sweat running along her fur and thoughts running through her head. What exactly did this mean?


You’re either pregnant or about to take the biggest s**t of your life. The weirdos of the internet will be jerking off either way.


Well, she found out what she meant, grabbing the sides of the chair and yelping as, right there in the morning and without any prior warning, an umbreon girl with no compatible species laid an egg.

Congratulations! You’re a mother… I think.


She caught it, almost instinctively, as the weight of her chest diminished and she looked a bit more normal then.


As normal as a Pokémon-human hybrid can look.



Peering at the egg, a pokemon egg though a bit bigger. And.. really not knowing what to say.

How about “What the hell”?


There was magic at work, sure, and it kept going as the egg wriggled and started to grow.

The egg’s hard shell did little to stop it from wriggling.


She sat it on the floor, having no table, and just watched it. She had no clue what was going on. Kyle didn't either, he hadn't actually woken up yet. Perhaps there was more magic in store for if anyone had the Kyle-costume on when he was due to change back, heh? "I.. um.."


Even the characters are confused with the clumsy-a*s pacing and narration.



Kyle woke up and opened his eyes, immediately noticing something was wrong and he was inside somewhere quite constrictive.


Constrictive is a perfectly cromulent word.


He flailed at it, and it gave way, his hands going through the side and light shining in. His eyes were fuzzy, but that would pass, and he clawed his way out of the egg while Jean watched. Quite literally clawed, too.

It’s like that scene from Jurassic Park, except creepy and pervy.


She estimated the young boy that had just been 'born' was probably about 13 already,

Ouch

and she really wasn't asking questions.

She damn well should be.

He could probably speak as well. She didn't say anything at that point, just waiting.

Also, tense shift.

Kyle, meanwhile, rubbed his eyes and sat on the floor, blinking and shifting since, well, he was sat on his tail. Further thought made him remember: he wasn't supposed to have that.

That seems like something you’d pick up on really quickly, just saying

Looking around, he fished for the tail and pulled its tip in front of his eyes. It was brown and very large and fluffled.

Fluffled is also a perfectly cromulent word.


Strange. Eevee? That was odd. "Uhh.."


It’s like Azimuth can’t decide whether it’s in first-person or third-person.



"I wonder if Kyle is anything to do with this." muttered Jean. Kyle's rather large vee-ears could still hear her and he peeked up. "Uhhn? That's Jean, sorta.. what's up with your voice?" he replied, unable to see ahead of him quite well enough to note anything more obviously wrong than her voice. She widened her eyes and held a paw to her mouth, quite blatantly confused.

Instead of being confused in more subtle, understated ways.


"Kyle?! Umm.. you can't see why kids love Cinnamon Toast Crunch, can you.."


"No, no, I can't. Why not? What's going on? Why am I an Eevee?"
"Well, you're an eevee person because.. umm..." Jean shifted closer to Kyle and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe I should tell you about the birds and the bees."
she joked.

Seeing how this is a furry fetish fic, ’birds and bees’ can be taken literally.


"No. You have rather a lot to tell me, young man, and don't lie, I'll know instantly."

Since the truth is so completely absurd, how will you know?

It didn't really take long for Kyle's sight to return, but when it did, the eeveeboy's jaw dropped. And began to explain things.

Like how ‘show don’t tell’ doesn’t exist in the author’s mind.

Their conversation is infinitely better left to speculation, but it's enough to say they were probably very happy together afterwards.


Wait…. That technically makes them mother and child. So if they’re happy together, given their romantic feelings for each other beforehand…. You know what, I don’t want to think about it.



Well that sure was a thing. A very awkward thing.

© 2012 J. R.


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Reviews

'Hair: it looks just like ants.'

-Haha, grief!

And I agree with you! More adjectives, doesnt mean better prose. And the vocabulary is microscopically small. Also, its proven through experience, if you go through this without focusing on the stomach-wrenching events, you will hav found a cure for insomnia.

Your comments are hilarious, and to the point. I like this!

Please write more!

Posted 6 Years Ago


Why Azimuth? Why? Why must you hurt me so? Also great Silence of the Lambs reference there. This whole review was top notch. Glad I got to scratch that "Screw This Fic" itch I've been having all month! 5 Stars! Three thumbs up!

Posted 7 Years Ago



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Added on June 21, 2012
Last Updated on June 21, 2012
Tags: screw, this, fic, wtf

Author

J. R.
J. R.

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I am an aspiring writer who is interested in improving as a writer and getting my work out to the world. . more..

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Crawling Crawling

A Story by J. R.