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nonhumanresources · 7 months

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Caramel Changes

Here's one to get you into the spirit of the season! Short two page TF written all the way back in October 2017, when I did a series of stories for the season. I'd love to do more, autumn is my favorite time of year.

Summary: you get a weird piece of candy while trick or treating. You probably shouldn't eat that. You do.

What to expect: second person caramel-coating bird TF.

Length: 1.2k words. Fun fact, it's actually 1200 exactly including the title; I usually round.

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“Trick-or-treat!” you shout, holding out a pillowcase nearly filled to the brim. The frail old woman standing in the doorway smiles, showing off her three teeth.

“Oooh, hello there!” she says, her voice as rusty as the hinges on the door. “I’ve got some very exotic candy for you tonight! I made it myself, you know!” There’s a twinkle in her eye as she speaks, dropping a single wrapped caramel in each of your friend’s pillowcases, ending with yours, giving you a toothy smile and a small wink. She waves goodbye as you thank her and turn from the door, walking back down the weedy, unkempt walkway of cracked cement and back to the smooth sidewalk to continue your annual night of candy gathering.

One of your friends stops next to a trash can sitting out on the curb. He pulls out the caramel and tosses it into the black depths, never again to be seen by human eyes - unless someone happened to be living in the city dump.

“We should throw these away. If that old hag really made them herself, there’s no telling what she might have put inside,” he says to the group. One by one, your friends mumble in agreement and pull out their own caramels, each piece sharing the fate of the first. Soon enough, everyone is down one candy and ready to move on.

Well, everyone but you.

Story below the cut, or here if you prefer to read on a Google doc. If you made it this far I am kissing you full on the lips platonically. Or is it platonic? It's queer, that's for sure. Comments/questions/thoughts always appreciated!

You hesitate, staring at the small square. Why would an old lady want to do something like poison candy? She had seemed nice enough. Besides, she was the only person so far who had seemed excited to be handing out free candy. While that was suspicious, to you, it seemed more kindly than anything. You tuck the caramel back into your bag. Your friends stare at you in surprise.

The lead boy shrugs and turns around, tossing a remark over his shoulder. “It’s your funeral!”

You shrug in turn and reply. “Whatever. Let’s go get more candy!”

The night moves on, and you load up on more and more candy until lifting your pillowcase becomes a full-body workout. A couple hours later, you’re shouting a farewell to your friends as they make the trek home. You nearly fall inside your bedroom door, exhausted. You dump your candy bag on the floor and fall over onto your bed, where one of the two pillows is missing it’s cover. You start to drift into sleep, but before you can enter the realms of dreams, you realize with a start: you hadn’t eaten a single piece of candy! Despite being around sweets for hours, you hadn’t eaten even a single branded chocolate; saving your Halloween candy was essential. One piece couldn’t hurt, though. You decide on something small - not too big, but not tiny, either. Something like…

...the caramel. You dig around in your pillowcase and pull it out. Now that you were in the light of your room, you could see colorful swirling patterns breaking up the normal monotone tan of caramel. What had the lady said? It was exotic? Whatever it was, it was like no other caramel you had ever seen, and it looked delicious.

Unrolling the clear wrapper, you pop it into your mouth, excited. Some inevitably sticks to your fingers. The soft caramel melts in your mouth, spreading across your tongue, and down your throat. It leaves you with a warm feeling, almost like soft, warm butter being spread on your insides.

The caramel in your mouth thickens just a bit, sticking to your teeth. You try to work it around in your mouth, but it grows even thicker, locking your jaw in place. The warm feeling grows hot, and you hold a hand to your stomach as you start to feel nauseous.

As you move your hand, you notice that your fingers refuse to bend. You look down in surprise. The caramel on your fingers had spread, coating your whole hand and locking it in place. You start to panic as the candy creeps across your body, spreading outwards from your hand and your stomach - some had gotten lodged on your shirt, too. Your clothes are pressed against you so tightly, they almost seem to become part of you. You hunch over as you are coated in sticky caramel. For a few seconds, your whole body is locked in place. You feel a pressure against your face, like the caramel was pushing into it. Or maybe your nose was pushing out of the caramel? Your arms feel are pulled around your stomach, and they almost seem to squish outwards, wrapping around yourself.

Soon - at least, you think it was soon; caramel had coated your perception of time, as well, leaving it slow-moving and awkward - soon, the caramel begins to loosen and the hot feeling begins to subside. You stomp, trying to knock the caramel off of your feet. You try to wiggle your toes, but they are… unwieldy. You quickly see why, as the caramel breaks off, revealing two large sets of talons on the ends of two large three-toed feet.

You pry your arms away from your sides as you wobble around on your now-pointy feet, trying to keep your balance. The caramel rips away along with them, hanging down in tattered shreds. It starts to fall away, dropping to the ground and revealing brightly colored wings underneath the hanging tatters instead of pink skin. You flap them frantically and fall over backwards.

Your caramel shell shatters all across your backside, and a huge tail covered in brilliant hues unfurls behind you, spreading the length of the room. You yell in surprise, but your face is still covered in caramel. The effort tears away the candy covering your nose and mouth. A huge SQUAWK echoes out, and you fling your hands to your face. Feathered wings meet a large beak, and you let out another surprised squawk.

Dizzy, you stumble upright and totter up to your mirror, your long tail dragging across the wooden floor behind you. What you see isn’t surprising, but it is still shocking: a huge bird, feathers askew, stares back at you from the mirror. You blink; the bird, your new form, blinks back. You realize that because of your many colors, you are most likely now male, regardless of any prior truth to that fact.

Your exhaustion gone, you flap your wings experimentally and rise a few inches into the air, your amazing plumage fragmenting the light into soft, multicolored shafts that decorate your room like a disco ball. While being a bird was disorienting, it certainly was dazzling. You drop back to the floor, talons clicking on wood. You aren’t nearly as clumsy now.

I could get used to this… you think, flexing your claws. An idea forms, and you smile as best you can with your curved beak. You hop onto your windowsill and pop open the latch, wriggling out into the night air. Why not go out for a night flight? After all, it’s not like matters could get much worse, and you could always stop by the old woman’s house to see if she had a cure.

Maybe later, though. After all, you don’t become a bird every day.

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