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Another quickie story I wrote randomly during some downtime. A young man returns to an old story he wrote, finding some interesting effects! Not much too it, just a cute idea I wanted to try. His sword, raised high above his head, a guttural warcry bellowing from his mouth. He tore through the enemy, fighting with skill and finesse.
These villains were no match for skills, they were practically running into his sword. Wave after wave they came, and wave after wave they fell.
Battles may take days sometimes, but this battle would take mere minutes, if that. As the hero stood atop the now blood soaked hill, he looked upon the field. They had won, the world was safe yet again. But suddenly, the knight fell into a dark abyss, a loud shrill shriek piercing the heavens itself. Brendan groaned as he sat up. It was his day off, but he forgot to turn of that stupid alarm.
With a short sigh, he turned it off, upset about the dream that had been cut short. But it seemed today had other plans in store, for the young man was not able to enjoy his dream in full. Pushing that aside, Brendan got himself ready for the most part. A short shower, clean clothes, a Pop Tart for breakfast, a simple yet efficient routine.
All of his friends were either at work or busy doing something else, so just hanging out with them was impossible. He thought shortly on returning to the manuscript he was writing for a short fantasy novel, but pushed that idea far back. Rereading the earlier chapters was absolute torture, he could not bring himself to work on it any longer. A twinge of regret reverberated through Brendan. That idea had been his baby since junior year, and here he was too ashamed to work on it. He could remember long nights, scribbling out lore details in composition notebooks, having such fun with his creation.
Now he was twenty-five and afraid of looking back at his younger works. Was he really so bad? Was this all in his head? Brendan Dragoness tf tg his head a little, ashamed of his attitude towards his own work. The basic plot of the story was about a young scribe, who was cursed by a dragon at a young age. Because of this, she was an anthropomorphic dragon, who lived in a mage tower as their chronicler.
Not quite a fantasy epic, but still a story. Brendan had always like Lydia, his quiet and reserved protagonist. Probably because she reminded Brendan of himself, a quiet observer type who would have to be dragged to the action. Reflecting on his protagonist filled Brendan with inescapable nostalgia, he genuinely loved the idea, even after these years.
He still had nothing to do today, so maybe making some edits would be nice. Slightly worried as to what he may read, he opened up a familiar old text document on his computer. The first chapter served as a prologue, a six year old Lydia wakes up to see dragon scales growing on her arms. The setup of her curse flowed easily, showing her wide range of emotions at such a confusing time. Did he really write this in high school? He remembered all of his essays back then getting mediocre scores at best, but this was publishable!
As Brendan reread his prologue, there was almost no way he would have noticed what was happening Dragoness tf tg him. This would have no doubt sent the young man into a frenzy, but he was so caught up in nostalgia that it just evaded all notice.
The sparkling scales pushed forward, a resolved march across their new unsuspecting wearer. The were shielding his arms with due haste, yet he was still blissfully ignorant. The young man was currently at the part where Lydia had been recruited by the mages, still flabbergasted over his apparent writing prowess.
His chest began to tingle and warm, almost like a fire had been lit within him. The heat rippled, each burst pushing his chest outwards more and more. Brendan crossed his legs instinctively, the strange heat only somewhat being recognized. His masculinity pushed inward, the heat receding to one focal point, a very female focal point.
Now a young woman, Brendan was completely unfazed, nothing felt too out of place, and she still had sixty s left! No amount of nostalgia could shield someone from noticing their hands changing, especially when they are in use. Brendan saw a small typo on thirty-three, and went to go fix it. Pushing down hard on their sticky backspace key, she noticed that she Dragoness tf tg pierced it with a claw. Jumping back in shock, Brendan inspected her hand. It was clad in magnificent scales, each finger ending in a pale white claw.
All other changes so far became clear, and the confused girl clasped her legs shut. Was she turning into Lydia? That was impossible, but yet these scales were exactly as they pictured them. They were so pretty in person, she thought blushing, realizing that no illustrator could have ever captured how they sparkled.
They sp and more, covering her chest and belly. A small gasp escaped her mouth, one already an octave higher than earlier, as a sharp searing heat erupted from her back end. Brendan looked back in fear, only to see a small nub poking out from under her shirt. That nub however did not stay small, as it slowly but surely pushed forward, the heat finding release in its growth. The rapidly changing woman sighed in relief as the heat dissipated, leaving the new tail a few feet long.
She flicked it around with ease, wrapping it around her cheap desk chair with a giggle.
Lydia always played with her tail when she was bored, and now Brendan could see why! The sheer insanity of this situation was being quickly outweighed by the fun of it. People dream of becoming their favorite characters, and Brendan was living it! Looking down, she noticed her socks had been absolutely shredded by her large clawed feet. Giving off a girly gasp, she wiggled the clawed digits, the feeling of them moving was almost too good to believe. Her hair grew out to a long length, becoming the dark maple brown that Lydia had always worn. She hardly cut it, and the wavy locks tickled the small of her scaled back.
A small grunt led into a louder one, as her mouth slowly lengthened. At this exact time, two small horns began to crest from underneath her hair, pushing out and curving ever so slightly. Making her way to a mirror, she saw Lydia staring back at her, those sharp yellow eyes contrasting against her vibrant blue body. This meant her changes were done. Save for a now Dragoness tf tg fitting outfit, she was Lydia the dragoness. A sudden wave of drowsiness hit the new dragoness, the transformation must have taken it out of her.
Right now, she needed rest, and needed it bad. Yawning softly, she crawled back into her small bed, rubbing her scaley face against her pillow. Things were going to be okay, in fact, they were going to be far more than okay. Things were going to be awesome. Lydia jumped up in a start, her head darting around looking for the perpetrator. Not surprising, a blonde elf stood in front of her desk, rolling her eyes. How she ever became friends with this ball of energy, Lydia would never know, but she was.Dragoness tf tg
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