"We all have a dinosaur deep within us just trying to get out." -Colin Mochrie
Years after the events of The Good Dinosaur, Spot sat by a flickering campfire, the flames casting long shadows across the rocky ground. Now a young man living with his human family, he stared up at the constellations, tracing their patterns with his eyes. The night was quiet, broken only by the fire’s crackle and distant hoots of nocturnal creatures. He shifted on the log he sat on, pulling his worn tunic tighter against the evening chill.
“Another night stuck here,” he muttered, jabbing at the fire with a stick. “Same old routine... hunt, eat, sleep.” He tossed the stick into the flames and leaned back, hands behind his head. “I keep thinking about Arlo, out there on that farm. He’s got his life figured out. Me? I’m just… me.” A restless edge crept into his voice as he gazed at the stars. “What if I could be more than this? Like, really change. Become anything I want?”
He sat up straighter, the idea taking root. “Turn into a bird and fly off, or something big like Arlo.” A faint smile tugged at his lips as he pictured it. Soaring over treetops, lumbering through fields. “Yeah, that’d be something."
He sighed, his breath fogging in the cool air. “Wish I could make it happen,” he murmured, staring into the fire as if willing it to spark some kind of magic. A deep longing stirred within him, and he let out a soft, wistful growl, a remnant of his feral days. “Come on, universe, give me something,” he said under his breath, the words half a challenge, half a plea.
Suddenly, a strange warmth blossomed in his chest, spreading outward like ripples across water. It began as a gentle heat, like the fire’s embrace, but quickly intensified into a searing, electric surge that coursed through every nerve. Spot clutched at his tunic, his breath hitching in sharp, shallow gasps. “What’s happening to me?” he muttered, his voice quivering as he glanced down. His hands shimmered with a soft, golden light, the glow pulsing in sync with his racing heartbeat, veins beneath his skin faintly illuminated as if lit from within. “It's time, Spot,” a low voice rasped from the light. “Take the shape of the giants. Rise as the Shifter of Scales. Embrace the gift of the Shapeshifter."
A prickling sensation erupted in his bare feet, like a thousand tiny needles dancing across his soles. “What’s happening to my feet?” he said, his voice edged with confusion as he stared down. His toes twitched, then fused. Skin knitting together with a faint, wet stretching sound before swelling outward, bones grinding as they broadened into a massive, flat base. “They’re… they’re becoming like Arlo's, but they aren't brown!” he exclaimed, awe overtaking unease as the skin thickened and hardened into tough, brown scales, each plate cracking into place with a faint snap. Unlike Arlo’s light green hue, these scales gleamed a rich, earthy brown in the firelight. Beneath his swelling feet, light brown scales spread like a creeping shadow, forming thick, padded undersides that flexed with each shift of his growing weight. His legs trembled, then surged with growth. Muscles inflating like inflating bellows, tendons snapping as they stretched to support an expanding frame. “Whoa, this is… I’m getting bigger!” he said, his voice shaking as his calves thickened into tree-trunk pillars, his height doubling in moments, the ground sinking beneath his ballooning weight.
A searing jolt stabbed through his spine, forcing Spot to drop to all fours with a guttural cry. “Ugh, my back! It’s stretching, and growing!” he groaned, his body quaking as his vertebrae multiplied with a series of visceral pops and crunches. "I just got out of the habit of being feral!" he said as his spine elongated rapidly, each new bone stacking atop the last, pushing his torso upward and outward. His ribcage creaked and expanded, ribs lengthening and thickening into a barrel-like vault, the cartilage stretching with a rubbery groan. His leaf-covered loincloth snapping from the changes. “My chest… it’s huge now!” he panted, his voice hoarse as his lungs swelled, each breath a deep bellow that rustled nearby bushes. His body surged upward again, his shoulders rising as his frame grew to match the size of a young Apatosaurus, the log he’d sat on now dwarfed beneath him.
His arms spasmed, muscles rippling as they transformed and grew. “My fingers… they’re turning into claws, and look at the size!” he said, staring as his knuckles fused, fingers melding into three massive, claw-tipped digits, each as thick as his former arm. The skin sprouted pebble-like scales that raced up his forearms, now lengthening and bulking into colossal forelimbs, sinew twisting beneath a leathery, brown hide. “This can’t be real... I’m massive!” he whispered, flexing his claws, the ground trembling faintly under their weight. A pressure built at his spine’s base, then exploded outward. “A tail? I’m growing a tail, and it’s enormous!” he shouted, laughing wildly as the flesh tore with a soft rip, vertebrae stacking into a whip-like length that stretched dozens of feet behind him, brown scales glinting as it lashed the air, toppling a tree with a thunderous crash.
