Disclaimer: I don't own Steven Universe. Still. What a shocker.

- Snippets from the Invasion -

Radioman 1: Baker One, this is Baker Six! We've encountered multiple hostiles moving east along Hollywood Boulevard! They're tearing through our tanks like they're made of cardboard!

Radioman 2: Six, this is One – has the enemy deployed anti-tank weaponry? Intel reports the enemy possesses no heavy weapons in that area.

Radioman 1: They don't have any anti-tank weapons; they don't need 'em! Their soldiers are taking our tanks apart with their BARE HANDS! We need air support, now!

Radioman 2: Roger that, Baker Six. A fleet of Buzzards are en route to your location. Hold your position!

Radioman 1: Jesus Christ, here they come!

*gunshots are heard over the radio, followed by screaming and then a deafening silence*

Radioman 2: Baker Six, come in! Six, do you copy? Shit. Who's nearest to their position?

Radioman 3:This is Baker Four, we've got what's left of Three and Five with us. Should we move to investigate Six's position?

*distant voices are heard over the radio*

Radioman 1:Negative, Four. Pull out. B-84s are inbound; command has ordered a carpet-bombing run of the enemy's positions. Retreat to the city limits.

Radioman 3: Holy shit, they're going to bomb LA?

-The Battle of Los Angeles (October 9th, 2113)

Warning: Minor spoilers for John Carpenter's The Thing (1982)

Episode 6: Who Goes There?

"Come on, come on!" Fred said excitedly, clenching his hands in anticipation as he watched the colorful plastic spinner wind around the circular chart in front of him, gradually slowing down.

"Come on, baby, give it to me!" August called enthusiastically as he watched.

Ben remained quiet, as he usually did, but the intensity with which his golden eyes stared at the spinner betrayed his stoic expression: he too was invested in the outcome of this little event.

Steven, who was eating his dinner, also watched, albeit from across the room and with more than a little amusement.

This was a fairly regular occurrence at the Beach House; perhaps not regular enough to warrant being called "tradition," but it was a ritual that had nonetheless taken on its own place of importance in the household.

The guys were happy to watch movies or TV with Steven almost whenever he wanted, and they almost always let him pick what they watched. However, once every week or two, the Old Guard set aside a night for "grown-up movie night" (they had stopped calling it "adult film night" because every time they said that, Fred would wiggle his eyebrows up and down and giggle like an immature teenager, although Steven wasn't sure why). Grown-up movie night was, obviously enough, the night when the guys got to pick the movie, which nearly always meant that Steven was not allowed to watch with them.

The event which everyone in the house was currently focused on was the current method by which the picker of that night's movie was chosen. It was a piece of cardboard with a large circle drawn onto it; that circle was divided into three equal parts, like slices of pie. On each "slice" was written a name: Fred, Ben, and August. In the middle of the chart was a screw which held a little plastic arrow on it. Every movie night, they would set up the chart on a stand in the middle of the living room and spin the arrow, and whoever it landed on got to pick the movie. It was always quite the spectacle for Steven, as his guardians tended to get a bit overdramatic when it came to picking the movie.

All eyes were on that cheap little spinners as it circled the chart more and more slowly with each revolution. Finally, as it crawled to a stop, its audience watched with bated breath. It slowed further and further on the piece of chart labeled, "Fred," causing said man to pump his fist in the air and whoop with pre-emptive victory. He suddenly fell silent as and his look of elation turned to horror as the spinner continued on, eventually coming to a rest just slightly outside of his territory – and directly in August's.

"HA! YES!" August exploded, jumping up from his seat. "What can I say? Lady Luck and I, we've got a good thing going! Better luck next time, fellas."

Fred groaned in annoyance as Ben merely shrugged.

"You've gotten to choose the movie for the last three movie nights in a row!" Fred complained.

August turned towards the man and tapped a finger to his chin in mock contemplation.

"Hmm, I seem to recall that we used to use a simple rotation system to decide who got to choose on movie night, so we all got a turn. I also seem to recall a certain someone saying 'Oh no, August, let's make a chart! It'll be waaaay more fun to decide that way!' Now who was that again? Ben, do you remember?"

August turned and looked at Ben, inviting him into the game. The taller man merely cracked a small grin and stared back in tickled silence.

Rebuffed but far from defeated, August swept his attention over to the kitchen counter, where Steven sat munching on a baked potato with sour cream, cheese, and bacon crumbles.

"What about you, Steven? Do you remember who could have said that?"

Steven put down his fork and grinned widely, laughing as he exclaimed, "It was Fred!"

"Oh that's right, it was Fred! Now what were you just saying, Fred?"

Fred merely grumbled, sinking back onto the couch in defeat. August lost his mocking tone and nodded his head in satisfaction.

"That's what I thought. Now I'm going to choose the movie, and I choose The Thing."

"Aw man, I wanted to watch a Tarantino tonight. Django, maybe, or Pulp Fiction," Fred groused.

"Hmm, not a bad idea," August conceded.

"We can watch one of those next time. Tonight, we're watching The Thing," he stated with an air of finality.

Fred seemed at least partially mollified, and quickly slipped back into a good-humored mood.

"What thing are you guy's talking about?" Steven questioned, confused.

"Not 'what' thing, Steven, 'The' Thing, directed by John Carpenter," August explained.

