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It was sickening. Painful even just to think about. Deterioration. Even still feeling young, his body had turned against him, squandered what was meant to be the peak, and set a long, slow course towards a living rot. Already feeling his joints and mental capacity decline over months, there were Monday mornings when it felt almost as good to skip to the end of life rather than await its inexorable approach.

To that end, Adam had been entered into a clinical trial for a revolutionary form of antidepressant. They hadn't nailed the formulation yet, no, this was more just to check the active ingredient, and so it had to be administered intravenously. He didn't really understand the science behind it, and they weren't really offering explanations. Having to show up every two weeks to get jabbed with a few needles, one with the drug and the others to take some test samples, did get him in the building, though. Sometimes he'd head to the bathroom while waiting, and have a conversation with a loose-lipped worker, and heard some very interesting secrets.

“Its like a performance enhancing drug on steroids."

“Isn't that what they already are?"

“Not always, but its a colloquialism anyways. I just mean its like, the stuff, man."

The manner of its description aside, it was still interesting. Something that could actually improve the body, or at least halt the decline, would work much better than whatever this probably-placebo was. Over the next few weeks he did his best to wander off and eavesdrop, listening in on more and more, finding out about this new development. Apparently it was originally intended to cure wasting diseases and undo the effects of stunted growth, but it worked too well. Some of the scientists were, hushed and in small groups, away from executives, voicing their concerns that it was too dangerous to release, that they had to falsify the results, and claim it was a failed endeavor.

So there wasn't much time to get some.

Naturally, if the story delivered to the executives was that it didn't work, there wasn't going to be a trial, and, presuming someone else didn't sneak it out first, what samples remained would be destroyed. The next time he was called in for a dose, on the way out of the building he ducked down a low-traffic hallway, retrieved an “out of order" sign, placed it in front of the bathroom door, and waited. A couple hours later, it was just about the end of the workday. Early risers had already left, it was just the late crew still going about. He figured he had about 15 minutes to find the treasure before a security sweep would go by. If it hadn't gone to human testing yet, it'd have been in animal testing, so that was where he had to go.

The easiest way into a keycard restricted area was to slip through, politely, when someone else was leaving or heading in. Most people would rather be a security risk and impolite. Once there, just had to, well, search randomly until finding it. He started subtly ransacking the place, checking freezers, drawers, papers, for either the sample or a clue to the filing system. A few minutes sweeping left to right, he found himself staring into one of the observation windows of the test subject habitats. How did they get a dragon in here? Was that legal? Was it even possible? He pressed his face to the glass, looking in on the specimen. It was laying on its stomach, head resting on folded claws, massive chest slowly expanding and contracting with its breathing. He couldn't help but feel a sting of envy, staring at the creature, incredibly powerful musculature straining the glittering, deep green scales to their limits.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, hypnotized, tracing the curves of the body with his eyes, amazed both at the creature existing in the first place, and how it seemed to be nearly impossibly musclebound. His trance was broken when it suddenly stood up, stepped towards him. He broke gaze, turning away with a blush, wincing with another, renewed wave of envy, at the sight of the enormous log swaying between its hind legs. Even flaccid, it was almost-, right, on a time table here, back to work. He turned his attention to a filing cabinet, facing away from the exhibit window.

Clack.

He jumped, head whiplashing to look at the door to the room. Still clear. The sound came again. The dragon tapped his claw on the glass. Adam got up off the floor and walked towards the glass again.

“Oh, its you. Are you... smart?"

The beast straightened itself, slowly blinking, a gleam of intelligence in its eyes. It tapped the glass one more time, then pointed, gesturing with its snout, in the direction. It then formed a V with two fingers, and pointed again.

He scrambled to where it was pointing, a freezer, tucked in the other side of the room. The second shelf contained an array of syringes, each filled with a dull-red frozen liquid, and capped with a plastic cover, labeled in series.

“This is..." he picked them up, looked back at the captive, “This is it? How did," he paused for a moment, walking back, clutching the rack to his chest, thinking. He looked at the label, couldn't understand most of the words, but 'dracomorphic' stood out. “They … extracted this from you? Is that how it works?"

The dragon just blinked, sadly again, and turned to walk back to its resting spot. Adam's eyes were again transfixed momentarily, on the heavy, pendulous orbs swaying with its hips. He gulped his attention back, and set to re-arranging the freezer to minimize the visual obviousness of his theft, and planned his escape. He pressed up to the glass again, whispered,

“Thank you."

And left.

Might as well just walk out the door, looking confident, with a fist full of syringes. Nobody even stopped to question him.

---

Hyperventilating, he sat at his desk, back in his apartment. One of the tubes contained a rolled-up set of instructions, what fortune, though he could barely read given the excited shaking. One tube, then a large meal, then the second one, with a couple others to be added to any particularly stubborn area. There were a few backups, too. Well, might as well follow the instructions, for now. He bit his lip, looking away as the first needle sank into the feeble flesh of his left forearm. Fuck, that felt good. A warmth spread immediately, coursing through his veins, rapidly suffusing his entire body, then, like a wave rebounding from shore, collapsed and focused in his stomach, resulting in a sharp, painful hollow feeling. He had to eat.

