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Stanford Pines sat at his kitchen table, frowning thoughtfully over his latest specimen of oddity.
It didn't look that special, and if he hadn't come across it being sold at the local market by a decidedly unusual individual claiming that the item in question could 'give one the strength of a dragon', he most likely wouldn't have purchased it at all. But he had, and he did, and now he was here, tapping a pen idly on the top edge of his journal as he observed his purchase.
The item was a fruit, roughly the size of an apple that fit rather nicely in the palm of his hand and appeared slightly ovoid in shape, almost like an oversized egg. The skin of it was smooth, graduated from a deep mahogany red sort of color to a rusty orange with flecks of green around the clipped stem, with an odd semi-angular pattern that reminded him vaguely of the scales on a lizard. Weighty and dense, he idly noted that it felt warm to the touch, almost like fresh baked bread.
"Curious..."
He hesitated a moment, wondering if he shouldn't have gotten two of the fruit- one to dissect and the other to further observe- but eventually decided he'd written his notes and drawn the thing at enough angles to suffice. Maybe he should look into getting one of those instant developing cameras he'd heard about on his last grocery run...
Picking up a knife he had set aside, he sliced the fruit open on a small plate, noting the firm, seedless flesh that oozed syrupy juice as he sectioned it in a manner not unlike an apple. He skinned one slice, noting that it did not peel easily, more like a plum than an apple with the thin skin coming away in slick pieces rather than a smooth spiral or even a thick chunk like an orange would, and further sliced up the skinned piece to see if the seeds might be extremely small or similarly colored to the flesh where he might have missed it at first look.
Nothing. Just sticky fruit flesh that felt a little like the hot jam from the inside of a fresh pastry.
Frowning a little to himself, he picked up one of the unskinned slices, bringing it up to his face to take a deep inhale. The scent of it flooded his nose, sweet and slightly spiced in a way that reminded him of both warm summer afternoons exploring the beach and hot cider in the middle of winter holidays. Pleasant and alluring in a way that made his mouth start to water.
When did he last eat...?
"Well. Two birds with one stone then."
A small bite.
The flavor of it was something between a slightly unripe plum and an over ripe pie apple, a little tart for his usual preference but generally pleasant. It was warm and soft, melting on his tongue into a sweet-tart slurry he only just managed to swallow before it could drip from between his lips, the heat of it traveling all the way down his throat and into his belly and making him feel warm all over. He couldn't help a small hum of enjoyment, and took another, larger bite before he could really think about it.
Ford ended up eating the whole slice, licking the sticky syrup from his fingers, but managed to catch himself before he could pick up another.
He needed to wait and see if the fruit did as the seller proposed, though he wasn't a hundred percent on how he would really test for the 'strength of a dragon'. Maybe he would try lifting something or bending a spoon...?
Some minutes passed, and nothing changed. No sudden rush or overwhelming sensation, just that slowly fading warmth in his stomach and throat. Did he need to consume the whole fruit for the effects to activate? Or did he need to wait longer...
A half hour passed, time he took to refine his sketches and clarify some of his notes, before he decided the whole thing was some form of a farce. Sure, the fruit was definitely unusual, he couldn't think of any fresh fruit he'd ever had that tasted or felt like this one, but causing magical effects?
Obviously not.
Huffing, he moved to cover the slices and set them aside on the counter. It would be a waste to dump it, and it did taste rather nice. Maybe he could finish it for lunch with some iced tea and a bit of toast...
He started to experience weird symptoms roughly an hour after ingesting the fruit.
He felt warm, much too warm, opening his windows to let fresh summer air come in and help him cool down.
It didn’t help.
He stripped down to his underwear and was still sweating up a storm, feeling generally uncomfortable all over. His back itched, especially around his spine, shoulder blades and rear end but he couldn’t really focus on it, too disoriented to focus on anything.
And, Moses, he was hungry . He was nauseous from how absolutely starving he felt, but he was also craving something in particular he couldn't put his finger on...? Certainly not the crap ramen and cup soup he had around the house, or even coffee.
He was chugging water both to try cooling off as well as to fill his stomach, but he just started feeling queasy and ended up sitting on the floor with his head in his hands trying not to throw up.
He was so distracted by the itchiness, heat and hunger that he didn't notice when his fingers and toes started aching. Then his joints all throbbed like he dislocated something and popped it back in on his own. He started getting an awful squeezing migraine, and he practically hurled his glasses off his face to keep the negligible weight and pressure from making it worse.
Focused on his migraine, he didn’t notice how arched his back was and how small pointed bones like spikes started poking out of his spine all the way to his head. It just blurred with the rest of his pain. Dark plates were forming near his spines and something was almost bubbling by his shoulders. Moving, popping and trying to rip the skin off.
His whole body was pulsing with every breath he took, almost as if it was expanding as he panted for breath.
Everything was throbbing, pulsing, his heartbeat audible in his ears and making his skin sing, seared like a sunburn. He could smell something hot, metallic, filling his nose and seeping into his brain. It was making his stomach flip as his vision wavered. The tiny part of his mind not completely discombobulated took notes, cataloging the advancements in a precise list he more than likely wouldn't be able to recall fully.
Heat trickled down his face, tears most likely, but the consistency was off, and that hot metal smell kept getting stronger.
As the metal smell got stronger, so did his body. His muscles expanded and grew bigger. The expansion created dark spots that started to litter his back, arms and legs. With each breath a new one appeared, blotchy and spreading fast all over his body. But he didn’t register them.
No, because as he was expanding, so was his hunger. It grew to such a point that even if he felt nauseous, he couldn’t ignore it any longer.
He stood on shaky legs and started to wobble toward the kitchen. Halfway there, he fell on all fours and retched… Something. The last part of his brain still working registered it as not bile, too thick to be as such. The metal taste was now in his mouth but he didn't care. He kept crawling to the kitchen. He ignored how the wood boards were simmering where he had retched behind him, or how he now walked on all fours. His gait heavier and all his limbs bigger and stronger. But he didn’t feel it, too focused on one thought.