Fred stood up from his seat and walked over to wear Steven was before crouching down so he was eye level with the child.

"It's about an alien that look change its shape and form to look like anyone," he said ominously.

"It sounds cool," Steven responded earnestly.

"But it's not cool, Steven," Fred said, his tone growing more and more menacing as he slowly inched closer to the hybrid's face.

"It's an evil alien that spreads by infecting and devouring those is touches… You don't know who you can trust… It… Could even… Be…"

Fred's and Steven's faces were only a couple inches apart; the boy was enthralled, unable to tear his gaze away from the man in front of him as he felt a cold shiver of fear run down his spine.

"ME!" Fred shouted, lunging towards Steven and picking the boy up in his arms.

"AGH!" Steven cried out in fright, but his cries of fear quickly devolved into good-natured laughing as Fred held him up at arms length and began to gently shake him while going, "Raaargh!"

"Heh, you need a hand escaping from that monster, Steven?" August asked, watching their antics fondly.

Fred immediately set the boy down.

"Woah, noooo thank you. Last time you 'lent a hand' when Steven and I were roughhousing, I was sore for a week and it took us days to repair the kitchen," Fred said, wincing at the memory as he returned to the couch.

Now it was August who approached Steven.

"Alright, sport, you've eaten dinner, it's dark out, and it's grown-up movie night. You know what that means."

Steven did know what it meant, and he was not thrilled about it.

"Whose room will it be tonight, young master Universe?" August asked, bowing deeply and using the smarmiest British butler accent he could manage.

Because the guys often chose movies that had "content not suitable for the eyes of a youngster" (August's words), and because Steven also slept in an open loft directly above the living room where the guys watched said movies, movie night meant that Steven got to sleep in one of the guy's rooms. He'd been doing it since he was a child, and while the concept of sleeping in what was essentially one of his parent's beds wasn't embarrassing to him, the boy had been trying to show his guardians that he was more mature.

He wanted to show them that he wasn't just some useless kid anymore, and to prove that he was capable of going on more "serious" missions with the guys. A small step in that plan involved not spending anymore movie nights sleeping in one of their bedrooms like a sheltered toddler. He needed to show them that he wasn't afraid, and that he could handle watching a simple movie. After all, if he was going to be going into dangerous and scary situations in reality, how bad could such things be on film? If he was going to prove that he could handle the real deal situations, the Old Guard had to know that he wasn't frightened by the fake ones.

"Actually…" He began slowly, before brightening up and hopping up and down excitedly as he smiled at August. "I want to watch with you guys tonight!"

August's eyes widened in surprise, as did Fred's. Ben, passive as always, merely quirked a singular eyebrow. A frown quickly crossed August's thin face.

"Kid, you don't even like horror movies! You couldn't even make it all the way through Fiend Without a Face when I invited you to watch it with me."

"And that movie is from the 50s, so you know it's like, super cheesy!" Fred piped up.

August shot him a glare, but quickly turned his attention back to Steven.

"Steven, I don't want you to get nightmares again, alright? You can join grown-up movie night when you're older, and, y'know, grown-up."

Steven knew the look that August got when he made up his mind about something, and that look was currently occupying the man's face. The boy sighed in defeat, but then an idea came to him. Maybe, just maybe, he could still salvage a partial victory from this.

"Well, can I at least just sleep in my own bed while you guys watch? I won't pay any attention. I'll go right to sleep."

He fixed the most cherub-like look he could on his innocent young face and shot it at August like it was a death ray. The boy could see the man's defenses crumbling away before him.

"Ehh, I dunno, pilgrim. Even if you don't try and watch, you'll probably still hear the movie, and that alone might be enough to give you nightmares."

"Pleeeeeeease, August? I'll go straight to bed – I'll be snoring by the time the opening credits are finished!"

"Come on, August, just let the kid sleep in his own bed! I want to start the movie already! Besides, it means none of us will have to sleep on the couch tonight," Fred interjected.

August threw up his hands.

"Ugh, fine! This is a bad idea, and I already know you're going to have nightmares, but sure Steven, you can sleep in your bed tonight while we watch."
"Awesome, thanks August!"

"Don't thank me. Thank Fred. And you might as well thank Ben while you're at it – I sure didn't hear him rushing to back me up," August said with more resignation than rancor lacing his voice.

And so, Steven rejoiced in his minor victory and soon went up to his bed.

"Seriously though, Steven. Try to go to sleep. Do not pay attention to this movie. It'll scare your socks off," August called up to him.

Of course, Steven had other plans: he was not only not going to go to sleep just yet, he was going to secretly watch the movie and then surprise the guys the next morning by coolly making a few comments about how "fun to watch" and "not terrifying" it was.

Steven laid down in bed, but just to be on the safe side, the guys decided to watch a full hour of boring nature documentaries on TV before starting The Thing. Steven remained as still and quiet in his bed as he was able to; it was quite a challenge for the naturally energetic boy. It was made further difficult due to the fact that a segment about snakes came on, and for some unexplainable reason, the child was quite saddened by their lack of arms and legs. Still, he blinked the tears from his eyes and stayed strong.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Fred yawned and groaned from below.

"Come on, let's start the movie already. Steven's definitely asleep by now. Heck, this is so boring I'm falling sleep."

In response, August softly called Steven's name.

