Back home, Astrid reads over the pages of the spellbook, her fingers tracing the runes. “The first effects will be with the soul. It changes their mind and aura. The spell can be reversed now, but only if the target knows what it is and what to do about it.”
“We’ll see what you think about this, you dragon-fucking traitor,” she huffs, slamming the book shut.
—
“Toothless! Hey, I got you your favorite! Just… all the fish,” he says, kicking over the barrel, letting the food spill out in its briny mess on the ground.
The night fury hops onto an outcropping, his head down low. A growl reverberates around his lips as he crawls close, sniffing the air.
“What’s the matter?” Hiccup asks, a hand on his hip. Something smells funky to you? There’s no smoked eel in here,” he pauses, scratching his chin, scrutinizing the mound of fish. “At least, I don’t think there is.”
The Viking bends over to examine, tossing bits here and there, and looks over the pile for evidence of the dragon’s most hated food.
He mumbles to himself, not noticing that the night fury was slowly crawling up to him, sniffing the air, stepping low to the ground, and seeing Hiccup with his ass up high on his knees, wading through the fish.
And then Toothless pounces, knocking into Hiccup, causing the two to roll and tumble about, with the Viking on his back and the dragon pinning him down by his shoulders.
“T-Toothless, what are you doing?” Hiccup says, reaching up to scratch under the dragon’s jaw, but the night fury tilts back, lifts himself up, and keeps the human hand off him.
That’s when Hiccup gets a full view of the dragon’s underbelly. Despite being such a sleek and aerodynamic creature, How Toothless is powerful and muscular. Those arms that hold him down. The chest that presses those arms, the core that keeps the dragon balanced, and beneath that…
“Ah, Odin’s eye, what’s that!?” Hiccup gasps, seeing between the dragon’s hind legs a giant, thick, twitching cock, bright in color in sharp contrast to the rest of his inky black body. It’s fully erect, glistening at the tip with its predatory and penile passion.
“No, Toothless, whatever this is, this isn’t you!” the Viking says, gritting his teeth. For the first time in Hiccup’s life, he feels the preservation kick in, and he reaches beyond all reason, shuffling his hand into his pocket and tossing up a wad of the grasses that the dragons love.
Toothless’s eyes dilate, and he immediately lets go of Hiccup, rolling around in the scant sprigs of grass, but that won’t hold him for long. Hiccup summons up all his courage and rushes up to the dragon, hopping on his back and scratching over his head.
The dragon grunts and rolls around, pinning the human with sheer weight. However, Hiccup continues to fight against the dragon's desire, scratching and rubbing Toothless’s cheek and chin until, finally, the dragon flops over, wholly incapacitated.
It takes Hiccup a minute to scurry out from underneath of Toothless. He wipes his brow, having built up quite the sweat in the ensuing battle. He glances at the downed dragon, looking over that body, once so tense, now so peaceful in its stupor—save for one thing.
That long, hard cock rises up high in the air, twitching in the subtle breeze. “Damn my curiosity,” Hiccup says to himself, stepping up closer, leaning in and scrutinizing it. “I wonder if something smells like a female dragon to you,” Hiccup says. He stands up, patting himself down. He’s not wearing anything different. Was it something from the arena? Some of the fish?
He bites his lip, looking at Toothless's serene face on the ground before him. “Whatever this is, I’m going to have to be careful from now on,” he says, picking up his things and heading out of the valley.
As he walks, Hiccup thinks about Utgar, one of his father’s brave warriors, who loved to get drunk and tell his tales to people.
“I tell you what, lads,” he would say to them, “there is nothing, and I mean nothing better than rollin’ around with a man who does the part of a woman. He’s all the fun and none of the complainin’! Har har har!”
The cheap jab at women aside, Hiccup has to ponder a moment. “I’ve always been different, “he says, “but why am I thinking about this now?”
Toothless’s muscled form and those intense eyes flash in his mind.
“No, no, no!” He shouts, clutching his head. “I can’t think this way. Toothless is a dragon,… a beast. A magnificent beast, but a beast! That’s just–.”
“Come back.”
Hiccup freezes. The voice is groggy slow, but husky. Slowly, Hiccup turns around, seeing the dragon roll over onto his stomach. His eyes are wide, pleading, desperate.
“Come back… please…”
Hearing those words, Hiccup rushes back through the woods, panting, holding back a scream.
He must be losing his mind!
But why? Why? Why?
Back in his bed, he collapses, covering his head with his pillow. He is sweating heavily and chilled to the bone.
A fever? Yes, that must be it. He must be sick!
These are hallucinations, nothing more!”
—
“If the victim doesn’t take an antidote in a few hours, the first changes will occur, and the process shall become irreversible.”
Astrid grumbles. “Serves him right… the filthy traitor.”
—-
Hiccup stumbles his way back to the house of Stoic, the chieftain, and his father. The journey from Toothless’s den has left the Viking reeling and his head throbbing. He falls against the door, panting, clinging to the great wooden thing. The rain that pours down over Berk comes as an ill omen that serves not only to unnerve him but to disorient him further. He shudders, feeling a churning in his stomach. He finds the strength to get to his boots and throw the massive doors open, collapsing onto the wood floor and curling up on the ground.