Paul finished waiting for his Hot Pockets to cool before journeying back downstairs.
The young man passed by Mike and Dave, Jeff and Finn’s dads respectively. Mike was a huge, muscular white tiger and Dave was a big, burly ram and they had settled on the couch in the front room to watch football on Mike’s flatscreen. They were getting weirdly touchy-feely with each other when he walked back out of the kitchen and just smiled and winked at him before groping each other some more.
Paul paused on his way past.
“Hey Mike?” Paul asked.
“Yes?” Mike looked up.
“Did Jeff and the others go out to get something to eat?”
“No?” Mike frowned, “Why?”
Paul shook his head. “They aren’t down stairs.”
“Maybe they did and we didn’t hear them come up?” Dave murmured into Mike’s ears.
Mike turned to Paul with a smile, flashing his sharp teeth. “Uh, maybe they did, champ.”
Paul realized he wasn’t going to get much else out of the two lovebirds and went back to the basement with his food. He trotted downstairs, listening to see if Jeff and Charlie and Greg were back. It had been weird that they weren’t at the table and now his dad didn’t even know where they’d went.
Finn was waiting for him, the fox sitting alone at the plastic fold-out table in the bare-walled concrete basement. No one else was down here except the fox. Paul shivered, feeling…almost like he was walking into a horror movie, which was ridiculous, the fat fox couldn’t run a mile without passing out, no way could he overpower four people.
“Where are Jeff and the others?” Paul asked, trying to keep his voice level.
“I heard you asking about them.” Finn frowned. “Don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because the game isn’t over yet.” Finn folded his hands on the table. “It’s a magical DnD game. They’ve been teleported into the simulation. I can control when and where they are placed. Like a god.”
“I…don’t believe you?” Paul said.
“You don’t believe me?” Finn turned the crystal ball, showing the party off.
Paul strode over and picked up the crystal ball, taking it off the pedestal and covering it with his hands. No matter what he did, crystal clear images of the party was still reflected inside of it. He could see no tricks of technology that would explain it.
“This…it’s impossible!” Paul sputtered.
“Not at all.” Finn grinned. “Come on, what do you want to be? You can be anything in the world. Pick one thing.”
“I could be a tree?” Paul asked.
Finn snorted. “Yeah, you would be quite board. I spelled that with an ‘a’, because you’d be cut down and turned into timber.”
Finn paused, his brows furrowed in thought. He had a look on his face like he knew a secret and was debating whether or not he should tell.
“I’m planning on running this campaign for quite awhile, at least a few in-game years. Whatever you pick, you better be prepared to be like that for a long time. If you pick something boring, I’ll find a way to make it interesting. Maybe that tree you picked ends up as an enchanted bow or the wagon that the party uses to haul its goods.” Finn took a deep breath.
“So you can pick anything you want, but be careful.”
“Anything I want, huh?” Paul tapped his chin for a moment, then snapped his fingers and grinned. “I know! I wanna be a dragon!”
“A dragon?” Finn said flatly.
“Yeah! An old red dragon, Tharselex. I want to be at the pinnacle of my power – with a huge treasure filled lair. I want to be an unstoppable force of evil and destruction who rules over a vast kingdom of kobold slaves that do my every bidding and worship me as a god.” Paul smirked and crossed his arms, trying to sound like this was something that he had just thought up on the fly, and failing miserably at it.
In truth, Paul was a total scaly.
His room was covered in dragon posters. Without fail, whenever he played DnD, he’d play Dragonborn or Kobold. Reptiles were his go-to, so if those weren’t available, lizardmen or troglodytes or Yuan-ti. It was one of those ‘obvious fetish’ sorts of things. Everyone knew of his predilections but preferred not to comment on it.
“Of course you’d say something like that.” Finn rolled his eyes. “I won’t let you be the dragon, dummy. You’re a player character, not a monster.”
“You said I could be anything?” Paul asked tentatively. “3.0 let you play a dragon with their abilities in place of class levels.”
“I’m aware.” Finn pinched his muzzle and rubbed it, also aware that Paul didn’t usually play male characters. “And I’m assuming… female?”
Paul smirked, “If you don’t mind. I wanna be a super-hot dragon that gets plowed all the time!” Paul smiled.
