Here's the whole story! Sorry about the lack of formatting - I can't really go through and edit the whole thing. Check out the link above for one that has indents!
Pheagle sighed. Why had he thought it was a good idea to bring Stephen along?
The huge football player stood in the middle of a forested path, waiting for the much smaller Stephen to catch up. It had seemed like a good idea at first, but after a half hour Pheagle was regretting his hasty decision.
“Thanks… for waiting... “ Stephen huffed, coming up alongside the beefy wide receiver.
“No problem. Are you sure there’s no way that you could maybe run just a bit faster?” Pheagle asked, trying to be polite. “I really don’t want to be late getting back…” He didn’t want to be rude, but he really did have to get back soon. It was Halloween, and he wanted to be inside and ready before the candy craze started.
Pheagle had been about to go out on his nightly jog when he had bumped into Stephen. After a few minutes of light conversation, Pheagle had mentioned that he was going running. One thing led to another, and pretty soon Stephen was puffing after him, trying to keep up.
Stephen stood with his hands on his knees for a few seconds. Sweat glistened on his forehead, glinting off the large, ruby-red gemstone embedded there. “I’ll try to go faster… how about we walk for a second? Once I catch my breath, we can start running again.”
Pheagle nodded and stepped to the side, letting Stephen pass him. The path wasn’t very wide, so they had to walk in single file. Off to either side, trees stretched off into the distance. Their leaves were falling, and they coated the ground, almost covering the asphalt path. The sun shone through the leaves still attached to the trees, giving everything a golden cast.
Stephen’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Hey, didn’t you say that this was an open path?” he said, sounding more than a little confused.
“Yeah, it is,” Pheagle said, turning his attention away from the leaves.
“Then why is there a house on it?”
“Why is there… wait, what?” Pheagle looked ahead, then stumbled to a stop, gaping. On the path in front of them, a small house was haphazardly perched, tilting precariously to the side.
“Okay, that definitely wasn’t there before,” Pheagle said in shock.
“Where do you think it came from?” Stephen asked.
“It’s mine!” A creaky voice cried out from behind them. Pheagle spun around, almost smacking into Stephen, who wobbled a bit before righting himself. A portly old man wearing a dirty robe waddled up behind them, scowling. “Don’t you think about touching it, either! It took way too much work to get here for it to be messed up by a pair of budget-costumers!” The old man shoved his way past the pair of runners and walked up towards the door of the tiny house.
“What do you mean, budget-costumers?” Pheagle said, staring at the old man. Where had he come from? “We’re not even dressed up!”
The old man sniffed and turned back, staring at him reproachfully. “I mean, those… things!” he said, gesturing at their entire bodies. “They’re lazy at best! I can see right through them!”
Pheagle was thoroughly confused. He and Stephen weren’t wearing costumes at all. What was there to see through? “Who are you?” Pheagle asked, deciding to go with a direct approach.
“Bah! People these days, never treating an old man like they should!” The man spun around, his robe spreading out around him. “I’m the Hallowarlock! You may bow now.” Pheagle blinked as color shot across his robe in a flash, then gone in an instant.
“What’s a Hallowarlock?” Stephen piped up. “I’ve never heard of it.”
The old man seemed taken aback. “Never heard of me?!” he yelled, aghast. “How could you have never heard of me?! Oh, how far we’ve fallen…” The man hung his head, his whole body seeming to droop. Pheagle thought it was more than a bit over done. Who was really that dramatic?
He began mumbling again, and Pheagle strained his ears, trying to hear. “How could they have never heard of the Hallowarlock? Patron of costumes and candy, Wanderer of the Suburban Wilds, Harbinger of Cavities…” What was he talking about? It sounded like nonsense. Interesting nonsense, but nonsense nonetheless.
Regardless, this was taking too long. Pheagle was done with this Hallowarlock and his tricks. He tried to walk forward, intending to circle the house and be on his way, but something stopped him. He pushed at the air in front of him, and it pushed back, unmoving. It was like he was in an aquarium with crystal-clear glass. The Hallowarlock lifted his head slightly and cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You think I’m letting you go? No no no, this tragedy must be corrected!” Suddenly, he was standing up straight again, waving his arms around. Now that he was speaking louder, Pheagle could hear a deep bassline in his voice. It gave it a melodic quality.