"Steven? Steven, you awake buddy?"

Steven stayed silent, feeling like a spy on a secret mission.

"Alright, finally. Let's get this show on the road."

Steven subtly shifted in his bed, lying in a position where he could easily see the television screen in the room below. He watched with wide eyes in anticipation as the movie started.

Needless to say that this was a bad idea and Steven regretted it very much. His first inkling that something was wrong was when he found himself wincing at the extremely salty language and the violence that occurred within the first few minutes of the film. The boy soon steeled himself, however – Steven couldn't let some harsh words and a little staged violence between actors rattle him.

Then the came the seen where the alien first revealed itself, the infamous dog scene. Like a gruesome car accident, Steven found that he couldn't look away. He watched in horror and disgust as the titular "Thing" emerged from its canine disguise, felt real terror as flesh tore and sloughed off and bones cracked to realign. He watched with dread as tentacles sprouted from its disgusting, twisted form and began to consume the dogs it was with. Even as the main characters arrived on the scene to dispatch the horrendous creature, Steven felt no relief.

Finally, he tore his gaze away from the screen and immediately covered his head with his blanket. He couldn't get the image of that dog's grisly transformation out of his head. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw its face splitting open and its skull falling off. He couldn't stop thinking about the way those insectoid legs pushed their way out from its torso. He tried and failed to get the sound of that buzzing mingling with the frantic barking of the sled dogs out of his mind. He could feel himself shaking, could feel tears forming in his eyes.

He must have let out a whimper, as he quickly heard the movie pause. He could hear weight shifting from the couch below as somebody stood up.

"Did you hear that?" Somebody whispered.

"Steven, was that you?" One of his friends called up in hushed tones. "You alright, buddy?"

Steven pressed his pillow in tight around his head and squeezed his eyelids shut. He willed himself to remain still and silent. It would be too embarrassing to admit that after they'd warned him, and after he'd promised he was mature enough, that he'd still been scared by the movie. On top of that, it would mean admitting that he had lied to them, a practice which he abhorred.

It would mean compounding his own disappointment in himself for letting a horror movie get to him with the disappointment of the guys for lying to them. Especially August. Steven could already picture him, staring down at Steven with eyes filled dismay and regret as the boy confessed to his crimes. It would destroy what little respect he had managed to gain from his guardians, dispel any doubts about whether or not he was "mature," and it would completely eradicate his chances of getting to go on another mission any time soon.

Despite the storm raging within the young hybrid, he managed to stay calm and appear unconscious. His acting paid off, and a minute later, his guardians were once again seated and the movie was playing.

Steven stayed awake, trapped within his own mind, for the rest of the movie. It mattered little; he paid no heed to the sights or sounds that came from the TV after seeing that horrifying scene. He remained awake long after the movie ended, hours after the adults had retired to their bedrooms. He was plagued with horrifying visions of the transformation.

The boy honestly expected to remain awake for the rest of the night, but exhaustion eventually drove him into a fitful sleep. All night long, he suffered terrible nightmares of monstrous, mutant dogs and shape-changing aliens and all manner of related horror-fantasies. To the child, these nightmares felt disturbingly real, and he seemed to be able to focus on nothing but his own fear and the strange abominations that caused them. Forms warped and changed before his eyes like clay, and visions of dog-things and shapeshifters haunted his dreams.

Fortunately for Steven Universe, morning inevitably arrived to pull him from the depths of slumber.

As consciousness slowly returned to the child, he did not open his eyes immediately. He woke up piece by piece, and his eyes stubbornly refused to open. He laid in his bed in this half-awake state, until his nose itched and he reached up to scratch it.

Instead the relieving feeling of his fingers scratching his itch, he was instead greeted with a sensation of wet sandpaper dragging up his nose repeatedly. Still being a bit sleepy and with his brain still only partly-functional, he did not react to this immediately.

Huh, that's odd. Feels like a tiny tongue is licking me.

As he slowly regained his faculties, he noticed the distinct sound of panting reaching his ears and the smell of puppy breath (one of his favorite smells) filling his nostrils.

That's weird too. It's almost like a puppy is-

The realization finally jolted him from the last dregs of sleep and he suddenly opened his eyes.

Sure enough, the close-up face of a cute puppy filled his vision. It seemed to be an Alaskan Malamute, or perhaps a Siberian Husky. Whatever breed it was, three things were immediately clear: 1) it was adorable, 2) it was excited to see Steven, and 3) it had to be standing right on top of him with how close its face was to his own. That third point seemed impossible, though, as Steven didn't feel any weight on his body.

The boy sat up to get a better view and the sight he got shocked him to his very core. The puppy itself did not exist as a whole entity. Rather, the puppy's head was where Steven's left hand was supposed to be.

The puppy's head was where his left hand was supposed to be.

THE PUPPY'S HEAD WAS WHERE HIS LEFT HAND WAS SUPPOSED TO BE!

Steven shot up like his bed was suddenly on fire and held his hand – er, the puppy head – as far away from him as he could manage, which was only arm's length. The puppy yipped excitedly as Steven gripped one side of his head with his right hand and began to panic.

"AaaaaAAAAHHHH! How did this happen!? Where did my hand go!? WHY IS THIS ADORABLE PUPPY GROWING OUT OF MY WRIST!?"