“You’re an adventurer and you want to be a pregnant dragon?”
“Women get it done!” Paul said.
“Right in feminist fantasies, maybe.” Finn rolled his eyes. “You want to run around in a wheelchair too?”
“No.” Paul crossed his arms. “Dragon.”
“I’m not letting you tearass around in my campaign as some overpowered dragon slut, pick something more reasonable or I’ll pick for you.” Finn said.
“Oh, I see.” Paul smirked and turned away. “I guess you can’t actually turn someone into a dragon, then.”
“Yes. I. Can.” Finn growled, pulling out his phone.
“Quit stalling and call the other guys back into the room.” Paul rolled his eyes.
“Wanna bet?”
“What?”
“If I can turn into a dragon, then you have to suck my dick. As a kobold.” Finn growled.
“Sure. I’ll be your hot little kobold slave,” Paul winked. “Otherwise, I get to be a slutty dragon queen this game.”
Finn smirked and hit enter. “Done.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The changes hit Finn instantly.
His muscles bulged under his thick fur coat, clenching and relaxing, swelling with every beat of his heart. He couldn’t help but grin as Paul’s jaw dropped while his muscles grew more defined, pressing out his fur, his very skin growing tighter and tighter until the pink of his flesh could be seen through the strands of his hair.
A strange pressure built within him with every breath, every throb of his slowly engorging cock. The fox’s spine popped, granting him momentary relief from the pressure, but his muscles swelled in tandem, catching up with his increase of height. Five feet, six feet, and still he grew until he almost touched the ceiling.
*RIP*
Finn glanced down as his clothes began to shred and fall away, the pressure going away with every article of clothing that was ripped off his body. He exulted in it, striking a pose that ripped his shirt completely off. Every flex sent more fabric fluttering onto the floor. His eyes centered on Paul as his eyes dilated, pupils pulling into slits amidst glittering gold.
His spine arched back, popping even more, heavy ropes of muscle writhing in his wider shoulders. Finn’s body felt tight and instead of a pressure in his spine, he felt it over his entire body. It was uncomfortable, like something was pressing up against his skin. He grit his sharpening teeth and squirmed, the pressure becoming almost unbearable and incredibly itchy.
Finn let out a deep growl and flexed his incredible muscles.
For a brief, tense moment, as his fur stretched taut, nothing happened. Then a rent tore down his back, splitting his fur apart and revealing glossy red scales. It looked a bit like muscle until the scutes, released from their fleshy constraint, lifted. Relief flooded through Finn. His muscles rippled, tearing more bits of fur and skin away. The remaining skin itched fiercely so he peeled it off him in long strips, revealing more of those tough crimson scales.
As he was preoccupied with shedding the remains of his foxy form, his nails grew, curving out and growing sharp. His feet popped as they grew wider, his toes growing longer and ripping his hide. Finn’s bones creaked as his toes splayed and a talon erupted from the back of his ankle.
Not to be left out, his paw grew as well, more fur and hide tearing apart as his hands grew massive talons. It eased his attempts at removing his old hide, which clumped between his taloned feet. Finn kicked the remains of his old life away and growled. Paul stared at him, eyes wide in horror…and lust.
Finn grinned at the human as that familiar pressure of transformation built in his head. He clacked his jaw as his teeth grew larger and sharper. With a creak, his flesh began to pull forward, dragging his nose with it. The skin and cartilage tore away, revealing more scales and two slit-like nostrils, which puffed and sniffed the air. He opened his mouth, tongue extending and turning purple, thickening and writhing. As his new tonue twisted in the air between his wickedly sharp teeth, it suddenly split into two tines.
The former fox could suddenly taste the air. His growing smoky musk and Paul’s pitiful and needy human scent, along with older smells he could practically taste. Jeff sweat and acrid musk, Greg and Charlie’s boring human scents. His nose, even as a fox, had never been able to conjure images in his mind like his new tongue did.
He quivered suddenly, scaly flesh seizing up, as he felt his tail bone popping, his rump clench and bulge behind him. Finn gasped and panted, his tongue flickering and tasting the air as his growing appendage creaked out behind him.
