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Trade with Metamorpher
“This place looked much nicer in the pictures…” Ryan said to himself, looking out over the half rotted docks of a small, nameless jungle island in the middle of the Asian Pacific, shaking his head with dismay and rubbing the frustrated throb in the sides of his head. For four long years he’d petitioned the archeology department of his university to fund an expedition for him, it’s intent being to search with the hopes of finding the fossils which, almost certainly, were there to be found.
It’s not worth our time, the stuffy, suit-jacketed higherups had said, The age of palentology is over. It’s not what the people pay to see, anymore. And besides, just because some colonial scholars eighty years ago disappeared there doesn’t mean there’s anything worthwhile to find.
That had been on Ryan’s third request for funding. By his tenth, they didn’t return his phone calls. By the fiftieth, jokes were circulating around the historical wing about his obsession with ancient reptiles. Then, just short of the hundredth application, Ryan had received approval, and funding. That is, if he was willing to go alone, and, by that point, he had been. A local fisherman, which, even as the twenty-something year old human watched, revved up his boat’s jury-rigged engine and sailed away, leaving Ryan alone on the fat, square crag of land which, if his prayers were answered, would contain the long petrified corpses of the scaled creatures that he had loved and envied since early childhood.
Starting to unpack his belongings from the rucksack he’d brought along and set them above the water line where it looked like an old shack had once stood on the beach, Ryan perked as he heard something rustle in the branches and foliage at the top of the beach. Supposedly the island was uninhabited, and the island was too small, only about five square miles, to support more than maybe a few dozen people, but that still left the potential for tropical predators. Taking his machete out of the rucksack, Ryan cautiously entered the jungled interior of the island, wary for snakes, predatory cats, or anything else that might be native to this part of Pacific Asia.
Nothing bothered him, however, surprisingly enough, and, traveling deeper and seeing no sign of natives, hostile or otherwise, Ryan relaxed. He’d be fine, surely, this was all going to go perfectly according to…
Ryan’s brain came to a complete halt as he stepped out of the trees and into a clearing of sorts. Everything was tinted bright green by the thick foliage overhead, and, looking down, the human youth looked at a small spring with a stone dais in the middle, almost like it had been carved there. But Ryan wasn’t worried about the crystal clear water of the spring and alter, he was a bit busy gawking, totally and understandably awestruck, not at the spring itself, but of the creature that was drinking from it.
For a moment, Ryan tried to rationalize what he was seeing… Maybe it was a dream? Maybe he’d stepped on some hallucinogenic plant on his way out here, because, if he was in a right mind and body, that was a triceratops, very much alive and well, and it had its head down, drinking lazily from the spring, as though it hadn’t a care in the world. Then it snorted, turned its back, and dashed off into the forest, the distinctive orange scales gleaming with tropical condensation, head swaying side-to-side as its four large legs thumped against the ground with each step.
Awestruck, the romantic explorer just sort of stood and stared blankly. Unless I’m crazy… Ryan thought to himself, legs trembling as, very carefully, he slunk down into the water-filled divvet and stood by the shore, I just saw a dinosaur. A LIVE dinosaur… What, did I stumble into Jurassic Park?!
That, and other absurd thoughts were streaming through the human’s startled brain as he crept over to where it had stood, and, removing a clean glass vial from his belt, scooped some of the muddy dirt from its deep foot print and into it. Next the water, his nerves calming as the well-ingrained work of relic-preservation kicked in, and, very thankfully, saved the poor human from a heart attack. He moved to step back and examine the spot again, hoping maybe to see that his eyes had been playing tricks on him, and it was just some other, large, Asian mammal, maybe a rhinoceros or something similar. It was, after all, possible… The got pricked by a hallucinogenic thorn hypothesis returned again, and Ryan nearly called for an emergency withdrawal right there out of panic, but his radio was still on the dry shore, and, as the explorer realized with dismay, his boots were stuck up to the ankles in thick, sticky clay!