Food.
As he passed the kitchen’s threshold, drool started to accumulate in his mouth. His jaws had slightly extended and were still throbbing like the rest of him but what’s new at this point. He was just so hungry .
He made it to the fridge and opened the door wide, not realizing he yanked it off its hinges and threw it all across the room.
Most of it didn't even make it to his mouth, his senses rebelling at the smell of old carrots and now broken bottles of condiments, but there was something there that had him yanking out the drawers and shelving to seek it out.
A triumphant huff escaped his lips when he finally located what had him all riled up.
Meat.
Raw ground beef, still defrosting slightly, chilled his gums as he gulped down the whole pound of it in two bites, followed quickly by the last half of a dozen eggs, swallowed shell and all. A few scraps of deli meat, the rest of the butter and he lapped up the gallon of milk his clumsy sharpened fingers spilled across the bottom of the fridge.
Nothing else smelled right, and he snarled his disappointment before turning towards the open window. A deep inhale, and he could smell more out there amidst the trees…
More food that would run and jump and that he could properly chase and hunt -
An excited chill ran down his elongated spine.
The window was too small, so he plowed through the back door, the wood splintering from the sheer force of his impact, and he shook himself, feeling the cool morning breeze stream over a broad leathery expanse of thick skin, before galloping out across the lawn towards the dimness under the trees.
As he galloped into the forest, he sensed his spine aligning in a more horizontal way, easing the pressure he had been sensing all morning. It stretched and he felt something growing at the base of it, throwing him off balance and sending him plummeting to the ground.
Immediately, the pain in his body spiked drastically as he made contact with the forest floor. He raised his head and let out the roar of pain that had built up all morning. His altered vocal cords created a deafening bellow that could be heard for miles.
As his cry settled down to a more low rumble, so did his new jaws. A long triangular thing with huge nostrils and sharp jagged teeth at the front of his head. He passed a long forked tongue over his new scaly lips, briefly catching the scent of the forest. He turned his head around and felt his ears perk up beside the crown of horns sprouting from his head where there used to be hair.
He shook his head, the few remaining spots of pale skin still visible disappearing. His head was now resting atop a long elongated neck with spikes running down his back. He could feel the last remaining pains he had felt all morning slowly easing out as everything settled into place. He stayed on the ground for a while, waiting patiently for the pain to fade away so his hunt could start.
The final aches and pains faded entirely to a minor soreness that vanished as soon as he shifted his weight and moved to stretch, vertebrae popping audibly as they aligned. He stretched his limbs as far as they would go, the new one from his backside arching while the two sprouted from fresh secondary shoulders flared outwards in a rush of wind that ruffled the long grass. Long talons on his fingers and toes tore into the earth as he flexed them and gave a final shake.
A long, deep inhale through his nose and partially opened mouth drew a million scents to his attention, and he rumbled with anticipation before he set off into the woods at a loping four legged trot.
Hunger still gnawed at him, hollowing his insides, and there was deer not far…
He found the herd quicker than he would have under- He couldn’t finish that thought. All his mind was thinking about was the deer barely a mile away ahead of him. His long forked tongue lolled out of his snout to taste the air as he got closer at blazing speed.
One… three… five!
Five deer! He would have a feast!
Adrenaline rushed through his body and drool started to accumulate in his open mouth again. He licked it away, he could already taste the meat. He was so close…
He leaped over a fallen three and two wide dark bat-like wings spread open from his sides. As soon as he was airborne, they flapped and he took off, leaving the ground far below him. He had never flown before - Why was that? - but instincts managed to guide him high above the three tops. He glided gracefully, barely brushing the trees and making any sounds despite his size. His shadow looming in the forest below.
In only a few moments he was already over the clearing with the deer. Automatically, his huge wings folded and he dived toward them.
They never saw, heard nor smelled him coming.
As soon as he was close enough to hear their breathing, he took a deep breath, reared his head back and let out a devastating stream of fire. Killing them instantly.
He landed in the clearing heavily, his limbs sinking into the scorched forest floor. His wings spread wide to let anyone near know HE was the master here. His tail whipped the air making a cloud of ashes rise from the ground. He raised his head and roared triumphantly at the sky before ravishing the burning carcasses.
The forest quavered with the echoes of the beast's mighty roar, numerous beings falling silent in shock. It had been a long time since such a predator had dwelled in their midst…
After his hunger was finally satiated, he settled on the burned floor, the heat seeping into his thick leathery skin keeping him comfortable. He proceeded to clean his face from any remaining meat still stuck to it with his huge six clawed paws, taking the time to marvel at the usefulness of the extra appendages. He didn’t want any flies hovering around his eyes. There seemed to be enough already flying around what little remained of the deers. Tentatively, he dipped his large head toward one of the few remaining larger bones in the hopes of finding some meat forgotten. Alas, he had picked them clean.
Annoyed, he growled and raised his head away, clapping his jaws irritably. He passed his tongue over his sharp teeth and leathery lips. He was feeling thirsty after this good meal.
Need water…
Slowly, he rose from his spot. He stuck his tongue out a couple of times, to smell where the closest source of water was. Once he found it, he unfolded his wings and took off. He only left a scorched clearing and a few bones behind.
He landed near the lake shortly after. He chose the side of the lake where he knew people didn’t venture much. He wasn’t sure how he knew this information but didn’t care. He was safe, alone and could drink peacefully.
He dipped his head and lapped leisurely at the fresh cold water. As his tongue rolled in and out of his snout, he realized he could taste the water. Taste the fish swimming in it and something else… something old and as big as him and… It was getting closer.
He reeled back from the water, his lips curled into a vicious snarl, warning whatever was approaching that he would fight if needed. He spotted a large shadow looming just below the water surface a hundred paces away from him. He roared louder and the shape disappeared in the abyss.
