FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Kinktober 2025

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Becoming the Kronosaurus

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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“This is weird…”

Colin shook his head, standing on the side of the huge tank, though he had expected that. What he had not anticipated was a tank of that volume, filled and channelled with seawater as the ocean air picked his slightly longer hair from the back of his neck and around his ears. The coastal facility was a branch of a division looking for a veterinary intern for the creatures in their care – and he’d, of course, anticipated marine mammals.

Yet there didn’t even seem to be a formal vet on site, regardless of what else was going on there. Colin rubbed the back of his neck and stepped out on to a platform. It was weird that no one else was there, considering he was asked to head out to the tank and platform for the day. Had he missed someone? The platform shifted under his feet, but it was not too hard to balance on. It was the kind of floating, wooden platform, attached to the side of the tank where people could move back and forth to access the animals supposedly inside.

Still, there wasn’t anything and he scuffed the sole of his slip-proof shoes along the damp wood. Underneath him, the platform moved and he went down to one knee, tapping his fingers against the end of the planks.

“Hmph?”

He grunted, bringing a hand to the side of his neck where something stuck from him. Muttering under his breath, Colin winced and yanked it free, anticipating that a flying insect had stung him. Instead of something previously living in his hand, a small dart with a blue crystal-like tip to the end that wouldn’t have impacted his skin rolled across his palm. He blinked at it, pulling back a little as his brow furrowed. What the hell was that? Had they been trying to dart some other animal and gone awry?

None of that, however, mattered, for he had already passed the point of no return.

“Unngghhh!”

He groaned, his back arching suddenly, shoulder blades pushing back as his head tipped back in turn, pulse jumping in his throat. Colin’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, saliva drying in his open mouth.

He would have run, if he could. But Colin wasn’t going to be running anytime soon. The oceanic breeze swept and curled around him as if it was ripping at his clothes, trying to tear them form his frame, though that was merely good time. For those watching the proceedings, recording and making notes on yet another capture for the program, it merely added to the dramatic effect.

Huffing, he heaved down, kicking and flailing on his side, head nearly hanging out over the water. Colin’s eyes rolled back into his head briefly, obscuring his vision, but looking ahead of him once more didn’t help as his vision darted in and out of blurring, sending a wave of dizziness through him.

He heaved, striving to get his hands out in front of him, but he couldn’t do it anymore. They wouldn’t move, his limbs growing dull and stiff, too heavy. In horror, he looked down at his hand – well, what he could see of it, that was. His fingers twitched and tried to grab out, even at his own clothes, but his skin pulsed and rippled, fingers folding together where he could still just about see them.

For Colin’s head didn’t want to tip down anymore either, his neck stiff but without pain. No, the pain came in the crackling of his spine, stretching out and out and out, his clothes tightening around a body that no longer at all felt like his.

He heaved and retched, but nothing came out, throat sore and aching as his head spun and spun. Yet there was nothing Colin could do as he twisted, on his back again and looking up at the sky.

Grey clouds scudded anxiously across a blue sky, though it was swiftly filling with clouds, as if a storm was rolling in. The back of his head pressed to the wooden boards, but felt like it was flattening and smoothing out, his face suddenly bulging and pressing out from his nose and lips.

“Unff!”

He grunted, working his jaw, though no words he recognised came out as his fingers all melded together and his feet seemed to swell, pushing out against the limits of his shoes. But none of that really mattered, even though there was a part of Colin that would have lamented losing the new clothing he’d purchased just for his new intern gig.

His head reeled, trying to grapple with what was happening, though it was all ultimately a failing. He gasped for air, nostrils no longer pulling in vital oxygen, but there was no going back as his nostrils… Well, they didn’t seem to at all be in the right place anymore.

He could not have known how they were travelling across his blue-grey skin to the top of his snout, a little closer to his eyes than before. All he felt was the pull of his skull changing, allowing the sinus passages to shift and crunch as a dull throb spread through his head. At least he could still breathe.

His chest expanded, along with his stomach and hips, arms thickening in his sleeves. They were not arm-shaped anymore and he fought with how he was changing, how his body rippled and flowed, flesh moulding to another form that was simply out of his control.

Maybe humanity had never truly been in control. Perhaps that was something Colin should have understood all along.

But it didn’t matter, even if he wouldn’t give up on trying to understanding, huffing and panting, breath flowing through his lungs more easily, even if it didn’t feel right. His jacket tore, along with his shirt, but it didn’t feel like it was down the seams but straight across the chest. Maybe it had been poorly made, but his tougher, hiking trousers (waterproof, of course) didn’t hold up for anything more than a few moments.

He made a strangled, groaning scream that would have been more suited to a horror flick than coming from his lips at that time. It almost sounded watery and his throat ached as his neck extended, though it still felt thick and unwieldy, like layers of flesh were being pulled along his body.