Grunting in frustration, Ryan yanked hard on his right leg, the one closest to the dry ground, but hadn’t tied his laces tightly enough, and found himself flailing backwards, clothing and all, into the large, deep pond. A few seconds later he came up again, drenched to the skin and sputtering, having lost his other booth, and crawled up through the muck at the banks with a dismayed expression. “This has been a disaster…” Ryan grumbled to himself. He’d drenched what clothing and equipment he’d brought out with him, and the heat of the probably volcanically heated spring combined with the intense Pacific sun made for an unspeakably miserable climb back to dry land. By the time he got back to where he’d left his things on the bank, opened his stainless steel canteen and taken a swig of lukewarm water, Ryan had noticed a strange pressure in the front of his forehead. It wasn’t quite a headache, but disconcerting and uncomfortable nonetheless…
Not even three hours had passed, and here Ryan was, exhausted from the strength-leeching heat and penetrating humidity, half-covered in mud and soaked, sprawled out in brown fatigues and a green T-shirt, along with his prospecting gear, all of which was now in need of a thorough cleaning.
Ryan rubbed his forehead, which was still plagued by an intense pressure, possibly a headache, and probably from dehydration. He put it out of his mind, scraping the worst of the mud from his fatigues and checking his various equipment for damage. Shortly after, he was plagued by more discomfort. Ryan’s back and tail-bone felt weird, achy, but not painful. The frustration was starting to get to him, and, sped on by the rising sun, his shaggy brown hair kept getting into his face.
“Rrrnngnhh!” The human growled, taking the thick packed locks of hair in a clenched fist and yanking them off to one side, and, inadvertently, his hand came away with a fistful of it, pulled straight out of his scalp. Surprised, and more than a little scared, Ryan looked down at the hair in his clenched hand, then reached up and touched the bald patch where it had been pulled free. More hair clung to his sticky palms, and, starting to panic, Ryan yelped in surprise and backed away. A bony lump about an inch thick was slowly, inexplicably beginning to rise up out of his skull, just behind the face plate. The aching pressure that he had ignored before was starting to spread outward to Ryan’s extremities. His fingertips looked bloated when he rose his hands to eye level, and, as the changes began to take hold, the frightened human couldn’t ignore the fleshy sinews forming between his fingers, the digits slowly melting together even before his eyes, merging and then splitting again into four thick, stubby, forward facing nubs with the beginnings of blunt, ivory colored claws sticking out of them.
A light thumping pulled Ryan out of his trance of fright and confusion, and he turned about, almost tripping as his pants suddenly felt all too tight, and the pressure at the bottom of his spine increased exponentially. On some level, Ryan knew he was growing a tail, and it didn’t take the scientist in him to realize very quickly that tight fatigues, and the thick, muscular limb that was extruding out of his backside were at odds, and one of them was going to give, sooner or later.
I-it’s back… Ryan gasped internally. He tried to vocalize, too, but his jaw, neck, and chest were all succumbing to the changes at once, bones changing and shifting, popping in and out of place as it suited them. All painless, surprisingly enough, but nonetheless uncomfortable in the extreme. And it was, in fact, back. Ryan’s supposedly hallucinated triceratops, the huge, twenty foot long reptile standing on just the other side of the pond, staring intently at him and growling slightly, nonthreatening. Just as he saw it, however, the area of the transforming human’s transitionally deformed face that had once been his nose split open, and, out of it, the beginnings of a shiny, white horn began to rise directly out of his upper skull, a skull which was some half way between human and whatever he was becoming…
W-wait… It can’t be, Ryan thought to himself, as of yet only able to vocalize through grunts and half-formed roars of various sorts, and went quiet has he looked at the giant creature, just a few dozen paces away from him, and recognition dawned on him. With a quivering hand, the archeologist reached up and put one of his bony, clawed forepaws, for they were now more reptilian than human, the skin having split to reveal glossy, bright orange scales underneath, up to his forehead where he had felt the ridge before, and was shocked to find that it now stood a full six inches up above and beyond where his forehead had previously ended, and now sported a pair of short, but still growing, ivory horns, the unmistakable faceplate of a triceratops.