He huffed proudly to himself. He had asserted his dominance over this foe and had won.
At least, that was what he thought, until the shadowed shape reappeared a little further distant, lingering a moment before a sinuous green-gray head surfaced from the water, bulbous gold-white eyes seeming to see everything and nothing all at once due to a lack of visible pupils. The lake monster stared at him in silence for several long moments, making him increasingly agitated, before it gave a low bellowing sort of sound that rippled through the water like rocks down a hillside.
Don’t… belong… here…
He heard a soft voice inside his head as the other creature continued to stare at him. He arched a scaly eyebrow at the comment and growled.
I am home! This my place! I am forest master!
He opened his wings to emphasize his point. What did that creature think it was to question his presence? He had lived in those woods for a while now! He belongs here as much as any creature did.
The water beast rumbled again, smoothly gliding forward and lifting further out of the water. It was a great deal larger and older than he, its slick scales edged in silver, its neck alone as long as his wings were wide.
Hatchling…
Despite his size, he couldn’t help but feel small next to this leviathan. He felt humbled and lowered his head in respect. His ears drooped on his head.
Apologies.
The behemoth nodded slowly.
Young...will...learn...
The massive ageless creature moved closer, making a low noise vaguely reminiscent of the creaking groan of old boat decking, and stretched its long neck to better scent the flighted beast on the shore.
Changed…
He tilted his head. What has changed? He didn’t feel different. He wasn’t hungry anymore and the uneasiness he had felt that morning was gone. Just a bad memory in his mind. He didn’t even remember what had caused it. All he knew was that he felt strong, he felt powerful and he felt alive!
What changed?
He sat his hind legs and rear on the bank, carefully curling his long scaly tail around his front legs. A part of his brain was intrigued by this creature that seemed to know more than he did. Not that it could teach him more than he already knew. He was a fierce predator!
The lake monster thrummed, the deep sound vibrating the water's surface, and its huge pale eyes crinkled slightly, narrowing in a manner not unlike a pleased cat.
Hatchling...not...four-leg...
It breathed in deeply, then breathed out a long slow wash of wet heat that made him rock backwards from the force of it, only just managing to keep upright with a flare of his wings.
Two-leg...smaller...young....
He tilted his reptilian head in confusion. He didn’t understand what this aquatic sea monster was referring to. He turned his head and inspected his body.
Nothing was out of place. His wings were folded down each of his sides, strong and powerful. Just like he needed them to be. His tail was sleek and long. It kept him balanced when he walked and guided his flight. His hind legs and forelimbs were both strong with sharp talons digging into the bank under him. He had four legs, yes, but didn’t remember having any less. Everything belonged where it should and as he remembered. He turned back toward the leviathan, a puzzled look on his limited scaly face.
Don’t understand.
His stomach rumbled again. Maybe flying right after a meal wasn’t the best course of action from now on. It was energy draining. With his hunger coming back, his thought process became slower, his stomach being the only thing he could think of despite his best attempts to focus on the water beast in front of him.
Will...Soon...
The great water beast huffed at hearing his belly growl, it rumbled a sound that -despite its almost subsonic quality- came across as vaguely amused. It began to retreat back into the water, the fins on its head flaring briefly.
Go...Eat...Am...Here... Always…
The leviathan didn’t have to say it twice.
Before the last ripple completely dispersed on the water surface, he was already flying over the lake. He flapped his wings hard, gaining altitude and speed. He had never felt anything like this before. It was exhilarating. The air currents lifted him and rendered him weightless. The wind passed around his aerodynamic form allowing him to make quick shifts and turn in the blink of an eye.
It felt liberating.
He could stay here for hours but the pit in his stomach grumbled, reminding him that he was hungry.
He raised his head and took deep breaths through his large nostrils and tongue picking up all the scents in the woods. His head was swaying left and right, trying to pick up the smell of game he could hunt. The shiver of excitement was back in his veins. He could do this! He was a hunter. A behemoth in the sky capable of taking down any foe.
But will isn’t enough when there seemed to be nothing worth hunting around. He circled the woods twice and didn’t pick up any deer or anything. He growled, a low thundering noise echoing in the forest below. He snarled. He had wanted a good hunt.
Fortunately, he picked up the smell of some cattle somewhere near the outskirts of the woods. It wasn’t what he had wanted but it would have to do for now. He sighed in resignation and turned toward the strong smell of cattle. At least they’d fill his stomach.
The cattle were unsettlingly close to the edge of the forest, something that briefly gave him pause, though he had trouble putting his finger on exactly why. Cows were food, he knew that, but there was something about them not being part of the native forest, about the wide grassy pastures that made him hesitate briefly, circling at the edge of the forest for some moments.
But his belly soon overrode his hesitation, and he stooped into a sweeping dive towards the livestock placidly grazing on the weeds.
They were a great deal larger than the deer from before, and he knew immediately upon impact that he was pushing it trying to take off with one , let alone try for more. He was big, but he wasn't that big-!
Still, he managed to sink his talons into his prey, wings beating heavily to be able to maintain his momentum, and the rest of the herd scattered to the winds as he hauled away his catch, the cow mooing in distress until he got high enough to glide and managed to duck his head down to crunch down on its neck.
Its cries stopped immediately and silence returned once again to the woods.
With his trophy in his talon, he glided down to a clearing and made sure nothing would come and tried to steal it from him.
Once he was sure to be alone, he rested on the ground and wolfed the cow down. Tearing at it one limb at a time. The bones broke as if they were twigs between his teeth. He ate the whole thing in what felt like minutes and sighed in contentment. That had finally settled his stomach. He spotted the little pool of blood his meal had created and lapped at it. No point in leaving anything to the scavengers with so little left.
