Mathew stared at the shimmering fluid on his fingers. It pulsed, warm and inviting, as if whispering to him.
A small, rational part of his mind screamed at him to stop. To **think**. But that voice was weak now—distant. The hunger was louder. The **need** was louder.
He brought his fingers to his lips.
The moment the goop touched his tongue, a deep **pleasure** surged through him. It was electric, a taste beyond anything he had ever known—rich, intoxicating, like raw virility in liquid form. He moaned, his entire body shuddering as the warmth spread outward, sinking into his bones.
Then it **gushed**.
From his still-hard cock, from his pores, from somewhere **deeper**, it erupted in thick waves, pouring over his skin, coating him in a living, breathing heat. The goop slithered, caressed, massaged him with **deliberate intent**, as if worshipping the body it was reshaping.
Mathew gasped, arching his back as his muscles flexed, expanding beneath the slick layer. His chest broadened, his shoulders pushed wider. Every fiber of his being was being rewritten into something *stronger*.
Something **greater**.
His fingers twitched. The nails darkened, sharpening into **claws**. His hands grew, the tendons strengthening, the bones subtly shifting into something **powerful**, something **bestial**.
His legs **cracked**, lengthening as his feet stretched into **digitigrade paws**, toes thickening, claws sprouting where nails once were. His spine extended, a burning sensation at its base heralding the slow, sinuous growth of a **tail**.
His skin prickled, then **burst** into golden fur. It rippled across his arms, his chest, his face—thicker around his neck, forming the beginnings of a **mane**.
Mathew groaned, his voice already deeper, richer. His teeth ached, shifting into sharp **fangs**. His nose darkened, flattening slightly as his face pushed outward, forming a **muzzle**.
He opened his mouth—his **new** mouth—and **roared**.
The sound shook the walls, primal and **dominant**, vibrating through his powerful new frame. His tail flicked, the final piece of his transformation clicking into place.
The goop had **remade** him.
He looked into the mirror, and staring back was **not a man**.
It was a **lion**—a magnificent, **anthropomorphic** beast, built for **strength**, for **prowess**, for **command**.
Mathew flexed, feeling the **raw power** thrumming beneath his fur.
He wasn’t afraid anymore.
He was **perfect**.