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The itch starts in my sinuses, sharp and insistent. I rub my nose, but my hand—wait, my hand—it’s still mine, just… bigger. Fingers bloating, knuckles swelling. I stare at them, trembling. Human, but wrong. Too wide, too heavy. Panic claws up my throat.

Then my face twists. A hot pop, and suddenly my nose is stretching, lengthening, slithering down like a fat serpent. A trunk. It splashes into the hot water. Too hot! I recoil, and it slaps against my collarbone, wet.

Pain strikes my jaw. Tusks. Oh god, my gums split. Two ivory spears burst through, slick with blood or saliva—I can’t tell. The weight drags my head forward. My ears follow, fanning out like sails, skin stretching paper-thin. They slap against my shoulders.

The water churns. The tub’s shrinking. No, I’m growing. My legs—are they thickening? No, no, focus. I lift a quivering hand, study the distorted fingers. Still five, still mine, but warped. Can’t text, can’t run, can’t… breathe. The trunk heaves. A sob escapes, but it’s a wounded honk.

“Help,” I try to scream. It comes out deep, nasal. My reflection in the water—oh god—is a nightmare. Human eyes trapped in a beast’s face.

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