literature

Daydreams - A Dragon Transformation Story

Deviation Actions

drekian's avatar
By
Published:
27.7K Views

Literature Text

     Fall had come in full force, a brutal onslaught of wet and cold weather. Derek had been enjoying it, as the cold weather had given him an excuse to stay indoors and play with his new computer. Today was different though. It was one of those late fall days that made him long for summer again, where the sun shone its warmth upon the world and lit it up with brilliant color. The little things added up fast: the bus to school came on time and he got to see the sun rise over the farm fields near his home. There was no wait for the train and he managed to get a seat, and actually get some rest there.

     And he actually got to school with enough time to have breakfast with his friends.

     "Hello there Mr. Dragon!"

     "Hush, not so loud," he replied, with a glance around the otherwise empty cafeteria.

     "Can't deny who you really are." His friend smirked with the knowledge that she was getting to him.

     Derek smiled back, "it's too early for that."

     "Ahh, you're no fun."

     "Yeah, you know me. I'm not one to be full out in your face about the whole furry thing. We're all human."

     "Some of the others would disagree with you."

     "Heh. Is that your way of disagreeing?"

     "Nope!" She smiled and picked up her books. "I know I'm human. I just reside in a world bordering the realms of reality and fantasy! It's fun, you know."

     "Yeah, I love fantasy too, but I know that class is a reality. And I know that if anyone else here learns we're furries, we'll both be laughed out of here, so quit talking so loudly about it!"

     She looked down at her phone, "no kidding class is a reality, I've gotta run."

     "Wanna have lunch together after? Maybe enjoy some of the nice weather while it lasts?"

     "Awh, I can't. Got doctors appointment. You know, for that tail I'm growing." She stuck out her tongue at him. "Oh wait, that's not till tomorrow. I'll text you after class, Mr. Dragon."

     "Hey, watch it!"

     "Haha, oookay," She winked and waved and ran out of the cafe.

     The other people that had filed their way into the cafe over the last few minutes gave her a strange look and he tried to turn invisible. Nobody really gave it a second thought as everyone was too busy getting their caffeine fix. Besides that, this was art school, and there were odd people abound so a strange scene like that didn't attract too much attention. He decided to take the few extra moments to himself and take a bit of a rest.

     The teacher was standing up at the front and talking, and paid no heed to his prompt entry. He sat down at a seat and stretched out, as one of his hands reached into his bag for his laptop.

     "What is art?" the teacher said, in his deep droning voice. "Yes, that was a question to the class, just yell out your answer, don't bother putting your hand up..."

     Oh god, it's going to be one of these classes, he thought. His mind drifted a bit as his fingers slid off his keyboard. The only thing he could focus on was the repeated thought, keep your eyes open. Keep your eyes open.

     It was a failing effort.

     "Derek? Derek!"

     "Uh- art, to me... is... uh, subjective. Basically everyone has a different point of view on the matter, and I can't personally settle on a definition of art- because there's a personal view and a social view and both are correct in some ways."

     "That's true, society on a whole may view the idea of 'art' different than an individual."

     He went back to drifting, happy with what he had made up on the spot. His thoughts were outside, soaring through the blue sky, soaking up the sun, or hell, just lying in a field somewhere quiet. The rest of the class was on a similar page. They'd all been through this lecture many times before and were tired of it.

     "Well, I'm sorry that lecture was so boring. Next class we'll do something better, I promise," the teacher said. "Since it's so nice out y'all can go out early and enjoy the weather."

     He packed up his bags, shot off a quick message to his friend, and then grabbed his bags.

     A moment later he got the reply, "still got an hour of class. Wanna go for Pho?"

     "Eff yes!"

     "Cool, I'll meet you there then. Gotta focus, teacher don't lick cell phones."

     "Yes, my teach doesn't lick phones either. The lack of phone-licking is not a strange phenomenon."

     She replied almost immediately, "Lick? Wtf." Then another message came in, "OMG, I meant liek! Grr stupid auto-carrot!!!!!!"

