Chương 5: Chapter Four

The impulse to struggle was instinctive. Unfortunately, he'd had control over this body for all of three seconds, meaning what wriggling he did was more chaotic than useful. He'd been intending to take things slow, get a grip on his new form's general motor functions before doing much else. Being in the mouth of a catfish limited such efforts. It also introduced a new element previously unencountered in his neophyte existence as a monster manual entry. That being taking damage. - 1 Health!

Bob felt two abrasive, bone-like plates slam into him as the fish bit down; grinding his cloth body against the copper coins currently filling it. The sensation of his fabric-like flesh beginning to tear and break at the seams was very off-putting. It was also – as of around three seconds ago – extremely painful.

'Let go of me you shitty fish! Let go, let go, letgoletgoletgo!' The fish didn't seem willing to listen to his inaudible pleas however, biting down twice more in an attempt to swallow him whole; luckily dealing no further damage. It wouldn't occur to Bob until later that his constant struggling and writhing around was probably only exacerbating matters.

In the end, he was saved not by his attempts to free himself or even the fish realizing that he was inedible; but instead, due to him simply being too large to swallow. The coins filling him never quite arranging themselves for ease of consumption. He was eventually spat out near a scattering of larger rocks an unknown distance from where he'd started. Not that it mattered terribly much, given that he'd been just as lost then as he was now.

As his vision spun – his jeweled tassel still a victim of inertia – he could briefly see the fish's silhouette as it swam off into the darkness; its form radiating irritation. Not wanting to be out in the open should his attacker decide it was up for round two, Bob made a desperate rush towards the dubious safety of the nearby stones; each one boulder-like when compared to his current size. Unfortunately, due to the newness of his ambulatory abilities, the attempt ended up far more 'desperate' than 'rushed'.

Involving a great deal of slug-like movement as he tried to drag himself to the rocks without losing any coins. His eye mainly getting a good view of the lakebed as he tugged it along behind him. Once he'd managed to wedge himself into a hollow between two stones without further incident, barring the accidental eviction of a few guppies, Bob tried to pull himself together. To take stock of both himself and his situation. Unfortunately, the results of these investigations were less than positive.

Now that he could actually get a decent look at his new underwater home, Bob realized that it was far more crowded than he expected. Each passing shadow making him feel smaller and more fragile than the last. His previous attempted-devourer obviously only ranking around average in terms of local fish size. And, upon inspection of himself, he appeared to be a white cloth bag large enough to – at best – hold two stout onions.

One whose sole abilities seemed to be ineffectually biting teens' fingers and acting as a convincing fish lure. Neither of which felt like they were going to aid him much in any attempt at survival. Though, as visual confirmation of his new inhuman nature fully set in, parts of Bob weren't entirely sure survival was really something to aspire to. As he watched cloth and string clumsily move under his command for the first time, Bob felt himself start to spiral.

Mind beginning to strain and sputter as it was forced to acknowledge the totality of what had been done to him. Only managing to avoid another dissociative episode by tearing his eye away from his new body to stare back at the murky water outside his hole.

'Hooo boy. Alright. This is fine. We're fine. This isn't a big problem. We're going to look back over in a second and be perfectly okay with what's currently going on. Because we're going to fix it. Or this is going to be a coma dream. Or… Something. But we are not going to freak out and get ourselves eaten by another fish. That is not going to happen.' Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Bob thoughts slowly grew firmer as he continued.

Mostly because he refused to allow himself a breakdown right now. Not now that he actually had some control over his own fate; however limited. And especially not over information he'd already had plenty of time to come to terms with. No matter how impossible it seemed to 'come to terms' with being transformed into a sack. Admittedly, he hadn't expected the actual sight of his… changes to hit him as hard as they did. But it wasn't anything he couldn't get over.

His reaction was probably just the result of too much stress in too short of a time span. Something which Bob would prove momentarily. In just a few seconds. Once he was more in the mood to turn his eye back around. Until then, however – and while he allowed himself to take a few metaphorical 'deep breaths' – Bob decided he might as well do a cursory scan of his surroundings. Poking his jeweled eye slightly out of cover to try and get a better understanding of the local environment.

