A Choice, Made

By Elly.

I groan as I twist the deadbolt knob shut on my apartment door. Today, just like any other day, was so fucking hard. But now, it’s done, and I can unwind and relax. The stress of unwanted social friction grinding on my nerves is done for the day. No more bullshit retail stuff. I hang my coat up on the hook by the door, and kick my shoes off. The socks stay on, though. It’s a bit nippy this evening. I could turn the heat up, but instead, I walk by the thermostat, and the closed bathroom door and step into my itty bitty studio apartment proper. I chose the ground floor because I didn’t want to have to deal with hauling groceries up the stairs, and to be honest, that worked out pretty good. It’s nice to get into, and it’s not the most horribly built building. I can only hear the neighbors some days. I step into the kitchen, and fill my water bottle up at the sink, leaving it in the tub while I walk over to my desk to flick the power on my computer on. I leave the lights off. The lower the power bill is, the better.

Not like I can really afford this place completely on my own, even if it’s way-the-fuck-out in the cheapest part of the city. If there’s one thing about the south, it’s that suburban sprawl fucking sucks and is awful. It’s not like I really had much in the way of options, though, I just really needed to get out of my parents’ house. Badly. Badly enough that I was really, genuinely considering just ending up on the street instead. Yeah, as shitty of an idea as that is in the glorious year of our lord 2025. Who the fuck knows what’s happening to folks all over the place, what with people getting basically disappeared. Luckily, I didn’t end up on the street, my really cool and honestly amazing uncle is helping me out with the rent and such. He told me that it was fine, and to take my time and all, but I still don’t want the power bill any higher than it has to be, with him helping me out. I just don’t want to feel like a burden. I guess being his only niece means he was more willing to help when my parents decided to cut me loose.

I go and grab my water bottle from the sink, flipping the faucet’s handle up to stop the flow of water and sipping from the top of the bottle until the water level has gone down enough that I can put the lid back on. I sit down in my computer chair, which is really just one of the table chairs that I threw a pillow on as a seat, and let everything open up. 

My messenger app pops up first, immediately opening up to the group chat. My fingers tap quickly over the keyboard. Being a nerd will do you a lot of good for learning touch-typing.

“Hey, y’all!” I send. The flurry of replies flows in.

“LYNN!” is the only response from Jay.

“Hey, we just started a bit ago, you want to drop for next op?” pops up next, from Vincent. He and Jay are playing some video games, and honestly, I could probably use some of that too. A good decompressing few rounds of shooting the funny alien bugs, or robots or weird flesh-squid guys are.

“How was work, girl?” Marie asks. 

“Sure, I can join in a bit, Vince, and” Send. I start typing a longer message.

“Uh oh.” Marie slips a preemptive judgement in based on the amount of time it’s taking me to respond. Anything past a “Fine” or “The usual” usually means I’m starting to tell a story. I quickly tap two shortcuts. CTRLA, CTRLX.

“This one isn’t bad, actually. It’s just kind of sad.” I hammer out quickly, the switches of my keyboard clicking melodically in time with my uneven, bouncing typing cadence. CTRLV. Marie lets me finish with no further interruption.  “There was one ‘very exciting’ moment with a customer who I felt a little bad for. I think he was kind of confused about where he was? Like someone’s granddad with dementia got out and went to the store to get something but forgot where and when he was. Just very confused, very disoriented, he couldn’t tell me why he even came up to ask me but insisted he needed help. He didn’t seem like he was that old, but you know, looks, and being deceiving.” 

“Oh.” Marie responds. I keep going.

“Yeah. He clearly DID need help, but couldn’t tell me what he was looking for or why he was there, so it was really out of my hands. I ended up handing him over to a manager. I think someone called EMS for him, because I heard the siren really loud out front. Poor guy. I hope he’s okay.”

“I hope so too.” Marie replies “I’m gonna hop in the call with the boys, pop by when you wanna!”

