Shape Shifter Books Novels & Stories

The sounds of laughter and chatter from my tribe floated in the air, wrapping around me like a shared blanket. With a defiance that came naturally from years of shapeshifting unapologetically, I let the transition take over me, shedding my bear form for my human body. I emerged completely naked into the welcoming warmth, unfazed by the knowing glances of those who saw. Shapeshifters are used to the bare truth of existence—clothes are just a convenience rather than a necessity. To the children of the tribe, we often taught that shifting was a natural act, an experience to be embraced rather than one to hide in shame. However, we tried to shield their innocent eyes from unnecessary exposure to

My gaze moves across the bed—two impeccably tailored suits waiting, crisp and untouched. Cufflinks gleam beside polished brogues, mirrors in black leather. Cologne bottles, open and fragrant. Diamond-studded watches catching the light… I glance back at Grey—now shirtless—the way his back tapers down, the ripple in his arms as he reaches for his fly… Alright, Sarah—mental note: he’s gay. Not “maybe,” not “mysterious,” not “let me win him over.” So yeah, perhaps dial back the staring and the fantasy screenplay you’re writing in your head.

"You challenge me? Little girl, I was killing betas while you were playing with dolls. I won't shift. I'll snap your neck in this skin." "Shift," I commanded. "Or I'll kill you where you stand." Something in my voice—the absolute certainty of it—made his laughter die. He narrowed his eyes, assessing me. Then, with a grunt of annoyance, he let it happen. The sound of his shift was wet and crunching. His body contorted, bones snapping and reshaping with practiced ease. He dropped to all fours, fur erupting from his skin in patches of brindled brown and grey. Within seconds, a massive wolf stood before me—heavy-set, scarred, with jaws that could crush a femur.

The magic that now thrummed through our veins, it had altered Rayna as well as myself. ‘No, they are nothing like werewolves. Though, there are some bear shifters farther down the mountain, but they’re rather peaceful unless provoked.’ He replied, ‘Shape shifters have no form for themselves, so they steal the form of who—or what they can. They’re easy to kill when they’re mimicking someone else. It’s their real face you don’t want to see. It’s easy to avoid them. My advice: if you see your brother in these woods, or perhaps a familiar face, do not approach. Turn around, and pray like hell there aren’t more hiding nearby, or be ready for one hell of a fight.’

Not only was all this kept from her, but there were more secrets and ‘lies’ kept from the ones keeping the secrets from her… Yes, thinking about it that way, one would become utterly confused. “Shifters are not like humans. When one of us is born we take the shape of the mother giving birth. So if a shifter is in animal form and gives birth, that is the first shape they take. If the shifter giving birth is in human form, then that is the first shape they take. They remain that way until their body is old enough to change into their second form, which consists of two stages. With the help of their parents they grow and learn to shift. It is taught but also instinctive. So no matter how old th

Poor Isaac was killed by this sickish monster. "So what are you then? A shapeshifter?" I inquired with a disgusted look. "That's close enough. You see all these crappy books and fairy tale bullshit has gotten the whole world mind warped about the true concept of what exactly is a shape shifter but darling I am the real deal. I'm the all powerful trickster Alectryon" he boasted with an evil smirk. In all I learnt about how to kill a shape shifted was they could only be killed by either ripping out their hearts which was a messy option and would require me using my magic which I couldn't risk doing, the other way to kill one was by staking its heart with a wooden stake and honestly that option

The trouble is, she hasn't shifted often enough in recent years. To stay nimble, shifters must shift back and forth as nature calls. A shifter who stays too long in beast form, will forget how to become human again, and vice versa. Living with Minette, her hafling granddaughter who never manifested as a shifter, she wasn't able to run wild as often as she'd like. Especially when they were hiding in cities. Now, weak, hungry, and injured, it is even harder to call up the magic. Remember. Remember what it's like. She thinks about her first shift at puberty, the joy of chasing her sister through the French countryside. There.

EMILY. As I walked into work that day, a lingering unease gnawed at my mind. I couldn't shake off the troubling incident from my last shift, where my wolf form had inexplicably decreased in size. It was a baffling phenomenon that left me perplexed and anxious. Shapeshifting was a fundamental part of who I was, a unique ability that connected me to the primal nature within. But lately, something seemed amiss, and the fear of losing that connection weighed heavily on my heart.

“But I talk to my wolf now. Wouldn’t my brother, who’s spent more time shifting, be more connected to his wolf?” “Sometimes isolation makes them think being a wolf is better and they never shift back. It all depends on having enough reason to return to their human form.” “Give him a reason. Tell him you miss him. That you want to see and hug his physical human form.” “I will try.” “Brianna, remember I am here for you and your brother. We all are. We’re your pack members now.” -=- My name is Brandon Stone. I have a twin, Brianna, and we are shapeshifters.

The doctor also brought out a sheet of paper and handed it over. "We carried out the testing and that was what we found." Valen's forehead creased as he stared at the result, "Shape shifters?" The doctor nodded, "That's our possible guess for now. One thing about shape shifters is that they never have the exact form of the thing they're shape shifting into. It's either less or too much of it. Their claws are going to be longer and deeper than a werewolf's own. The only form that they must be battling with is shaping into a Lycanis." The healer gave the report.