Interoids was a bizarre fanfiction project created by Natalie Neumann that helped launch her passion for passion for writing fiction. Natalie does not recommend that you try to read the original work due to its low quality, structural issues, and grammatical errors. Instead, she encourages you to read the summary included in Volume 05: Intertoids of The Saga of Vincent Dawn and Volume 01: Intertoids of Natalie Rambles About The Saga of Vincent Dawn to better understand the content of this novella.
There is nothing like having complete creative control over something and having people praise you for being yourself. However, being forced to utilize all of your creativity at once can be more than a hair annoying. Sure, Birdman was writing a script where he was just being a goof, but he had a bit of a writer’s block, something people believed he had regularly. Yet in truth, he just got sidetracked by, well, a lot of things. Namely his other show with Egoraptor, where they expressed their personalities in order to get payed and praised. Twenty minutes day where they could create something just below the reception their individual work that can take months or weeks in order to complete.
He figured it was pointless to try and squeeze some dialog out if he could not think of any, so he decided to spend some time with his bird, Jacques. He was always a calm bird, so he could use him in his show, and he would not freak out at all. But as he was stroking the bottom of his green body, and seeing his double eyelids flap, Jacques broke his usually calm demeanor and bit, or rather pecked, Birdman’s right index finger until a bit of blood came out, which he gulped up before Birdman could snatch his hand away.
Birdman raised his voice to indicate his anger that his bird would do that, only to see, Jacques start clenching over and screeching in pain. He flew to the other side of the house, as Birdman gave chase, feeling regret for shouting at him. He looked all over the place, and eventually found Jacques lying on his kitchen counter, except he did not look quite right. He seemed to be bigger, and some feathers were falling off. Birdman tried to grab him while thinking of how he needs to call Jacques’ vet, only to have another of his fingers bitten yet again. This time it felt like there was something that his bird coughed up in the wound, but Birdman was distracted by how Jacques grew to the size of a full grown chicken within the fifteen second he found him. Although, his body was not in the shape of one. The head was far too large, the feet and legs were longer and more like paws, every trace of feathers was gone, and the wings had what appeared to be digits growing out of them.
Birdman grabbed his pet, only to be shocked at how he was now about 10 kilograms in weight. After rushing him over to the closest couch he had, trying to ignore Jacques screams of pain, Birdman noticed that he was starting to feel ill. After placing Jacques on the couch, Birdman started vomiting. After spitting up his dinner from a few hours ago, he threw up once more, with some blood and getting into the mix. After the second time, he felt himself vomit once more, and then he collapsed on the floor, and was what looked and sounded like a screeching chimp on his couch, were Jacques should be. However, his attention was drawn to himself, where he noticed that he was both thinner, and weaker, to the point where he could barely lift himself up. He looked at the floor, and he saw that somehow muscle and even some miscellaneous flesh was piled up near where he vomited.
Before he could think about the sight, he felt what could only be actuated to 50 knives piercing his skin at once. He passed out due to the pain, and was awoken by it only a few seconds later. Catching glimpses of what looked like a monkey becoming a man, a man who was giant, and looked very… familiar.
Birdman woke up and saw a skinny man eating his vomit pile, except he was either massive, or closer than he though. He got up, or at least tried to. He attempted to move his arms for support, but they were no longer arms, they were wings, and his body was no longer his, it looked just like Jacques’. He moved and tried flapping his newly acquired wings, too nervous to attempt flight. Instead, he attempted to speak to the man in the form of a loud chirp. The man turned around, with blood and fat covering his face, his bearded face, his familiar face, Birdman’s face. This caused Birdman to panic to the point where he managed to instinctively fly, only to get hit by something huge , probably the coffee table in the room with his couch.
Birdman woke up again, his double eyelids creating an eerie effect, and features feeling more natural, perhaps it was animal instinct. He attempted to lift himself up with his feet, which were broken, and merely turned to be upright, where he examined his surroundings. He was in a mostly black room, metallic and oddly hot, with a large window peering out, with his previous face stEring at him, looking massive and now clean of guts and fat. He tried jittering around, but he then realized that the room was actually very, very hot. Then he recognized the window, Birdman was transformed into his own pet, who in turn was transformed into him, who placed the original Birdman into his oven.