The puppy simply blinked and looked up at Steven with adoration.

"I don't know if this is more or less weird because of how cute you are!" Steven exclaimed.

The puppy yipped again in response. If it had a tail, it would most certainly be wagging right now.

Steven sprinted down the stairs from his room and glanced wildly around the interior of the house. The guys were nowhere to be seen. They had to be outside – if they were indoors, they would have heard his cries of distress and come running.

Being only twelve years old and under high duress, Steven did what anyone in his position would have done: He sprinted out the front door waving his arms above his head repeatedly shouting for help. The puppy, for its part, seemed to enjoy being waved around and looked much like a tiny dog sticking its head out of the window on a moving vehicle.

August was seated in a beach chair about halfway between the beach house and the shoreline. He had a newspaper in one hand and a pencil in the other, and was staring down at the paper in concentration.

He heard Steven exit the house and he heard the boy's shouting but did not immediately notice that his cries were of distress instead of excitement, which was Steven's usual reason for hollering.

"Finally awake, Steven? If you want you can help me with the crossword, I need a five letter word for-," The man began to say before looking up from his paper.

When he finally did look up, he was treated to the bizarre and distressing sight of Steven charging across the sound towards him, flailing his arms around, and seemingly holding a puppy in one of his hands.

"Steven, what's wrong!? Are you okay? Where'd you get that puppy?"

Steven came to a halt in front of the super soldier, gasping from exertion. Instead of answering directly, he simply held up his left arm and its… "New addition," for August to behold.

The man had seen a lot over the years, but this spectacle caused his jaw to drop like a sack of bricks.

"Holy Mary, mother of God, are you okay, pilgrim!? Does it hurt? What happened? Who did this to you?" August demanded, unable to tear his gaze off of the small dog. It yipped cheerfully at him, which seemed to only further unnerve the man.

"I- I don't know!" Steven shouted. "I just woke up like this!"

The boy looked at the spot where his left hand should have been, growing more upset by the second.

"Is this because I didn't pet enough puppies when I had the chance? How am I going to pet dogs now!? WHAT ABOUT BEACH CITY'S LEASH LAW?"

August didn't know what the hell was going on, but he saw his young charge spiraling into complete chaos and knew he had to comfort the boy.

"Steven," he said, and when the hybrid failed to respond, he said it again, louder. "Steven! Look at me!"

He planted a firm hand on Steven's chin and forced the child's eyes to meet his own.

"You are going to be okay. Say that back to me."

"I'm- I- I'm going to b… be okay," the youngster repeatedly meekly.

"Again."

"I'm going to be okay."

"One more time."

"I'm going to be okay!"

"That's right," August said, making sure to speak clearly and slowly. "Now I don't know how this happened, but we are going to make sure that whatever it was gets un-done."

"What if we can't fix it!? Everyone is going to start calling me Dog-hand Boy, and I'm going to have to run away and join the circus!" Steven declared, starting to panic once more.

August was quick to put a stop to it.

"No one is going to call you 'Dog-hand Boy,'" he responded authoritatively.

"Now Ben is out in the field doing some recon, so he won't be home for a while, but Fred is just in town. Why don't we go back inside and fix you- uh, and your little friend- some breakfast while we wait for him to get back. Then, when your stomach is full and Fred's here, we can figure out how to get your hand back."

Steven sniffled a little, but he nodded and followed the older man back to the beach house. Steven's spirits lifted considerably when August placed a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of him. His spirits then immediately dropped again when he found that eating with one hand was difficult enough; it was downright unmanageable when one of your hands was ACTIVELY trying to eat your food while you struggled to keep it away.

August placed a small bowl of table scraps down beside Steven and that seemed to distract the canine, which made eating much easier for the boy.

"Hey, good thing you're ambidextrous, pilgrim. Can you imagine how much worse this would've been if you'd been left-handed?" August said, trying to get Steven to look on the bright side.

Steven nodded appreciatively and continued to eat. Now that the initial shock of the event had worn off, he wasn't feeling nearly as freaked out. Granted, having a puppy head where your hand should be is a bizarre experience, but Steven had to admit that said puppy was pretty endearing.

August, seeing that Steven was situated with his breakfast and no longer in any immediate danger of having a breakdown, pulled out his cellphone and called up Fred.

"Hey Fred, we've got a situation with Steven. We need you back at home right now."

That got Fred's attention. The youngest of the three super soldiers sprinted back to the beach house, arriving only a couple of minutes later. He practically kicked the front door open as he stormed in.

"August, Steven, what's go-OOOOH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT!?" Fred practically screeched upon seeing the dog.

Steven turned towards the man and looked down at the puppy somewhat fondly, scratching behind its ears with his right hand.

"This little guy," he said with a grin, "is Lars. He replaced my hand when I woke up this morning."

August, who had been standing by the counter with his head in his hands, looked up and saw Fred shooting him a bewildered look. The team leader merely shrugged in response.

A million questions and thoughts sped through the younger man's brain before he settled on one.

"Why did you call it Lars? Isn't that the name of the dork who works at the Big Donut?"

"Yes," Steven said, matter-of-factly, "I named him that because of how much he reminded me of Lars: at first, I didn't like him at all and I was really unhappy to see him, but then I got to know him and now we're best friends!"

Fred had to shake his head in amazement: honestly, there were times when he wasn't quite sure if Steven even lived in the same reality as the rest of them.

