Mathew gazed at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror, a cup of lukewarm coffee cradled between his hands. His thin fingers, still trembling from last night’s dreams, left streaks of condensation on the ceramic mug. The visions had been vivid—his human frame shifting, elongating, exploding into something far beyond its limits. The memory of power lingered on his skin, a phantom ache that teased him.
He didn’t hate himself, exactly, but the desire for *more*—for transformation—gnawed at him every waking moment. Being 5'10" and 155 pounds felt like wearing a costume that didn’t fit. Sure, he was lean and wiry, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted strength. He wanted to stand taller. He wanted to shatter the boundaries of what was possible for his flesh and bones. More than that, he craved a way to make the *inside* match the *outside*.
But these thoughts… these weren’t normal. He knew that much. No one else thought about shedding their skin and becoming something *better*. No one else sketched scales and fangs into the margins of their notebook. No one else fantasized about leaving their humanity behind.
Still, as he placed the empty mug in the sink and stared down at his reflection one last time, Mathew couldn't shake the feeling that change was closer than it had ever been.
---
The old-growth forest hummed with the kind of primal energy Mathew had always been drawn to. He wasn’t supposed to be here—it was a nature reserve, technically off-limits at night—but the risk made it all the more exciting. Besides, something about this place called to him. The ancient trees, their roots like gnarled fingers, clawed at the earth as if they held secrets too dangerous to share.
He pressed deeper into the woods, the beam of his flashlight bouncing off damp leaves. The air grew thick, charged, almost electric. His heart thumped in his chest, and every step felt like a pull toward destiny.
That’s when he saw it.
The stone altar loomed in a clearing, illuminated by moonlight that broke through the canopy above. Its surface was etched with carvings of snakes, their bodies coiled in impossible patterns that made Mathew’s head swim. At its center sat a chalice, black and obsidian-like, filled with a glowing, golden liquid.
His hands trembled as he approached.
*What am I doing?* The thought was faint, drowned by the primal need roaring in his chest. He could feel the potential radiating off the chalice, a heat that set his skin alight. It was as if the universe itself had decided to offer him exactly what he’d always dreamed of.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the chalice and drank.
---
Pain. Blinding, searing pain ripped through him as the liquid burned its way down his throat. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, gasping for air. His skin prickled as if a thousand needles were stabbing into him at once.
Then it began.
Mathew screamed as his bones cracked and reformed. His arms bulged, sinews tearing and reforming as new muscle layered itself onto his once-slight frame. His biceps swelled, veins snaking over skin that rippled and darkened into an inky black hue. His forearms thickened to the size of tree trunks, his fingers elongating as claws erupted from their tips.
His torso expanded, his shirt shredding as his chest and shoulders broadened to monstrous proportions. What had once been a lean runner’s body now resembled a colossus sculpted by the gods themselves. But it wasn’t just size—his new body radiated power, a predator’s strength that sent shivers down his spine.
He roared, his voice deep and guttural, as his legs buckled beneath him. Or, rather, what had been his legs. They fused together, elongating and twisting into a massive, scaled tail. It slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash, coiling reflexively as it grew thicker and longer, surpassing six feet in diameter.
The transformation surged upward. His neck thickened, his jaw unhinging as sharp fangs burst through his gums, dripping venom that hissed as it hit the ground. His tongue forked, flicking the air, tasting the energy around him. His nose flattened, melting into slits, and his eyes burned as they shifted to slitted pupils surrounded by iridescent gold. Black scales crept up his face, forming a cobra’s hood that flared out, casting his transformed visage in shadow.
Mathew lifted his enormous arms and flexed, marveling at the sheer size and power of his new form. He towered over the altar now, his naga body rippling with strength. Every muscle, every scale, every inch of his being screamed perfection.
For the first time, Mathew felt alive. Truly, utterly alive.
---
A low hiss escaped his lips as he uncoiled, his massive tail carving deep grooves into the earth. He turned his gaze back toward the path he had come from. The world seemed smaller now, almost trivial, but he couldn’t resist the urge to confront it. To show everyone what he had become.
“Mathew,” he murmured, testing the sound of his name on his forked tongue. It felt wrong, human, weak. He let the word slither away into the night, replaced by a guttural laugh.
The old Mathew was gone.
The new one was only just beginning.