“In a sec,” I type, “Gonna make sure that payroll went through for me yesterday.” I open up my web browser, click my email inbox shortcut, and navigate. I scroll down a bit, and sure enough, there’s my paystub from yesterday. Awesome. I pop it open, which opens a whole new window (why, just a tab is fine), tappy in my login deets, and lo and behold! My employer isn’t fucking me over and no mistakes have been made. 

I close the new window. There’s an alert at the top of my inbox. A new email. I squish down my spike of anxiety, hoping it’s not a work thing, and scroll up.

It’s not from work. But it’s way worse than a work email. The subject line sends a shiver down my spine:

Hey, Lynn.

What the fuck. What the fuck!

I alt-tab back to my messenger with such a heavy crack of keys that I worry for a brief second that I hammered the switches too hard and snapped them.

“Did any of you tell ANYONE my name?” I clack furiously into the chat.

“wdym?” from Jay.

“Nope! Haven’t told a soul” from Vince.

“I’d never, you said not to, so your parents don’t figure anything out. Just us for now, since you’re trying it out. Why?” from Marie.

I bristle. I snap a screenshot of the email in my inbox, and send it.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense with this thing existing, so someone is lying.” I sigh out loud, and pop the email open to read it, no doubt full of blackmail or some shit. It’s short and direct to the point:

Hey.

This isn’t going to make sense at all, I know. But this isn’t going to hurt you. I promise. Just take a tiny leap of faith, and the world will get so much better for you. I know it did for me. I think everyone deserves to get the chance to choose something better, like I did.

Wow! Thanks, I really do feel completely at ease with the contents of this message! It’s definitely not extremely creepy, random stalker person! Really fucking creepy! But also, weirdly not what I expected. No demands for cash, no actions I should perform. I flip back to the messenger, to see the conversation that went on while I was reading.

“That’s fucking creepy.” Thank you, Jay! At least I’m not the only one freaking the fuck out.

“I definitely did not tell anyone your name. I just tell all my local buddies that you three are my friends from undergrad. I don’t even mention genders. Also, there’s an attachment.” Vince notes. What? An attachment? Oh. There is. It’s a ZIP file. A compressed archive. 

“Don’t open that. Send it to me. I’ve got a crappy laptop with nothing on it I don’t mind resetting if it’s a virus.” Marie shoots me a direct message with her email in it. It’s a simple forward job. Marie is the one who’s at least a bit decent with computers in our group. I, on the other hand, am completely useless. I know how to find Program Files and fool around in there and that’s about it!

It takes a number of minutes before a message pops up in the chat from Marie.

“This is super weird.”  She sends. “You’re safe to open it though. It’s got a text file and a few MP3s in it.” “Lynn’s getting into secret MP3 smuggling… i knew it.” Jay’s sarcastic comment slithers its way into the chat. I ignore them, and download the zip onto my computer to open it up.

“What’s weird about it? Just a zip file, right? Also ffs, Lynn, just get in the call already so I can ask instead of tabbing out to type.” Vince sends. I snort.

“I’m gonna type to Lynn so she knows what’s up: The metadata on these files is weird. It says that they’re supposed to be from 2256, from someone using Lynn’s name as their computer username.” Maria sends.

That is really super fucking weird.

“So? You can set your computer’s date to anything, right? Someone’s just fucking with Lynn, somehow.” Vince slips in.

“This doesn’t explain how or why they know my name!!! I’m still freaking out about that!” I send to the chat. I pull open my downloads folder and unzip the file. Sure enough, there’s a text file named READMEFIRST, and 3 MP3 files. They’re named ‘Reach,’ ‘Vow,’ and ‘Wake’.

I click one of the MP3 files, expecting a media player to open, but instead, I get a dialogue box asking for a password. On a complete whim, I toss ‘1234’ in the text field and hit enter. Wrong password. Shocking. Just in case I try the other two MP3s and get the same issue. Password locked, nothing simple. I lean back in my chair, the wood creaking just a little as I let out a heavy sigh. I start spinning up explanations for the email, and the weird contents of the zip file, while knocking back a sip of water. The first option is that I’ve let slip my name somewhere at work, and someone’s having a laugh at my expense. The second option is that I’ve been hacked, or had some account information compromised somewhere, maybe my messenger, that’s allowed people to read messages and conversations I’ve had. I cringe at that one, but it seems unlikely. Hacking isn’t done by some guy in a basement tapping away lines of code like it’s the Matrix, or something. You have to click on a bad link and accidentally download some shit, or you have to get someone on the phone to give you some sort of credentials. That seems like a lot of work to go through for what seems to be a prank.

