Pheagle gets sucked into Spyro: Reignited during a nasty thunderstorm and gets transformed into Hareweald, the Beast Maker dragon, in this epic commission and story drawn and written by
:! Original ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Phil bit his lip and deftly twirled his thumbs on the controller as the purple dragon on the television snatched gems from the swampy undergrowth and darted between the blue-green temples of the Beast Maker Home. Outside, thunder rumbled and rain pounded the eaves, but inside, he was comfy on the sofa, boots kicked up, Switch in hand, snacks at the ready, and Spyro on the TV. All in all, a perfect Saturday night. He just needed to blast this Warthog with his fire breath and collect a few more gems before –
CR-ACK! R U M B L E R U ...
“Whoa!” A bright flash of light and a sharp boom of thunder so loud and close that Phil could feel it in his chest ripped through the living room, rattling the pictures on the walls. He moved to the edge of the couch, thinking maybe he should turn off the game and unplug the TV, just in case. As much as he wanted to keep playing, the TV was new, and it would really suck if it or his Switch got fried. But in his distraction, he neglected to pause the game, and onscreen, the Warthog lifted its electrified club.
Later, when he thought back to what had happened that night, he could recall in slow motion the club being lifted and brought to bear on the stone of the platform below, see the flash of a second actual lightning strike as it hit his house and ran down through the television at the exact same moment the platform Spyro was standing on electrified. The acrid scents of ozone, melting plastic, and burning rubber filled the room as sparks and jolts of electricity flew, arcing from the television to the controller in his hands and throwing him back against the couch. He felt as though his brain had short-circuited, his teeth buzzed in his skull, and his heart skipped in his chest as the world went white.
Dizzy and disoriented, he lost both balance and sense of direction and tilted forward off the front of the sofa. Television static interspersed with jumping and darting electric sparks filled his vision. And then he was somehow falling to the sound of roaring thunder, his head and ears filled with such a loud electric buzz that he thought he’d go deaf, before he hit the ground HARD on his hands and knees. His teeth snapped together with a clack and he pitched forward, barely managing to avoid a faceplant. A clatter and snap nearby heralded the arrival of his half-melted controller, which shattered on impact.
Phil groaned, bringing one shaking hand to his aching head and feeling the fingers of the other scrape against cool, damp, gritty stone. It was lucky he was wearing his fingerless leather gloves, he thought, or he might have skinned the heels of both hands, but he should have landed on carpet. What had happened? He opened his eyes slowly, squinting at his surroundings and getting only an impression of thick growth and temple-like structures before lines in the stone beneath him erupted in electric light.
Lightning snaked around his limbs and he cried out in shock, though the feeling as the electricity danced across his skin was somehow more unpleasant and bizarre than outright painful. A jolt of lightning ran up his spine and he hunched over and screamed as the bones and skin of his back suddenly stretched and bulged, shoulder blades splitting and pushing outward against his football jersey and jacket until both cloth and hardy leather gave way with a massive riiiiiip! to reveal natal wings. Long, thin, finger-like digits quickly grew from the tips, burning with the pins-and-needles itch of new nerve endings and connected by translucent bat-like membranes that stretched and buffeted the air as he clumsily flailed his newly formed limbs in panic, human brain entirely unsuited to controlling two additional appendages.
Pain rippled across his face as he felt the bones of his jaw and skull crackle and push outward, bulging as his nose and mouth pushed out into sight. Fine scales rippled down from his scalp to the tip of his snout, lips hardening and reshaping around gums that ached as his teeth slowly grew and reformed into the glistening points of a carnivore’s dentition. He felt two points of intense pressure on the bridge of his nose before two dark bony horns, one larger than the other like a rhinoceros’s, suddenly burst forth and intruded on his vision.
