#shapeshifter drabble

[bumpen-underbeds]

pretty boy shapeshifter used to weaseling his way into people's lives by becoming "just their type" can't seem to get it right for MC/reader, who is the only person who he can't get to easily fall for him...? which maybe just makes him love MC more?

Ooo!

-

He knows what people want, how they want him to look, act, speak, and even how they think he will react. It's part of his nature as a shapeshifter, he gets into their lives, their stories, always just what they want or need when he finally gets around to them...

And then there you.

He's been trying for months! Months! To try and get you to let him into your life, to give him even a smidge of an idea about what you're into, what kind of person you wanted and yet, at every chance he gets a completely different answer or reaction! He's tried the soft, sweet type with sweaters and pins of cute animals and show characters, been edgy bad boys with leather jackets and spoke adornments, every subculture and style he could think of he'd tried with you but none have hit the mark with you!

How!? How was he meant to get you to like him? He was so used to being beloved and adored yet you won't so much as flutter your lashes at him when he comes by with a new face, new style, or even a new full shape!

He'd not had a chase like this in years, not since he had first found enjoyment in chasing and worming his way into human worlds and love life's! Settling on his couch at home he can't help but go scrolling through your socials again, looking for something, anything that will give away what you may want from a partner, some little clue or key that can finally get him in, something that is usable to a creature like him. Halfway down your page was a selfie of the two of you, one of the faces he'd tried to get close with weeks ago, you'd been so sweet to him then, really he'd thought he had it right that time and then it fell through...

He saves the picture without thinking about why, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knows why, the longer the chase goes on, the more he feels like this will be the last hunt for a face.

Maybe you'll be the one he settles with, the one that accepts him and all his faces...

Maybe.

[bumpen-underbeds]

Choosing to live in the middle of nowhere has its benefits, and its complications, especially when it comes to medical issues...

So it's no surprise that when you actually need to visit a doctor the clinic is very bare bones, just a small reception area and a few scattered chairs. Your pretty sure most of the couches in here were either donated or gathered from hard rubbish around town, not that you cared, the one your sinking into is blissfully cool and soft, a much needed respite from the slow building fever you're here about.

The receptionist is an older lady you know well from the cafe in town, on Sundays she sits and reads there with her tea, so when she calls your name you smile weakly and follow her to the second exam room. Slumping onto the old padded table or bench? You're not actually sure, but it's cold, smells like disinfectant and stale air, all together not something your complaining about as you wait for the doctor to join you. It doesn't take long before he is going you, but as you squint at him you can't recall ever seeing this particular person before, you know there is only two doctors and two nurses in town, but still a new face is strange.

As he sweeps into the room you can't quite place what it is about him that is off putting, but there is this air of inhumanity about him. It starts with a flash of too sharp teeth, then a flicker of slit pupils on almost reddish brown eyes, but nothing stays long enough that you can't think it's due to your fever.

The thermometer hangs from your lips as he talks a mile a minute, questions about your health, your lifestyle, and your flesh? He laughs when you look confused, flapping his hand as he remarks about human jokes and riddles not landing right in this age, before pulling the thermometer from your mouth and reading the numbers before shoving between his own lips. As fever addled you are, you still know that is not normal or okay for a doctor to do, so as you open your mouth to speak he quickly cuts you off, two gloved fingers press down on your tongue as he looks inside your mouth and down your throat.

You grunt at him, confused as he remarks about how warm humans are, and how fruitful you will be for what's coming.

The taste of his glove lingers as you push his wrist away, glaring as best you can at him, trying to find a moment to cut in on his rambling as he scribbled something down on a prescription pad and handed it to you. Throwing the door to the room open and standing with his hands on his hips like he had actually done something good in the last thirty minutes, rather than ramble and poke at you in very unprofessional ways, he waves as you walk away, calling out that he will see you in a week's time.

At the reception desk you ask when the old doctor you saw will be back, only to be told that he had retired and for the next few months only the doctor you saw today will be available here, and if you wanted someone else you'd have to go into the city two hours away. Sighing you reluctantly book for the follow up, taking the small cup of cold water she offers you, sipping on it as you try to make sense of the scribbled writing on the prescription paper.

'Once monthly deposit of something unintelligible, directly into patient, to be administered by primary care physician, Dr. A mix of symbols you can't comprehend'

You don't think that man was a doctor, and this definitely isn't a prescription…

[bumpen-underbeds]

Could I request shapeshifter getting jealous and trying to perfectly replicate a neighbor they think we have a crush on?

Oooo! Well I do love a good shapeshifter idea!

-

They'd seen it all, the looks, the laughter, the offers to spend time together, all of it.

Every word, act, moment, was burned into their mind as they seethed over how you were getting to the random human that lived next door. Weren't they enough? Didn't you like them as they were? Soon, a new thought began to fester, one that made their tongue feel heavy and their mouths taste like ash.

Did you have a crush on them?

The idea made something under their skin crawl; they had thought the two of you had grown close, had begun to bind in a way that was leading to a relationship, a real, true relationship... Was it all a lie? Was he missing something? What did this stranger have that they didn't? Was it the looks? The height? The lack of an uncanny feeling when you're around them? What about them kept you making those offers?

It's fine, clearly they are the standard you're looking for, and so all they need to do is borrow their form and adjust a few things to work their way back to that standard you're now seeking.

Thankfully, he had snapped a few photos of your neighbour, standing in front of his mirror; it's easy to shift and push at his shape till it matches the photos he had captured. He left some pieces of his old form mixed in, just to let you know it was still him, but all else, he knows he looks just like that pest of a neighbour. With this, he knows you'll look only at him.

Now things will be right, this will be as they should.

[bumpen-underbeds]

Do you ever think anon back again.

You ever think about shape shifters?

You ever think about how difficult it must be to hold their form while they climax?

Do you ever think about their form rapidly shifting as you overstimulate them?

You ever think anon, you ever think that I want you to have perfectly cooled or heated blankets?

Cause I do!

-

They'd done this so many times before, held forms and had intimate moments with so many before you, so why now? Why you? What about this made it so hard to hold this shape, to keep a stable form, to keep the same features as they fuck into you faster and faster.

Blunt human teeth become fangs and then tusks, gnashing and clenched together as they can't control the changes taking them over. They grow horns, lose them in the blink of an eye, claws, fingernails, spines, spikes, ridges and strange curling patterns that texture their skin, it's like every feature they have ever shifted to molts through, surfacing beige being subsumed by another feature taking its place seconds later, it shouldn't be this hard to keep themselves together, it shouldn't.

Yet the moment you coo and tell them to keep going, to keep fucking you, they can't help it, whining in several pitches and tones as they keep moving, humping and thrusting uselessly into you, body shuddering with changes it can't help but let run rampant.