I suddenly realize that it could just be a distraction. I quickly open my antivirus software on the side, and let it run a scan while I go about the process of getting into my password manager so I can change my really important passwords. Maybe there’s some sort of virus on my computer and this is just the hackers’ way of… 

I stop that line of thought in its tracks, realizing what the end of that line of thinking leads. It doesn’t make any sense. I shake my head and press the heels of my palms to my forehead, rubbing in circles. The pressure and just a hint of pain seeps into my thoughts.

If this was some sort of distraction, why would someone who’s stolen my login information for something important do anything to let me know they did it? It would be much better for them to quietly sneak all the money out of my bank account, or socially manipulate me into making the mistake of doing that myself. It doesn’t make any sense to send something strangely cryptic like this. This seems more like a weird augmented reality game that I didn’t consent to playing than some sort of social manipulation. I try to think up some more ideas, some more logical progressions that would explain the existence of this set of files. 

I do come up with one more. But it’s so stupid. It’s so. Unbelievably stupid. I tab back into my messenger to see what the group’s been talking about while I’ve been having a miniature little existential crisis.

Jay’s once again asking the real questions, in the typical curt way they type. “music good y/n?”

Marie’s response is longer. “How would I know? It’s Lynn’s weird files, and just peeking at the Read Me it seems pretty private, so I decided to stop reading. It’s her thing at this point.” Marie’s response is the most recent one in the chat. It’s clear that everyone is waiting for my response. I let my fingers dance across the keyboard.

“I haven’t listened to any of the music yet, or read the text file. I’ve been too busy freaking the hell out and trying to figure out why someone would send this. Like, a hacker or something.” I send the message, but keep typing, letting my train of thought flow out into the chat. “But I don’t think it’s a hacker. It’s all too weird. You guys are absolutely sure that none of you have sent my name anywhere, anywhere at all?”

There’s another chorus of replies that affirm that no one outside this tiny group of my closest friends knows what my actual, real name is, instead of the one on the birth certificate. I take a deep breath and continue.

“Then the only thing that makes any amount of sense is that the timestamp on the files isn’t edited, right? A hacker wouldn’t do something stupid like this. They’d just take my shit. No one else knows my name. So what other explanation could there be for this?” I hit enter before I feel even more stupid than I already do.

“Are you saying you think you got an email from the year 2256? That’s 221 years in the future.” Thank you, Vincent. I can do basic math.

“I agree that it definitely is weird, but I still think it might be some weird blackmail. See what the Read Me has to say before we jump to any crazy conclusions but I definitely agree that it seems weird. You didn’t sign up for or start any funny ARG things, right, Lynn?” Marie, once more with the words of wisdom. Unfortunately, I’ve already been down that road.

“Nope. But I thought about that too.” I sigh and open the text file, hoping there will be some answers. Marie said it seemed personal, which is really odd. It’s just a normal text file. At least it’s formatted in such a way that I don’t need to scroll all the way over and then back again. Whoever put this together put that much thought in, at least. My eyes start to scan the text.

Hey there.

I’m not going to explain exactly how, because that’s honestly information that you just don’t have the framework to be able to understand, but I sent these files to you to help you out. Call it wish fulfillment, call it Magic. I got some at the right time, in the right place, and it made the world a place I wanted to stay in, instead of just something I slogged through. Like I know you do, Lynn. There’s a whole layer to things that you should know exist. Everyone should know, but you deserve to know more than the average person. I know you spend more of your time than you’d like to admit yearning for the touch of the sky. I can’t tell you too much about why I know. You’ll just have to trust me. Good luck, and fly free.