"Okay. So, you have a dog instead of a left hand. And you named it Lars. And you're friends now, apparently. Why do you have a dog instead of a left hand?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," August replied.

Both men looked the boy up and down, considering him from head to toe as they contemplated what might have caused this. Meanwhile, Steven was wagging his index finger in little circles around the puppy's head, watching as it followed it and grew dizzy. Fred's eyes came to a stop on the boy's gem.

"Aw, I know what this is! Gems can shapeshift!" Fred exclaimed.

August clapped a hand to his forehead, "Oh man, that's so obvious! Why didn't I think of that?"

Maybe because it's easier to forget that he has a gem at all.

Steven looked up from his little game, allowing the dog to finally catch his finger and gnaw on it gently.

"Wait, what!? Gems can shapeshift?" Steven said in disbelief. August and Fred both nodded.

"Does that mean I can shapeshift too?"

"Well," August said, clearing his throat, "We've never seen a gem shapeshift anything like this." He gestured at the puppy.

"But that has to be what caused this. I mean, what else could it have been? The only question is, why did it happen last night? Steven, can you think of anything that you did or that happened to you yesterday that might have had some kind of effect on you? Was there anything you saw or thought that made you feel strange?"

Both August and Fred stared at the boy, awaiting an answer. Steven suddenly found himself unsettled once more. Honestly, since he'd woken up that morning, he'd forgotten all about the movie last night. The whole "lack-of-hand" situation had sort of kept him preoccupied, not to mention that the light of day rendered the memory of that horrible scene less terrible by the second. The less he thought about it, the more the memory faded, and the less troubled he was by it.

With the memory brought back to the forefront of his mind, he suddenly looked down at the puppy – it looked just like a younger, smaller version of the one from that scene. Steven looked up and knew he had to tell the truth.

"Well, ya see, it's kind of a funny story…" He began, laughing nervously. "I sort of, um, well, I kind of- I kind of, might have watched some of that movie you guys were watching last night."

He went to rub the back of his head, but he absentmindedly used his left "hand" and was rewarded with a small nip on the back of his neck from (puppy) Lars.

"I kind of- well, it really scared me. I had nightmares." He added the last sentence sheepishly, recalling how August had correctly predicted that he would have them.

August's eyes widened in realization.

"Oh. OH. That's why that little guy-," he pointed at Lars, "is an Alaskan Malamute! Just like the Kennel-Thing."

"How much did you watch?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Up until… that, THING came out of that dog."

"Lemme get this straight: you watch a movie about an alien shapeshifter that pretends to be a dog, you have nightmares about it, and you wake up the next morning with a miniature version of that dog as your hand?"

"Yep."

"Okay, seems pretty open and shut to me. It's pretty ironic though, considering that in the movie the dog thing was an alien and now you've got a dog hand because of your alien gem powers."

Fred saw a slight frown twist across the boy's face.

"Not that you're an alien, Steven! You're one of us, human through and through!" He added quickly.

Nice save, genius.

Steven shook his head and forced himself to smile again.

"It's okay."

"So how do we fix this..?" August wondered aloud.

"Well, in the movie, a flamethrower seemed to do the trick," Fred commented.

"WHAT!?" Steven said, eyes comically large. Beside him, Lars whimpered.

August walked over to Fred and smacked him in the back of the head.

"You're two for two, Shakespeare. Why don't you think before you speak?" The man asked gruffly. Then he crouched down so he was face to face with Steven.

"Don't worry Steven, Fred's just being an idiot, as usual. We're not going to use a flamethrower or anything like that on you. I'll go check the archives for everything we've got on Gem shapeshifting. Fred, you stay here and watch-."

The man was cut off mid-sentence as Ben burst in.

"August, Fred, we have an emergency. We have to leave right now."

"Ben, we've got bigger problems than that," August replied.

"I seriously doubt it. We've detected a massive Gem corruption walking along the ocean floor of the Pacific, and its on its way to the south coast of Australia. It's going to make landfall at Melbourne – we're talking hundreds of possible casualties. If we leave now, we can get there just in time to hold it off," Ben replied, his voice flat except for a small current of urgency.

August looked back towards Steven.

"But Steven…"

Steven was thoroughly spooked by all this talk of flamethrowers and aliens, and he also saw an opportunity to show his maturity and possibly make up for this debacle.

"I'm alright, really! Me and Lars are getting along great now, and I actually don't even miss my left hand that much anymore! You guys go on your mission, I'll be here when you get back," The boy said with enthusiasm that was only half-genuine. He petted Lars' head affectionately to add to the effect.

August frowned and glanced between the child and Ben.

"I don't like this…"

As he often did when August was considering a Steven-based dilemma, Fred decided to pipe up.

"Well August, it is kind of cute, in a disturbing sort of way," he indicated the puppy. "It'll probably be fine."

August sighed.

"Okay, we don't have a lot of options right now. Fred, you and I are going to hit the arsenal. We'll need the big guns. Ben, you go and get the Buzzard warmed up. We'll meet you there in fifteen."

August quickly shifted in team leader mode and gave out his orders rapidly. Ben and Fred saluted and began to head for the door. August, before following them, turned towards Steven once more.