Turning his attention to the spectator of his otherworldly transformation, Ryan started to notice things… A faint upward curve of the mouth, raised, scaly eye ridges, the giant reptile sitting with its forelegs crossed in an almost bemused gesture, like someone watching a child learn to stack blocks. It was a soberingly human gesture for such an inhuman creature, and, crawling back over to the crystal clear pool on all fours, Ryan, who had at present paid little mind to the state of his fatigues, yelped animalistically as the strong fabric failed at last to keep restrained the thick tail that was even yet extruding out of his backside, maybe at a rate of six inches per minute, and his pants burst spectacularly along the seams, Ryan’s utility belt still fastened around his waist even as the rear of his fatigues disintegrated into raw strips of muddy brown fabric. Turning his head backwards to look, Ryan spent a full minute in fascination, watching even as the tail, his tail, he realized, continued its rapid growth out his backside, the skin flaking off or melting away to reveal the bright, brownish-orange hide of a reptile beneath.
A strange burst of joy started to perforate Ryan’s thoughts as he watched, horned head turned all the way around to examine his backside, as he imagined showing the archeology department of his university what he thought of them now, bashing down that preciously carved teak door and smashing everything in sight. Sure, it was the ridiculous musings of someone who had suddenly been subjected to a radical and inexplicable change of species, but, at that moment, Ryan really didn’t care. He’d grown up with posters of dinosaur breeds adorning his walls, neatly organized figurines of his favorites, hand-panted and sorted by geological era on a special shelf. Dinosaurs had always been his passion, long before he’d majored in it in university, and now here he was, with the opportunity to be one! And not just any dinosaur, either, one of his own personal childhood favorites. It wasn’t something that could be explained easily in words, but, absurd as it was, looking down at the mud between his forepaws, then turned his gaze to the water, and the reflection of his rapidly shifting, three-horned face, was like stepping into the skin of a comic book superhero for other children. He’d be Triceratron, vigilante fighter of crime! Or maybe not…
The changes which continued to rapt his body dragged Ryan out of his internal monologue and back to the present. The remains of his pants, which, up until the middle of his transformation, had still clung wetly to his newly muscled, digitgrade limbs below the waist, were suddenly brought under pressure again as a whole new set of changes began to take place. Casting a glance over his shoulder, which now pointed thoroughly downward, Ryan felt his hips pop and dislocate, only returning into their sockets once the joint had shifted, and, he found, would leave him permanently down on all fours. The newly minted triceratops’ tail, which now measured almost as long as the rest of his body, had a bony ridge along the back where his spine had extruded, and was covered in a tightly formed, scaly hide. It was thick and powerful, built for fighting as much as for balancing, and it filled him with a strange sort of pride, but that didn’t change the fact that, while Ryan was now aesthetically a triceratops for all intents and purposes, with the exception of a few areas of skin that had yet to fully thicken and turn to the rough, reptilian hide of his new dinosaur body, he was still only marginally bigger than a human, maybe the size of a small horse. In effect, Ryan had become a triceratops at 1/15th scale, the remains of his torn and dirty human clothing still for the most part intact and uncomfortably adjusted to his new body, but that was liable to change as the second part of the transformation commenced.
Even through the rose tinted glasses of living a childhood fantasy, Ryan couldn’t deny the vertigo of looking down at the muddy ground between his armored forepaws, and watching it slowly ebb away from the beak-like muzzle that now dominated his field of vision. He was growing… Not in parts, but simultaneously all at once. Ryan’s weakened fatigues started to split almost immediately, filling his sensitive ears with the sound of tearing fabric as the muscles in his calves and hips expanded to carry the swiftly growing body. His shirt fared little better, the stretchy fabric reaching its maximum extent before splitting in several areas, fraying under his hard, often rough hide as it chafed back and forth with his shoulders.