P.S. The password for ‘Wake’ is ‘At the light of dawn, open your eyes to something new. Feel the song of the world in your soul and let it in.’. You’ll want to listen to the whole thing, trust me. Whether or not you pass it around to your friends is something totally up to you. It’s yours now.

I don’t know when I started leaning forward and putting my elbows on the table in front of me, but at some point I did it. The message is absolutely fascinating, and it’s not just the actual weirdness of it. Even the evocation of the word ‘magic’ seems less like a metaphor, but the message itself is remarkably personal. The brief nod to my stints of depression are one thing. If this person knows I’m trans, then it’s not too hard a shot to take that I might be less than satisfied with my life. 

But the talk about the sky? No one knows about that. Not even Marie, Jay, and Vince. That particular part of my identity has stayed firmly buried deep, deep down. I know it’s there, but it’s not something I look at often, despite knowing where it is, and what it is.

What I am.

I flip once more back to the messenger, and I don’t even read the messages that have been sent.

“I trust it. I’m gonna open one of the files.”

“odam”

“Just like that, Lynn? Do you have any idea where these came from or what they are?” Vince seems unconvinced. Marie is quiet.

“Yeah, just like that, and no, I have no idea where or who they’re from. Call me crazy, but I think that this is something that’s going to just bother me forever if I don’t open it up and give it a listen.” I'm not lying. If what I think is being promised here has even the tiniest remotest chance of happening, I’ll gladly take the chance of this MP3 somehow not being an MP3 and instead being some weird computer virus. If this is even the narrowest, slimmest chance of glimpsing what I’d consider the impossible? Well. I’d kick myself forever if I let it slip between my fingers.

“i hope its low quality funky town fish” Jay sends right as I minimize the window, opening up the file browser again. I double-click the file named ‘Wake,’ and start typing in the password. It takes me three attempts to get the password correct. The file opens right up in Media Player, and I stop it before it can get anywhere with autoplay. I get up from the desk and walk into my bedroom, which is the only other room in the apartment besides my small bathroom. It’s just my bed, my side table, and my dresser for clothes. Nothing fancy. I haven’t even gotten any decorations to put on the walls. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to put things up on the walls. I scoop my wireless headphones up off my bedside table, and press the button to turn them on. They automatically connect to my computer, and I slip them over my head. Stalking back over to the computer, I sit down at the chair and hit the spacebar on my keyboard, starting the playback.

For the first few seconds, there’s no sound. Then, an extremely rapid fire-set of notes and tones hits my ears. It reminds me of layers of birdsong. There’s a break, and then another blast of noise, more mechanical, though still pleasant to hear, sonorous and deep. In the next break, I’m left wondering what the hell this is. It just seems like short stints of environmental sounds, maybe samples from some sort of game design document or something, like someone has stapled a bunch of unrelated files together in a sound mixer and let them run. The third blast of sound hits my ears, and I take a breath in. It’s a beautiful set of piano chords, a deep, resounding set of strings backing it, bracketed by a soft choral choir and gentle bells. It sounds like rainwater trickling across a roof, a fulfilling promise, a comforting touch.

As soon as it starts, it’s done, and I’m left feeling a bit weird. Another set of notes in a bitcrushed soundfont play, but I’m not really paying attention. That feeling from the piano was weird. What was that? 

A new section kicks back in after a pause, and it starts immediately with the familiar choral elements, strings, and piano. Bells, like a glockenspiel- no, they’re too high pitched, they’re probably large tubular bells- join in, and I’m left hoping that this is… whatever this file is, proper. I can’t put my finger on why it grabs me so much, it just does. The song begins to build, both in volume and in complexity, with layers of strings and a broader choral sound joining the mix. Eventually, the piano falls away, replaced entirely by the bells. 

It’s at this point that I realize there’s a weirdly cold feeling in my chest. The rest of me feels hot, but a point in my chest is deeply, frigid cold. The song keeps playing, and I curl my fingers, staring blankly at the screen, fully absorbed in the music. No visuals play across the black window. The only sensory experience that exists between me and the computer is the sound of music, of a reverent choir, building up to a peak. That cold feeling gets deeper, stretching out to my limbs, and I feel a heavy blanket of fatigue wash over me. Just as the song drops back down into gentle piano, the frigid chill snaps back, though the fatigue remains. I feel something prick my palm. 