After his meal, his eyelids grew heavy. He yawned, exposing all his sharp white teeth, then licked his lips and glanced up at the sky. He hadn’t realized how dark it had become. It wasn’t nighttime yet, but it would be in a few hours. He needed to find a place to rest for the night. He might be an apex predator but the idea of sleeping in an exposed area didn’t reassure him.
Begrudgingly, he stood from his spot on the ground and sniffed the air. The forest was quiet, everything seemed to be pretty far away from him. It didn’t matter, he wanted to be left in peace.
Raising his head higher, he sniffed again and managed to locate two spots where the smells of the forest dwellers were almost non-existent. He settled on the closest one and made to take off.
Easier said than done, as he struggled to lift off with a very heavy, full belly. His wing muscles burned with the effort, and he tried to give it a bit of a run, but the difference in weight was much too great after a long day of flying and hunting. He landed heavily, making a cloud of dust rise around him.
He frowned, he didn’t have that much trouble flying earlier. He looked at his stomach and was surprised to see it rather heavily distended. He had indulged himself a bit too much.
Grumbling crossly to himself, he huffed and tramped off into the woods on foot, his long tail lashing behind him.
It took a bit longer than he wanted to reach the vacant spot, panting from the exertion. He looked around the near area, wondering at the echoing quiet, and snuffled around some before finally finding a large yawning opening in the earth- A cave, dusty and old but smelling dry enough to be of use to him. Something at the back of his mind niggled at the thought of a cave like this being unclaimed by the other forest denizens, but he couldn't smell anything off from the outside.
He could just poke in and give it a look around, if it was damaged or something he could wander off elsewhere…
As soon as his head passed the entrance a cold shiver ran down his spiked spine and an uneasy feeling settled in the depth of his stomach leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
His senses were telling him to turn back and go somewhere else but he was so tired and full from his meal… He really needed a place to rest and digest in peace and quiet. He creeped up inside the cave and made his way into its depth.
It was bigger than it looked from the outside, the ceiling quite high and the walls decently wide, though his wings did catch on outcroppings a couple times before he reeled them in tighter to his sides. Light was scarce, and growing scarcer as the sun began to fade from the sky.
Perhaps he should just cut his losses and crash here for the night, it seemed deserted enough...
Just to be certain, he gave a small cough and let out a little burp of flame, just enough to light up the nearby area and give him a better look at things.
He froze when he caught sight of something painted on the wall before him.
It had only been for a fraction of a second and yet it seared into his mind in an instant.
Huge paintings depicting a yellow triangular thing surrounded by flames and people and all sorts of horror. He flicked his tongue and a foul taste entered his mouth making him cough.
Everything about this place, those paintings screamed danger in his mind. He wrinkled his nose at the sight and snarled. His teeth were bared and he reared his head back before launching a powerful fireblast at the wall.
The carving- painting- whatever it was- flickered and flared to life in the riot of his flaming breath. The triangle's single eye seemed to widen and curve, a slitted pupil brightening the wavering darkness as the figures splayed around it fell back in pieces.
And then the flames properly reached the depiction, and the triangle was consumed by fire, the stone blackening and cracking from the intense heat.
He kept going until his throat hurt, and he ended up coughing smoke and soot as he scrambled backwards out of the cave, tumbling back onto his haunches in grass that had become dry and brittle in the backwash of his attack. Reaching up to his throat, he rubbed at the aching parts a moment before he regarded the cave mouth with a last glare, sticking his tongue out in an irritated hiss before he got back up to his feet to trot off to the other spot he'd smelled was free of intruders.
In another world, in another time, Bill stared wide-eyed at the window his painting created as it slowly crumbled to ashes. He had seen some Stanford Pines in his time, but even he had to admit he had NEVER seen him in dragon form and be able to see right through him. Had Sixer snarled at him?
He strode as fast as he could across the forest to that other safe space. He reached it quite quickly and felt the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. If his mind had been focused on food during the day, now the only thing it was thinking was sleep.
He found an entrance to what something whispered in his progressively tired mind was a mine.
Just to be certain, he sniffed and tasted the air again to make sure it truly was safe and devoid of anything that would make him uneasy. Satisfied to sense nothing wrong with it, he happily dragged himself inside. His paws landed heavily under his weight from his meal and exhaustion. He regretted nothing.
He spotted a large smooth rock jutting out of the floor and lazily climbed it. To make it extra comfortable, he burned the top of it before settling on it.
The effect was immediate. The warmth of the rock seeped into his whole body and his eyelids closed instantly. He sighed contentedly and seconds later loud snores echoed across all the tunnels of the mine.
The forest night was eerily quiet, the native denizens all spooked by the appearance of what some had thought a long extinct species but all recognized as a dangerous apex predator. The roaring, the new scents and the fire that had crisped the grass around an old untouched cave- It sent the majority of the wildlife into hiding, just to be safe.
Morning came with a gentle calm drizzle of rain that seemed to soothe the worst of most rattled nerves, and the slumbering beast remained at rest well into the light of day.
He yawned widely, stretching from his comfortable lounge and smacking his lips once he had resettled. It had been a while since he had slept so solidly, he was a bit groggy from the experience, but it was a nice one so he wasn't too bothered. Though, looking out into the soft drizzle, he wondered if he would find a good spot to get something to drink. He wasn't hungry, his belly still comfortably full from the previous night's catch, but his throat still ached a bit from burning up that creepy cave painting.
He lay on his rock for some time. His forelimbs crossed before him and his tail curled around him, its tip twitching slightly as he debated with himself what he should do. He could stay inside, where it was warm and dry or head outside in the rain to find a source of water to quench his thirst and soothe his sore throat. He scratched his still slightly bloated belly with one of his hind legs when he felt a different need rising inside of him.
He grunted in annoyance and embarrassment as he realized he had to relieve himself.
Growling, he rose to his legs, they shook a little from the remaining soreness of the night’s headlong run, and walked out into the soft rain.