Stephen pushed against the invisible barrier next to Pheagle. He looked more than a little nervous. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”
Pheagle shook his head and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the Hallowarlock let out another booming shout. “I’m talking about you two! Those costumes just won’t do, not by Winter’s scraggly neckbeard! I’ll have you fixed up and ready to hit the streets in no time!” The Hallowarlock squeezed his hands into fists, then pointed a pinky each at Stephen and Pheagle. Pheagle felt a force seize his chest, and his feet lifted off the ground.
“H-hey! What are you doing?!” he shouted, trying to escape whatever had grabbed him. “You little-SQUAWK!” Pheagle coughed in surprise. Mid-sentance, a beak had shot out of his face, taking over his nose and mouth. Panicked, and more than a little angry, he tried to shout at the Hallowarlock, but all that came out was more squawking. He would have to wait until the transformation halted to be able to talk again. His shoes burst open as his feet expanded into a set of huge talons, along with his hands. Feathers started to creep along his body, covering him from head to toe. He started to grow larger, clothes bursting at the seams as his frame became too much for them to handle.
Hearing a yelp beside him, Pheagle twisted his head towards Stephen. From what he could see, he was undergoing similar changes, albeit much more scaly. Stephen yelped again as a large pair of bright yellow wings pushed out of his back, then out of his shirt. The shredded remains of the shirt fell to the ground, revealing Stephen’s upper body, now covered with scales. A tail whipped out into view behind him, swinging back and forth as it grew to the length of his body.
Pheagle felt his own transformation slowing. He flexed his talons as best he could, still trapped by that mysterious force. Suddenly, that force dissipated, and he was dropped to the ground, panting. Transforming into his eagle form was exhausting, even more so when it was unexpected. Glancing to the side, Pheagle saw that Stephen had been replaced with a large, yellow dragoness. What was her name? Mehlaphuse? She was Stephen’s true form. He had seen him turn into her before, but it was still shocking for a split second.
So this was what the Hallowarlock had meant by their ‘costumes.’ Pheagle was a shapeshifter, and Stephen was really Mehl in disguise. The warlock had simply forced them to change into their other forms. Normally, Pheagle wasn’t too torn up about it, but this time, his shirt was - it was in tatters on the ground. The wings that had popped out of his back had been too much for it to handle. Pheagle scowled. That was one of his favorite shirts.
He worked his beak side to side, finally managing to get out a couple words. “What was that for?!” he roared at the Hallowarlock, who was grinning ear to ear. His voice was slightly nasally and higher pitched than it was normally.
“I got rid of those horrid costumes!” he replied, fidgeting with his robe. He tried to brush some of the dirt off, smearing it down his front. “Back in my day, we actually put effort into our Halloween costumes. I would make you do the same, but seeing as it’s already Halloween night, I’ll help you out!”
Stephen - now Mehlaphuse the dragoness - growled at him. “Haven’t you already done enough?” she said, her voice now higher than it was before. It had a hard edge to it, like a mother scolding a child.
“Of course not!” the Hallowarlock laughed, holding his stomach. “You two aren’t even in costumes anymore, not even those cheap skin sacks you had on before.”
“Well, to everyone else, we’re in amazing costumes. What more is there to do?”
“Oh, I think there’s a lot more that I can do!”
The Hallowarlock raised both his hands into the air, wiggling his fingers frantically. Pheagle stepped forward and reached out, trying to stop him, and ran straight into the barrier again. The Hallowarlock chuckled at him, then refocused on his hands.
Pheagle growled, his avian beak and throat making the sound come out distorted. It sounded more singsong than he intended. He flexed his taloned hands angrily. He anger was starting to get the best of him, and he could feel it bubbling, urging him to act. Before he could start screaming at the old, dirty man, however, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced over. It was Mehl’s tail.