     "Haha. See you soon."

     Derek decided that he would spend the time between now and lunch enjoying the sun, like he was daydreaming of doing earlier. So he wandered out to the field by his school, the one that overlooked the harbour, and he collapsed in a patch of dry grass. It was so lovely and warm that he took his sweater off and used it like a blanket. It felt nice to finally get some sun. Despite having the new computer system to occupy his thoughts the weather was getting to him. Constant rain was not exactly easy on his conscious. He was a creature that was meant to live in the sun. He envisioned himself lying there in the field, all scaled, soaking up the rays. And of course, he imagined himself flying high above the city, seeing the buildings from above and looking down at the humans as if they were specs of dust far below. As much as he enjoyed being one of them, this reality would be far better.

     Back in the real world, he felt an itch. He tried to ignore it and hold onto the dream, but it was rapidly fading as he came back to consciousness, the sounds of voices around him, the sounds of airplanes, cars and city calling him back to life. But most of all, that itch was pulling him back to the real world. It was almost painful, spreading rapidly up his arm.

     He tried to scratch at it, alas, this only made it worse. And finally it was bad enough that he opened his eyes and stared down at his arm. Where his hand should have been was something black and scaly, sleek like a snake, with finger-like claws at the end. He recoiled in shock and made a noise that was somewhere between a ghasp and a growl. The scaled thing moved with him!

     "No," he cried out, "this isn't happening, this isn't real!" but he watched the scales spread with the itch: up over his elbow, which began to reshape painfully. He couldn't understand, why here, why now of all places. Why was he fighting something that he had longed for his entire life? Nothing made sense. His mind was reeling with confusion. Too many questions of how and why sprung forth, but all he could do was watch the burning itch spread up his arm. The more his mind denied it, the more painful and real it got.

     This made him panic even further. It was happening. IT was actually HAPPENING. And as his sleep-deprived mind began to understand, the panic subsided. It didn't matter why, or how. All that mattered was it was happening. Somewhere in his mind welled up a deep desire, something that had been repressed by years in normal life. And as the itching spread across his shoulders and down his chest, he couldn't help but pull his shirt off and watch the progression of skin hardening into deep black and vivid green scales. They were spreading like wildfire, burning almost, but it wasn't painful sensation anymore. Now that he wasn't fighting it, it was almost pleasurable.

     He watched as the scales started spreading down the other arm. Meanwhile, he continued to pull off his shirt, fumbling with the buttons that just didn't seem to work in his newfound paws. He made a frustrated whine: he wanted to watch the transformation happen! He'd waited all his life for this, and now his greatest accomplishment would be hidden by a shirt. It kept getting caught on the spikes jutting out of his elbows and his fingers were getting harder to use. In the end he just tore it off. What he saw made him groan happily: the itching was spreading down his legs now, and scales were forming across his belly. He started pulling at his jeans, trying to get them off. The painful pressure in his pants almost made him cry out, but with a loud RIP! noise, it was relieved. With a happy groan, he watched his tail, his tail!, growing, long and whip-like and covered in the same beautiful sleek black scales, and of course, a ridge of spikes. He swayed it back and forth, feeling each warm blade of grass underneath.

     Someone screamed, but he didn't flinch. He couldn't even think about the world outside of himself. A weight was forming on his shoulders, as was a tight pressure. He turned to watch what was happening next, but could barely keep his eyes open the itching in his face was so strong. He managed to turn, with a non-human dexterity, and stare at the things on his shoulders. First they were lumps, then they looked like scaled arms with hands, then the fingers grew and grew, and soon, the webbing formed between. He tested them with a flap, feeling the air buffet the grass below. He felt his head reshaping and his mouth pushing out. His teeth were sharper and he had horns. But something still wasn't right. He still felt that odd pressure in his body, and things were still crackling. He was getting dizzy, sitting the way he was. He put his forepaws down on the ground and let his weight fall forward.