It felt actually nice on his warm body, cooling him and creating a soft fog around him. The rain rippled down his scales. He went around a tree and did his business before raising his head to sniff out the nearest pool of clear water.
He located one near a building that his mind identified as belonging to him. Curious and thirsty, he unfolded his wings and flew towards it.
It was really quite pleasant gliding through the gentle cooling rain, and his mild annoyance at having to wake up was soon banished with the generally good feeling of just being alive. He landed a bit heavily just inside the treeline adjacent to a familiar wide clearing, taking a moment to shake himself a little before trotting off towards where he had smelled the water. Sure, he could have flown in, but he didn't want to chance slipping on the bank and making a fool of himself, and a short walk wasn't going to do him any harm.
The stream, when he found it, was clear and cold, smelling fresh and clean in a way that made him thrum happily. He drank deeply, enjoying the crisp chill of the water on his tongue and teeth, soothing the lingering ache in his throat. Sated, he pondered a moment at the bank, wondering what he should do today.
He could go back to his cave, resume his comfortable rest in his chosen space, but he felt too awake now to drift back to sleep. He wasn't hungry enough to hunt, and his thirst had been quenched…
Maybe he could simply… Take a walk? That actually sounded quite nice now that he thought about it, he hadn't just taken a walk for the heck of it in some time.
He rose to his feet, stretched all seven of his limbs and trotted toward the familiar smell not so far away.
As he walked into the woods, he inhaled deeply and was pleasantly surprised by all the smells he could pick up. He had never thought the rain would increase everything around him. It was electrifying.
The earth and mud scents under his paws were intoxicating with how strong it was. The flowers he passed by had beautiful fragrances. He even caught a whiff of some wild roses further down. Even the rain was comforting. It wasn’t salty like the big expanse of water that was present in some of his warmest memories but it soothed him nonetheless. The forest felt alive and fresh around him.
As he got closer to the other place that was supposedly his, he picked up another scent. He raised his head and stuck his tongue out to locate its origin. It was damp, tangy and sweet...? There seemed to be a lot of those near where he was headed. His curiosity peaked and he walked faster until he came to a large clearing with a huge wooden structure in the middle.
The structure made something in him warm with a feeling of familiarity, of joy and safety, and he found himself with a cheery spring in his step as he approached the building. It stood tall and strong against the elements, something he couldn't help taking pride in, though a part of him knew he hadn't actually built the place.
Still, it was his and that's what really mattered in the end.
A small scuttling noise jerked his attention from idly admiring a stained glass window, and he snarled at seeing part of the building appeared to be broken, the back entrance hanging open wide with splinters of wood scattered out onto the grass.
What-?!
Oh, wait he had done that hadn't he. In too much of a rush to bother with handles...
Scuttling again, and he spotted a tiny shape inside his house.
He saw red.
He arched his long back and growled viciously at the intruders inside, smoke already pouring from his nostrils. He lunged forward, crashing hard on the sturdy door frame. His head and neck were the only things he managed to get in, his shoulders now too broad to fit inside.
But he saw them, tiny squat men with red hats roaming inside his home. Inside his den!
He thrashed and managed to get one of his front paws inside. Clawing as far as he could stretch to get the little jerks.
The gnomes were frozen in fear for a moment. Expecting to be eaten alive by the vicious predator trying to claw his way in. Until the one with the brown beard looked at his paws and laughed.
“Hey guys! Look! It’s that scientist that lives here. Looks like he got cursed!”
They all started to laugh, which sent him into another thrashing fit. The little twerps were just barely out of his reach. Once he realized he was going nowhere just thrashing, he slowed down and tried to use his head. He kept growling and narrowing his eyes at the gnomes.
He glanced at the room around him until he noticed the chandelier hanging just above the little men. A vicious smile crept in the corner of his lips. He inhaled deeply, aimed and launched a small fireball just above the light fixture.
Bullseye!
His flame hit the target and soon after the chandelier landed heavily on top of the little men, sending them in a panicked frenzy.
The gnomes all yelped and screamed, scattering like mice, and he snarled at them, snapping his jaws viciously to scare them more. He managed to swat one of them out the open window, which the rest seemed to take as their cue to flee, scrambling over one another in their rush to escape.
It took him a second to squirm loose from his rather ruined door, backing onto the lawn and shaking splinters from his hide before he gave chase, roaring his ire at the tiny irritating men that had invaded his home. He caught up with a straggler, snatching it in his jaws and shaking it about like a dog with a snake before he tossed the bedraggled and drool covered thing off into the trees after its friends.
A last bellowing roar to make sure they stayed out , and he set to properly making his mark. Stupid gnomes, entering his house uninvited-!
Burning a border circle took longer than he anticipated, and by the end of it, his throat was sore and he felt like he could either drink a lake or eat a whole cow again, slaking his thirst on the blood.
He turned his head around, picking up the scent of the lake and bovine mammals. Both were in equal distance from where he stood. He pondered for a while. It was getting late and he would hate to go to sleep on an empty stomach.
His mind made up, he tore through the sky toward the farm, intending to fly with another cow between his claws to bring to his new den.
Just like the day before, he circled the farm a few times, gauging which cow to snatch tonight. He spotted one that had strayed from the main herd and dived. He grabbed it between his hind legs and promptly broke its neck before it could make any noise and hoisted his cargo into the air.
He didn't particularly enjoy going after the cows, there was no challenge to it and he honestly felt a little disappointed and guilty that the cows didn't do more than stand there. The deer at least ran, and the forest had made things much more interesting than the open field.
Maybe he should investigate other sources of food...
As it was, he took the cow a fair distance into the woods, making sure to keep away from the last place he ate. No need to ruin his appetite with the smell of rotting old blood, and he didn't much feel like seeing what sort of squirmy things might be cleaning up the remnants.
A quick burst of flame roasted off the hair, and he took a long claw to the cow's belly so he could start on the soft innards first.