Colin thickened, his collar tearing and clothes increasingly hanging from him in shreds. What had been his groin tingled and his manhood pulled back into his body, though the smoothing and softening there was one of the more pleasant sensations. His shoes clung to the end of what had been a foot, though he was able to flex and twist his body just enough to see that it was flipper-like, though still narrower than any flipper he’d honestly seen.

His heart hammered and Colin would have felt faint if his world was not already cracking, the fabric of reality he’d once known shattering in an instant. Again, Colin rolled, head over the water as his eyes blurred, moving, seemingly, to the sides of his head a little more. They still, however, remained somewhat forward-facing: that meant they were predatory. He didn’t know why that notion remained in his mind, but it felt right, like a little piece of the puzzle slotting into place.

His face had extended into a snout, teeth aching as they pulled into points, but the bases were still chunkier where they slotted into his jaw. Trying and failing to think clearly, he grunted as he opened his mouth, swinging his head back and forth lightly, though he felt more like a fish out of water than ever before, wobbling on a fleshy stomach that seemed covered with a lightly leathery skin. It seemed like a mix of reptilian skin and marine mammal skin, but neither made sense.

Colin’s heart hammered, his ribcage expanding to give more shape to his form, the ribs aching as they elongated to match. Yet the greatest strain as he vaguely strove to watch his change, to get a grip on his own reality, came from the vertebrae in his spine extending, one after the other. The crackling crunch made him want to arch his back and heave, but it pushed out and out, the shreds of his clothes hanging from what could only be a thick, lengthening tail.

The rot ran deep as he flailed, his stomach and chest flattening out and widening, though he remembered something like what he was becoming. It had been in his little pack of toy dinosaurs when he’d been much younger, a boy not a man, and his stomach tried to lurch, even if there was nothing in there for him to relinquish from his jaws.

Kronosaurus. He shouldn’t have been able to pinpoint the species so easily, but he’d been obsessed with dinosaurs (it was not actually a true dinosaur) when he’d been younger, like many boys. Nausea clawed at him, but there was no stopping the irrevocable shifting as the wooden boards bore firmly against him, his body feeling too weighty and heavy, ungainly where he was.

He tried to waggle his flippers, finding that he was able to turn them a little as they grew larger and flatter, the ends rounding but still coming to softer “points.” Colin tried to blink but found that wasn’t necessary anymore – or at least how it had been for a mammal walking and existing on land.

Things were going to change and it was up to him to manage it.

Something inside him steeled, finding an inner strength Colin had not even known he had for himself. He tried to clench his jaw, feeling how those new teeth slotted into one another, every single one having its own place in a mouth that needed to be open – catching fish, he was sure. At least Kronosaurus breathed air and didn’t need gills, though that meant he’d have to learn to swim – and quickly too. Or else he wouldn’t be able to get back to the surface to breathe.

Grunting, Colin did the only thing he thought he could as he rolled, lurching and heaving and wobbling right up to the edge of the platform. It swayed under him, clearly not designed to hold something of his leak, but there was only so much length to the planks. Eventually, more of the Kronosaurus than not protruded over the edge and he tipped, swaying with a splash down into the cool embrace of the saltwater.

He twisted, flailing. His tail didn’t want to work and he instinctively wanted to use his “arms and legs” to swim, but he didn’t have them anymore. As his transformation slipped towards completion, he would only later find that his underbelly was pale while his upper side was a darker steely grey, allowing him camouflage for hunting he would not really need to undertake.

This isn’t real, Colin thought, shaking himself and swinging his head back and forth, as if the ability to think had returned to him in a flourish: previously gripped by the transformation. I’m not…

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Yet he was a man of common sense and his body rippled as everything settled into place, discomfort fading as he flicked his tail and swam back to the glittering barrier between water and air.

I am. I am not…what I was.

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It was too real, all felt in the contraction and flex of new muscles. If he didn’t think too much, it seemed to come more naturally to him, though that felt like he was letting go of the last human part of him too. His fingers wanted to twitch, ghostly on the ends of his flippers, but it would take Colin some time to realise fully that he no longer had the use of them.

To those studying his transformation, they’d find it more useful, in the end, to have their subjects transform with their minds becoming truly animalistic. That had been a problem, when the human had ended up trapped within the dinosaur, fighting back and planning while trying to retain creature-like behaviours. But they played with that for their own whims, blending that intelligence with instinct to create the perfect amalgamation of dinosaur and “transformed human.”

Colin was just a guy who saw the wrong advert for an intern position at the wrong time. But the program got the Kronosaurus they wanted.

And, soon, they would have a mate for their new breeding male…