     And then it was over. He let out a pleasured sigh and looked up, across the field. There was a group of people standing there, a few of them holding cell phones like they were taking video, a few others looking confused and one person tending to another that had passed out. The dragon looked down at himself and grinned a little, then took a step towards the people, to test his balance.

     Perhaps it was the way he was smiling, or the way his shoulders were hunched over in a rather menacing pose, or perhaps it was the pure fact that he had just turned into a winged lizard monster, but that one simple motion seemed to snap the people out of their stupor. Suddenly they were all running and screaming. Well, all of them except the person who was passed out. And the dragon just stood there with his head tilted in confusion. He didn't mean them any harm.

     But now that they were gone it was nice and quiet in the warm field. He could feel the sun on his scales, and it was quickly becoming all he could focus on. It was a lovely warmth that spread through his body, and so he helped himself find a comfortable patch of grass. He had a few minutes to enjoy the sun...

     "Derek! Pay attention! This is University, I shouldn't have to tell you to pay attention, blah blah blah..."

     He jumped, nearly knocking his laptop off of the table. He wasn't paying attention to the gibberish the teacher was saying. All he could focus on was the fact that he was a human again. He looked around the class. Some of his peers were looking at him, but most were drifting off in the most boring lecture ever.

     "Now that this distraction is over, let's get back to societies definition of art..."

     He held his head in his hands. It was so real, how could it have just been a dream. He sighed slightly and stared at his blank page of notes. Another class wasted, as now all he would be able to think about was being a dragon. He could still feel the wings on his back, the tail, even the itch from the scales growing on his body.

     He idly scratched his arm. But what he found wasn't skin. He looked down at his arm and gulped. Oh god no, not now... But the itching was returning in full force, and he could see the scales spreading up his arms. Already his right hand more resembled a draconic paw than a human hand. His feet were getting tight in his shoes and his pants were feeling oddly tight again. Then one of his shoes tore and made a loud noise that made the class look at him.

     "Derek, what is it now?"

     "Sorry," he squawked. "C-can I go to the washroom?"

     "Yeah, whatever. Don't come back. It's obvious that you don't care about me or this class."

     "N-no that's not it- GAH!" in the short span of the argument with the teacher, his face had stared changing. He gazed across his form as the room brightened from his new vision, a vague hope that nobody would notice or care, but by now the entire class had their eyes on him. The intricate green highlights forming across his black scales were glowing slightly.

     He yelped and pushed past the student who was sitting next to him in a b-line for the door. He didn't make it very far. Almost immediately, his bones cracked and he fell to all fours. He managed to crawl his way over to the door and he wrapped his paws around the door handle to to turn it, but he just couldn't get a grip. His shirt ripped as wings formed. Someone yelled. Something heavy slammed into his face. "Hey, hey!" he hissed.

     He backed into the corner as the person who had the guts to hit him with a textbook recoiled. The transformation had ended, leaving him panting on all fours in the corner.

     The entire class had fallen into a hushed silence, but that was broken out by a lone human weakly calling out, “Derek?”

     He managed to make a whining noise as he tried to find his voice.

     One of the students walked up, slowly, carefully, and said, "Derek?"

     "Y-yeah..." he managed to mumble.

     "Oh my god," he said. "That was really frickin cool. Can- can I touch you?"

     Derek nodded a little bit. The student reached up and felt across his scaly muzzle, then down his head and neck.

     "Woah. It's real..."

     Someone turned on a light and Derek shielded his face with a forepaw and hissed. The class edged backwards for a moment, then after an apology they surrounded the dragon, asked him to spread his wings, or just took pictures, or asked him what it felt like to change. He tried his best to reiterate, but it happened so fast and he was having trouble forming words that most of it was lost in a series of hisses and growls. That didn't stop the class from asking though. One of his peers mentioned how cool it was to have a real, live dragon there, and how they were going to be famous for having the first photos of a real dragon.