"Take my phone, sport. If anything happens, and I mean anything, you call Ben or Fred and we'll be right back. I mean it; if you start to feel strange or if the dog starts acting up, you call. Otherwise, we'll be back late tonight."

He gave the boy a hug.

"And thanks for being so brave, Steven. You're a real trooper."

With that, he turned and exited the house after the others. Steven felt quite elated, to be honest. August Fairburne, the leader of the Old Guard, had just called him brave! That was a step in the right direction, for sure.

The Old Guard made it a point not to leave Steven alone too often. When all three of them had absolutely no choice but to be out of the house at once, they at least tried to make sure that Steven had a sitter (which usually ended up being Sadie). This time, though, with such short notice, Steven was left to his own devices (which greatly pleased him, as the idea of having a babysitter definitely undermined his newfound maturity).

It took him all of an hour of sitting on his bed, watching cartoons on the little TV in his room to realize that he was bored. After that little revelation, it only took him a few minutes to come up with a worthwhile way to kill some time.

The boy grinned down at his canine companion who was busy gleefully chewing on one of Steven's socks.

"Nobody else knows about you yet. We gotta go into town and prank them! We can even introduce you, puppy Lars, to actual Lars. This is gonna be so great!"

Lars barked eagerly as Steven once more raced down the stairs from his room. Once he was outside and on the beach, he forced himself to calm down and slowly made his way towards the town. Once his flip-flops hit pavement, he knew immediately where he was going to go first. He tried to stifle his own giggling as he placed his left hand behind his back and strolled over to the Big Donut.

As they entered the establishment, the puppy grew a bit excited by all the new smells and let out a small bark. Steven immediately shushed it and hoped that no one had noticed. Sadie and Lars were both leaning against the counter as usual, with Lars holding a small bag of candies in one hand and occasionally munching on a few.

He looked up from snack with a frown when he heard the brief burst of barking.

"Hey, can't you read the sign? No dogs allowed."

Then he noticed that it was only Steven standing there, without a dog in sight.

"Oh, it's just you Steven. You barking like a dog now, dude? I always knew you were crazy."

Sadie noticed Steven as well and greeted him with far less hostility.

"Oh, hey Steven! How are you?"

"I'm good, Sadie. Hey Lars," Steven said, giggling, "It sounds like you've had a ruff morning. I have something that might cheer you up. Woof you like to see it?"

Lars let out a frustrated groan, and said, "Enough with the stupid dog puns. I don't want to see whatever you have. You leaving is the only thing that would cheer me up."

"Aw, come on Lars! It's paw-sible you might like it, you should at leash see it before you dismiss it!"

Sadie was gave an amused smile at Steven's antics. Lars' expression was anything but amused.

"If it'll get you to stop with these puns and leave me alone, then fine, show me."

Steven removed his left hand from behind his back and stuck the puppy's head right into Lars' face.

"People Lars, meet Puppy Lars!"

Lars' unimpressed face instantly turned into one of shock as he recoiled with a shout of surprise, dropping his bag of candies and spilling them all over the countertop and floor.

"Augh! What the heck is that thing, man!?"

Sadie was just as surprised, exclaiming "What happened to your hand, Steven!?"

"I woke up this morning with this puppy here instead. The guys say it's because of my gem powers. Look at him – isn't he cute? I named him after you, Lars!"

Lars recoiled in annoyance and disgust, while Sadie's expression remained one of uncertainty.

"Does it… Hurt?" She asked.

Lars interrupted before Steven could reply, shouting, "Man, you and that freaky thing made me spill my Skiggles everywhere! Now I gotta clean this mess up!"

He folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Sadie, clean this mess up," The teenager commanded insolently.

Sadie couldn't even bring herself to be surprised by his blatant laziness, but she was definitely not to put up with it right now.

"Clean it up yourself."

"Whatever."

Lars ended up going to the back to get something to clean up the mess while Sadie and Steven stayed at the front. Steven did most of the talking, as Sadie was still weirded out by the puppy-hand situation.

"Yep, so I'm basically on my own for now," Steven said in his "serious" voice, puffing out his chest proudly. "The guys left me in charge of the house because of how brave and mature I am now."

"Wow, Steven, are you alright? I can come over when my shift ends if you want."

"NO! No, I'm fine. Us tough, mature guys have to be able to handle stuff like this. You know how it is."

"Uhhh… Not really, but okay."

Lars finally came back to the front. Steven was expecting to see him with a broom and a dustpan, but instead he held a red hand-vacuum.

"When did you guys get that?" The boy wondered.

"Last week, it makes cleaning this cruddy old place waaay easier," Lars said.

"Not like you would know," Sadie muttered under her breath.

Lars clicked on the vacuum and began to suck up the colorful, little round candies.

"Woah, something's wrong!" Steven said.

As soon as the vacuum turned on and began its mechanical whirring, Steven's dog-hand began to freak out. It growled and whimpered and barked, and it began trying to pull away from Steven and head for the exit. Of course, being attached to him at the wrist and having no body or legs of its own meant that it didn't get very far, but that didn't stop the little dog from trying to escape.

"I guess it doesn't like the vacuum cleaner! I'd better go!"

"Alright, bye Steven!" Sadie waved after him.

Lars didn't even acknowledge him at all; he simply kept vacuuming.