He took his time with it, not hungry enough to scarf it all down like he had the day before, and he found he enjoyed it quite a lot more, leisurely selecting his next morsel and occasionally searing it for an extra touch. The meat was juicy and melted in his mouth, leaving a metallic taste in it. It tasted so good . The blood streamed down his throat, satisfying his thirst. While he still devoured it down to the skeleton, even going so far as to roast and crunch on a few of the larger bones to lick out the tasty marrow inside, he felt much more satisfied with his meal.
It was nice to slow down sometimes, simply enjoy things.
Why didn't he do this more often?
He didn’t know and his mind was getting too fuzzy to think about it, sleep coming fast after his full meal. Everything felt heavy. He scratched his belly and realized it was bloated again. He rumbled contentedly. He was enjoying this life.
He smelled the air, checking his bearings and trotted back in the direction of his cave to digest in peace. His steps thumped the forest floor and left deep prints in the wet soil.
The animals still kept their distances but not as much as they had yesterday. When he was full, there wasn't much danger.
He crawled into his cave, scorched his rock and flopped lazily on his side. Sleep came seconds later.
The next couple of days went much the same way. Wake up, fly, explore, eat, sleep and repeat. No worries, just purely living.
Until the sixth morning.
He roused briefly in the earliest hours to his body aching and a weird tingling all over, but he was too tired to be worried about it. He only woke up enough to re-warm his rock before falling back asleep.
It wasn't until the sun had been up for a few hours that he properly came to consciousness, feeling chilled and unwell.
Sitting up on his rock, Stanford groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face.
What was going on? Why did he feel so yucky? Why did he feel cold ?
He blinked dazedly at the slightly blurry world around him, taking in the sun dappled cave walls that were both familiar and foreign in the same breath.
"...camping?"
His thoughts were coming back to him in a whirlwind of sensations and pictures, making him dizzy. Most of them didn’t seem to make any sense.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while looking for his glasses with his other hand. He patted the warm rock under him and sighed in frustration. They evidently weren’t there.
Stanford got his feet under him and pushed himself up, groaning in the process. He felt sluggish, heavier than he remembered. He just added it to his list of strange things with him that morning as he shuffled toward the cave’s exit.
Blinking in the bright sun, Ford wondered for a moment why he didn't feel more freaked out. After all, he was in the forest, without his glasses, and with a very jumbled recollection of what felt like at least a day. Most people would be outright panicking.
But he just felt- Well, weird seemed to be the best way to put it. A little nauseous, a little headachey, a little disoriented, but he wasn't hurt or hungry or over tired.
"...home..."
Better to focus on making his way back to his house, he could worry about everything else later.
As he exited the cave, he inhaled deeply the morning air and found a strangely familiar scent surrounding him. It was reassuring and seemed to be going into the forest. A small voice in his head told him it would take him home. Ford blinked a couple of times, surprised by that thought before stepping forward. He trusted this strange instinct to guide him.
He stumbled through the forest, tripping on twigs, roots and branches that kept getting in his way. He should have found it annoying but he didn’t. They were part of the forest… of his forest..?
Why did I think that?
He shook his head and immediately regretted it. It felt as if his brain was bouncing around inside his skull.
The forest around him bustled with life, unperturbed by his presence in a way that he was both fascinated and confused by.
Most of the time, he ended up having to seek out hot spots to catch onto any real activity, but here he was, stumbling over his own feet (though he never actually fell) and making a general spectacle of himself, and the native forest dwellers carried on like he wasn't even there. He glimpsed flickers of color he immediately identified as some kind of fairy, even though he couldn't see more than a blur of sparkles, and he could tell that there had been deer in the area by the light bruising of the leaves of a nearby bush. A small garden snake slithered past his foot, unafraid, and he surprised himself by not even flinching.
What even-? No, focus, just- Get home. Think later.
The trail led him onwards, and he paused for a moment at what felt like the halfway point to catch his breath, leaning on a tree for a few moments. The bark was papery and rough against his bare shoulder, and he shivered a little at the feeling before he moved on.
As he got closer to his home, he caught a whiff of something burning. A shiver ran down his spine. Had he left an experiment unattended? Had he left the stove on while he was gone… Who knows where?
Worried about the state of his house, his wooden house, Ford hurried his pace. He had to stop a couple of times to catch his breath- he thought he had been in better shape after five years of trekking the woods of Gravity Falls- before finally making it.
He felt relieved when he saw the blurry shape of his roof still standing upright and his home in the same state he remembered.
He took a step forward and felt the earth beneath his feet unusually warm. He glanced down to see deep embers, still burning, going deep into the soil. He crouched down and poked it gently with his fingers but didn’t get burned. They felt familiar and reassuring.
Stanford squinted to his left and right and discerned a line of embers going on either side. He brought a hand to his chin.
They must… surround my house... But why?
It was slightly unnerving not to know for certain, but the embers didn't seem to be actively doing any kind of harm and their presence was oddly reassuring, so he decided that investigating the phenomena would have to wait at least until he had figured out some more pressing concerns. Such as: Why the hell was he naked ?
He'd noticed as he had straightened from his crouched position, a light breeze helping him realize that no, he wasn't just shirtless and missing his shoes, he was completely bare arse naked. It was a realization that had him freezing in place for a split second, the shock of it locking his limbs, then a bit of rustling from the brush jolted him into action, bolting across the grass towards his back door as quickly as he could. Thank goodness he didn't have any close neighbors!
Tripping up the back steps, he nearly fell when he felt a mess of splinters where his door had been. Poking him just as if he had stepped on thousands of needles. Limping and scraping them off his feet, he stumbled to his kitchen and he looked aghast at the disaster inside.
The fridge’s door was missing because he could vaguely see the inside light blinking weakly. Its contents made his nose scrunch in disgust as most of it had spoiled. He spotted long dark marks all over the floor. Everything was upside down!