“C’mon,” she whispered, “let’s get out while he’s distracted!” She began backing up slowly, trying not to let the Hallowarlock notice. He was intent upon his hands, waving them to and fro and chanting. Pheagle began following Mehlaphuse, avoiding as many of the crunchy leaves coating the ground as possible.
Mehl stopped short, having only gone about ten feet. “Drat!” she hissed softly. Pheagle glanced behind her and saw why. Her tail was shoved up against another invisible wall. How powerful was this mage?
Suddenly, Pheagle felt the same force from earlier seize him again, shoving his wings against his back.
“Hey!” He shouted, struggling, trying to free himself for the second time. “What are you -” he was cut off as the force clamped his beak shut. Next to him, Mehl managed to break free, headgem glowing brightly, but only for a moment before the force clamped down upon her.
In front of them, the Hallowarlock chuckled. “Did you think I would let you two munchkins run away?” He had his hands out to the sides, and it seemed as if there was a glowing ball cupped in each of his palms. “You should be thanking me, not scampering off!”
Mehl tried to speak, but she had been silenced as well. The Hallowarlock raised his hands above his head, grinning. “Here we go!” he shouted, thrusting one hand towards each of the two shapeshifters. The balls of light shot forwards, twisting through the air, and buried themselves deep inside Pheagle and Mehl’s chests. Pheagle gasped as it twirled inside him, branching out and spreading, sending pure, transformative magic throughout his body. For the second time that night, he could feel himself changing, but this time he grew smaller - not by much, but it was a more reasonable size than his avian form. His talons stayed, but they changed shape, becoming the claws of a different predator. He could feel his feathers pressing onto his body, melting together and separating all at the same time, becoming small, smooth, pink scales. His hands and feet went from avian talons to large paws, with soft pads to contrast the razor-sharp claws. His wings followed suit, the scales covering them, going from feathers to tough, reptilian skin almost in the blink of an eye. The feathers of his tail pulled in, light spraying out from them as they fused into a single, solid mass.
By this point, the scales had reached his face. They covered it, squishing his skull out as they went, lengthening it in order to push his beak into a long, delicate snout. He even felt his tongue change - the short stump of an eagle to the long, forked tongue of a dragon.
Just like before, he managed to twist his head to the side, trying to spot Mehl. When he did, he almost gasped in surprise - she looked like she was melting. Her bright yellow scales were drooping, sagging towards the ground. Soon, he couldn’t even make out her stomach plates, just one large mass of dripping yellow goo. Her wings sank down into the roiling mass, disappearing along with her horns. Pheagle shivered as he watched her whole head follow suit, slowly being assimilated into the huge clump of goop that was Mehlaphuse. Even her headgem melted into her body, becoming a red streak in the uniform yellow surface.
Pheagle gasped as the light inside him began to crawl back out of his limbs, grouping back in his chest. Compared to it’s heat and intensity, his body felt cold wherever it left. When it pulled out of his legs, oddly, it made them feel bloated, especially as it passed by his hips. It was a strange feeling.
The light boiled in his chest. He felt it heave, once, twice, pushing against his sternum. It was trying to escape his body. Giving one final shove, the light pushed out of him. For a second, he still felt connected to it, like his chest was being pulled outward. Finally, the light broke it’s connection with him, and he dropped to the ground, exhausted - yet again - from the strain of transforming from one shape into another. He held up an arm in front of his face, and he didn’t recognize it at all. Instead of human flesh or leathery avian skin, he was covered in muted pink scales. On his hand, he was wearing a silky black glove. Had that been there before? Pheagle reached down and pushed himself off the ground slowly. His balance felt off. It was like he was going to tip over and fall on his face. He glanced down and quickly found out why.
In addition to forcing him to become a dragon, the Hallowarlock had apparently changed his gender.
Pheagle groaned. He hated switching pronouns.
