Dragon Transformation

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Artoochu2014

He woke slowly, turning his head back and forth. Where the hell was he? The last he remembered, pushing his glasses back up his nose, was that he had been in the living room, playing an old Spyro game. Not that that was a bad thing, but the grass around him was greener, a portal in front of him on the other side of what could have been a tiny moat, rippling with clear, sparkling water.

The young man swallowed hard and pushed himself back onto his glutes, sitting up weakly. What the hell? Was he dreaming? There seemed to be a building behind him set into a cliff, opening up with pillars and grand carvings, though it was not anything he recognised. Really, it looked like something straight out of a video game, though that could not be possible…

Oh, hell.

No, no… No, that could not be so, not even with how the world seemed so much brighter around him. He groaned as he stood, a controller falling out of his lap, the one that he had been playing with. Though that was the least of his concerns as he tried to calm his racing heart, warm through but not in a good way as a prickle of fearful sweat pulled at him.

“Come on… It's just a dream, it's going to be okay, all right?"

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself as he walked slowly, even his footing seeming off, following the moat-thing around the glittering portal. He felt like he recognised it from somewhere, the way the hills that dotted his path towered out of nowhere, shaped by a hand that could not be human. What the heck was all that about?

He had to be dreaming, yes, absolutely, but the orb was familiar from his games, reaching down to pick it up, turning it over in his hands, the green shimmering, framed with a golden ring.

“This can't be happening…"

“That is mine! Unhand it this instant, monster!"

But he was not the monster there, not as the man turned to look down at the fiend, Ripto, the name leaping into his memory from all those years ago, sat in front of his TV, playing the game relentlessly. A creature of short stature, his face was large and bulbous, wearing a purple cape with a sceptre in one hand. The fury in Ripto's eyes could not be mistaken for anything else, even though his expressions could be hard to read.

“Hand it over – you'll interfere with my plans! What are you, some kind of new dragon? I hate dragons!"

“N-no, I'm not a dragon!" He stammered, stepping back, holding up his hands. “You've g-got the wrong p-p-person!"

Not on Earth anymore, a voice said dimly in the back of his mind. Not in any way, not as a beam of red light lanced into his chest from the sceptre, Ripto squawking, flapping his hands, though none of that mattered anymore. All he knew was spreading warmth flooding his body, Ripto taking the orb for his own while saying something or the other about excuses, dragons hiding in “other bodies".

“Every last one of these orbs is mine, dragon! Show your true form!"

But it was not his true form that he slipped into, his body twisting, pulling, as if every part of it had suddenly become malleable, something that could be rearranged into a new way of living, beating breathing. He grunted and tried to step away, but the man only succeeded in falling to his knees as his body turned red and yellow, his front streaked with the lighter shade. Hair burst to life all over him, as much as he tried to scratch and rub it off, yet he was shrinking too, becoming smaller and smaller.

Ripto looked more threatening from a smaller stature, the man who wasn't a man anymore gasping as he tried to fight back, though the spell had him in his grip. He didn't know what was happening, only that he was no longer himself, no longer in the world that he knew so well, his back rounding a little, though Ripto looked on proudly.

“I knew you were a dragon all along!"

Fluffier and fluffier by the second, his hands settled into feet, like paws, nails curling into short, yellow claws, a bit warmer, even as his clothes disintegrated from his body. He would have been embarrassed about being nude if not for the fur covering him, hiding anything that needed to be hidden, his spine aching as it pulled out and out and out. He had a tail! He would have whipped around and stared at it if he wasn't flat on his stomach, his arms twisting into legs, unable to find his balance.

“No… Wait!"

At least he still had a voice, though the fur covering him was warm, so much so that he didn't feel as if he could move with it on, like a fur coat, trembling in place. It was so soft though, so soft, so fluffy, begging Ripto to see sense, that he was not a dragon. Just because the villain had transformed him into a dragon did not mean that that was how he was naturally!

Too small too – he didn't like being that small!

“Aw, did the little dragon not like being revealed?" Ripto laughed, jabbing the sceptre in his general direction. “You scum think you can hide from me – but I will not rest until I have wiped every dragon from the land!"

Yeah, he knew that, though not from the way that Ripto thought. Memories of gaming flitted to the front of his mind, the orbs that paid passage through the game, the orbs that allowed power… But what power was he to have, as a dragon, when he didn't even know what he was doing there? There was still a part of him that thought, or rather hoped, that it was a nightmare, a bad dream, something that he might shake his head over in a few days time. But it could never be that simple.

He tried to stand, huffing, grunting, his legs shaking. Could he do anything against Ripto? He didn't know, trying to breathe…fire? Did he do that? Dragons should breathe fire. His wings ached into place as Ripto smirked and turned away, a smug look on his face. But that did not stop the encroach of the wings, the tender spines fanning out with leathery flaps between. Yet they quickly furred themselves too, leaving the only parts of him that were not furry and fluffy his horns, claws and the very tip of his tail where a yellow slice could be seen.

