(TW: Body Image and Dysmorphic Thoughs)
A Hybrid. A Lab Rat. A Freak of Nature.
Nothing special about you came out of a bottle. There’s no cure that could come out of one either
You start out as a human.
You transform, cheetah spots going up your legs around your neck, nowhere on your body safe. Instead of a striking black, an unforgiving, raw red.
They transform in front of your eyes. From human, to a cat, and now a lizard. Whether they grow white and subtle like a snake, or bold, rough scales - samurai armor. The more you try to rid of them yourself, the more you bleed. The more time you wish they’d go away, the bigger they are
You know you’re transformed. People wonder if you’re contagious. You wonder if people wonder if you’re contagious. You are the main attraction at the zoo. They point and laugh and wash their hands by just being around you.
You need a cure. You need to be human. Every potion you take works slow. Every potion fight against your body. Be a freak or be sick. Burn or not be human.
In the end your body always wins. Your body, no longer human, and never fully human again, gained super strength., or something like that.
You’re no superhero, and soon, the zoo tires of you too. Once a star, now something rude to talk about. Especially when you’ve melted into society with other hybrids: those with Giraffe spots, Aye-Aye eyes, bird beaks and quills. Hybrids shot at, sewn up, survived better or worse than you.
This prose is unfinished because the journey of seeing yourself as all of you, is still happening. I know it is for me.
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