     And finally, the teacher proclaimed, "what is art? I think we have the answer."

     He was drooling on himself a bit. He looked around the cafe and blinked to clear his vision. He fumbled for his cell phone to check the time, but had to put his head down on his arms again. It hurt, badly.

     "Gahh..." he groaned to himself. There were still enough people in the cafe that he was confident that class had not started yet. He looked at his clock. He had only been asleep for fifteen minutes or so. The dreams had been so nice, but it was time to get back to the real world now.

     He texted his friend, "I just had some really weird dreams."

     She replied, "oh?"

     "Yeah..."

     "Nice. Kinda in class sry."

     He sighed and held his head in his hands again. The headache was going away, but he was itching to talk about the dreams with her. She was one of the only people who would understand. He thought about them a little more and made a conscious effort to not let them fade into oblivion. A dream within a dream was an odd coincidence. Especially when both revolved around transforming into a dragon - and he could remember them so vividly.

     "You did something to me," he messaged her.

     "Hmm?"

     "You and your way of messing with people. You did something to me. Just get down here."

     "I'll come when I can slip out."

     "K."

     He went back to lying with his head on his arms. The headache was coming back, and his face was getting itchy.

     "Oh hell no," he mumbled. He forced his head up and looked for an exit.

     But within that moment, the change was upon him. He made a loud whining noise as his face contorted and his teeth sharpened. Everyone in the cafe was staring at him. Someone laughed awkwardly. They watched him with a cold distance as he fell over, as wings grew, as hands became claws and a muzzle formed. They whispered amongst each other, a foul darkness in their tone of voice. He cried, "help me," but none of them came to his assistance. And soon, the transformation was over and he was left writhing on the floor. This transformation had not been clean. He had tried to fight it and it had sapped the energy out of him, and left his muscles aching.

     "Get that thing- that animal out of here!" someone yelled. "This is a coffee shop, not a pet shop!"

     He felt something clipped around his neck and he opened his eyes.

     "B-but," he tried to stutter, but all that came out was a growling whine.

     "Get it out of here!" the voice yelled again. They were all staring at him, their eyes eating deep into his soul. Then he felt something pulling on his neck. He weakly pushed himself to all fours and followed- he couldn't do much else, as the collar around his neck strangled him when he disobeyed. He tried to yell, tried to speak, but he couldn't manage anything more than animal noises. And then he saw her, his friend, a brief glimpse of her as she came through the back entrance to the cafe. She didn't turn in time to save him from his captor though. He could see a police van at the entrance of the building, the ones that they used for stray dogs, and he dug his heels into the ground. But the choke was rather effective and he found himself following.

     Gods no, he thought. I'm a dragon, I'm suppose to be free!

     He tried to convey this to his captors, but they didn't seem to understand nor care. To them, he was just another animal.

     "Did he give you much trouble?" said a guy at the truck.

     "Not much, I think he's hurt."

     "Ah, well, there's sedatives if you need them in there."

     They threw him in the back of the truck, a stark metal cage of a truck, and then clicked the lock shut. He whined and clawed at the metal doors, but the engine just rumbled as the car drove away from his school, and his previous life.

     "The next station is City Central."

     Derek looked up. "Crap, I've missed my stop!"

     The lady next to him gave him this look that said, 'I don't want to talk to you, why are you talking to me,' then she turned away.

     He looked at his phone, and read a message from his friend. "Breakfast?"

     Derek, replied, "no, I'm a bit preoccupied lol..."

     He looked through the train tunnels. This was the last stop on the line and thus to go in the other direction he had to stay on the train. He watched everyone leave, then a crowd of people fill the train. But he couldn't think of that- his mind was panicing, in a blur of thoughts. He let out a sigh. He'd still be on time for class at this rate, but he couldn't decide if he even wanted to go. His dream had just been that screwed up.