Steven spent the next few hours in a similar vein: he'd walk around town, concealing puppy Lars as best he could, and then he'd approach somebody, hit them with a few dog puns, and finally reveal the dog. The initial reactions were almost always shock and concern for Steven, but once he reassured them that he was fine – because he was fine, he told himself – several people had acknowledged how cute the small dog was. Ronaldo had even made the hybrid give an impromptu interview for his blog.

Eventually, Steven found himself growing hungry and wanting to go home. Lars seemed tuckered out, as well.

Steven made his way back through town and towards the beach house. The sun was growing lower in the sky, creating a brilliant horizon full of soft pinks and oranges melting together over the sea. Steven felt pretty satisfied with his day. Alright, maybe it had gotten off to a bad start, and maybe having one of your hands magically transform into the head of a puppy was super freaky, but hey, it could've been worse. At least the puppy head was cute and friendly, like a real puppy.

It wasn't anything at all like the dog in- no, no, better not to think about that.

Steven got home just as the last rays of the setting sun shined a glorious goodbye over the horizon. He was quite hungry, and immediately went to the kitchen area to fix himself a sandwich.

He struggled to get the supplies he needed from fridge, and found that with only one hand, he was unable to unscrew the lid off of the mayonnaise jar.

"Grr, darn- thing- won't- open!" The boy grunted as he tried to place the jar between one of his armpits and use his free hand to twist the top.

Suddenly, the lid actually did twist off, but because the jar was sideways pinned between his arm and his torso, a huge glop of mayo immediately fell out and onto the kitchen floor.

"Argh, this is so much harder with only one hand!" Steven said to no one.

He looked down at the small dog that occupied his left wrist.

"Why don't you help me?"

It just yipped at him.

Steven went to clean it up, grabbing some paper towels off the countertop, but found he didn't need them when Lars began to simply lick the mayo off the floor. The sensation was very weird to Steven, probably because the puppy was just a head and therefore didn't really have a digestive system.

"Ew, gross! Don't lick it up off the floor! I'm pretty sure that gunk is going straight into me!" Steven cried out, yanking the dog's face from its meal.

"Forget eating!" The boy declared, although his grumbling stomach disagreed. "I just need a distraction."

The half-gem walked himself over to the sofa and plopped himself down in front of the big TV. Fortunately, he could still work the remote with just one hand, and he clicked the television on. Unfortunately for him, the guys had failed to take the DVD out of the player last night and the TV was still set up to play movies.

As soon as the TV came on, Steven was greeted with the main menu screen of The Thing. Granted, it was only a menu – it didn't show very much from the actual movie – but the reminder of what the child had seen the previous night was more than enough to send him to a bad place. Memories of the horrific transformation flooded his mind once more, leaving a feeling of dread settling into his gut like a ball of lead.

The boy looked out the windows at the front of the house: the sky was rapidly darkening, and without the comforting light of the sun, he was finding it harder and harder to shrug off the feeling of fear. The boy heard growling and looked down at where his left hand used to be.

Little Lars was looking far less like an adorable puppy and far more like an angry beast. All of his teeth were bared and he was staring up at Steven with pure malice in his eyes as he continued to growl menacingly.

This was the final straw for young Steven. The feelings of dread and fear that had wormed their way into his heart and mind were now overwhelming him. He was now clutched in the cold grip of terror that came from losing control of his own body. When dog-Lars barked threateningly at him, Steven yelped and shoved a pillow over the canine's head.

He shifted his weight so that he was now on top of the pillow, effectively sitting on his left hand and keeping the beast pinned. He stuck his right hand into his pants pocket, intending to pull out the phone August had given him and call for back up. It was a bit difficult to shove his hand into the pocket and pull it out, and his grip on the phone felt… wrong…

When he held his right hand up, he found out why.

It too, had shapeshifted into a dog's head, identical to the first one. It held the cell phone in its jaws, and quickly flung the device across the room where it hit the wall with an audible crack. It then began to bark violently at Steven.

"Oh no! Not another one!" The boy cried out.

The phone was lying on the floor across the room, probably broken. Even if it was still in perfect shape, he wouldn't be able to use it without any hands or fingers. The dogs grew even more frenzied, and Steven sank further into despair.

He could feel his body beginning to shift and change even further. Like the horrifying beast in the movie, things seemed to be moving beneath his skin. The boy shrieked and watched in agony and terror as a third dog head popped into existence on one of his knees, and then a fourth quickly followed on his other knee.

The boy could feel and see more following, until the heads of angry puppies were popping up all over his body.

"No! Go away! I don't want this- I don't want any of you!"

The number of dogs bursting forth from his body only grew higher and higher, and all of them seemed feverishly angry. They barked and nipped at each other or at Steven frantically, all pulling in separate directions. The poor child felt like he was being pulled apart, as though he was stuck between several giant vacuums, all sucking him in opposite directions.

Wait a minute, vacuums! Dogs don't like vacuum cleaners! That's it!

Steven forced himself to his feet. He could feel the dogs twisting and writhing in agony on him and in him. He grit his teeth and slowly forced himself to head towards the kitchen. They kept a vacuum cleaner in a nook by the fridge: that was his target.

If an outsider had looked in through a window, the scene in front of them would have looked like one out of a horror movie. A huge mass of dog heads, all frothing at the mouth and barking mad, was slowly inching its way forward, and occasional flashes of a young boy could be seen at the center of the clump. It was a terrifying sight.

