I've been a fan of Virmir for as LONG as I can remember... who'd of thunk that after making this silly little page I'd have the opportunity to write some transformation for him? And what a great piece it is! If it were up to me - Virmir and ZincxIron would stay this way! (Until Virmir gets into some inexplicably dangerous adventure where they change back... o3o)
Big thank you to both  virmir and  zincxiron for their lovely comments they sent my way, and for giving the go-ahead on the story!

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Virmir’s glare could have melted stone into magma. His beady black eyes narrowed to slits as he trudged behind Zinc, each crunch of the dog’s excited paws on the cave floor like a loud drum pounding and pounding against his last nerve.

The fox’s dark cloak dragged across the damp ground, picking up dirt and grime as he muttered curses under his breath. “If you bark at one more glowing mushroom, I swear I will staple your muzzle shut.”

Zinc spun around, tail wagging so hard his entire body wobbled like jelly. “But Virmir! Look at this one, it’s purple! That means it's super magical, right? Right?!” He poked the mushroom with his snout and it released a puff of glittering spores. He sneezed three times in rapid succession. Virmir groaned.

“You’re lucky that wasn’t poison, you embarrassment.” Virmir wafted the glittering spores away with a flick of his paw, coughing sharply. He pinched the bridge of his snout, as if trying to squeeze out the migraine forming behind his eyes. “Do you ever think before jamming your face into suspicious glowing fungus?”

Zinc blinked. “Uh... sometimes?” He grinned wide, tongue lolling out. “But usually stuff only explodes like, thirty percent of the time!”

“That’s not the reassurance you think it is,” Virmir grumbled. He marched past the offending mushroom, brushing his cloak off with quick, aggravated swipes. “Come on. The magic’s close. I can feel it. And if you mess this up? I will throw you into a pit.”

Zinc scampered after him, undeterred. “Ooh, magic syrupy pit for us to suck up! Sounds delicious.”

Virmir didn't respond. He just twitched. That was usually the only warning.

Zinc flicked the tuft of purple fur that hung over his forehead, sending a few more mushroom spores drifting into the air. “Sooo… why are we even after this magic stuff anyway?”

A growl rolled from deep in Virmir’s throat. “It would go over your head,” he chastised. “But if you must know… this isn’t just any magic. It’s ancient. Raw. World hungering. The kind of power people sell their souls for, or die trying to contain.”

Zinc’s ears perked. “Neat!”

“Not neat. Necessary,” Virmir hissed, ducking under a jagged overhang. “I’m tired of relying on backup power crystals and my idiot butler to keep my spells running.” The butler in question was Virmir’s butler slash robot slash part time thief-for-hire, VirBot, who was often the brunt of his creators' anger.

“Oh, that’s why the last one exploded!” Zinc said brightly. Virmir didn’t even dignify that with a glare. He just walked faster.

“Enough,” Virmir snapped, coming to a fork in the tunnel. He jabbed a claw toward the left path. “You go that way. Try not to lick anything cursed or awaken any blasting slumbering horrors. I’ll take the intelligent route.”

Before Zinc could respond with his usual barrage of cheerful nonsense, the fox had already vanished into the shadows, muttering something about brain cells and personal space.

Zinc grinned like a child left unsupervised in a candy store. “Awww yeah,” he said to no one in particular, tail wagging. “Solo adventuring! Zinc-style!”

He bounded down his chosen tunnel, the light from the glowing mushrooms painting his fur in blotches of soft blues and purples. Each step echoed in the cavern, and he took great joy in booping every mushroom he passed with his nose. “Hey magic!” he called out, voice bouncing off the stone. “O great spooky force! Come out come out wherever you are!”

A patch of golden lichen responded by shimmering faintly, which Zinc took as a very polite hello.

He paused at a bend where the air felt warmer and thicker, almost syrupy like Virmir had said. “Magic behaves just like syrup, don’t you know?” He could practically hear Virmir’s wisdom on the matter. His ears twitched. Somewhere ahead, something pulsed. A soft glow, not quite like the cave mushrooms, flickered at the edges of his vision.

“Oh-hooo-houuuh,” he whispered, grinning wider. “I found you…”

A bright golden light flared just around the corner, spilling across the stone floor like sunlight at the entrance of the cave. Zinc gasped, eyes going wide. “Oh man, this is it! This has gotta be the magic! Magic glows, right? It has to glow. It’s like, rule number one!”

He scrambled forward and squeezed through a narrow crack between two slabs of jagged rock, wiggling his way into a hidden chamber. The moment he popped through, his paws slipped on something hard and shiny. He yelped and fell onto his backside with a loud clatter, right onto a pile of coins.

“Whoa-ho-hooooo!” he breathed, his voice echoing through the vast cavern ahead.

Gold. Mountains of it. Coins, goblets, necklaces, shields crusted in jewels. Enormous rubies caught the light like bloodied glass, and emeralds big as his fists winked from atop broken chests. The whole place sparkled like a birthday party for a very rich volcano. Zinc’s jaw dropped.

