Ben, a 38-year-old office drone, was a study in monochrome. Medium height, short black hair dusted with grey, perpetual stubble shadowing his jaw, and dark eyes permanently underlined with fatigue. His colleagues jokingly called him "Eeyore" behind his back. His life was a beige tapestry woven with routine. Even his lunch breaks were predictable: a sad sandwich consumed at his desk while catching up on emails. But today, something snapped. The monotony felt suffocating. As his break approached, a rebellious thought flickered in his weary mind: walk. He stepped out into the crisp autumn air, the weight of his suit jacket a familiar comfort against the chill. As he walked, a peculiar sensation crept over him. His sleeves felt too long, swallowing his hands. His trousers, usually a perfect fit, billowed around his legs. He tugged at his waistband, instinctively cinching his belt tighter and tighter, until the buckle dug into his newly prominent waist. It wasn't the clothes. He was

Dylan had always been a handful. Ever since his parents had passed away, he had been sent to live with his Aunt Margaret, a woman he considered far too strict for his liking. She had rules so many rules, and he never hesitated to break them. He skipped chores, talked back, and did whatever he wanted. One evening, after he had deliberately knocked over a vase in a fit of rage, Margaret finally had enough. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t even look angry. Instead, she simply smiled in a way that made Dylan uneasy. “You need discipline, dear,” she said sweetly. “And I think I know just the thing.” Before Dylan could react, Margaret raised her hand, and a warm, golden glow filled the room. His body tingled, then a strange pulling sensation overtook him. He gasped as his limbs shrank, his shoulders narrowed, and his body reshaped itself. His once loose T-shirt drooped off his shrinking frame, and his jeans pooled around his ankles. His deep voice was gone, replaced by a high

Seventeen-year-old Leo nervously fidgeted in the sterile white room. He'd been chosen for a paid study at NovaTech Industries, a mysterious company known for its cutting-edge, often secretive, research. Today's test, they said, involved evaluating new clothing materials. A lab-coated woman with a tight smile handed him a sleek black bodysuit, its fabric strangely smooth and cool to the touch. It had unusual cutouts along the torso and sides. Hesitantly, Leo slipped it on. It felt odd, almost alive, clinging tightly to his skin. Minutes ticked by. A faint hum filled the air, and a warmth spread through Leo's body, starting from where the fabric touched his skin. He felt a tingling sensation, then a sharp pain, followed by a dizzying wave of nausea. He stumbled, catching himself on a nearby table. His reflection in the polished surface showed a horrifying transformation. His skin shifted hues, becoming a patchwork of crimson and russet fur. Horns sprouted from his head, teal and sharp