Lotus17

Hey hey! In celebration of finally getting bottom surgery, have chapter 2 early!

It turned out that random monster transformations, while not unheard of, weren’t exactly commonplace. This meant there was paperwork. So, so much paperwork.

Even though he had no intention of changing his name, Ian still had to file so many separate agreements confirming that he was indeed a dragon, that he did not become a magical creature to escape any debt or tax burdens, that he wasn’t a danger to himself or others, and about a hundred other things. And then, after we managed to submit what felt like the last bit of work, we found out that anyone not born a dragon had to register under the Hoard Registry of Texas. The realization that we had even more paperwork soured our excited New Years’ celebration.

But on January 18th, everything was finally finished. Ian was officially a dragon. He had a staggering number of things to adjust to, but that was where we were lucky: I was a dragon by birth. I knew all of the necessary ins and outs of being a dragon, and especially dealing with those initial urges to form your first hoard. We didn’t know when those feelings would begin in earnest, he was well past the normal age of adolescence, but we’d burn that bridge when we got to it.

For the moment, it was mostly a ton of adjusting. His humanoid form was just as handsome as his dragon form, but it came with far more baggage. He had to replace over half of his wardrobe to account for how some fabrics felt on his new scales, adjust to suddenly growing five inches, and we had to pay a wizard to enchant his wardrobe in case he transformed into his dragon form unexpectedly.

Beyond that (and the hit to my bank account, because I forced him to let me cover 75% of the cost of everything, including a brand new couch.), there was only one real issue that plagued our household after he transformed: He was too distracting for me to function around. 

Ian was already decently handsome before everything, and I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that sometimes my heart had beat a little more quickly when I saw him come back from a swim or leave the shower. Now, however, he was an active detriment to my focus.

His hair, once a black marked with hints of gray, now had red highlights that seemed to shift in the light. His eyes were now a kind of gold that would entrap me in his gaze, leaving me stunned. He had always kept his body fit and put together, but the natural infusion of strength and physical prowess that came to red dragons made his fitness even more pronounced, on top of the slight height boost he got making him ever so slightly taller than me. 

And all of this was just in his human form. When I finally got a chance to see him fly, it was like watching a shooting star. He was clumsy, at first, but after some practice soared through the air as though he’d been made for it. And when the sun shone down on him at just the right angle, it was like looking at an angel. 

And I just couldn’t stop thinking of him. It wasn’t like normal distant crushes I’d had on others growing up, where I could imagine things like holding hands or spending time together at a beautiful vista. This was far, far worse. 

I’d been imagining Ian with a partner, another dragon. She was smaller than him, with vibrant violet scales of her own. As dragons they flew together, engaging in a beautiful dance of fire and lightning in the sky. When back home in human form they cuddled while watching movies, nuzzled up to one another, and lived what felt to me like a perfect domestic life together. It was beautiful.

But I couldn’t stop feeling like I should have been her. I came up with this imaginary scenario in my head, what should have been my dream, and all I could think about was the imaginary violet dragon and how it would have felt to be her. I could never begin to explain how that felt or think about how to talk about this to anyone, so I didn’t.

I bottled everything up. I resolved to spend more time in my room while Ian was home, and did the household chores only when Ian had left for work. Ian seemed to understand that I needed to spend more time to myself, and by March he stopped asking if I wanted to watch a movie or play games. It hurt, but I didn’t remotely know how to explain how I was feeling.

And of course I couldn’t use my job as an excuse in the slightest. Ian knew digital runecrafting wasn’t terribly difficult for me, and I had the benefit of working from home and picking my own hours. He knew when I used ‘work needs me’ as an excuse for the fourth time in a row that I was avoiding him.

Worst of all, even avoiding Ian wasn’t fixing things. My distracted thoughts, those stupid fantasies, had begun to affect my dreams, and sometimes Ian wasn’t even involved. I’d just dream about her all over again, the dragon who could’ve been my sister, had I any history of lightning in my veins. When I woke up, usually beginning to feel content and at home before I realized the body I’d been forced into, it was always a recipe for a terrible day.

The status quo stayed like this until May. It wasn’t even anything special. My mother’s birthday had passed a few days ago, and Ian and I were eating the last of the leftovers my family insisted I bring home to “that new dragon friend of yours.”. I avoided his gaze for as long as I could, and did the bare minimum when it came to small talk. I thought we’d move on and it’d end up one of our new normal nights, but just before I could start on the dishes Ian finally spoke up.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, the worry in his voice like arrows piercing my heart.

“No, not at all,” I said, far too quickly. I hated making him feel this way, but even after months I had no idea how to deal with him. 

“Then what’s up? You’ve been avoiding me for months, Ollie, and don’t think I haven’t kept track. I let you have your space, but you won’t talk to me.”

I froze. What could I say? What would make anything okay? Before I could begin to speak up, he continued. “Is it because I’m a dragon now? Is that what’s causing all of this?”

“No,” I said instantly. No matter how I felt, I couldn’t let him believe that. “I would never think less of you because of who you are. Never in a million years.” For the first time in an age I managed to meet his beautiful golden eyes. I needed him to see how serious I was about that. 

“Then why?” 

I took a deep breath. I could feel the heat rise within me. A not insignificant part of me wanted to let the fire out and be done. I could be like my ancestors and burn my bridges, head for the furthest reaches of society, and pretend that I was content with the oppressive loneliness. 

But I pushed the flame down, I ignored that cursed fire that had been a companion my whole life. Instead, I finally met his eyes, and a fire danced within them. For a split second I wanted to tell him the truth about my fantasies and dreams, to trust him with everything I’d been holding in. But then I looked away from him and let myself tell a different, no less true, story. “I’m jealous.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes as I admitted this truth. It wasn’t the full truth by a long shot, but even it was terrifying. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’m jealous of you, Ian. You fit your form, your true form so well that it hurts.” I was shaking by the time I finished explaining myself. I still couldn’t look into his eyes. This wasn’t my real shame, I could never go into detail about that, but it was a truth. Something I could admit to both Ian and myself.

Even if this wasn’t the full truth, I was still too afraid to look into his eyes and face the music. I was ready to give up and leave the conversation behind, pretend like it never happened, when I felt two arms wrap around me. Warmth enveloped me in a way that only matched the gentle flame burning within. 

“I’m sorry, Ollie. I didn’t realize you were going through this all on your own.” 

I shook in his arms until I couldn’t handle the guilt of what I was still hiding, and gently pushed him away. “You’re fine, Ian. Really. I’m the one who hurt you by hiding everything inside of myself, that doesn’t make it your fault.”

Ian didn’t seem to agree, but at my insistence he dropped it. “Alright. I don’t think you should just bottle this up, but I get it.” It didn’t seem like he got it, but I wasn’t one to complain. “Well, if we’re finally talking again, would you like to get your ass kicked at Mario Kart?”

Absolutely nothing could have kept the smile on my face from taking over. “I’d love that.”