#monkey tf

[tfanatic]

It began subtly. A stray hair here, a darker patch there. At first, you dismissed it as nothing. Maybe you were just stressed. Maybe your hormones were out of whack. But when you woke one morning to find your entire arm covered in thick, coarse hair, denial was no longer an option.

You stared at your hand in the bathroom light, fingers twitching involuntarily. Your nails were duller, rounder. Your knuckles — broader. A deep, uncomfortable thought crept into your mind, one you’d been trying to ignore for weeks: The curse is real.

Your breath quickened as you stared at your hands—now covered in a coarse, unnatural fur. The sink's cold water streamed over them, but no amount of scrubbing could remove what was happening. You clawed at your skin, rubbing harder and harder, trying to scrape away the hair, the wrongness, the fear crawling up your spine.

"This isn't real!!" you yelled. "It's just a dream. Just a—"

But the roughness of your palms, the thickening of your fingers, the way your nails curved ever so slightly—none of it faded. Your reflection caught in the faucet, twisted and distorted, only deepened the dread as you slammed your fists against the sink, chest heaving.

"What's happening to me?!"

The bracelet on your wrist, once loose and stylish, now bit into your skin—tightened by the swelling muscle and coarse fur underneath. Panic surged. The curse was no longer creeping. It was accelerating, and you didn't know how to stop it.

You stumbled backward, clutching the edge of the sink, heart racing like a drum. You needed to sit—now. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you crashed onto the cold tile floor. That’s when you saw them.

Your feet! The hair had spread—thick and wild—down your legs and across the tops of your feet. The toes had changed shape, subtly but unmistakably. They looked stronger, more agile… almost prehensile. Your feet were broader now, and your ankles bore an eerie bulge, like they were preparing for a different kind of motion—climbing, leaping.

“No… no, no, no…” you yelled, pulling at your shorts as if that could stop the transformation crawling up your thighs.

But it was too late.

You forced yourself to stand, legs trembling beneath the strange weight of your reshaped body. Dragging your heavy, hairy feet across the tile, you staggered toward the mirror. Please no… please no…

When you looked up, the breath in your lungs vanished.

The face staring back wasn’t yours.

Wide, amber-ringed eyes blinked in terror. A flat nose twitched, flaring slightly with each ragged breath. Your ears—your ears!—were massive, rounded, and stuck out from the sides of a head no longer entirely human. Coarse hair framed your cheeks and jaw, thick like a mane. Your mouth fell open in a gasp—and what came out wasn’t a scream, but a guttural, primal sound.

You gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles cracking under the pressure. Your heart pounded in your chest, but your reflection just stared—wild, alien, animal.

The transformation was complete.

And worst of all, behind the fear… was something else creeping in.

Something curious. Instinctual. A feeling that maybe, just maybe…

This wasn’t entirely wrong.

[mr-haitch-but-lewd]

Return of the monkey mirror. Commission

[croissant-deau]

I fell in love with these designs so I gave em a whole comic

In other news, comics are hard

[skatoonyfan1234]

What if Monkey Fist slowly turned into a monkey overtime?

What if the procedure that gave Monkey Fist his monkey hands and feet slowly turned him into a monkey overtime?

[hypnotransform]

Could you do a corrupted wish for me? Like an average college girl wants to be the sexiest person on campus, but instead of her becoming attractive, everyone else just gets uglier, maybe some monster tfs too to make them extra ugly?

Jen was far from ugly; she just wasn’t memorable. Guys on campus mostly ignored her, and even the ones that thought she was nice believed she wasn’t hot enough. The girls viewed her as a wallflower, someone who would drag down their own sexiness. She dealt with it the best she could, but it upset her greatly. One evening in the dining hall, she’d decided to get Chinese, and smiled dimly when she saw her fortune: SEXIEST ON CAMPUS.

Yeah, she thought. Sure. 

A minute later, she heard a scream from the other end of the hall. She got up to make sure someone didn’t need help, and froze. A pretty college girl was holding her stomach, which was getting fatter by the second. Her nose was reforming into a snout, and her big butt was overflowing her skintight jeans. “Someone, please! Call *ORRRRRT* a doctor! I don’t know what’s wrong *HRRRK* with me!”, she yelped. 

Her friend went to dial, but suddenly found herself getting taller. And taller. Her limbs grew muscular and her face got both flatter and wider. Incisions appeared all over her body, and her feet inflated to three times their size. She looked like Frankenstein. Another girl grew a unibrow and her body hair exploded out of control. Another become a monkeygirl and began swinging from the light fixtures, hooting and hollering. All around Jen, girls were becoming freakish, ugly monsters. She realized in horror that soon, she would indeed be the sexiest on campus. 

[reformhim]

More Than a Man

Nico had always felt something just beneath the surface.

He was fit, sure — lean, defined, conventionally hot. But there was a primal restlessness inside him, a sense that he was meant to be more. Not just stronger, but rawer… untamed.

It started one evening as he stood shirtless in front of his mirror, rubbing lotion into his smooth arms. He paused. His fingers trembled. The reflection blinked at him—but he hadn’t.

Suddenly, a pulse. A rush.