Panic ensued, yet it was pointless, Birdman’s new body was broken, and he could not escape. Heat was pouring down, and he would be burned alive. He wanted to cry, but was unable to, instead he just felt his green wings catch on fire as the gases caused him to suffocate due to his tiny little lungs.
Oddly enough, after he should have died, Birdman still felt the flames as they coated his new body, although he no longer could see, or even hear from his tiny little ear holes. He could merely feel. Birdman continued to feel the heat for several more minutes, only to have it suddenly stop, and be replaced by the feeling several hard objects mashing him, and ripping him to pieces. Except, this did not feel like pain, somehow it just felt nice to be separated and to feel a liquid on his body was it was transported to a hotter area that was far more damp.
After about three minutes, Birdman felt all of his new body in pieces that were together in a pit of weak acids that were eating him apart, it was oddly relaxing. After a few hours of this, and the feeling of sloshing around, Birdman’s perspective morphed so he could now do more than just feel. He was somehow himself again.
Although, he was naked and in a messy version of his bedroom, along with a massive headache. At first he thought it to be a dream, and then he saw the rest of his house, which looked exactly like it had, except things were thrown around a lot more. However, his body got the better of him, since he really had to make a poop.
After a very smooth expulsion of his bowels, Birdman was about to flush the toilet, except he saw Jacques in it. He grabbed him up, and dried him off with a towel, trying to clean off little bits of poo off of him. Afterwards, he checked for a pulse, and found none. Birdman was on the verge of tears, both due to the confusion, which was previously neglected by a massive headache, and the loss of his pet. Then he heard Jacques talk, and he said hello, in a robotic voice. It sounded just like the voice Birdman gave him in his show, and his eyes shined at the same time. Birdman panicked.
With Jacques’ eyes a static red, Birdman crawled to the bathroom door, terrified and with tears rolling down his face. Jacques leapt into the air and dove right at Birdman, and hit him in the chest. There was no recoil due to the impact, and instead Jacques was now half inside Birdman’s chest, and getting deeper. Birdman tried to get his bird out, yet he only got deeper, to the point where Jacques’ body was submerged inside of Birdmantron.
It resulted in… Nothing. With the destruction of his bird, Birdman was unscaved. And while he was about to make a quip about this situation, he was completely stumped. Despite how he was just attacked by his bird, who became a robot, Birdman walked it off and proceeded on his daily regimen of thinking of funny things to comment about games. However, after an hour of writing, he was unable to come up with anything that would be on par with some of his earliest work. Thinking he was just out of sorts, he went to play something to clear his mind. However, as he decided to unwind with a bit of Donkey Kong Country, only for him to lose all desire to continue after he got past the title screen. What was wrong with him? Why would he dislike a title he’d love since he was a kid to the point where he has no desire to play them.
He tried to reignite a spark for a few days, avoiding people like Egoraptor, who was trying to get together and record more episodes of Game Grumps. He stayed in a state of depression for about a week, resulting in him sitting in his bed, his desire and personality were both shot, and he was wondering if it was even worth getting up, as he fell asleep.
With that, he opened his eyes, lifted bed sheets off of himself in a cold sweat. He was panting like a hairy dog in the middle of summer, sitting upright in his bed, weEring a grey jumpsuit that was damp with sweat. After a minute, Birdman realized, and found himself in an unfamiliar room, with steel coating the walls, and concrete coating the floors. And due to the dream, he mentally made comments about the situation, and much to his delight, he managed to make humorous quips once more. He looked for a light switch and found one on a nearby wall, revealing that he was in some sort of bunker, then he heard a siren ring. Birdman tried to open the metal door to get out and see what was going on, and it electrocuted him, nearly knocking him out.
While in a daze, Birdman saw someone open up the door, or rather something. It looked like a shaved bear weEring scrap metal, with a rag covering its head, and a massive piece of metal in its hand. Birdman heard him talk about “Fems”, and “Artists”, and their attacks on the bases. Yet, with that Birdman fell asleep, confused and mildly choking on the air, which was thick with smog.