#b4ts

Dull chartreuse eyes flashed open, light flooding the eyes that hadn’t been used for a while; it felt like he was waking up from the Matrix. Pain flooded through the male’s optics, and he reached up, a hand clasping firmly around his chin. Stubble. He rubbed it, fingertips sliding over his somewhat hairy skin slowly, like slugs on a leaf, crawling slowly across the surface.

Quickly, his head jerked up, an unknown weight holding his cranium down, almost like pound after pound was piled onto his head. His hand moved from his chin, and searched for the weight, fingertips coming across something hard that protruded from his head. A grunt, and then his hand wrapped around a horn, sliding along it until it curved and trailed up to the tip of them. Blunt, but powerful; a minotaur horn. He turned, pushing himself up to his feet.

His lip curled up into a sneer, looking around the forest that surrounded him. It wasn’t dead silent―good thing―but it was bustling with life, and he could’ve sworn he heard a frog croaking in the distance. Leaves rustled overhead like something was jumping back and forth them; a monkey, even, although in the forests of Oregon, no monkeys resided.

With a grunt, one of his feet moved forward, and slammed into the soft earth. His gaze lolled downwards slightly to see what he had just stepped in: mud. Soft, cold, earthy mud, an expression of disgust shining brilliantly in his eye. His foot lifted, and then he jerked it, the material flying off his foot and being left behind as glop as he moved onwards; his eye followed the trail of mud, closer and closer to where it came from. It wasn’t just some random puddle of mud―no, that wasn’t possible―and eventually, he found where it came from. A lake, at the mouth of the forest, spreading and expanding as far as his eye could see like its own miniature universe.

He was reminded of Minecraft; where he got that from, he didn’t quite know. Nor did he really find himself caring, as his goal was finally set into stone. He leaned over, chin raised slightly, and then he dropped his head like a stone falling off the edge of a cliff, staring into his reflection. The water distorted it here and there, ripples spreading over and reshaping his expression, distorting it like it were a camera filter―Snapchat, probably―but it was clear enough to recognize that his appearance had shifted accordingly to the being that was inside of him.