Spot’s neck began to elongate and grow, a slow, relentless pull that made his breath hitch. “My neck… it’s getting so long, and huge!” he said, his voice straining as muscles stretched taut, tendons popping like snapping cables. Each vertebra stretched and thickened, piling upward with a grinding crunch, his neck rising higher and wider until it towered above the treetops. “I can see everything! I’m so tall now!” he marveled, his head soaring, the campfire a tiny flicker far below. His shoulders ballooned outward, bones groaning as they widened to anchor the immense neck, his body now a towering mass of muscle and brown scale, proportions adjusting subtly to echo Littlefoot’s sturdy, youthful build.
Inside, his organs churned and expanded to match his growing size. His stomach twisted, walls thickening with a wet squelch as it grew into a cavernous chamber. “My stomach… it’s changing, and massive!” he said, wincing as a cramp rippled through, adapting to process vast amounts of vegetation. His heart shuddered, then slowed to a deep, resonant thoom that shook his frame. “My heart… it’s so slow, so big!” he noted, each beat a drumroll echoing through his bones, his chest now a vault for a heart the size of a boulder. His lungs ballooned, alveoli multiplying with a rustling hiss, each inhale a gale that stirred the fire’s ashes. “I’m growing so much! It’s unreal,” he gasped, his voice deepening as his throat widened.
Finally, his head transformed and grew, the change surging upward. “My face… it’s changing, and getting gigantic!” he said, his jaw cracking as it extended into a broad, rounded snout, wider and more curved than Arlo’s sharper features, aligning with Littlefoot’s gentle design. His nasal passages stretched, cartilage snapping as they widened into cavernous tunnels, his breath now a warm gust. His teeth ground against each other, flattening into chisel-like slabs as big as his former hands. “I have a snout now, and it’s massive!” he said, his voice a booming rumble as his vocal cords thickened, resonating through a skull that had grown to a young Apatosaurus’s proportions. His skin settled into a rich brown, the scales smooth yet tough, his eyes glinting with a prehistoric sharpness yet retaining a human spark.
As the golden glow faded, Spot stood fully transformed. A brown Apatosaurus, towering and majestic, his appearance now resembling Littlefoot, a Dinosaur he only heard stories about previously. He took a tentative step, the earth quaking beneath his colossal foot, soil cratering under his weight. "This might take some time to get used too...," he noted to himself, "I didn't expect to be back on all fours again." His tail swished, a sweeping arc that felled another tree with a splintering boom. “Whoa, that was… intense,” he rumbled, his voice a deep thunder rolling through the night. He blinked, his vision razor-sharp. Every leaf, every ember of the fire now vivid from his towering height. “I can see everything so clearly. I’m as big as a young Apatosaurus!” he said, swinging his neck to take in the vast expanse, the motion fluid and powerful. He inhaled, a torrent of scents flooding his massive nostrils: the smoky bite of the fire, the rich dampness of the earth, the crisp tang of distant pines. “And I can smell… everything,” he added, wonder thick in his tone.
Overwhelmed but exhilarated, Spot tested his new size and form. He swayed his neck, a graceful arc that rustled treetops, and let out a resonant call that shook the air. “This feels… natural,” he said, awe settling in as the sound echoed through his cavernous chest. He took another step, the ground shuddering, his strides now spanning yards. “I did it. I’m an Apatosaurus... like Arlo, but brown!” he said, disbelief and excitement mingling in his voice. “Wait, just like Littlefoot from the stories... This is incredible!”
He paused, a grin spreading across his enormous, brown snout. “I got to tell Arlo about this!,” he said softly, marveling at his gigantic form. With a louder, earth-shaking call that rolled across the night, Spot turned toward the horizon, where Arlo’s farm lay in the distance. “When he sees me as a Apatosaurus, Arlo is going to love this!” he declared, determination booming in his deep voice as he set off, each step a tremor, eager to reunite with his old friend before dawn, to see how Arlo reacts to his new, brown, Littlefoot-like appearance as a new chapter begins....