A strange whiff of… Something caught his attention, and he glanced up to see a dark spot where his ceiling light used to be.
"What in the world-? Why is there soot on the ceiling?!"
The state of his house made Ford whimper.
“Who… What did this?!”
He grabbed at his hair and tugged at it, trying to wrack his brain about what happened. Images of a huge scaly paw tearing through the refrigerator and the back door was coming to him but they didn’t make sense. It sprouted hundreds of scenarios, most of which didn’t particularly thrill him.
Did… Did I do that?
A headache was bubbling behind his eyes. He closed them and took several deep breaths to calm his racing mind. Ford massaged his temples and felt something leafy in his hair and tugged to find he had twigs and leaves stuck in his brown curls.
Growling in frustration, which rumbled in his chest, Stanford left the kitchen alone to focus on something he could do and made sense to his confused mind: Take a shower and put some clothes on.
As he tromped up the stairs, he kept dragging his hands through his hair, finding bits of leaves and twigs and even a couple small flakes of some kind of stone had gotten lost in his curls. No bugs or anything gross, thank goodness, but it was still a mess that he flung haphazardly to the floor to be dealt with later.
His room was blessedly unchanged beyond a somewhat sour smell that made him want to sneeze - was that his dirty clothes? - and he quickly got together some clothes and a spare towel before stomping into the bathroom. His nose did not give him any kind of break, and he wound up having to drag the trash outside the room and open the window to stop the smell of old bandaids and peroxide from making his headache worse.
Clothing set aside, he turned the shower on as hot as it would go, which really wasn't as hot as he wanted, and climbed in.
The hot water quickly soaked his hair, and he couldn't help a low groan as the heat eased a great deal of the ache throbbing through his skull. A little warmth in the right place did wonders ...
He stood there under the spray for several moments, just letting the heat ease the soreness from his body, but he eventually had to move. Shampoo wasn't going to apply itself after all.
The generic brand he'd been buying for months smelled much more chemical than he remembered, but it was what he had so he put it to use scrubbing the gunk from his hair, a few more bits of leaves and other detritus gathering around the drain as he made a mental note to check the next bottle for an expiration date or something. The smell was borderline nauseating...
Part of him wanted to stay longer under the warm water but the smell made him quicken his wash. He hastily rinsed the shampoo from his hair and moved to his soap. Its scent was slightly less nausea inducing than his shampoo, but still less than pleasant.
Maybe I ought to change brands?
He scrubbed any remaining dirt still clinging to him, barely noticing the fact that it seemed to take a bit longer than usual to properly soap up and rinse off. He shut the water off but there had been so much steam forming, it didn’t make any difference in temperature change.
At least the chemical smell rinsed away...
Shaking his head to get the dripping locks out of his face, he climbed out of the shower and fumbled for his towel amidst the billows of steam, sneezing hard when some of it seemed to make a concerted effort to climb into his sinuses.
"Ugh, I do not need a summer cold."
Grumbling a bit to himself about probably having to pick up some medicine just in case, he set to the task of getting himself dried off as best he could, wondering if he should get a fan or something to minimize the annoyance in the future. He hadn't really had any issues so far, but he did have a wooden house, so limiting the amount of moisture soaking into the walls and floor would probably be a good idea.
Stanford added that last part to the long list of things he needed to do sooner rather than later that had started that morning. He needed a new fridge, had to call the Corduroy for a new back door and had to go into town to get new supplies and food. He wanted steak and licked his lips unconsciously at the thought.
He wasn’t hungry per say, just feeling… Peckish maybe? He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate.
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. He didn’t even know what day it was! He cupped a hand over his mouth. He tried to recall the last thing he remembered but it was all just a jumble of mixed feelings and sensation.
He growled and tossed the towel over his head and moved to finally put on some clothes.
At first, he thought the cloth clinging to his legs was from the steam sticking to his skin and just making things difficult, so he powered through the discomfort to pull on some boxers and socks, but when he went to haul on his jeans and found that he couldn't fully close the zipper-
That's when he realized that there was something more going on.
"What the-?"
He froze and took a shuddering breath as he let his jeans hang on his hips. He patted his side, finding it squishier than it used to be. A quick scan of his whole anatomy confirmed it being a general thing. He glanced at the blurry mirror on his right where he could barely see his silhouette. It hit him that he needed his glasses to better assess his… Situation.
He jogged rapidly to his room to retrieve his spare pair, jeans clinging tight to his legs. He grabbed them hastily, wiped the fog from the mirror and with shaky hands put them on.
“Sweet Moses..!”
Pines boys were never small, but Ford had never really filled out like either of his brothers, too busy trying to learn anything about everything to bother with things like consistent meals and sleep and exercise. College with Fiddleford had helped with some of that, since Fiddleford was a force to be reckoned with when it came to the health of people he cared about. But even with all that Tennessee home cooking, Ford just never had the appetite to graduate beyond lean.
The person in the mirror, wearing his shocked face, was practically chubby .
Backing off a few steps, he tore his gaze from the mirror to look down at himself, feeling a thrill of fear run up his spine at confirming the fact that, yes, he did indeed have a bit of a gut, his belly and thighs thicker than they had ever been in his life. Even his chest was now broad and almost barrel-like. His arms were bigger too, though he noticed as he grabbed at the bulk, that it didn't feel quite as soft as his middle.
Out of sheer bewildered curiosity, he tried a flex like he'd seen the football jocks in high school do, and couldn't help but stare as he felt and saw the muscles bulge.
He'd never been able to do that, not even after running around doing field research for the last five years!
Slumping back against the wall, he let his head fall back, thumping on the wood.
"Okay, Stanford, don't panic, let's think logically and figure this out, there's no need to panic..."
Even as he tried to calm down, his heart was beating at an alarming rate and his mind racing, trying to catch up.