“Can't fly with tiny little wings like that, can you, dragon?" Ripto laughed, shaking his head. “You're useless, all dragons are useless! Crush!"

One of his beasts stomped forth, flanked by the other, one green and four-legged and the other blue, walking on two legs and holding a club. They were more detailed and defined with leathery hides than he remembered, the club smacking into the blue biped's hand as he grunted.

He pulled his head back, ready to charge. That was the only thing that he seemed able to do, even though his limbs wanted to go in all different directions. Standing shakily, he snorted, as a dragon, lowering his head and those yellow horns to charge.

Whumpf!

Huh! What was that? He startled backwards from a purple dragon – Spyro! It was Spyro himself with his purple scales and his orange and yellow wings, a cocky grin on his lips.

“Sorry, Ripto, but you're not harming another dragon here today. What do you think you're doing, you washed up orb-wielder?"

Ripto frowned, pressing his lips together, though there was something in his silence that was even more unnerving than his mockery. Or perhaps he thought that Spyro simply wasn't worth his words, so many interactions he had had with the dragon previously.

The dragon who had once been a man hesitated, wobbling on unsteady legs. Where was he in the timeline? Did it matter? Spyro lowered his head threateningly, though Ripto was quicker. In a flash, the sceptre was pointed at the purple dragon, shooting a beam of light that crackled as if it was laced with lightning.

He gasped, but he didn't need to fear for Spyro, who had clearly faced down Ripto and far worse before. He fought off the beam with a blast of his fiery breath, not taking any harm from the crackling, leaping flames, the dragon standing in awe, the light flickering off his scales.

Oh… Oh, could he breathe fire? He wanted to, even if he wanted to be back as he was, back as a man, again, Spyro chasing Ripto, Crush and Gulp helping their master escape, even though he knew that Ripto was not much of a master. He treated them badly and they were no more than muscle and lackeys to him, though the fluffy dragon did not know how they were going to play in there.

Spyro chased Ripto, a laugh on his lips, though the sound of it was swallowed up by his fire, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“And stay away!"

He skidded to a halt, his head tilted cockily at an angle that drew more attention to his horns. Yet the fluff dragon did not see that as his poor, shaky legs had given out entirely, sending him crashing to the ground, whimpering, his front paws over his head as if that would protect him. What else was he to do? He couldn't simply charge into the fray!

“Hey now, everything's okay, don't worry."

Spyro tapped him with his tail, worry lining the tense notes of his body.

“He's gone now… Who are you? You're all…fluffy, huh? I've never seen a dragon like you."

He opened his mouth to say something…but that was it. The fluff dragon's mind was blank, as if there had never been a past there, no history, no life before Ripto had transformed him. He looked about him curiously, from left to right, a sense of unease curling and pulling at his gut.

“Er…" He said, unimaginatively, shaking his head. “Sorry… Who are you?"

“Oh!" Spyro grinned, offering his paw as if to shake. “Name's Spyro! And that nasty scourge was Ripto. You might see him around but I've lit a fire under his butt!"

Spyro laughed, tail flicking, though the fluff dragon did not understand the joke. He still tried to laugh weakly as Spyro studied him, looking him up and down.

“Hm… What do you know then? How'd you get here? Don't you have a name?"

“I…" He hesitated. “I don't know. I don't know anything. It's like I went to sleep and…woke up here. Is that weird?"

Spyro shook his head.

“Nah, I'm sure that happened to Hunter once. You'll be okay though, even if you don't remember anything. But you've got to have a name, I've got to call you something…"

He considered it for a moment, snapping his claws and giving a little hop into the air when something, evidently, came to mind.

“I've got it! Scorch! You know, because you have those yellow, flame-like patterns on your coat."

“Scorch" had not even noticed the flames, but they were kind of cool, now that he thought about it. He flapped his wings experimentally.

“Huh… Scorch. Scorch. I like it. Thanks, uh… Spyro, was it? Thanks for helping me, Spyro!"

The grin that the purple dragon gave him warmed him through, a frog hopping by as a dragonfly hovered. Did all dragonflies come with a golden glow like that?

“Come on, Scorch, we'll find somewhere for you to stay. Sparx always knows good places to hide out too, don't you Sparx?"

The dragonfly buzzed something in reply and Spyro laughed, though if he understood what the dragonfly had to say Scorch most certainly did not.

“Yeah, I know. But I toasted Ripto's butt! Woo!"

It was better to be with them than without them and, with a slight downward tilt to his snout, Scorch followed, finding his way, finding his feet, all to his new life as a fluff dragon.