He took a few dazed steps forward, the coins crunching under his paws, and then paused as something large and pale loomed in his peripheral vision.

Bones.

Huge, curved ribs jutted from the treasure like the hull of a sunken ship. A dragon skull, long and cracked, rested at an angle, one of its horns snapped clean off. The remains stretched across the chamber in a sweeping arc, partially buried beneath the wealth, as if the hoard had swallowed it whole.

Zinc stared. Then, grinning, he turned toward the bones and gave a happy little bounce. “Good news, buddy,” he said to the empty eye sockets. “We don’t have to fight you! You're already super dead!”

Zinc crouched beside the massive dragon skull, his reflection shimmering in a golden plate nestled between its jaws. He leaned in close, squinting into the empty eye sockets.

“Hey, uh… Mr. Dragon?” he said, putting on his best innocent voice. “Mind if I take a tiny bit of this shiny stuff? Just a handful. Or, like, twelve handfuls. Tops.”

He shifted his voice an octave lower and tilted the skull toward himself like a puppet. “‘Sure, buddy!’” he growled in a booming, gravelly tone. “‘Anything for you, Zinc! You’re my favorite cave exploring gem appreciator!’”

He burst into laughter, tossing a gold coin into the air and catching it on his snout. “Aww, you’re the best, dragon guy. I knew we’d get along.”

Then he started scooping up coins and gems with glee, stuffing them into the pouches strapped to his belt, tossing a ruby in the air, flipping a necklace around his neck like a fashion model, and humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a marching band made of whistles and barking.

“Look out world,” he said, twirling dramatically atop a gold pile. “Zinc the Kobold King is coming!”

And then he paused.

Wait. Why did he say kobold?

Zinc blinked. “Wait... did I just say kobold?” He scratched his head.

He did.

Hold up just a second here. His ears weren’t where they were supposed to be.

He reached up again… boop. Pointy. Scaly. Definitely not fluffy dog ears.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered.

His nose wriggled, then stretched outward with a comical sproing! His snout grew longer and bumpier, and little nubby fangs poked out where his goofy dog grin used to be. He looked cross eyed at the transformation in progress and gave a nervous laugh.

“Haha! Okay! Okay, funny story, dragon guy- I think I’m- EEP!”

His paws popped like balloons, shrinking down into stubby clawed hands. His tail, once a majestic, waggy plume, inflated into a thick lizardy whip with a fwoop. His fur began falling off in tufts, floating like dandelion fluff before vanishing in golden sparkles, replaced with patches of smooth, brown scales that shimmered faintly in the golden light.

“Okay. Okay. No problem,” he said, backing up and tripping over a golden goblet. “I’ve always sort of wanted to be a lizard! I mean, they’re cool, right? Cold-blooded. Tongue tricks. Great at hide and seek.”

He turned to the dragon skull, now at eye level with his shrinking height. “Mr. Dragon, I take back the thing about us getting along. This is not a fair trade!”

The skull, of course, said nothing.

Zinc wobbled on his new feet, which were now more like clawed stubs than proper paws. “Why is everything... taller?” he muttered, looking around.

The piles of gold loomed over him now like glittering mountains. Even the dragon skull seemed bigger, more imposing, though its cracked grin almost looked amused.

He took a step and nearly toppled over a stack of copper coins. His new tail swished behind him with a mind of its own, knocking over a silver goblet with a loud clang! Somewhere in his brain, something... shifted. A little voice bubbled up like a warm bath full of bad decisions.

Pretty coins.

Shiny coins.

Mine.

“Oooh,” he said, pupils dilating as he dropped to all fours and scooped a handful of gold into his little claws. “Look at you! So round! So jingly!” He bit a coin, then another, cackling softly. “They even taste expensive!”

He looked up suddenly, eyes wild with excitement. “What’s that, Mr. Dragon?” he said, lowering his voice for the impression of the dragon. ‘You should definitely show Virmir! He’ll be so impressed!’” He gasped. “You’re right! That’s such a good idea!”

He stuffed a golden tiara on his head, comically large and slipping over one eye, and spun on his heel. “Virmiiiiir! Guess who found magic and is incredibly shiny now?!” The tiara didn’t last on his small head, and clattered to the floor.

Virmir moved in absolute silence, the way only a deeply annoyed fox with decades of magical training and zero tolerance for noise could. His claws clicked softly against stone as he wound through narrow tunnels slick with moss, ears twitching at the faint pulse of magic that throbbed deeper within.

Alone at last. Peace. Blessed silence.

No barking. No blasted tailwagging. No unsolicited mushroom commentary.

He exhaled through his nose, savoring the quiet. Finally, the idiot was off his leash. Zinc might be an irrepressible, yapping moron, but he had his uses. Eager to leap into suspicious pits. Fearless around cursed objects. Unquestioningly loyal to a fault, even when told to shove his face into glowing goo “just to see what happens.”

And now? Now he was off in the other tunnel, bumbling his way into who knew what magical death trap, and Virmir could focus. He raised a paw, letting arcane symbols drift up from his fingers, tracing along the walls like oil on water.

