The Transformation

A Story by Callisto

Just a short little blurb about a crappy night

He fell to his knees in the corner of the room, temple pressed up against the faded wallpaper.

"Whats it for?" he mumbled raking his fingernails on the wall.

He could feel the time slipping by counting down to the madness he was helpless

to resist. The senses were already changing, the scent of night air sneaking in

through the poorly sealed windows. Outside the people went on with their lives

blissfully of what goes on above their heads. He could hear their idle

conversations as they went on, lovers, family, and friends. It was maddening,

so many irrelevant conversations escaping into the night air all buffeting his

ears at the same time. He cupped his hands around his face trying to protect it

from the change, but the swelling leathery palms provided no solace from what

he was facing. He fell back sprawling across the floor staring at the ceiling.

The world spinning as fast as the fan above, then silence. The world shifted as

he stood up but he lacked control of his legs. They were no longer his, twisted

and contorted into something digitgrade. It always started at the feet crawling

its way up his body like a creeping insect. It wasn't until it reaches his head

the real pain begins with the face extending into a sharp muzzle and set of teeth.