Ryan felt his paws start to sink into the mud, and, instinctively after getting stuck earlier, he backed away onto more solid ground, and, startled, looked back towards the other, now standing triceratops, and, blinking his large, orange eyes, realized that he was now almost half as large as the other dinosaur, and still growing! Even before his eyes, Ryan’s horns continued to lengthen, curving up and down before coming to fearsome points that could gut a tyrannosaurus. His legs grew thick and powerful, muscles fully visible under his taught hide, and, if he could have purred, the ex-human would have. The feeling of strength, power and confidence was overwhelming. Sure, he may be a herbivore, but even most predatory dinosaurs would have thought twice about picking a fight with a triceratops, when all it took was one charge to drive a trio of lethal horns into their vitals, and that went ten fold if it was a herd.
And there was a herd, wasn’t there… Very cautiously, Ryan tested his new legs once the rapid growth had stopped. He now stood almost eight feet at the shoulder, and the scents of the jungle filled his nose. The triceratops in front of him, which now stood fully on all four legs, imposing at him, was clearly the larger of the two, and, by its smell, distinctly male, but also had the scent of other males and females on him… Maybe eight in total? And they were grazing not far from here, along with others of their kind…
The larger triceratops snorted, sticking his nose into the water and taking another large drink before turning and leading the newly transformed triceratops back off towards its herd, leaving his human body, and his human identity, willingly behind him to pursue a childhood fantasy that, by whatever magic inhabited this place, had been made true.
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Trade with Metamorpher
“This place looked much nicer in the pictures…” Ryan said to himself, looking out over the half rotted docks of a small, nameless jungle island in the middle of the Asian Pacific, shaking his head with dismay and rubbing the frustrated throb in the sides of his head. For four long years he’d petitioned the archeology department of his university to fund an expedition for him, it’s intent being to search with the hopes of finding the fossils which, almost certainly, were there to be found.
It’s not worth our time, the stuffy, suit-jacketed higherups had said, The age of palentology is over. It’s not what the people pay to see, anymore. And besides, just because some colonial scholars eighty years ago disappeared there doesn’t mean there’s anything worthwhile to find.
That had been on Ryan’s third request for funding. By his tenth, they didn’t return his phone calls. By the fiftieth, jokes were circulating around the historical wing about his obsession with ancient reptiles. Then, just short of the hundredth application, Ryan had received approval, and funding. That is, if he was willing to go alone, and, by that point, he had been. A local fisherman, which, even as the twenty-something year old human watched, revved up his boat’s jury-rigged engine and sailed away, leaving Ryan alone on the fat, square crag of land which, if his prayers were answered, would contain the long petrified corpses of the scaled creatures that he had loved and envied since early childhood.
Starting to unpack his belongings from the rucksack he’d brought along and set them above the water line where it looked like an old shack had once stood on the beach, Ryan perked as he heard something rustle in the branches and foliage at the top of the beach. Supposedly the island was uninhabited, and the island was too small, only about five square miles, to support more than maybe a few dozen people, but that still left the potential for tropical predators. Taking his machete out of the rucksack, Ryan cautiously entered the jungled interior of the island, wary for snakes, predatory cats, or anything else that might be native to this part of Pacific Asia.
Nothing bothered him, however, surprisingly enough, and, traveling deeper and seeing no sign of natives, hostile or otherwise, Ryan relaxed. He’d be fine, surely, this was all going to go perfectly according to…
Ryan’s brain came to a complete halt as he stepped out of the trees and into a clearing of sorts. Everything was tinted bright green by the thick foliage overhead, and, looking down, the human youth looked at a small spring with a stone dais in the middle, almost like it had been carved there. But Ryan wasn’t worried about the crystal clear water of the spring and alter, he was a bit busy gawking, totally and understandably awestruck, not at the spring itself, but of the creature that was drinking from it.
