Gaster Blaster Transformation Oneshots (ON HIATUS)

"Ink... Guess what?"

Yes, I am aware that I just posted two oneshots. And I will say it right now, this is a JOKE oneshot. However, I still highly encourage that you read this one before you read the next one, since it will give you a bit more insight as to how this all began.
This is based off a roleplay I had irl with CrystelTheWolf . The whole thing started with this joke, then became serious after we agreed that I should make this into a oneshot, hence why there are two versions of it.
Also, MAJOR curse warning for this one! I've been trying to stay away from cursing too much in these nowadays (since I know that some of you get offended by it), but in this case, I couldn't leave it out. The joke has to be EXACTLY how it was when it came up, otherwise it doesn't have the same humor to it (at least to Crystel and me).
Besides that, enjoy the pure nonsense of this oneshot before you get thrown into the angst of the serious version! ;3
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There they were. Two enemies on opposite ends of a rather small room, one sitting in a throne, the other on the ground on his hands and knees.
Error was laughing like a maniac, and Ink was barely managing to hold back a gaster blaster transformation.
"Hey, hey. Hey, Ink. Ink, guess what?" Error said suddenly, pausing in his laughter for a moment.
The artist narrowed his eyes at Error, a snarl twisting across his face. "Wh-What do you want?"
Error snickered. "The fucking ceiling is made out of fucking wood, Ink."
Ink tilted his head to the side in confusion as the glitched skeleton erupted into another fit of crazed laughter. "Wh-What? Why was that... I-I don't..."
"Hey, hey, Ink. Ink, guess what?" Error repeated, still giggling like an idiot.
Ink exhaled slowly, trying to keep his cool. "Wh-What is it, Error?"
"The fucking floor is made out of fucking concrete," Error replied, barely managing to get the words out between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.
Ink winced as pain shot through his chest. "Q-Quit being a fucking idiot, E-Error..."
   "Aww, c'mon. Just let me have my fun, Ink," Error replied smugly.
The artist growled softly under his breath, but said nothing. He yanked his scarf up over his mouth, not taking his gaze off of the ground.
"Hey, hey. Ink. Guess what?"
"...What?" Ink grumbled, clearly getting irritated with his enemy.
Error snorted. "My fucking clothes are made out of fucking fabric, Ink."
Ink let out a grunt as the pain began to rise up in his chest once more. "H-Ha ha. Very fucking f-funny, Error."
The glitched skeleton burst out laughing, completely unable to take anything seriously. "Hey Ink. G-Guess what?"
"Wh-What the fuck is i-it?"
"Your fucking clothes are made out of fucking fabric, Ink." Error was laughing so hard that he was gasping for breath, and tears were streaming down his face.
Ink groaned in agony, arching his back as he felt his spine beginning to reset itself with a series of dry snaps. Large spikes shot up from his vertebrae, ripping through the fabric of his shirt as though it were nothing. "F-Fucking stop it, you m-madman..."
"Hey, hey. Inky, guess what?" Error wheezed.
"G-God... Wh-What the hell do you need??" Ink retorted, his voice shaking due to how irritated he was.
"I'm made out of fucking bones, Ink."
The artist opened his mouth to respond, but the only sound that came out was a cry of agony as pain tore through him once more. Error broke off into a fit of coughing, which Ink didn't seem to notice in the moment.
"Ink. Ink, guess what?" Error finally choked out, his voice raspy and slightly weaker than before.
"Urgh... Wh-What is it??"
"You're made out of fucking bones, Ink," Error said with a chuckle.
Ink shot the glitched skeleton a fierce glare before he suddenly let out a scream of anguish as pain wracked his body once more.
He could feel the structure of his legs beginning to change, shifting from plantigrade to digitigrade, his feet elongating and the tips of his toes growing sharper, his shoes tearing apart in the process.
   "Ink... Ink, guess what?" Error pestered, once he'd managed to stop laughing.
   "...Wh-What...?" The artist's voice has become deeper, and even a bit double-toned throughout the course of the transformation.
   "I'm fucking losing it, Ink," Error murmured, his tone becoming oddly serious.
   Ink cried out in agony, repeatedly slamming his fist down against the floor in response to the pain that rippled through his body.
After a few moments, Error spoke again. "Hey, Ink. Guess what?"
   "W H A T ? !" Ink practically roared, his pupils changing to red, upside-down pentagrams as he spoke.
   Error smirked. "My fucking strings are made out of fucking strings, Ink."
The artist screamed in pain, clawing desperately at the sides of his ribcage, almost as if he could physically fight off the changes somehow.
"Hey, hey. Ink. Ink, guess what?" the glitched skeleton wheezed, barely managing to get the words out between small fits of violent coughing.
"Wh-What the f-fuck iss it now?!" Ink hissed, his voice even deeper and more animalistic than before.
"The fucking air is made out of fucking oxygen, Ink."
Ink threw his head back with a wail, a mixture of tears and rainbow-colored magic streaming down his face as he mentally prayed for it all to end.
He was sick of Error's twisted laughter. His stupid game. All the suffering he was being forced to endure by his worst enemy. Having to constantly fight against the beast within him, only to lose time and time again.
"Ink... Ink, guess what?"
...Wh-What do you want? H-Haven't you seen enough s-suffering for one day?" Ink snarled quietly, his voice barely recognizable as his own.
"I'm fucking dying, Ink..." Error replied hoarsely, a weak grin on his face.
Ink was about to respond, but a surge of pain through his entire body stopped him, the intensity of it causing him to completely lose his train of thought.
   The sound of bones snapping gradually drowned out Error's crazed laughter (and horrible coughing) as the transformation finally took its hold on Ink.
   He couldn't fight it anymore. He was too weak... too tired...
   His body began to draw on a mass that it didn't normally have, each bone in his body distending and thickening all at once. Spikes ripped through what was left of his shirt, specifically at his shoulders and elbow joints.
   He clawed violently at his head as it began to splinter and shift, his nose and mouth stretching forward into a long muzzle as large horns emerged along the back of his skull.
   After several minutes, everything began to die down. Ink didn't even notice the absence of Error's insane cackling until he heard the echo of his glitched voice.
   "Ink... Guess what?"
   The creature that Ink has become looked around, trying to figure out where his arch enemy had gone. His gaze finally rested on a pile of dark-colored dust, a blue scarf lying abandoned right next to it.
   "I'm made out of fucking dust, Ink."

   Woo! How was that? Did I make y'all laugh?
   ...Probably not. Either way, the roleplay that inspired this was fun, so I figured that it'd be fun to write this in memory of it. :P
Oh, and in case you didn't understand the ending, basically, Error was physically sick throughout this whole thing, and he finally died because of it sometime in the midst of Ink's transformation.
   Next one is a lot more serious. Like I said, this one was a joke. And if you've read this far, then I hope you've enjoyed it!
   -Sora