I gasp, and look down. Blood is dribbling out from my clenched fist. I didn’t realize I was squeezing that hard, and I relax my fingers, unfurling them.

My nails are different. Pointed. Where white, rounded keratin should be, there are instead grey, sharp points. My heart stops for a second, realizing I’m looking at claws. 

“Holy shit.” I hear my own voice over the piano and soft repetition of strings. I watch in wonder as the discoloration in my razor nails spread down my fingers, followed by tiny, plated petals that bloom painlessly across my skin. My heart pounds in my chest as the piano quietly fades away, repeating the same motif the song was centered around as a final, sweet goodbye. 

All hell breaks loose. The discoloration and scaling washes over me in an instant, like a dam bursting open. I feel my bones shift, and somewhere in my mind I realize that this should feel unimaginably painful, but for some reason my nervous system can’t spit out anything but excitement, joy, and disbelief. The transformation that overtakes me is magical, truly impossible. I feel a tail whip out behind me, lashing awkwardly around the chair that I’m rapidly becoming to large to sit in. 

Oh, shit, I’m growing. I quickly stand, feeling my feet grow longer is really odd- and I move my chair out of the way, sitting down on the floor of my apartment. I blink, watching the way my body bulks, and the way my bones shift. My chest gets deeper and wider at the same time, and I feel my sternum morph, flowing almost like putty. I laugh, fully-throated laugh, thinking that I must be having the most realistic dream of my life, and I roll onto my back, feeling my scaled tail whip over and slap against table’s support. I feel a brief sting of pain at that.

How odd! Feeling pain in a part I don’t have. Or didn’t have until now. Or should have always had, maybe?

My budding wings press against the floor, and so I sit back up, fidgeting, giggling. I’m on top of the fucking world right now, even if this is a dream I’m going to ride it out all the way to the end.

God, I really hope this isn’t a fucking dream. I feel my neck change, and my voice changes with it, the tone losing its masculine gruff for something far more beastly, yet still I notice it has more feminine lit to it than my normal voice.

“...Or maybe this is my norhrml- vhg-hlrh. Rhrh. Snhrrhf?” 

Fuck. Well, there goes my ability to vocalize in English. I’m sure I’ll come up with some sort of alternative. My vision suddenly sharpens. Holy shit I can see outside, in the dark, really well. I try to cackle, but it comes out as a rasping rumble. I reach up, and pull the headphones off my head as it swells, and all my hair falls out. I was planning on growing that out…

Oh well. This is so much better. I feel the bizarre sensation of my back feeling like it’s being strung through a taffy puller, the membranes of my wings- patagium, I think it’s called- stringing itself between the long, thin digits. 

Oh wait shit I’m going to have wings! I’ll be able to fly! My heart pounds, deeper and heavier and happier than I’ve ever heard it before. I let out an accidental trill as I grin, and that just makes me feel even better. A buzzing feeling overtakes my face as my snout grows from my skull, my teeth sharpen, my tongue forks, and my sense of smell rockets upwards in sensitivity. 

I flop forward and lay on the floor of my apartment, letting out deep, satisfying rumbles as I feel what should be the last of the changes taking me over, at least if the coloration of my claws and scales are anything to go by. The strange feeling fades, and I sigh, feeling tired, but also unbelievably energized.

I hop up, not even trying to rise to two legs. Four is certainly what feels right and natural, and I’m rewarded by rising to my full height. I lift my head up, and then stop, suddenly, realizing I could probably touch the ceiling if I lifted my head all the way. 

I giggle, the raspy, chuffing noise spreading through the apartment as I curl around on myself, the flexibility of my spine sending a spark of bliss up it, and I clatter my claws across the wood floor to the bathroom.

I open the door after a bit of fumbling. I still have thumbs! Kick ass! But I’m definitely less dextrous than I used to be. That’s fine, I don’t even care. Doorknob conquered, I pull it open, flip the light switch, and- Oh, right. I covered the mirror with a towel last night in a dysphoric episode. I grab and yank it down, and smile in the mirror, far too many sharp teeth on display.