He - er, she - climbed to her feet slowly. Her torn up jogging outfit had been replaced with a black dress. It was tight through her shoulders and waist, which were both noticeably smaller, but it loosened around her hips, allowing for a greater range of movement. It was a little tight near her bust, but that seemed more for practicality than anything else. It hung down to her ankles, the billowy folds just barely touching the ground. It seemed to ripple in an unfelt wind. She blushed slightly as she noticed the dipping neckline, but it could have been worse. She had another stiff, gauzy layer on underneath, and it kept the dress from showing much other than a hint of cleavage.
Thank goodness for that, she thought as she inspected the rest of her body. Her hands had black gloves, and she was surprised to notice that her feet did, too. They were almost like socks, but stiffer. She could still see the shape of each paw through them. A large hat was on her head, with long hair poking out from underneath it, and it was tied under her chin with a small lace ribbon.
She flexed her wings and swished her tail, disoriented. She was used to feeling the air slide in between her feathers, but now it slipped over scales instead. It was strange and unsettling, though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Pheagle was now both a dragon and a witch - not to mention female. She sighed. Why did things like this always happen?
Hearing a loud snort, Pheagle looked up sharply. The Hallowarlock was laughing at her.
“Enjoying your new costume?” he asked, grinning at her. He seemed more lively now; his cloak had changed to a deep red instead of the mud-brown of dirt.
In response, Pheagle spat at the ground. Or, well, he slobbered at the ground - dragon snouts aren’t made for spitting.
The Hallowarlock tutted at him and shook his head. “No appreciation these days… Well, how about you?” he said, turning to look at Mehlaphuse. What used to be Mehlaphuse, at least. Now, it was just a big puddle of yellow goo with a few red highlights that was spread over the path. “How are you enjoying your costume?”
Pheagle growled at him. “How do you think she’s supposed to answer?” Her voice had risen at least an octave, and it bounced around inside her head. She wasn’t used to having such a high voice.
The Hallowarlock smirked at her. “Give it time…”
Pheagle sighed and folded her arms. While she wanted to run up and give the stupid mage a good smack on the nose, it probably wasn’t wise, for a couple reasons. One, she wasn’t sure what magic he’d use to react, and two, her arms didn’t feel nearly as strong now as they normally did. While she was taller than her human form, she was also more slight, almost willowy.
She jumped almost a foot into the air when Mehl’s voice reverberated out of the blob. “Of c-course not!” she shouted. Her voice buzzed out of the blob, vibrating the whole mass, making it shake like gelatin in an earthquake. The goo shivered, then a paw broke the surface of it, almost immediately melting back into the rest. After another few seconds, the surface of the goo erupted and formed into a misshapen, dripping dragon. “I don’t even have a form! How does this even qualify as a costume?!”
The Hallowarlock just laughed at them. “Of course it’s a costume! It’s the best kind, too; you can change it whenever you’d like!”
“That doesn’t mean I wanted it!”
“Yeah!” Pheagle yelled, his face turning purple - not red - with rage. “Why would you do this? I don’t want to be female, a dragon, or a witch!!”
“You’re the lucky one,” the old man cackled, “the yellow one doesn’t even have a gender!” Mehlaphuse’s puddle let out a small shriek at that.
In a moment, Pheagle was screaming at the Hallowarlock, her anger bubbling over the edge. Mehl even joined in, her goop boiling and hissing. The Hallowarlock just kept on laughing.
“While this is all very entertaining, I must be off! I have to be good and gone by the time Halloween night comes to a close. Good luck with those costumes!” He winked, then grinned eerily at them. “And good luck taking them off!” With that, the Hallowarlock bounced to the house sitting on the path, leaped inside the door, then slammed it shut. In a moment, it was starting to disappear.
“Wait!” Pheagle ran towards the house, the barriers no longer holding her in place. “Change us back!” Just as he reached the front door, it fully vanished, and Pheagle was left groping at thin air, her paws empty.
Mehlaphuse formed up from the ground next to her. This time, she formed the shape of a tall, vaguely humanoid creature with large, pointed ears.
“Uh oh…” she whispered, staring at the empty space where the house, and their chance of getting these ‘costumes’ removed, had been.
Pheagle stomped the ground and roared, fire spurting from her mouth. This was going to be a long Halloween.