“Do you believe me yet?” Finn’s voice was deep and grew deeper as he spoke. He smacked his scaly lips, a grin spreading across his broadening snout. “Or perhaps this was an outcome you hoped for, eh?”
Finn prodded Paul’s bulge gently with one sharp claw.
Paul whimpered, the tent in his crotch turning dark. Finn smirked and his neck popped, stretching out longer as he bent forward, nostrils flaring as he honed in on the spot of precum forming in Paul’s pants. Muscles strained in his shoulders as his neck continued to creak forward, his head swinging in the air like a cobra. Two large black horns pushed out through his scales as he smirked down at the horny little human, curling behind him like his father Dave’s horns.
Then it was Finn’s turn to gasp as his genitals began to change.
His balls began to swell, scales stretched taut as his testes expanded to proper draconic orbs. Something began to shift and move inside of him, bucking his hips as his length swelled longer and thick, growing glossy and deep rosy red. The scent of draconic musk grew, an acrid virile reek that even Paul could smell.
The scales around his shaft parted, forming a reptilian slit, the edges quivering. Musky fluid dripped out as his slit tensed and quivered. It was too tight, constraining his balls as they pulsed larger and larger, making Finn squirm with the ache. They grew ever larger, making Finn groan as they churned. Something tugged them, pulling them tight to his slit.
Finn snorted and pranced on his talons, gritting his teeth as the pressure on his orbs grew. He whipped his tail around, knocking over a bottle of Mountain Dew as the pressure became to much to bear. Then his left testicle popped inside him and the dragon gasped in sudden relief.
More pressure, his insides churning and shifting. He thought the next would go easy, but his insides were twisting with nausea, like he’d been kicked in the nuts. Finn’s long, spiny tail whipped behind him. And then, just as suddenly as his first testicle, the other orb was sucked inside his new vent.
So preoccupied was the new dragon with his genitals rearranging that he failed to notice his shoulder bulge. As he panted, trying to catch his breath at the discomfort of gaining a cloaca, the bulges burst, two bat-like wings spreading. It felt like they’d been cramped inside of him and now they could finally stretch. So Finn stretched them out, the tips curving when they hit the wall, his incredible wingspan far too large for the small (in comparison) basement.
His wings scraped the walls, sending plumes of dust into the air.
Finn snorted and then blinked. That had been a mistake. A sudden, burning urge came over him. He tried to stop it, but he couldn’t. It was far too late, he hadn’t been in this body long enough to control the urge.
More dust settled in his nostrils. Finn clenched his teeth, trying desperately to hold off the impulse to sneeze. But it was coming, shooting up from his chest, through his long neck and into his powerful maw. He scrunched up his face, tucked his head down to avoid Paul, and surrendered himself to the urge.
“Ah…CHOO!” He roared, a rush of heat following the air out.
Flames poured from his jaws, filling the room with a flash of heat. As a red dragon, he was immune to the flames and didn’t even notice the heat. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he’d directed his flames at all his paperwork.
It caught fire immediately. His sneeze wasn’t strong enough or long enough that it incinerated the whole pile of paperwork, but Finn saw character sheets curling and burning away.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Finn shouted, scrambling to put it out, slamming his scaly claws at the table. “Paul, help me!”
Paul pulled off his coat and ran forward, valiantly tackling the desk. The plastic table collapsed on itself, sending papers scattering across the floor. Finn growled in annoyance, but Paul’s coat was dousing the flames much faster than his claws had.
Finally, the flames were put out. They both stared at the ruins of their campaign. Finn spotted his phone in the remains of the table and gingerly picked it up with two claws. The screen still worked, though the outer protective shell was a little melted. He tugged off the protective coating and sighed in relief ass the phone came on. At least that much was safe.
The same couldn’t be said for some of the character sheets. Thankfully, Finn had the foresight to take pictures of the sheets and his notes. He’d guessed a few people might not make it so he wanted to be sure that they could catch up. That was before he turned it into another simulated reality, of course, but recreating those sheets would be a snap.
“So… I guess I lost?” Paul said.
The dragon looked up, his eyes narrowing more. “Oh yes. And now your fate is mine.”
Paul didn’t look all that upset by that.