My scales are deep, midnight black, and shimmer with a subtle rainbow tint whenever the light hits them just right. I always loved rainbow boa constrictors, and my scales having the same iridescence just feels so right. I grip my two, large, curved horns, the bony looking spikes on my head traveling down my spine towards the tip of my tail, which is just a plain taper, no spade.

I sit in front of the mirror, examining every inch of myself. Every slightly dappled scale. Every ivory horn, every grey claw. My broad, creamy underbelly scutes get the check too, and… 

Yeah. I’m right. Just how I was always meant to be. 

A twinge of fear starts to bubble up inside me. What if this is a dream? What if I wake up, having had a taste of this, and have to shuffle off to my shitty supermarket job stocking shelves and live with the longing that this has given me?

I pinch a scale on my foreleg with two claws, twist, and pull. I snarl from the little bit of pain, and watch as the dark red blood trickles out for a moment. It drips to the floor, and I grin. I tear some toilet paper off the roll and hold it till I stop bleeding, cackle-growling the whole while.

Once I’m done cleaning up the mess I made, I twist my snake-like head to the side, feeling out the limitations of my movement, and wow, I can twist real real good. I feel my neck pop too, god, that’s great. 

I back up, out of the bathroom, and remember to duck my head so I don’t put a hole in the wall with one of my horns. Judging by my estimations, I’m about six feet taller at the shoulder, which means I stacked on quite a few inches, in addition to all the weight I’ve put on. I twist and prowl back down the small hallway to my computer. I sit, sejant, and coil my long tail around myself, settling my wings down as extra supports before I lift my fores up to the keyboard. I experimentally tap at it. My claws don’t gouge the keys out, so that’s good, but we’ll see how long the plastic holds up against repeated use. 

My bigger hands… claws? Fores. My fores definitely are larger, and that makes it a bit more difficult to type on a normal sized keyboard. I can tell my typing speed has taken a pretty big hit, but I can still make the motions, I just have to turn and twist my wrists a bit as I type in order to hit the keys accurately. 

That’s probably not good for them in the long run. I make a mental note to pick up a novelty oversized keyboard sometime as I slip back into the messenger.

“What the hell is ‘low quality funky town fish?’” came from Marie, just after I left. Just before I listened to the track. Wake.

Well, I certainly feel awake now.

“Guys.” I send to the chat. “Magic is fucking real.”

“BS. I’m going to get a glass of water.”  Vince replies immediately, surprising me. I guess they probably took a break from gaming to keep tabs on what was happening. Even if they didn’t get to experience what I did just now, I still probably kept them in suspense.

“No, I’m fucking dead serious. That MP3 was magic somehow. I’m me. The real me. I thought I was dreaming at first, but I am not fucking dreaming.”

"The real you’? What, you got magic GRS?” I snort at Marie’s message and respond.

“I mean yeah, but more. I’m a dragon, by the way.”

“pics or it didnt happen.” Jay shoots. I don’t respond with words. I turn, and go to grab my phone.

Oh shit my clothes are in fucking tatters over the floor. How the fuck did I not feel that? The constriction must have been something awful, geez. I dig around in the tattered remains of my dysphoria hoodie and pull out my phone, praying I didn’t squish it.

The screen isn’t even cracked. Hell yes! After tapping at the screen uselessly with my claws for a moment, I shift and touch with my toe-pads instead. I snap a selfie, being sure to grin nice and wide and show off how sharp I am now. I send it to the chat.

“lmao nice try, good img ai tho” At this point Jay is running the show, though Marie starts typing too. I decide to just engage with Jay.

“Okay. Tell me to make a gesture.” I chuckle, rumbling gleefully at the idea of being something impossible.

“middle finger” Jay requests. It takes me less than three seconds to flip my camera the bird in another selfie, though it’s a bit hard to bend my digits like that, and another two seconds to send it to the chat. I do drop my phone after, though, whoops. Damn, this thing is so tiny.

“Count em, baby, that’s 4 fingers and a thumb.”