     He let out a sigh. This was the first time he'd ever slept passed his stop. He had twenty minutes or so until he'd pass it again, and so he turned up his music and tried to force himself to stay awake by distracting with phone games. But no matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about it. How real it felt, how wonderful, and how horrible it had been... He sighed to himself. If it happened in real life, then what would happen?

     He looked around the train and wiggled with discomfort in his seat. These train seats sucked. And his pants felt a bit small for him. He looked down at them, noting the odd tightness. "Crap!" he yelled. Everyone on the train who was not zoned out looked at him, which equated to about two people. This was enough to cause massive chaos. Already he didn't look human. His eyes had changed to glowing green slit pupils and his face was darkening. He had horns. He must've looked like a demon. Because it sure made the people who were looking at him scream.

     His tail grew out from behind him and he fell to all fours. His clothing tore- but that didn't matter. He felt someone tackle him and hold him to the ground. He struggled in the stranger's grip, his new muscles working to push the person off of him, but soon there was another on top of him. He bit at the first person and squirmed, feeling his spikes tear through their clothing. Someone grabbed his muzzle and held it to the ground, while others grabbed his waist, belly and legs. He thrashed and screeched, "stop!" but they didn't seem to understand. Someone started hitting him with their shoe. He felt the train shake back and forth.

     "The next station is Midway."

     This would be his only chance for escape. He bit again, the alkaline taste of blood and venom filling his muzzle, and then he headbutted the person off. He flailed and pushed someone away with his wing. He felt something snap in his tail: someone had stepped on it, but it wasn't important. The train was slowing down. He could sense freedom. He pushed his way towards the door, through the hoard of people. The person he had bit was screaming.

     Then he saw the gun. A burly looking guy on the train had it pointed right at him. The doors opened and he tried to leap for freedom, but the last thing he heard was a loud crack echo through the train.

     "What the living fuck," Derek said. He was lying in his bed, wide awake. His alarm was blaring at him, in an effort to inform him that 6:30 AM had rolled around and it was time to get ready for school. He turned it off as he lay in his bed. "Goddammit."

     He was visibly shaken. His entire world had been thrown upside down in a matter of hours. He thought to himself for a moment about the whole incident. He was shaking with adrenaline, and did not feel rested at all. But after a few moments of reflection he came to one conclusion: even the bad dragon dreams were still good.

     "Well," he said to himself, "even in the worst of situations I was still happy as a dragon...” It gave him a moment to reflect on what he wanted life to be like as a dragon. He didn't want to be feared, nor revered. He didn't want to be captive, nor threatened. He just wanted to be... free. He wanted somewhere quiet quiet, somewhere where he could be himself and not have anyone gawking over him. He didn't want to interfere with anyone or have anyone interfere with him. That sounded implausible, yes, but perhaps it was a reality that could be accomplished one day.

     He lay back in bed for a moment and let himself envision what that wonderful reality would be like. After he changed, he'd stay home for the day, then when night fell, he would travel to his special spot in the mountains where he used to go camping as a teen. Out there it was so few humans that he wouldn't likely have any trouble. And there was food, cell service to stay in contact with friends, and caves that he could explore. Maybe he'd bring a solar charger and some comforts of home too. He smiled happily then opened his eyes again, letting himself come back to the real world. He had remembered that he only had a few minutes to get ready for the bus.

     He got up and wandered over to his closet. He pulled off his night clothing and stopped himself. That weird tingling itch was back. He smiled to himself. This time he'd get everything right.

    



I daydream a lot. I wish it was always this productive...

(Omg, I actually uploaded writing? Wat. It's not my best story ever, I just had fun hacking it out at 2am on a work night)

Also said school friend is based on nobody in particular, kinda a mix of a few people I know...
© 2013 - 2024 drekian
Comments107
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

It's been 9 years since I last read a translated version of this story. Ever since that source was lost to time, I've been looking for this. I finally traced back here by cracking the wordplay of "like" - "lick" from the translation. Thank you for keeping the story on this site. Thank you.