dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
You wake early on Thursday, with confusing dreams already slipping away from you. Through your window you can see the moon is just starting to set, and it's gorgeous. You stare at it, entranced, until your alarm breaks the spell. You swipe your phone to shut it up and shamble out of bed.
After a long cold shower you feel less strange. But getting ready for work, you realize how little greenery there is your house. Maybe some potted plants...
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
The cashier gives you a knowing wink as he starts scanning and weighing all your vegetables. The store's selection was pretty thin - thanks, you suppose, to the weres. Still, you bought enough that it's obvious he thinks you're one of them, so you stammer out an objection that doesn't make sense, even to you.
"Good time of the month to go vegetarian," he tells you as you swipe your card. "We'll have a bigger selection next time."
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
When you get home, you realize just how much food you bought. Every drawer and shelf in your fridge is crammed with fruits and vegetables. In disbelief, you decide to have a burger instead. No lettuce, just meat and cheese.
You're halfway through grilling it when you realize you're preparing a garden burger, not beef. Two, actually. Plus a gigantic salad.
You eat it all, and then snack on a head of lettuce.
The moon is mesmerizing when it rises.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
Friday morning, you sleep in, but wake up on your couch, a few shreds of lettuce and cabbage next to you. You stare at the remnants blearily, then bolt for a mirror.
Your face stares back at you, unchanged. Okay, the moon was just _nearly full_ last night. You're still fine, right? Right? You resolve to eat bacon this morning, to fight against these vegetable urges.
You didn't buy any. Shit. Okay, toast. That's a burned grain, it doesn't count. Right?
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
Toast. Toast and... what's good as an anti-vegetable? No bacon, no meat at all in the fridge. Wait, no meat at all? You're absolutely positive that you still had leftover pizza in the fridge, plus some lunch meat.
Your stomach growls at you search, but can't find any sign of them. You munch on a bunch of grapes as you look.
You find all the meaty stuff in the garbage can. It looks like you ate all the green peppers off the pizza, then chucked it.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
Fine. So last night you went into a fugue state and threw out all the meat. Okay. You might be a werehadrosaur after all. So you turn to Google and search. You find a lot of pages about how cool dinosaurs are, a couple of rants about gardens stripped bare, and a few more discreet forums and groups that claim to be "supportive environments". The public ones are all pretty new and seem to mostly be... gardening tips? Huh.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
You also find someone's fanfiction collection, which is just weird. You didn't know that anybody could possibly be so into Frasier turning into an Olorotitan every month.
It's hard not to bite your lip when you run across a passage describing Niles growing his crest the first time. You shiver and close the browser tab, feeling embarrassed.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
Okay. So you're either having a major craving for greens -- which could happen, even if it's a little weird -- or you've somehow contracted dinocanthrophy. The latter is looking more likely. You don't look any different. Todd, the were-Lambeosaur at work, doesn't show any signs of his crest until the day's nearly over. So you probably have some time before anything starts to show. What's a good way to test the idea?
You decide to go to the plant store.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
You're really taking the bull by the horns here - or the triceratops, perhaps. Are there ceratopsian weres? You have no idea, you didn't really take this seriously when you started hearing about it. What was that, a year ago? Maybe?
Now you're staring at the nursery entrance. Well, maybe you'll just come back home with a few new potted plants to make the place look nicer. Maybe this is just going to be a nor-
Shit. That ficus looks unspeakably delicious.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
The nursery turns out to be more of a test of willpower than you imagined. For a little while you think about getting things that are poisonous so that you won't be tempted to snack on them, but you're not even sure you'll remember that they're poisonous, or be in control of yourself when you change.
You have to keep arguing yourself back to "if", but it's a losing battle. Part of you is distractingly aware of the time left until the moon rises tonight.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
So you buy a few ferns that look only sort of tasty, and that goddamn ficus by the front that's just begging to be eaten. You almost can't help yourself when you're loading the trunk of your car and nearly just bite off a mouthful right there. It feels a little like picking up fast food. You sort of recall that it's bad for dogs, but most delicious things are. Like chocolate. Then you're thinking about chocolate-covered leaves and that's quite distracting.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
When you get home, you eat most of what's in the fridge - "lunch". You hardly even try to hold yourself back, you're seized with a supernatural hunger. You eat and eat, until you start to feel full. Cabbage, carrot, broccoli, lettuce, anything green or leafy goes into your mouth. You've eaten far more than should be physically possible, but you feel fine, if sleepy. So you crash out on the couch for a while, with the sense of something building...
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
You wake up with a start, all your lethargy gone, replaced with a feverish warmth. It isn't time, not yet, but you can feel that it's about to be time and it's almost maddening. There's a strange pressure in your sinuses, and you feel almost tingly all over. When you look in the mirror, you see the start of a crest on your head, and you know that your neighbor won't be the only one on the block making noise tonight.
God, would the moon just RISE already?!
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
You can feel the moon inching up toward the horizon. You go outside and lean on your small, first-floor porch, staring up at the sky, waiting. Waves of warmth and cold wash over you, and you feel both itchy all over and somehow serenely calm. A little more, a little more...
You let out a sigh of relief as you see the first sliver of the moon crest over the horizon. Full, gloriously full! And with the sight comes an impact that nearly knocks you flat.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
You stagger back from the railing and... the best you could describe it would be shedding yourself. It's quick, overwhelming, and it feels so good, and so right. Your clothes just come apart at the seams and fall away from you as your tail slides free, your body leans forward and rebalances, and you expand outward, all over. The porch creaks as it suddenly needs to support so much extra mass.
You hoot softly, experimentally, letting your crest reverberate.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
Gingerly, you step over the railing, resting on all fours on the apartment lawn outside. Then you shake yourself all over, feeling everything seem to fall into place. You turn your head and neck back, seeing the perfect saurian body you wear now. You reach up awkwardly and feel the crest stretching back from your head, arching behind you. It must be magnificent. God, you must be an absolutely gorgeous beast. It's a shame you can't fit inside for a mirror...
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
Inside interests you a lot less now, though. The night smells wonderful, the cool soil and grass of the lawn are under your feet. You rise up on your hind feet and walk forwards slowly but easily, your tail swishing behind you. Off in the distance, you hear soft calls from the others, feel a slow joy kindling within you as you realize that you're part of a new herd now.
A much closer call snaps you out of your reverie. It's your neighbor.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
The night is very, very young and you're feeling so good already. You start to move toward her, dropping to all fours to travel, raising your head up and scenting the air. She trumpets, and you trumpet back, heedless of the rest of the apartment-dwellers.
Maybe she can teach you the ropes, what it is to be a part-time hadrosaur. Maybe she'll let you lean your flank against hers while you forage.
You hoot softly and go to her.
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
Waking the next morning is a slow process. You dimly remember slinking back inside when the moon started to set and you began to shift back. You also remember... well. There was quite a lot of companionship between you, your neighbor, and the male that showed up. You don't know their names, but you know their scents, crests, and patterning and that's more than enough for you. You feel too satisfied with the night's events to feel any kind of embarrassment.
@Soreth Eeeeeeeee!!! ♥️
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
@Soreth I am loving this story, just so you know. :D
dinosaurs, dinocanthropy, brain debris
There's something exciting and electric in the air at work. Everyone you talk to all day seems to be charged with anticipation. It rubs off on you too, some kind of contact high you try to laugh off. Still, you can't stop counting down the hours until you get to go home and start your weekend.
You're feeling faintly feverish again. On the way home, you stop at the grocery store and find yourself always coming back to the produce aisle.
You buy a lot.