This “primer" shot sure was powerful. He stumbled out into the kitchen, nearly doubling over with pain and momentum, briefly touching his arms off the ground to right himself as he barreled towards the fridge. Everything in it, yes, everything had to be eaten, his mind raced as he grabbed fists full of lunchmeat, eggs, and raw chicken, shoveling food into his face, stuffing himself to the seams until he felt as if a column of food lay solid up his esophagus, physically blocking any additional swallows. As physically limited as he was by his stomach's bloating, his brain still told him that he was yet to be sated. But, there was nothing left to do for now, save to jab the second needle, and almost immediately pass out in his bed.

His dreams were as intense as they'd ever been. Gnashing teeth, screams, sprays of blood. All for him. By all rights, it was a horror show, visions of meat and teeth and protruding bone, but he felt himself squirming pleasantly like he would for a wet dream. He awoke feeling as refreshed as he had in years, energetic, powerful. As always, he first upon waking, gave his legs a stretch. The pleasant, uncramping feeling cut off by a surprise, as upon reaching their maxima, stretched a little more. He bolted upright, tearing off his blanket to examine his lower body. His legs had grown, in that moment, a few inches longer, and thicker, the torn muscle replaced with additional cords and tissue in place. It was a good start.

He giggled, the results were already amazing. He felt his mind sharpen, too, as he could recall, with perfect clarity, everything he'd overheard over the time. Conservation of mass. He could build as much muscle as he wanted, diverting matter from fatty tissue, but his skeleton would require a source of calcium to grow farther than his reserves could carry him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grinning like a madman as he wiggled his toes, they seemed a little longer, the nail sharper, as though they were starting to turn to claws. Time to buff up the rest of the body.

He started by stretching his shoulders and arms, lacing his fingers together and pressing away from his chest, the same, wonderful pleasure emanating from his muscles as they grew, sapping mass from his now-less overweight stomach, resulting in a pleasured moan as he watched and felt his biceps gain two inches of thickness over a few seconds, and his back's new strength shifted his shoulders from their permanent slump into a powerful, broadened shape. A soft “fuck" slipped from his lips as he bent over, fully stretching his back, savoring the feeling of growth. He noticed that, for every gram gained, he lost that much in fat, which had itself been bolstered from his meal. There wasn't too much left, so better make it count. He clenched his fists, and visualized those killer claws the dragon had, closing his eyes as he strained his carpals. When he opened his eyes, he couldn't help but laugh as his feeble human hands had been moved a few steps towards those powerful claws.

He stood there, admiring himself in the mirror on his desk. He looked good. It was not enough. He took two more syringes, planted one in his chest, and then sat down, bracing himself mentally, before slowly, carefully, pricking the needle into the vein at the base of his painfully erect cock.

He was ready to receive, now he just needs more mass.

He knew where there was around 400 pounds of organic matter, including a good calcium source. He flexed his claws, ducking under the door of his room, slinking across the kitchen floor towards one of his roommates's bedrooms. It was only the natural progression. They sucked anyways, they would make better meals than friends. He quietly, slowly, opened the door, and slipped in, closing it behind him silently. He grinned predatory, standing over the sleeping meat. It was amazing how it had affected his mindset. He leaned over it, not realizing until now that his face had begun to narrow into a snout, must have been focused on the rest of the body in the mirror.

He climbed over, straddling the sleeping form, leaned in, so the first and last thing his prey would see upon waking, was his eyes. He pressed a forming talon to the neck, shocking him awake, and pressed it inwards, silencing his cry before it sounded, and swiped to the side, severing the artery, making a mess of the pillows. Dead. Murdered. Hunted. Adam was briefly taken aback, with the realization of the line he had just crossed. His horror was quickly supplanted by his raging hunger, and he set into the bleeding meat. Just a bite, at first, out of the strong shoulder of what used to be his first roommate. His sharpened teeth- nearly fangs by now- sliced through the flesh effortlessly. He filled his mouth with the meat, and threw his head back, swallowing without chewing. Delicious. The taste of human blood on his tongue completely blanked the human part of his mind, driving him into a frenzy. The feeling of warmth settling in his stomach radiated out, a wonderful energy suffusing him again, like before. Need to eat the bones, too, he thought, having stripped both arms of meat, cracking the bones open with his jaw, slurping out the marrow with wet sucking sounds. Despite his incrased muscle mass, he still looked lanky and thin, due to the relative expansion of his skeletal structure , before the rest of his body could catch up. After the arms, he worked on the legs, eagerly biting into the thick drumsticks, completely cleaning them before, again, cracking the bones to consume their contents. Finally, he set into the torso, clipping the ribs open with a swipe of his claw, savoring each organ as they crushed on his palate, juices running down his jaw and chest. Despite his frenzy, he couldn't make himself eat the head, which he just shoved out of his sight as he lay on the bed, engorged stomach churning with power.

