Episode Twelve A Look in the Mirror

C haska

Holy shit! This hurts. My skin is stretched so tight it feels as though it will snap off my body. And it burns.

My tail—dear God, I have a tail—is thrashing so mightily I'm afraid it might flip toward me and break my leg. I have no control over it.

This is like a train wreck I don't want to look at, but it's barreling at me at a thousand miles an hour.

"Fuck!" I scream when what must be wings burst out of my back.

I manage to roll onto my stomach, so whatever is happening to my shoulder blades completes its metamorphosis.

I can't control the deep grunts and long groans bursting from my mouth. It's just too much pain to bear silently. One thing is good about the pain, though. It's keeping my mind off the bigger problem, which is that I'm turning into a dragon.

Now that I'm focusing on it, though, I can't turn my mind from the larger implications. What if I lose all sentient thought? What if I go off the rails worse than Alex, then thunder into the bedroom to kill them all?

What if I can breathe fire?

That thought stops me dead.

For long moments, my mind quits working, not even able to pay attention to the excruciating pain.

Please , I think, not even knowing who I'm praying to. Please don't let me lose my humanity. Please don't change me enough that I want to harm my lovers. I'd rather die than that.

I'm on my side, moaning and rocking in pain. I start reciting math formulas in my head. It's such a left-brained thing to do. It gives me comfort. Somehow, I believe if I can do math formulas, I won't lose my higher cortical functioning. It's wishful thinking, but it's better than giving up all hope.

I manage to grab a complete breath. A minute later, I unfold from the fetal position.

"Still here," I call to my lovers, knowing all three of them, no matter their own states, are worried about me.

I sit up, then tumble over. Between the awkwardness of my furled wings, their weight, and my thrashing tail, I can't manage to sit.

This time, I do it slower while paying attention to my wings and tail.

"Sitting up!" I call with more pride than I have a right to.

Now sitting, I run my tongue over my teeth and get cut in the process. What exactly do I look like? I need to see myself.

"I'm going to go to the guest bathroom and take a moment," I mumble too softly to be heard. I'm talking to myself like I'm a drill sergeant. I need to force myself to see the reality of my new… shit. My new what? New self, I guess.

Since I have a new center of gravity, I have to roll onto my knees, then get onto all fours before I can lever my way to a standing position.

"Chass?" Shanna calls. "Give us a report."

"I'm alive. Standing. On my way to the other bathroom to take a good look at myself." I don't say the other part of what I'm thinking, which is that I may do them the service of leaving forever if I think I'm too much of a danger to them.

"I love you," she says.

Shit. That stops me in my tracks. How can she say that? How can a perfect person like her love whatever this thing is that I've become? Even more bizarre? I know she means it.

"I love you, too," Alex says, his voice completely different from what it was, huskier and a bit mangled since he's talking around a mouthful of fangs.

"And I love you, bro." This is Ro.

"Thanks." It's all I can eke out. I'm too choked up and my mouth is already bleeding after the few sentences I've already spoken.

I stagger to the bathroom, my balance improving with every step, then slide sideways through the door because my wings are so bulky. My eyes are closed as I give myself a pep talk.

"You can do this Chass. You are a strong guy. You've been through a lot."

Which is bullshit. I've had a decent life, a family who loves me, and few hardships. I guess the hardship portion of my life is about to unfold.

I force my lids open to see my new self for the first time.

I know I'm a grown man, but no one would think less of me for crying when I look into the mirror.