And perhaps even a vague idea of what he should do next. Unfortunately, visibility was severely limited. Things dimming to a murky darkness after only fifteen or so feet. Something which had him grumbling until he realized the fact he could see at all likely meant his jeweled eye was a massive improvement over his previous biological ones. A realization which probably would have been more celebrated had the replacement of body parts not currently been something of a touchy subject.

Unfortunately, improvement or not, there just wasn't much to look at. He was surrounded by a bare plain of silt and sand. One featuring only the occasional large stone silhouetted in the near distance as any possible source of further safety. And innumerable silver-skinned murderers flitting about in the space between. The only thing he found even slightly hopeful or noteworthy was that the path to his left was heading up a very slight incline.

Though he had no way of knowing whether it was a route towards some unseen shore, or just a slight rise in the lakebed. Bob figured he'd find out pretty soon though, given he didn't appear to have any better options. Parts of him argued that he was moving too quickly. That he should give himself more time to plan; to try to figure out what was going on. But Bob forced himself to ignore them. Because they were the same parts that didn't want to leave at all.

That wanted to sit here under these stones and hope for rescue. Or that he'd soon wake up from some strange dream and be back in his old life. Where the worst he'd have to worry about was a cheating wife and a looming divorce settlement. And if Bob having a pseudo-breakdown over witnessing his disturbing new form had any upside, it was that he was finally beginning to accept that this was real.

Or at least real enough that, unless he wanted to chance his next life being even worse, he needed to get up off his non-existent ass and work towards a better future. And while he admittedly wasn't exactly sure what a 'better future' would look like for him, given his current circumstances, he did know the path to get there. Money. What looked to be a brat's pocket change had already boosted him four levels.

If he could get out of this horrible hole in the ground and make his way to a local city, like perhaps the one those men hailed from, he'd likely have another half-dozen 'Traits' to choose from within the day. And likely at least a couple of the 'Evolutions' promised by the system. At least one of which might, perhaps, allow him to communicate with the local populace. If he could cross that barrier, who knows what doors might open.

The men he'd encountered hadn't seemed surprised to find a living coin-pouch, after all. Which meant magic was a known quantity in this universe. Which might also mean that the chance that he could somehow be transformed back to a man again was non-zero. A feat he currently felt willing to cross quite a number of moral boundaries to achieve. Of course, before he could do much of anything, he first needed to be able to visually acknowledge himself without suffering a panic attack.

'Okay. No more stalling.' Bob steeled himself, before finally turning his gaze back upon his new form. Feeling instantly grateful when the second glance proved far less potent than the first. Though the horror still remained. As well the… unnerving nature of it all. Watching his fabric 'skin' scrunch and undulate sent what seemed a normal cloth pouch straight to the depths of the uncanny valley.

The reality of witnessing an inanimate object become animate – even when you were the object in question – being grossly misrepresented by the Disney corporation. Still, unnerving or not, it was what Bob currently had to work with. And given that he didn't want to die a sad death at the bottom of an underground lake, that's exactly what he planned to do. Once he'd settled himself, he did what he could to prepare for the journey in front of him.

Which mostly amounted to looping his tassel around his body in an attempt to limit enticing movements and preparing to play dead. Him figuring that his best bet going forward was to lean in to what he was. Or in this case, wasn't. That being a living biological creature. Once the fish realized he didn't look, feel, or taste like any of their standard prey items, they'd likely let him go. With the combination of his increase in level and choosing 'Creeping Hoard' he had a grand total of ten Health now.

Well, nine after the catfish attack. But that should be enough for him to survive a bite or two before he managed to find a new source of cover. Hopefully. Though whether a creature which appeared to be crafted from cloth and twine would naturally recover from being damaged was another matter altogether. And not one he really wished to contemplate right now. With a plan made, even if not one he was entirely happy with, Bob forced himself not to waste time waiting for some golden opportunity that would never come.

Instead, he pointed himself at the distant shadow of a rock up the inclined path and began to move. Doing his best to ignore the weighty presence of an unknown number of predators – the largest easily five times his size – swimming directly above his head. Hoping beyond hope that he was on a direct course to the underground lake's shoreline. That is, if it even had a shoreline. Either way, if he was going to go out, Bob decided, then he was going to go out on the move.

He had already spent far too much time in this world sitting still.