He wanted to stop, but he did not want to stop. He could feel the strange energy rapidly digesting his prey, fatty tissues forming to bulk up what had become a scarecrowesque appearance, since his skeleton had grown to a ten-foot tall, six feet across the shoulders stick, with his muscle mass having yet to increase to match. There was still the issue of the other roommate. He had to have been awakened by the sounds of the feast, any motivation to remain silent had been lost as soon as the taste of blood hit. He examined his body, comically disproportional, there should be time to make a few modifications first. He stood up in the room, bent over, shoulderblades pressing against the ceiling. He tensed his legs, compressing them, as they thickened, feet splitting and reshaping, saurian claws forming as toes fused together. He threw his arms back, roaring as his pectorals erupted with mass, then arched forward, allowing his back the same luxury, the roar trailing off into a pleasured moan as his vertebrae extended spikes through his skin. Skin! Yes, that was the problem. Why should a dragon have skin? He close his eyes, concentrating again, though his concentration was interrupted moments later as his spine extended, swishing against the floor as flesh followed its expansion, then thickened into a strong tail. I should have black scales, he thought, visualizing their coloration, opening his eyes again, to watch a wave of flecks of blood as his skin split and cast off , stretched thin under pressure as it had been unable to keep up with his muscle, bone, and scales' improvement. Finally, his skull split, he cried out in pain, his brain changing shape as his skull re-arranged itself to suit his new form, a ring of horns spilling out the back.

His senses flared, so much more intense, more powerful. He could hear the other roomate's heartbeat and breath, in the other room. His long, thick tongue lolled out of his horribly sharp mouth as he ominously approached the room, his massive, clawed feet spiderweb cracking the kitchen floor, not designed to be tread on by monsters. The pathetic morsel was fumbling with his phone, trying to call the police. A flick of the dragon's wrist sent the phone across the room, bending the poor human's arms in a horribly broken fashion, the tiny modicum of effort expended being enough to overcome the limitations of human blood.

“Don't scream."

His words sunk into his prey's nervous system, paralyzing him. The meat didn't even reach up to his waist, though he was nearly doubled over to avoid damaging the ceiling, though he now realized that was a silly motivation, and drew himself up to height, his impossibly strong back easily breaking through the wood, and he looked down at the human. Cowering on the ground, shaking like a leaf, begging for life.

“Stand up."

He growled his command, obeyed by the body if not the mind, and laughed as the once-feared acquaintance was now of the right height for Adam's cock to meet his eye-level. He briefly considered fucking him to death, spearing him on his tool and pounding him to jelly, or asphyxiating him, filling his lungs with dragoncum. No, that would be a waste of good meat, and a waste of sex, on a human. Only another dragon was worthy of his body's affections. He leaned over, a swish of his tail obliterating the wall, and picked up the snack with both arms, to look eye to eye for a moment. Then, he opened his strong, reptilian jaws, placing the upper body inside, and chomped, tearing away most of the torso. Ribcage and head, gulped down, arms hanging onto the lower body by a thread of meat, entrails spilling onto the protruding pectorals of the predator. He contained his roar to avoid the neighbor's attention, but it was not easy, with how much energy he felt surging from his meal. He folded the remaining flesh up, and finished the human in a second bite, patting his stomach as he lay down in the wrecked bedroom.

The pain of his penis was too much to ignore, throbbing so hard, demanding it be given mass to keep up with the rest of him, and he so willingly obliged. So far it has just barely kept up, proportional to his height, so one hand could fit easily well around, making up of most of the length. Even just the one hand's pressure sent waves of pleasure, and his heartbeat drove size into it, feeling his dragonhood expand in his hand by one, two, too many inches to keep conscious track of, the girth soon outgrowing what could be contained thumb to middle claw, and length needing hands to manage. He huffed in ecstasy as it continued to grow, changing shape, barbs extending from the cumvein, and his testicles expanding to match. He decided to match his muscle's rate of growth to his stroking, each two-fisted, then two elbowed, eventually two-shouldered stroke pumping more of his ballooned stomach into the rest of his body, with particularly notable growth in the muscle regions he paid conscious mind to, like biceps, abdominals, hell, he even started to pec-fuck himself, sliding his enormous rod through the crease, thrusting up on ever increasingly powerful thighs to rub his lips around the head. Eventually, his pumping hands felt a buildup of flesh, expanding near the already absurdly thick base, his knot, growing bulbous, and somehow feeling strong despite, not, itself containing any muscle tissue. He was going to cum. Not wanting to waste any mass, he clenched his abs, driving his cockhead all the way into his jaws, clamping tight but not toothy, swallowing his gigantic load. Ropes after ropes flowed out, flaring his tip wide and gulped down to be reabsorbed, then reformed, and ejaculated again in a cycle ending only when he finally, finally felt spent and tired, all the while his body converting every last gram of fat into muscle, leaving him completely statuesque as he drifted to sleep, slowly stroking, dreaming of who he was going to eat tomorrow. Nothing would stop him.