Steven summoned up every ounce of strength and courage that his twelve-year-old body had. He needed to power through this ordeal. He forced the heavy collection of heads towards the kitchen, using all of his mental fortitude to ignore their hectic cries and their gnashing teeth. Slowly, so slowly, he made progress.

By the time the hybrid had reached his goal, the knot of canine heads had grown even larger. To Steven, it felt like there were no more free patches of skin that they could emerge from, but still more came forth, crowding each other and making use of any available space.

He had reached the vacuum, but now came the hard part. He needed to plug it in. He had no hands to do so, and even in his current state, he knew better than to put his mouth anywhere near an electrical socket.

Instead, the boy flailed his arms briefly, disorienting the dogs on them, and then he gripped the end of the power cord between his two forearms.

He carefully maneuvered the plug towards the nearest outlet, which thankfully was right next to him. He did his best to ignore the barking, growling, biting dog heads that had colonized his body. He knew that if he dropped the plug, he probably wouldn't be able to bend over and pick it up off the floor to try again. He felt like he was reaching critical mass; this was his only shot.

He slowly slid the end of the cable towards the outlet. It got awkward for a second when he realized he couldn't really push it any further like this, as both of the heads which occupied his hands were now firmly pressed against the wall. He shifted his arms vertically to try and give himself better access, and he forced the plug head into the socket.

"Haha, yea-AAAAH!" His shout of triumph quickly became a scream of horror as the heads seemed to realize what he was up to, and those of them that could twist themselves around to bite him did so.

In the kind of pain that can only be described as "dozens of puppies repeatedly nipping your skin," Steven bent down over the vacuum and used his own nose to push the power button.

With a mechanical roar, the vacuum came to life. The effect was immediate. The dogs instantly abandoned their assault on their host and instead, as one great, wriggling mass, tried to run in the opposite direction of the vacuum cleaner. Their threatening barking and growls gave way to pathetic whimpers and high-pitched whining as they attempted to retreat.

Steven was having none of it. He grabbed the edge of the kitchen countertop and held on, keeping the canine heads close to the source of their discomfort. Gradually, Steven felt the strain on his body begin to lessen.

One by one, the panicking dog heads were vanishing, shapeshifting themselves back into his normal body. The vacuum continued to loudly intake air, frightening the remaining dogs out of existence. Steven dragged himself closer to the appliance in order to drive off the last few dog heads that stubbornly clung to existence. At last, after several seconds, he felt normal again. He looked himself over and saw no remaining puppies… Except for…

"LARS!" Steven shouted, as the original puppy head that still remained on his left hand whimpered at him.

Steven felt bad, for half a second, before the frightened puppy's expression morphed back to one of anger and it snapped at him.

"NO DOGS ALLOWED!" Steven stated, and he knocked the vacuum cleaner over on its side and stuck his head right at the bottom of it where it was sucking in the air and dust.

A brief yelp was heard, and then there was nothing but the sound of the vacuum cleaner. Steven withdrew his hand and was relieved to see that it was once more just a normal human hand.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh Lefty, I missed you," he said fondly, cradling his newly returned hand to his chest.

When the guys returned later that night, they were surprised to see that Steven was still awake and waiting for them on the couch.

"Steven, are you alright? Let's see what we can do about getting your hand back," August said.

"Sorry we had to leave you on your own, Steven. It was an emergency," Ben told him, feeling slightly guilty about abandoning the child earlier.

"We brought you and little Lars some food back from Australia, though!" Fred added, holding up a container.

"It's okay, guys. I took care of it!" Steven told them, holding up his left hand proudly.

"Wow, Steven, that's great!"

"How'd you manage that, sport?"

"I'm impressed."

Steven merely grinned.

"I guess you could say the situation got a little out of hand, but I dealt with that doggone problem pretty well."

For a brief second, silence reigned. And then Fred started cracking up.

"Yeah, it would have been easy to just roll over and accept defeat, but I knew that was a terrier-ble idea!"

August's mouth was a thin line when he said, "Steven, go to bed."

Fred just laughed even harder. Even Ben was showing the tell-tale signs of one of his "almost-smiles" coming on.

"Aw, come on August. I spent the past few hours coming up with dog puns, and you don't even want to hear them? Howl could you be so cruel?"

"I'm going back to Australia."

FIN

Author's Notes:

Shout out to the episode, "Cat Fingers," for being the most successful use of cartoon body horror I've ever seen. Like, seriously, that was messed up.

I know this chapter was shorter than what you're all used to. Like I said before, I'm hoping that with shorter chapters, not only will I be able to get them out more often, but also they'll be more convenient for you guys to read in one sitting.

So… It's looking like getting another chapter out by July 4th is probably not going to happen. I'm still trying, but this is my last day off before Independence Day and when I come home late from work, it's really hard to make myself write. Apologies in advance if it doesn't end up coming together… All I can say is that I will definitely have the next chapter out sometime in the near future.

BIG THANKS to Malaka139 for leaving a review on this story! I really appreciate reviews and this one in particular was very motivating for me. I write this stuff because I like to write; I honestly have no idea whether or not my writing is enjoyable to other people, so a review that tells me I'm doing a good job is very inspiring!

Anyways, I'll see you all in the next chapter, have a good one!