He gasped and staggered, clutching the edges of the sink as warmth bloomed across his chest, then surged down his arms like wildfire. His skin tingled, itched. Hair began to sprout — first at his pecs, then traveling across his shoulders and flowing like waves down his biceps and forearms. Thick, dark, animalistic. His fingers elongated slightly, stronger now, gripping the edge of the counter like claws bracing for transformation.

His body grew—abs tightening into a cobblestone wall, his thighs thickening with each heartbeat. His breathing deepened, heavier now, resonating in his chest like a growl. And as the changes slowed, Nico stood upright.

The man in the mirror still had his face—but his eyes held something ancient. His body was an apex of strength, his arms cloaked in thick fur that stopped just before his chest. He looked feral, masculine to the extreme… but not monstrous. He looked right.

A slow, toothy grin spread across his face as he took it all in.

This wasn’t a curse. It was a gift.

The man Nico once was had faded away. What remained was instinct, muscle, and dominance.

He was no longer just a man.

He was more.

[reformhim]

The Tuxedo

Stephen had never liked black-tie events. They always made him feel trapped — stuffed into stiff clothes, expected to laugh politely at jokes he didn’t find funny, to shake hands and smile as if he belonged. Still, tonight was important. He needed to make an impression. So he showed up to the tailor’s, picked out a rental tuxedo, and slipped it on.

The jacket felt...strange. Almost alive. The moment the fabric kissed his skin, a low vibration pulsed through him — deep, almost bone-deep, like a tuning fork humming inside his chest. He froze in front of the mirror. His heartbeat quickened, and for a moment, he thought it was just nerves.

Until he felt something painfully wiggle at the base of his spine - something that moments later shot out just above his ass, ripping a hole through his slacks

Stephen stumbled foward with a sharp gasp, clutching the edge of the dressing table. He craned his neck, horrified, and caught sight of it: a thick, dark tail pushing out from beneath his jacket. It flexed — he flexed it — instinctively, as if it had always been there, waiting.

“No... no, no...” he whispered.

He looked down — and nearly screamed.

His feet were shifting in real time, growing, toes becoming slightly elongated. Tufts of dark hair burst forth across the tops of his feet and ankles, spreading fast. The soles of his feet grew tougher, almost leather-like.

Stephen’s breathing turned ragged. He tried to pull the tuxedo off, but it clung to him. His calves, thighs, and ass itched and tickled as they too sprouted dark, coarse hair. His balance shifted naturally onto the balls of his feet, his legs bending with a springy, coiled energy he had never felt before.

The tuxedo still looked immaculate, somehow. As if it had been meant for this transformation.

He staggered back toward the mirror, trembling. His face was still human — same sharp jawline, same sea-green eyes — but his entire presence had changed. His posture was looser, more powerful, predatory even. His once-nervous eyes gleamed now with a primal confidence.

Stephen panted, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. The fear was still there, gnawing at him. But it was drowned by something else. Something fierce. Something...thrilling.

The tail twitched behind him — playful, elegant, dangerous. He flexed his strange new toes against the floor, feeling the sheer strength in them, the electric awareness running through his changed body.

You can run, a voice inside him murmured, or you can own this.

He adjusted the cuffs of his tuxedo, straightened his bow tie, and stood tall. The tuxedo shimmered under the soft lights, perfect. He looked perfect — human enough to blend in, beast enough to dominate.

Tonight wasn’t just about fitting in anymore. Tonight, Stephen would be unforgettable.

And no one — not the gawking guests, not the oblivious high-society snobs — would even know what kind of creature was smiling back at them.

[reformhim]

Wild Within

It started with a whisper on the wind, the kind that seemed to call Roman by name even though no one was there. He stood alone on the rooftop of his apartment building, barefoot on cold stone, bathed in the light of the full moon. The city buzzed far below, but up here it was quiet—eerily so.

For weeks, he had felt something stirring inside him. Restless nights, unexplained strength, a strange sensitivity to sound and scent. His body had changed, subtly at first: his muscles tightened, his heart beat heavier in his chest, and his body hair thickened beyond anything he'd known before. The doctors said nothing was wrong. But Roman knew better.

Tonight, something inside him broke free.

A hot pulse ran through his spine, then a violent shudder as his bones shifted and cracked—not with pain, but with purpose. He doubled over, gripping his knees, gasping for breath as heat poured through every limb. His skin prickled. He looked down at his hands, watching the hair erupt and spread like wildfire. His fingers now thickened.

He cried out—his voice deeper, rougher—his throat tightening with a feral growl. His ears enlarged, his jaw jutted stronger, broader. His feet stretched wide, toes spreading, becoming animalistic, anchoring him to the rooftop as his body adjusted to its new balance. Even his senses exploded outward: the scent of asphalt, the buzz of neon signs, the faint heartbeat of a sleeping pigeon two rooftops away.

He rose to his full height, body trembling, chest heaving. Moonlight caught the sheen of sweat and fur on his torso. His black shorts barely clung to his expanding frame, every muscle taut, defined. He felt alive—no, more than alive. Awakened.

Was this some curse? Maybe. But This was also power. Nature coursing through his blood.

He walked to the edge of the rooftop, the city glowing behind him, eyes reflecting the moon. He wasn’t just Roman anymore. He was something else now—something older, stronger, wilder.

And the night was his.