“...holy shit” 

“I see we believe the dragon is a dragon now.” I smugly send, my tail slapping the floor as I wriggle into a more comfortable position, laying down. I pull my keyboard onto the floor. Hooray for wireless!

“Lynn? That’s you?” Come on Marie, you were always the one telling all of us images were generated at a glance, you can’t be thinking it now.

“Yeah. It’s me.” I reply. Thinking that thought sends a remarkably powerful wave of euphoria and feel-good seeping into my chest. I sniffle a bit, and suppress the urge to cry with joy.

“Jesus fucking christ on a fucking unicycle. You’re a fucking lizard!” Vince sends to the chat.

I almost bristle, and then realize that Vincent is probably just jesting, and opening up some mutual ribbing opportunities. “Yeah, and you might be on the menu, monkey boy, so watch it.~” The chat goes silent for a bit, and I briefly wonder if threatening to eat Vincent was too much for the group to handle. Then Vince replies in chat.

“Yeah, that’s her. She didn’t get body snatched or whatever. No one else would possibly respond to a jab with a tilde.”  I breathe a sigh of relief.

“How?” Marie asks. I run them through the experience. Listening to the music, the weird feelings, the changes.

“I’ve got no ideas or explanations for how it works. It’s just. Magic. I don’t see what else it could be.” I sigh, and stretch. I should go to sleep soon. All that growing really took it out of me. Maybe I’ll make some dinner before curling up in bed.

“Can you turn back? Some dragons are shapeshifters, right?” Vincent asks. I go to type a ‘Hah, no,’ but I-

The thought of turning back sends a fucking shiver down my spine. To go from this, to being trapped in a human body again? I feel myself slip towards the edge of a panic attack. I try to push the thought out of my head, but feel a little twinge in my chest before I do. I tilt my head, and focus on it with my mind. It’s almost like there’s a string I could grab, and- I gasp as I’m suddenly back in SKIN, NAKED, on my rug.

“FUCK!” I scream, not caring if the neighbors hear, “No, no, please, no…” I start hyperventilating almost instantly, the panic settling in. It can’t be gone so easily! I was there, I was literally there! How long? How long was I me? Twenty minutes? Thirty? The rest of my life, ruined by a thirty minute experience! I try to scrabble for any sense of the feeling in my chest again, and the strings are still there. I don’t hesitate at all, and take the mental equivalent of a fistful of them, yanking as hard as I can. My tail suddenly lashes out and smacks my chair over. I freeze, and start feeling myself all over. Snout? Check. Horns? Yep. Wings? 

I flap once, stirring up the dust in the room. I sneeze, and shake my nose, glad I didn’t have an accidental release of firebreath. I immediately feel the relief wash over me, and I break down crying, the emotions slingshotting from contentedness to existential horror to bliss again too much for me to take. I don’t bother replying to the gang in that time. I just soak in my euphoria. 

What the hell was that, though? I focus inside myself again, and feel something in my chest. It’s definitely a set of strings. Like a guitar or a violin or something. I picture plucking one, and it feels like I get sucked into a singularity and spat back out in a fraction of a second. I’m human again, sitting on the rug. This time, I don’t panic.

This time I realize that I’m human, but still shaped like a girl. What the hell? Okay, that’s cool as shit. Wait, can I?

I try to think about my old reflection, and pluck a claw against a string again. The shift is subtle, but there. Much less intense than the full body change. I try an add a tail to my mental map, and pluck again. 

And now I’m long. Cool. Alright. I roll back over, strumming my soul at the same time, and click my claws across the keyboard. I find Vincent’s message, and hook up a reply.

“Yep. I’m definitely a shapeshifter now. Got mix’n’match options too.”

“Wait what, that’s so cool! You’re gonna have to show us.” Marie sends.

“...Show?”

“We decided that we want to see you in person to verify this for sure. We’re going camping.” Marie keeps typing. “And you’re not allowed to say no, lizard.”

I chuff and shake my head, rolling my eyes even though none of them can see me.

“Alright. I’m game.” This is gonna be a wild weekend.