In a dingy, run-down little motel room,Mugen, a young man with bushy black hair and a long, furry tail lies stomach-down on the bed while something bulges under the fur and skin of his back. He presses his fingers into his own shoulder, brow furrowed as he feels out the bony joints, just under the skin.
Ginko stands by the bed, tense and unsure, but not touching him, his hand resting on the bedside table where a few medical supplies already sit. His voice comes out hesitant, but quiet and level. “...If you’re really sure, we could try it. But this isn’t something to be done all at once - I can start to cut them out, but if it seems like it’s not going to work, I’ll stop.”
Mugen forces himself to lie down flat on his stomach, giving a quiet snort. “Havin’ trouble thinkin’ of anything worse that could happen than what’s goin’ to anyway. Still got that little knife?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Ginko doesn’t waste any time in retrieving a small pocket knife from the messenger bag sitting on the chair next to the bed, along with rolls of gauze and bandages. Then he kneels down by the side of the bed and presses the point of the knife carefully to the skin of Mugen’s back, where it traps the structures underneath against his back. “Try and hold still.”
Ginko makes a quick cut, and Mugen lets out a quiet hiss as the partly-developed wrist joint of a batlike wing slides through the slit. “Keep going,” Mugen snaps. “The other side. Do it.”
For a moment, Ginko hesitates, his gaze fixing on the exposed muscle of the growing wing. “Are you--” He shakes himself, and nods. “Alright.”
It’s not done growing, true, but it can move, and… he’s not an expert on changes like this. He can only trust that Mugen can tell what is and isn’t working.
He moves to the other side of the bed and makes a matching incision, leaving the wrist joints and thumblike claws of both wings exposed, the appendages struggling all the harder - and, inch by inch, something like knuckles and fingers starts to pull free with a sick sucking sound, and Mugen starts to scream.
The wings push and stretch the remaining skin, and, after a moment of fascinated horror, Ginko steps in and slices into that connective tissue again. Within moments, the remaining skin tears, and snaps, and a pair of newly-formed bat wings, skin and fur growing over them by the second, burst free, sending stagnant gore splattering all around the room.
For a few moments, Ginko’s senses are absolutely clogged with the scent - and, to the horror of his remaining human instincts - taste of blood. He lifts a sleeve to wipe the blood away from his eyes, and speaks up wryly. “Feeling any better?”
Mugen, who seems to have been taking out his frustrations on the pillow, only replies through a mouthful of fabric and stuffing. “Thhcrew thith.”
Monster Changes Are A Hell Of A Thing [Ryslig] (cw for gore and body horror)
Ginko stands by the bed, tense and unsure, but not touching him, his hand resting on the bedside table where a few medical supplies already sit. His voice comes out hesitant, but quiet and level. “...If you’re really sure, we could try it. But this isn’t something to be done all at once - I can start to cut them out, but if it seems like it’s not going to work, I’ll stop.”
Mugen forces himself to lie down flat on his stomach, giving a quiet snort. “Havin’ trouble thinkin’ of anything worse that could happen than what’s goin’ to anyway. Still got that little knife?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Ginko doesn’t waste any time in retrieving a small pocket knife from the messenger bag sitting on the chair next to the bed, along with rolls of gauze and bandages. Then he kneels down by the side of the bed and presses the point of the knife carefully to the skin of Mugen’s back, where it traps the structures underneath against his back. “Try and hold still.”
Ginko makes a quick cut, and Mugen lets out a quiet hiss as the partly-developed wrist joint of a batlike wing slides through the slit. “Keep going,” Mugen snaps. “The other side. Do it.”
For a moment, Ginko hesitates, his gaze fixing on the exposed muscle of the growing wing. “Are you--” He shakes himself, and nods. “Alright.”
It’s not done growing, true, but it can move, and… he’s not an expert on changes like this. He can only trust that Mugen can tell what is and isn’t working.
He moves to the other side of the bed and makes a matching incision, leaving the wrist joints and thumblike claws of both wings exposed, the appendages struggling all the harder - and, inch by inch, something like knuckles and fingers starts to pull free with a sick sucking sound, and Mugen starts to scream.
The wings push and stretch the remaining skin, and, after a moment of fascinated horror, Ginko steps in and slices into that connective tissue again. Within moments, the remaining skin tears, and snaps, and a pair of newly-formed bat wings, skin and fur growing over them by the second, burst free, sending stagnant gore splattering all around the room.
For a few moments, Ginko’s senses are absolutely clogged with the scent - and, to the horror of his remaining human instincts - taste of blood. He lifts a sleeve to wipe the blood away from his eyes, and speaks up wryly. “Feeling any better?”
Mugen, who seems to have been taking out his frustrations on the pillow, only replies through a mouthful of fabric and stuffing. “Thhcrew thith.”