(F to Lickitung, M to Dragonite, Mass TF)

“I’m just saying, I don’t get it,” Lilly sighed, folding her arms. “What’s the fun in rooting for a team that wins all the time?”

Eric snorted. “What’s the fun in rooting for a team that never wins?”

Lilly pouted. “Was that supposed to be a rhetorical question? Because it sucked.”

“Not as much as your local sports team,” Eric hummed. It earned him a swift kick in the ankle, and his yelp was almost audible over the crowd. “Hey! Careful, we’re not going to end up on the Kiss Cam like that.”

Lilly quietly glared, but still sent a quick look to the camera just to be safe. Much to her surprise, instead of a loving couple, it showed what looked like a jellyfish stuck to an Easter Island head with suspect facial hair.

“Uh…” She pointed lamely, looking around the stadium. It took a few seconds, but she soon figured out that the camera was focused almost directly across from her.

“What the hell…” Eric leaned in as well, squinting his eyes. “Are they, like, doing the wave?”

Lilly looked back to the camera and felt a cold sweat break along her back. Whatever weirdness was happening, it wasn’t stopping.

People were trying to get out of their seats, scrambling in a blind panic and stumbling over their own bodies. Only those bodies weren’t exactly theirs anymore.

A man reached out for his husband feebly, his body seeming to shrink and retract on itself. Ragged, uneven edges pressed out from his skin, and his shoes slipped from a body that didn’t have feet, or legs for that matter. His arms were darkening into what looked like granite, like he was turning into some kind of rock man.

His husband wasn’t doing much better, shrinking even faster. This man’s skin was brightening to a shade of pink, and his hair was lightening to match. He almost looked like some kind of fairy, an illusion that became all the more real as he pulled an impossibly large hammer from his own shadow. He tapped the hammer playfully against the rocklike body of his partner, giggling impishly.

Lilly watched as the wave of change swept toward the field, until it hit some of the benches. The coach of Eric’s favorite team squirmed as long, brown-furred ears lifted his cap from his head. Thick brown pom-poms burst from his wrists, and he soon began to wave them like an airheaded bimbo.

His headset still stubbornly clung to his neck though, broadcasting whatever sounds he was making to his quarterback. Something about those words must have convinced the man to give up his humanity because soon he too started to change, multiple heads stretching out from his torso as it grew red and shiny like an apple.

“We need to go,” Lilly grabbed Eric’s wrist, tugging him with her. He made a half-sound of protest, about to argue something about the cost of tickets or something, but he soon saw exactly what was happening to his favorite team.

Unfortunately, he heard it too. Everyone did, as someone in the broadcasting booth flipped the man’s microphone on.

“Hydrapple!”

“Ulp.” Lilly staggered, the word hitting her like a semi truck. Her tongue felt funny in her mouth, almost swollen. Her legs felt… The opposite of that. Smaller. Weaker. So did her arms. She dropped into her clothing, height draining away from her in a matter of seconds.

Whatever mass she was losing, Eric was gaining. He pawed at his stomach as his dad bod grew even more pronounced. His belly grew yellow and smooth-scaled as the rest of his skin turned a bright shade of orange. His nose swelled, rounder and wider, giving an oddly nasally tone to his next word.

“Dragonite!” He didn’t know why he said it, only that it felt… Correct. A tingling built in his shoulderblades, new muscles starting to twitch as his new wings fluttered. They were more for decoration than anything else, it wasn’t like he could fly with them alone.

Licky shuddered at her mate’s call, her eyes rolling in her head. New instincts were waging a war with her old thoughts and memories, and it really wasn’t a contest as to which would win. Her tongue swelled a little more, to the point where it burst past her lips, slapping wetly against her chest.

“Gluuhtung!” She slurred, quietly surprised at how salty her pink breasts tasted. A large and heavy tail stretched its way from her backside, and she fell forward onto her hands. Her fingers hardned into short claws, which scraped at the ground.

The crowd around them was panicking, but faring little better. Lickylilly could literally taste their human fear as it bled into feral contentment. A mother let out a hiss that was shockingly reptilian, a crocodile-like snout stretching away from what were once pretty features. Her kid, who clearly hadn’t wanted to be there, found himself rooted to the spot as he began to resemble some kind of Egyptian sarcophagus.

Drageric saw these changes too, and felt a guilty pang of relief at how at least he was still somewhat animate. Granted, it looked like the majority of people were turning into interesting creatures. There were at least five different kinds of turtle that he could count, although… On reflection, he was having difficulty counting above two.

He struggled to do a quick recount, first focusing on the cute girl that was now growing a massive tree from the small of her back. Then he looked to that dorky guy whose shoulders now sported what looked like water cannons. And of course there was that huge turtle with a volcano on his back. But did that make five, or ten of them?

Lickitung could see the confusion in her mate’s eyes, and she didn’t like that. Thinking was too hard to do, when they could be having more fun instead. She slurped her prehensile tongue along his smooth belly, getting his attention properly. Then, when he opened his mouth in confusion, she shoved as much of her tongue in it as possible. Which turned out to be quite a lot.

Dragonite wobbled in shock at the warm, wet tongue that now felt like it was licking the inside of his belly. It wasn’t a bad feeling though, and he smiled dopily as he practically fell onto his mate, smothering her with his bulk.

The two of them wrestled in the stands, all thoughts of escape forgotten, as well as any thoughts of the game, or even any long-seated rivalries they might have had.