For a moment, Ryan tried to rationalize what he was seeing… Maybe it was a dream? Maybe he’d stepped on some hallucinogenic plant on his way out here, because, if he was in a right mind and body, that was a triceratops, very much alive and well, and it had its head down, drinking lazily from the spring, as though it hadn’t a care in the world. Then it snorted, turned its back, and dashed off into the forest, the distinctive orange scales gleaming with tropical condensation, head swaying side-to-side as its four large legs thumped against the ground with each step.
Awestruck, the romantic explorer just sort of stood and stared blankly. Unless I’m crazy… Ryan thought to himself, legs trembling as, very carefully, he slunk down into the water-filled divvet and stood by the shore, I just saw a dinosaur. A LIVE dinosaur… What, did I stumble into Jurassic Park?!
That, and other absurd thoughts were streaming through the human’s startled brain as he crept over to where it had stood, and, removing a clean glass vial from his belt, scooped some of the muddy dirt from its deep foot print and into it. Next the water, his nerves calming as the well-ingrained work of relic-preservation kicked in, and, very thankfully, saved the poor human from a heart attack. He moved to step back and examine the spot again, hoping maybe to see that his eyes had been playing tricks on him, and it was just some other, large, Asian mammal, maybe a rhinoceros or something similar. It was, after all, possible… The got pricked by a hallucinogenic thorn hypothesis returned again, and Ryan nearly called for an emergency withdrawal right there out of panic, but his radio was still on the dry shore, and, as the explorer realized with dismay, his boots were stuck up to the ankles in thick, sticky clay!
Grunting in frustration, Ryan yanked hard on his right leg, the one closest to the dry ground, but hadn’t tied his laces tightly enough, and found himself flailing backwards, clothing and all, into the large, deep pond. A few seconds later he came up again, drenched to the skin and sputtering, having lost his other booth, and crawled up through the muck at the banks with a dismayed expression. “This has been a disaster…” Ryan grumbled to himself. He’d drenched what clothing and equipment he’d brought out with him, and the heat of the probably volcanically heated spring combined with the intense Pacific sun made for an unspeakably miserable climb back to dry land. By the time he got back to where he’d left his things on the bank, opened his stainless steel canteen and taken a swig of lukewarm water, Ryan had noticed a strange pressure in the front of his forehead. It wasn’t quite a headache, but disconcerting and uncomfortable nonetheless…
Not even three hours had passed, and here Ryan was, exhausted from the strength-leeching heat and penetrating humidity, half-covered in mud and soaked, sprawled out in brown fatigues and a green T-shirt, along with his prospecting gear, all of which was now in need of a thorough cleaning.
Ryan rubbed his forehead, which was still plagued by an intense pressure, possibly a headache, and probably from dehydration. He put it out of his mind, scraping the worst of the mud from his fatigues and checking his various equipment for damage. Shortly after, he was plagued by more discomfort. Ryan’s back and tail-bone felt weird, achy, but not painful. The frustration was starting to get to him, and, sped on by the rising sun, his shaggy brown hair kept getting into his face.
“Rrrnngnhh!” The human growled, taking the thick packed locks of hair in a clenched fist and yanking them off to one side, and, inadvertently, his hand came away with a fistful of it, pulled straight out of his scalp. Surprised, and more than a little scared, Ryan looked down at the hair in his clenched hand, then reached up and touched the bald patch where it had been pulled free. More hair clung to his sticky palms, and, starting to panic, Ryan yelped in surprise and backed away. A bony lump about an inch thick was slowly, inexplicably beginning to rise up out of his skull, just behind the face plate. The aching pressure that he had ignored before was starting to spread outward to Ryan’s extremities. His fingertips looked bloated when he rose his hands to eye level, and, as the changes began to take hold, the frightened human couldn’t ignore the fleshy sinews forming between his fingers, the digits slowly melting together even before his eyes, merging and then splitting again into four thick, stubby, forward facing nubs with the beginnings of blunt, ivory colored claws sticking out of them.
A light thumping pulled Ryan out of his trance of fright and confusion, and he turned about, almost tripping as his pants suddenly felt all too tight, and the pressure at the bottom of his spine increased exponentially. On some level, Ryan knew he was growing a tail, and it didn’t take the scientist in him to realize very quickly that tight fatigues, and the thick, muscular limb that was extruding out of his backside were at odds, and one of them was going to give, sooner or later.
I-it’s back… Ryan gasped internally. He tried to vocalize, too, but his jaw, neck, and chest were all succumbing to the changes at once, bones changing and shifting, popping in and out of place as it suited them. All painless, surprisingly enough, but nonetheless uncomfortable in the extreme. And it was, in fact, back. Ryan’s supposedly hallucinated triceratops, the huge, twenty foot long reptile standing on just the other side of the pond, staring intently at him and growling slightly, nonthreatening. Just as he saw it, however, the area of the transforming human’s transitionally deformed face that had once been his nose split open, and, out of it, the beginnings of a shiny, white horn began to rise directly out of his upper skull, a skull which was some half way between human and whatever he was becoming…
W-wait… It can’t be, Ryan thought to himself, as of yet only able to vocalize through grunts and half-formed roars of various sorts, and went quiet has he looked at the giant creature, just a few dozen paces away from him, and recognition dawned on him. With a quivering hand, the archeologist reached up and put one of his bony, clawed forepaws, for they were now more reptilian than human, the skin having split to reveal glossy, bright orange scales underneath, up to his forehead where he had felt the ridge before, and was shocked to find that it now stood a full six inches up above and beyond where his forehead had previously ended, and now sported a pair of short, but still growing, ivory horns, the unmistakable faceplate of a triceratops.
Turning his attention to the spectator of his otherworldly transformation, Ryan started to notice things… A faint upward curve of the mouth, raised, scaly eye ridges, the giant reptile sitting with its forelegs crossed in an almost bemused gesture, like someone watching a child learn to stack blocks. It was a soberingly human gesture for such an inhuman creature, and, crawling back over to the crystal clear pool on all fours, Ryan, who had at present paid little mind to the state of his fatigues, yelped animalistically as the strong fabric failed at last to keep restrained the thick tail that was even yet extruding out of his backside, maybe at a rate of six inches per minute, and his pants burst spectacularly along the seams, Ryan’s utility belt still fastened around his waist even as the rear of his fatigues disintegrated into raw strips of muddy brown fabric. Turning his head backwards to look, Ryan spent a full minute in fascination, watching even as the tail, his tail, he realized, continued its rapid growth out his backside, the skin flaking off or melting away to reveal the bright, brownish-orange hide of a reptile beneath.
A strange burst of joy started to perforate Ryan’s thoughts as he watched, horned head turned all the way around to examine his backside, as he imagined showing the archeology department of his university what he thought of them now, bashing down that preciously carved teak door and smashing everything in sight. Sure, it was the ridiculous musings of someone who had suddenly been subjected to a radical and inexplicable change of species, but, at that moment, Ryan really didn’t care. He’d grown up with posters of dinosaur breeds adorning his walls, neatly organized figurines of his favorites, hand-panted and sorted by geological era on a special shelf. Dinosaurs had always been his passion, long before he’d majored in it in university, and now here he was, with the opportunity to be one! And not just any dinosaur, either, one of his own personal childhood favorites. It wasn’t something that could be explained easily in words, but, absurd as it was, looking down at the mud between his forepaws, then turned his gaze to the water, and the reflection of his rapidly shifting, three-horned face, was like stepping into the skin of a comic book superhero for other children. He’d be Triceratron, vigilante fighter of crime! Or maybe not…
The changes which continued to rapt his body dragged Ryan out of his internal monologue and back to the present. The remains of his pants, which, up until the middle of his transformation, had still clung wetly to his newly muscled, digitgrade limbs below the waist, were suddenly brought under pressure again as a whole new set of changes began to take place. Casting a glance over his shoulder, which now pointed thoroughly downward, Ryan felt his hips pop and dislocate, only returning into their sockets once the joint had shifted, and, he found, would leave him permanently down on all fours. The newly minted triceratops’ tail, which now measured almost as long as the rest of his body, had a bony ridge along the back where his spine had extruded, and was covered in a tightly formed, scaly hide. It was thick and powerful, built for fighting as much as for balancing, and it filled him with a strange sort of pride, but that didn’t change the fact that, while Ryan was now aesthetically a triceratops for all intents and purposes, with the exception of a few areas of skin that had yet to fully thicken and turn to the rough, reptilian hide of his new dinosaur body, he was still only marginally bigger than a human, maybe the size of a small horse. In effect, Ryan had become a triceratops at 1/15th scale, the remains of his torn and dirty human clothing still for the most part intact and uncomfortably adjusted to his new body, but that was liable to change as the second part of the transformation commenced.
Even through the rose tinted glasses of living a childhood fantasy, Ryan couldn’t deny the vertigo of looking down at the muddy ground between his armored forepaws, and watching it slowly ebb away from the beak-like muzzle that now dominated his field of vision. He was growing… Not in parts, but simultaneously all at once. Ryan’s weakened fatigues started to split almost immediately, filling his sensitive ears with the sound of tearing fabric as the muscles in his calves and hips expanded to carry the swiftly growing body. His shirt fared little better, the stretchy fabric reaching its maximum extent before splitting in several areas, fraying under his hard, often rough hide as it chafed back and forth with his shoulders.
Ryan felt his paws start to sink into the mud, and, instinctively after getting stuck earlier, he backed away onto more solid ground, and, startled, looked back towards the other, now standing triceratops, and, blinking his large, orange eyes, realized that he was now almost half as large as the other dinosaur, and still growing! Even before his eyes, Ryan’s horns continued to lengthen, curving up and down before coming to fearsome points that could gut a tyrannosaurus. His legs grew thick and powerful, muscles fully visible under his taught hide, and, if he could have purred, the ex-human would have. The feeling of strength, power and confidence was overwhelming. Sure, he may be a herbivore, but even most predatory dinosaurs would have thought twice about picking a fight with a triceratops, when all it took was one charge to drive a trio of lethal horns into their vitals, and that went ten fold if it was a herd.
And there was a herd, wasn’t there… Very cautiously, Ryan tested his new legs once the rapid growth had stopped. He now stood almost eight feet at the shoulder, and the scents of the jungle filled his nose. The triceratops in front of him, which now stood fully on all four legs, imposing at him, was clearly the larger of the two, and, by its smell, distinctly male, but also had the scent of other males and females on him… Maybe eight in total? And they were grazing not far from here, along with others of their kind…
The larger triceratops snorted, sticking his nose into the water and taking another large drink before turning and leading the newly transformed triceratops back off towards its herd, leaving his human body, and his human identity, willingly behind him to pursue a childhood fantasy that, by whatever magic inhabited this place, had been made true.
My half of a trade with metamorpher Completed a long, long ass time ago, but only just now posted. Hey, at least I'm catching up on the... 30 pieces I have left to post! :'D This story follows a researcher sent alone to study fossils on an island only to become more acquainted with the dinos than they'd ever intended to be ;3
I love writing for you guys. It’s my passion, my hobby, and, for the past two years, my primary source of income. I do my best to keep a steady supply of new, original material for all of you to read, and, if I entertained you, a favorite, comment, or watch means the world to me! If you’re especially fond of my work, or want something more personalized, feel free to note me for a commission request, or support me on Patreon!
ORDER OF THE OWL
Trade with Metamorpher
Category Story / Transformation
Species Dinosaur
Gender Any
Size 120 x 120px
Listed in Folders
Yeah... TF stories, not exactly my specialty :P Evidently it shows.
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