Muscles across his limbs and torso grew and rippled outward and across his body from the points where his wings met his back, stretching and ripping the cloth and leather of his clothes to their limits as bulk was added at an unnaturally quick rate. Pain spiked to the back of either side of his skull, and he felt two sharp points push through to form the beginnings of curved horns as he grabbed at his head with fingers whose nails slowly twisted and slid forward on their beds to reform into sharp, dark red claws. His pinkie and ring fingers elasticized, running together like softened clay until he was left with four fingers on each hand. All the while his gloves stretched and pulled, constricting and twisting around his expanding hands before they could finally hold no more, burst, and sent strips of black leather tumbling to the ground.
Phil’s ankles and feet swelled outward, pushing tightly against the unforgiving material of his boots. His toes expanded, forced to curl back painfully as they grew in the hard leather, tingling with the sharp sparks of impending numbness. He frantically reached down as claustrophobia sent him into a panic, trying to remove the boots before blood flow could be cut off, but before he could manage to figure out how to untie the laces with his newly bulky, clawed fingers, the laces gave way with a series of sharp snaps! The ends of the boots quickly followed, thick leather tearing mightily and separating from the rubber soles with a sound like ripping Velcro as his newly sharp claws and toes finally burst free. The overwhelming relief he felt as his melding toes escaped the confines of his footwear, however, was short-lived.
A fierce ache began to grow in his tailbone. He could feel his spine streeeetch as new vertebrae grew in, painfully bulging and pushing against the seat of his jeans as new flesh poured into clothes that were very much not designed with any kind of tail in mind. The increasing bulk of fat and muscle around his midsection and thighs finally provided relief as it forced the leather of his belt and the denim of his jeans to their snapping points. Both gave way with a massive RIIIP, torn along seam and panel as his new tail burst forth and quickly grew. Electricity crackled down its length as muscle, bone, and flesh rippled farther and farther outward from a thick, muscular tail base to a thin tapered tip.
An itchy feeling overtook the area of his back just above where his tail met the base of his spine, quickly followed by red and gold scales that pushed their way through the skin and rippled down like a wave until they hit the tip of his tail. He felt an odd ache as the last bone grew and deformed, pushing through the skin and flattening into a hard spade-like tail tip. Similar scales pushed out from his his back and torso, tickling around his belly into flat protective plates and pushing out into dark, bony scutes down his sides where the softer gold scales of his ample belly met hard, armored red. Finally the scales rippled across his neck, where they met those on his face, and down his arms and legs, sliding into place over brawny limbs as powerful muscles twitched and filled out, settling into their final bulk.
His eyes ached and his vision sharpened with an abrupt twinge, the dimness of the swamp lightening as shapes and colors became more vivid and pronounced. He could feel his pupils contract against the new light, narrowing into reptilian slits, and though he couldn’t see it himself, his irises changed in a whirl of color to a striking yellow-green as electric blue overtook the whites. His snout formed into its final pointed shape and he was hit with the sharp scents of stagnant water, damp stone, smoky peat, and ozone. His ears narrowed, stretching outward into points, the myriad of tiny bones shifting and grinding. He heard a sudden concussing pop, followed by silence, before the sounds of the swamp came back louder and more clearly than ever: the chirr of crickets and cicadas, the croaks and peeps of frogs, the distant tink of gems against stone… even the static crackle of electricity as it ran from the platform and danced across his newfound scales, rippling muscle, and sheer bulk.
He heaved with deep breaths as the changes gradually slowed and stopped, somewhat bewildered, before something finally seemed to click in his mind. He stood up straight, initially dizzied by his new height, before stretching out and flexing his new limbs. He could feel the sheer power in every movement - a natural and effortless strength was waiting just beneath his scales, like a coiled steel spring, and he was amazed to suddenly realize that even controlling his wings felt as natural as making a fist. The sad remnants of his clothes that still clung to his form were easily shaken off and removed, and useless shreds of denim, cloth, and leather soon littered the stone platform below. He grinned around the sharp teeth of a predator, wings flared, the claws of his toes digging up chunks of stone, and the warm smoke of fiery dragon’s breath coiling in his belly and throat as he turned to look down at the confused and terrified Warthog before him.