Yes.

The magic source was close. Something old. Powerful. Something he could siphon, bend, harness. No more weak sigils. No more faulty batteries. No more waiting for VirBot or Lucille to finish calibrating the essence furnace after accidentally melting it again.

He allowed himself a rare, satisfied smirk. “This is it,” he muttered. “The end of annoying magical middlemen. The dawn of Virmir-powered everything.”

Then, from far behind, echoing faintly through the winding tunnels:

“VIRMI-I-IIR! GUESS WHO’S SHINY NOOOOW!”

The smirk evaporated. Virmir froze, one eye twitching.

“No,” he said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

Virmir pressed a claw to the center of an old rune etched into the stone wall, letting the ambient magic hum up through his fingertips like a tuning fork struck by lightning. Ancient energy buzzed beneath the surface here, pure, untapped, beautiful.

He could feel the leyline pulsing just beneath the rock, warm and alive like a sleeping beast. His other paw traced a second glyph in the air, threads of violet energy knitting between his fingers.

“Just a little more,” he whispered, eyes gleaming. “Just a taste. Then I’ll never need to charge another artifact again. No more spirit condensers. No more arcane errand boy bots. No more…”

CLANG.

Something smacked into his back with the force of an overeager sled dog. Gold coins exploded in every direction, bouncing off the stone walls like musical hailstones. Virmir lurched forward, barely catching himself against the wall, and snarled through gritted teeth.

“No more Zinc-”

“Hi Virmir!!” came the chipper voice right next to his ear. “Check it out! I found the magic! Also treasure! Also, I might be a lizard now!”

Virmir slowly turned his head.

Zinc stood there, or rather, a tiny, scaly, reptile eyed version of Zinc stood there, holding a heap of coins in his hands, and a gold coin stuck to his cheek. His grin was as wide as ever, his tail now a thick, wiggly reptilian noodle, sweeping the floor behind him in delight.

“I’m shiny and cursed!” he declared proudly, as if announcing he'd just graduated with honors.

Virmir stared. Then turned back to the glowing wall.

“No,” he muttered. “I am not dealing with this right now.”

Zinc waddled closer, the heap of treasure in his arms jingling like an overstuffed piggy bank on stilts. He held up a handful of glittering coins toward Virmir, his claws twitching with excitement. “No, no, listen! You’ve gotta hold some! Just a little! The dragon talks to you when you do!”

Virmir didn’t even turn around. “I hate when this happens. Why can’t you keep your blasted hands to yourself?”

“But it’s magic, Virmir!” Zinc insisted, bouncing on his clawed toes. “You like magic! You love magic! And this dragon guy, he's super helpful! Like a ghost coach, but all hoardy and echoey and kinda wise… but like- dead as well? He told me I’d look great in gold!”

“I don’t need fashion advice from a corpse.”

Zinc shoved a clump of coins into Virmir’s paw. “Just touch them! Come on! Let him whisper into your head! It’s fun!”

Virmir scowled at the clinking pile forced into his grasp, jaw tightening. “You are a kobold. You are waving cursed money at me. You are literally glowing with transformation magic, and your solution is to spread it?!”

“It’s sooo shiny though,” Zinc cooed, eyes sparkling. “And don’t worry, once you get cursed too, it doesn’t feel that bad. Just a little itchy behind the ears.”

Virmir glared at the coins.

The coins glared back.

Or rather, something behind them did.

Something that whispered.

And then his paw twitched, and he picked up a piece.

The coins warmed in his grip. Alive. They pulsed like a heartbeat. Like something was whispering through them, not with words but with wants. Gold. Power. Obedience. Legacy. A dragon’s voice, deep and distant, echoed in the back of his skull like thunder behind a closed door.

His eyes widened, and he flung the coins away with a snarl… too late.

His spine shortened with a cartoonish slither, snapping downward an inch. Then another. “No. No no no-” His tail coiled, puffed, and then shlooped into a lizardy rope that slapped against the cave floor like a wet noodle. Clawed toes burst out from his fur at his toes, flexing wildly.

Zinc clapped excitedly nearby. “Yes! You’re doing it! Welcome to Team Kobold! Your ears are gonna get all pointy next!”

“I hate you,” Virmir hissed, his voice now pitched a bit higher, rougher, with just the tiniest hiss at the end.

His hands trembled and shrunk, fingers curling into small claws as fur sloughed off in magical itchy clumps. His sleek cloak tangled around his new, stubbier frame as he hunched forward, now barely chest height to his original self. Two small horns poked from his head with a painful twang. His snout stretched.

His swearing came out as high pitched, draconic squawks.

Zinc, still jingling with treasure, beamed. “You look amazing! Like a tiny doom wizard! Now we just gotta figure out how to uncurse it!”

Virmir, panting in his new kobold form, clutched his own face. “We’re going to have to resurrect the dragon, aren’t we.”

Zinc gasped. “You heard him too?!”

Virmir’s only answer was a long, dramatic groan and the sound of fist meeting face that echoed through the cavern.