He didn’t understand what had happened to him. What did this?! It’s not like he had gained a few ounces, more like several pounds! He wasn’t a scrawny nerd anymore. In the back of his mind, he realized he was probably bigger than his twin.
His twin… He shook his head, now was not the time to think about him. He did feel ashamed having to discard him for the time being, and mentally promised to look into him later.
He glanced down at his chunky middle and whined.
He needed to change his whole wardrobe by the looks of it! Luckily, he might have a pair of sweatpants lying somewhere and his trenchcoat was wide enough to cover his shoulders until he could find new clothes.
“When did I eat that much? What did I eat?”
Though, indulging didn't explain the breadth of his shoulders or the density of his chest and arms. If he focused, he could feel a dull soreness all the way down his back, like he'd been working hard at something for a long time that required using his upper body a lot more than was usual for him.
Some small part of his consciousness was telling him that such development made sense, there was something he'd been doing and doing a lot ...
A flash of memory, trees rushing beneath him, wind in his face, a mild burn through his back and- And...
"...wings?"
Stanford pushed himself away from the wall, taking a few steps before grunting and completely removing his pants. They didn’t fit anyway, his underwear would suffice and he wasn’t expecting visitors. Tossing his jeans unceremoniously in a pile near the door, he bolted for his kitchen.
He rolled his eyes and huffed as he heard his stairs creak loudly under his weight. He was pretty sure he wasn’t that heavy.
Once in his kitchen, he ignored the stench of rotted food and checked his upside down table for his journal and the last thing he just remembered he was documenting.
His journal was thankfully intact, a little tossed about with a few crumpled pages, but no big stains or tears damaging the information inside. A moment smoothing out the worst of the damage, and he crouched with his journal on his knees as he read over his notes.
"Well. I suppose the merchant wasn't lying after all. Strength of a dragon, good grief-!"
He broke off as the words registered properly in his head, and he wound up flopping back on his rear as he took in the damage around him in a new light.
"...I did this. Holy Moses. I did this!"
Images of the past few days came crashing down on him like a waterfall. The painful change, the deer, the flying, the gobblewonker, the gnomes and…
He glanced at his belly and rested a hand on it.
“How many cows did I eat?!”
He flopped on his back, trying to organize all the different thoughts swirling in his head.
Although it was concerning, he wasn’t scared. He knew what had happened to him and his house. He just needed to figure out where to go from there.
It took him a bit to pull himself together, his brain a whirlwind of questions and plans and concerns, but he did eventually get back to his feet, journal in hand. Better start a list to get things done...
The next several weeks seemed to fly by with everything that had to be arranged, between the reconstruction of his kitchen and continuing his research and further investigating the after effects of the fruit.
The first side effect he noticed was how strong his sense of smell had become. He could smell if gnomes had been close to his house, if it was going to rain, when a product was about to expire and more. It forced him to buy more natural products, often as close to unscented as he could find. He also realized he had to clean his house and clothes more regularly if he didn’t want to get headaches from the compounded stench.
The second one he noticed was his unusual craving for meat. He found himself buying more of that at the grocery store than vegetables, although he still bought some but he barely touched them. He grabbed some books from the library about cooking and how to preserve meat for long periods of time. And despite his best effort, he couldn’t get rid of his belly. It forced him to buy new clothes that would fit him properly, mostly checked shirts. A lumberjack staple is there ever was one.
The third one he came by accident, when he spilled some coffee on his hands and barely registered the heat. Well, no, he did feel the heat but didn’t get burned. He tested his resistance and found that fire didn’t hurt him anymore. It even felt good on his skin from time to time. Since then, he barely ever used oven mitts.
It took him quite a bit longer to catch onto the fourth major side effect, namely due to the fact that he was a great deal more distracted by the others he was noticing. But he realized that his rather horrendous insomnia seemed to have simply vanished.
He still drank coffee (more flavorful brews that cost more but didn't make his nose rebel) and ran about researching and exploring and inventing and otherwise working his metaphorical butt off (would that it actually worked on his actual rear end), but when he roused for the sixth time in a week actually in his bed rather than crashed on the couch or sprawled over his desk, he abruptly realized that he'd unwittingly fallen into a routine that saw him actually resting for once in his life.
Part of him wanted to be mad about it, irritated at the lost hours of work and learning, but it fizzled out rather quickly when he checked through some of his more recent notes and found not only equal quantity but a much greater quality to his work. No more trailing pen marks or smudges or fumbled calculations, no more scrambled pages needing to be rewritten for submission approval-
He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and yell a bit and internally promise to never ever let Fiddleford know he had been right all along.
The fifth one manifested at the same time he realized he had gained better sleeping habits. He had started to tidy his house better but he also added a few more accessories. Namely, he bought a new bed, mostly on impulse but also because a voice in his head told him that a bigger bed would be far more comfortable than the small twin size one he had. He bought more pillows than necessary to pile up on it, burrowing each night inside of them.
Stanford also bought new bookshelves for the books he was steadily acquiring. Every time he was in town, he would bring a new one he had found pretty or interesting. Not really reading it, just taking it home and keeping it for himself.
It hit him when he started to fill up his third new bookshelf. He was building his own hoard, though perhaps not one that a prospective treasure hunter would find alluring.
One of the few things that even he had to admit was reckless and maybe, maybe stupid, was to seek out the merchant again and buy more of his fruit to better understand its properties and effects. Admittedly, he had a great number of questions to ask the man about his produce, and wound up learning about quite a bit of local history via the merchant's eventually excited retelling. But he really shouldn't have accepted the offer of more of the fruit, even with the reassurance that it wouldn't spoil until he actually took a bite.
And he really, really shouldn’t have eaten it again, even if it was in the name of science.
Even so, the repeat experience developed his understanding of the phenomena exponentially, and he eventually decided keeping some on hand for emergency purposes probably wouldn't be a bad idea.
Just in case.
Dragon Ford’s appearance
and an updated design:
