#tw transformation horror

[thebigshotman]

The day after Christmas. A rough day for any Addison or salesperson, given that the day was almost exclusively taken up by people returning their gifts and forcing them to shell out money instead of making it. If you didn’t sell anyone anything for Christmas, though, you had nothing to worry about and had a relaxing, normal business day.

That was what Spamton was going through for most of the day today, trying to restock his shelves now that most of them weren’t clipping through the floor. He might be able to reopen soon! And with that he’d have to leave Eileen. A lump in his throat formed at that thought. He didn’t want to do that. What could he do to prolong doing that?

His thoughts were derailed by the lump in his throat bubbling into a gentle hiss of static that transitioned into the screeching of dial up.

Startled, he stumbled to the floor and onto his side, smashing the S. POTION he was carrying onto the floor. He could feel his skin hardening; it hurt like hell. They didn’t say this was going to happen going back, too!

If they had he might not have chosen to be affected by their magic at all!!

*HeaVEN, this hurts…Eileen!! Saff!! An YONE!!!!

His voice was on the frizz underneath the dial up, once again transitioning between throat and voice box. His teeth were growing, that stupid dumb award-losing smile stretching back onto his face whether he liked it or not. How wide he was smiling hurt. His teeth growing hurt. His hair falling out again, the black and white clumps piling up in front of him, were humiliating. His clothing itched.

Someone help him. He screamed beyond the static, only for it to cut off halfway with a startup noise.

He couldn’t feel his thumping, pounding heart anymore. Glitches split his vision now as his glasses became solid frame once again. He squinted his eyes shut, that last bit of moisture trickling off of them as they became simple decoration once again. His plastic hands flew to his head. It was throbbing as the noise and static and voices returned, mocking him.

*[[A]] [[A]] [[A]] [[A]] [[A]]

It was about all the noise he was capable of making at this point as the pain and humiliation built to a fever pitch. Why couldn’t he frown and scream and beg like a normal person could, maybe someone would be able to help him and make this all just go away-

Not like they’d be able to. They’re not real. Like you.

Your angel’s not real, either. Why are you so attached to her?

His eyes flew open.

*…SHUT UP.

He muttered to everyone and no one, for the shop was empty as always. Like a bad nightmare, the pain had passed, as horrific as it had been, and he was back to himself. He was dissociating somewhat as he touched the ground but couldn’t feel the shattered glass, grumbled but in a voice that wasn’t his own. That would pass, too. At the end of the day, no matter how powerful the magic, this was the state he returned to.

…But. He would always make the most of the magic when it was given to him. No matter what the consequences or catches.

*SHE 1S REAL. SHE HAS TO B3. I’D GO [[*cuckoo clock noises*]] IF SHE W4SN’T. SHUT UP.

He slicked back his black hair in annoyance, once again fake and once again layered with an inhumane amount of gel and grease. He hadn’t felt it returning. Probably because it wasn’t real hair that grew, not anymore.

He checked all of his systems now that he was back to normal. His mini-Spams were okay, he could access his Inventory, and his cherub wasn’t in pain anymore! If nothing else, those were pluses. The only other thing was his voice…but what else was new?

That was when he got up without another word, except for a bright, eerily positive-after all that just happened, anyway-confirmation noise leaving his mouth, and went into the back of the shop to check on his mini-selves. Some customers had wanted one, right?

Back to business.

[critterdotgo]

I had a dream (well, that part of the dream was more like a nightmare) that little seedlings were sprouting out of my hands and fingers. I was scared that I was going to turn into a tree, so I cut off the stems. After that, I got comforted by a friend

For some damn reason, in that dream the pov character was Bloodhound/Bludhundr from Apex Legends

[ayviedoesthings]

TW blood, trypophobia, body horror

Dragon HRT BONUS Part 0.5: 2 months

Requested by a decent amount of people, now I'm finally done with "prequel" stuff, we can move forward again!

(This isn't the big update I was talking about, I just forgor I had this one first)

Start - Prev - Next

[bonkalore]

Some good ol' monster transformation angst! Shockingly, I don't have a lot TF sequences done, but that's mostly bc they're hard to draw and tedious lol

Anyway, Danny boy had gradual bouts of TFs before fully getting to see what it is exactly he's turning into. Hoagie also having some PTSD having to see this go down when he also has dealt with unwilling TF bc he was human before... Fun stuff for both parties.

[robotgirldaily]

The robot girl of the day is Alice from Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen!

[ochiody]

scylla design

[dimorphodon-x]

Revisited this concept but made it ✨worse✨

Unlike in the pirateformers au, Starhawk’s bird form is probably some sort of ‘virus’ or even a Brainstorm accident, and his rampage would be out of confusion, panic and pain.

[gl1tt3r-gutz-and-r0b0tz-sl]

ain't she pretty? 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Click for better quality.

[thicctails]

That Voice Isn't Yours | A TFP Horror Comic | Pages 14 - 20 | FINALE

Annnnnd that's a wrap! I'm so glad people enjoyed this little side project of mine, and I'm even more happy to be able to say that it got a proper, completed ending!!

[ju5t777]

Bang Bang time <3

Illustrations for @eatyoursparkout ‘s Carbon Copy (Chapter 7), please go read it <3

Next illustrations here

[thebigshotman]

M!A (whenever the admin feels like it) where Spamton is an Addison again...however it's a painful transition, like turning into a werewolf. He'll actually look his age, and experience all the side affects that comes with someone who's pushing 50.

(Sorry this is starting two weeks after you sent me this lol! I hope any ensuing chaos is worth the wait! Let’s give this about 3-4 days; it’ll end on Christmas night!)

The second he hears the words “Addison again”, he is glitching and twitching happily with joy-so much so that the rest of the request, the catch as it were, goes completely unheard.

*4N [All we do is advertise!] AGA1N, RE-E-3ALLY?!?!? I’VE WANTED THIS F0R [*absurdly long number*] MONTHS, F1NALLY I CAN [[mwah!]] [Hazelnut] AND—

That’s when the transformation begins.

It starts with cracks forming all over his skin, and it feels unbearably itchy, like something is trying to burst forth from underneath. His hair is falling out in clumps-not again, it’s just reminding him of when everything started falling apart-his teeth are shrinking and growing back into his mouth. It feels incredibly uncomfortable; it should almost hurt more. But it doesn’t.

He tries to let out any sort of yelp of pain and confusion and panic, but can’t: His voice box is a garbled mess in the middle of transitioning back into a normal throat. He feels bumping in his chest, and that’s what brings him to his knees. The ground only does so much to center him, reassure him that what’s coming after this will be worth it. He pounds it aggressively with a fist, glasses spilling out static as he grits his teeth-

And the plastic falls off, revealing silicone skin underneath. Like a cascade, the rest of his body follows suit, and soon the itchiness stops and he’s back in his old, Addison body again. Natural hair-except this time it’s half-black and half-white, like the hair dye has almost run out-expressive eyes, a heart and a non-glitched throat. His clothing miraculously unaffected by the “painful” caveat of the transformation, instead having transitioned back to normal fabric clothes without a word.

Except…something’s different. He can feel something lagging still. Not in his mind, for once…in his body. He tries to get up, and it takes several moments of stuttering frames to do so. For Heaven’s sake…they didn’t just turn him back into an Addison. They turned him into an out of date Addison who hasn’t had their internal software upgraded in 25 years. What he should be.

*You…had to throw in a twist, didn’t you? Clearly I haven’t had enough deals with catches in my life, have I?!

He spits that out more aggressively than intended, less towards the anon and more for the desperate need for something to go right in his life for once with no strings attached. Looks like it hasn’t caught up to his voice yet.

But he can worry about that later. Right now, minus any catches, he has his old body back…and for how long, he has no idea. He’s making the most of this. The first thing he does, like before, is clip off his glasses and rub his normal, Addison eyes in relief. But now, unlike before, he goes running towards his girlfriend’s house.

*Eileen!! Hazelnut!! Where are you?! Come here, I want to give you a big smooch-l-like an actual kiss!! I’m an Addison again!!!

[nonetoon]

Curses 🌑

[zal-cryptid]

Doll Dysphoria - part 3 [end]

[taralen]

"W-What's happening to me?!"

It started one morning without any prior signs or warnings. They first appeared as unusual bruises, but as the days passed, they swelled and inflamed. A searing, agonizing pain tortured his wrists. Spamton turned to the strongest painkillers money could buy and covered the painful bands with gauze wraps. He couldn't let his employees see. They were already scrambling to improve numbers for the Q4. How could he motivate them while dealing with this?! Days passed, and they could no longer ignore his bandages. "Sir, are you alright? Did you injure yourself?" they asked. "Worry about your own problems," he said. "We have only a month left. Work on those numbers, and don't worry about me!" [[He]] wasn't answering the phone. What was keeping [[him]]?! He needed answers! Spamton changed the gauze wraps daily as the strange wounds worsened and seeped blood into them. His skin was rotting somehow, necrotizing beneath what felt like tight invisible bands eating away at his flesh but with no rotten odor. Delirium consumed him, coming in waves as the feverish agony of his strange affliction fought against his painkillers. Large round bruises appeared on the outer edge of his hands, transforming into painful, stab-like indentions within days, amplifying this torture. What was this affliction?!

He started wearing black gloves to hide the wraps, using the excuse that he was unusually cold from this strange virus he was fighting off.

WHERE WAS [[HE]]? ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE, YOU PIECE OF @#*(!!!

"It hurts... It hurts..." Spamton uttered, surrounded by his faithful Minitons that served him gentle foods and cooled his forehead as he fought the feverish chills that came and went. The painkillers stopped working, so he downed them with battery acid.

Dazed and confused, he awoke one morning with a terrible throbbing around his jaw. Did he grind his teeth too hard? What was going on?

Spamton stumbled into the bathroom, his hands and wrists now so swollen and inflamed that the capillaries threatened to burst. "I-I can do this. I just need to wash up." He prayed mentally for [[him]] to answer the phone. Please [HEAVEN] let this be the day. Nausea overcame him as he flipped the light switch on. He hurried to the sink and wretched blood and some tar-like substance into it. Heaving, he brought his hand up to massage his aching jaw. When he raised his head, he gazed into his reflection, his stomach dropping as his thumb and forefinger ran down the lines extending from the corners of his lips to the bottom of his chin. They were bruises...

He trembled and then vomited even more blood and black ooze into the sink. With his fingers digging into his scalp, he screamed, "WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!"

Started off as a doodle that I decided to do something with. This is a teaser of how I imagine the [very painful and slow]] transformation Spamton endures while becoming a puppet. I decided to write a small fic with it to give a better idea of the pure agony I imagine him enduring during this time. It's subject to change, but this is the best I got at the moment. LOL.

Though I drew this a while back, I was partially inspired by @keylee's short animation where Big Shot Spamton loses his @#$^ and vomits into a sink. Check it out here:

[whereserpentswalk]

You're so lucky to have been brought back from the dead. Most necromancers would have given up on you entirely, most people are put in the grave with a lot more material left on them than you are. None of your body was still usable, but your soul was miraculously hanging on after your injuries. They were able to keep your ethereal self bound to this world, and make you a new body to possess.

Your new body is made of leather, and cloth, and rubber, and plastic and steel. It looks almost like a puppet of sorts. It's most human shaped, and with your soul inside of it it moves just like a human would. But all it has for a face is a gas mask, and hood to make it look a bit less bald. Where your eyes should be, those little glass fixtures, glow a deep red, perhaps as a reminder of something.

Everyone in your family is trying to be very casual. They don't expect any of it to phase you. Mabye they want to be seen as accepting but you don't know what they mean by that. They expect you to still go to all your college classes, expect you to still try and find work, to do all the things you're still technically able to do. They don't want you to spend time recovering, apparently it makes your family sad to see you "feeling sorry for yourself". And your father will always be the first to remind you that he's the one who payed to have you revived, he's the one who found one of the only necromancers in the city good enough to bring you back. It's like you owe them the child they once had. They didn't bring you back to watch you mourn. And your school and work understands less, you don't feel tired or in pain anymore, you have less on an excuse then ever.

You remember your death so well. It still feels so real, and so scary, it's supposed to have been nothing, supposed to have not mattered, but you can still feel it. And everything is so diffrent in this new body, your entire body feels diffrent, just the sensation of feeling metal bones, and the feeling of having cloth where you once had skin, of feeling hard plastic where your used to your face being. You miss sleep, miss food, miss sex, you even miss pain. It hurts to see people doing all these things that you can't, they took your bed out of your room, they said you needed more space now, and you can't sleep anyway. It was so casual. You should be appreciating this, you're alive after all? Everyone expects you to be so happy all the time, to constantly be in a good mood, to constantly be ok, and you're not, all they ever play in your living room is pop music, and that's not what you want to hear right now, it's not what you listen to alone. You can't smile more, you don't have a mouth.

There's a freind you made in a faerie studies course at college, who let you talk about this with him, he only knew you for a few weeks before you got your new body. It's weird, you're able to talk to even distant freinds about feeling sad or scared more than you can your family. He hugged you, it doesn't feel the same as it did in your old body but it meant something. You told you he's happy your alive, that it doesn't matter what you do, that it's a miracle that you're alive. He told you he wants you to be alive and to be happy. So few people tell you that, nobody in your family ever did. You're expected so much to appreciate the life other people gave you, but so few people want to appreciate that you're alive.

[keicordelle]