It’s quiet. The halls of Zonot Nine are empty... save for one person. Magir stands hunched over a lab table, her breaths shaky against the materials in her hands. Crushed and pasted in a nearby mortar is a bright green substance, set under a heat lamp to dehydrate it as much as possible. In her hands are two vials, one with a clear liquid and another with a violently orange liquid. The Merfolk Elf Human hybrid watches the clear liquid swirl about until it turns a deep blue, before pouring it into the other vial. The mixture bubbles erratically, rising near the top of the vial, before settling. Magir downs it hastily, wiping her lips of it in case any of it got on her skin.
Magir Raj stands at an average 5′8″, with a flexible and sturdy build, razor-sharp teeth, and a shock of red hair. She also normally wears spectacles and a bar through her upper ear, but those are off currently to avoid injury. The liquid makes her shiver, the little hairs on her arms standing on end. Her bright yellow sclera glow briefly, before fading to a dulled white. She checks her pulse for a moment, and then turns her attention to the mortar. She gives it a sniff, before scooping out the green substance with a metal spoon. In one motion, Magir jams the spoon into her mouth and quickly slurps up the sticky stuff, swallowing quickly to avoid any of it remaining in her mouth. There’s an audible groan from her stomach after it passes through her esophagus, making her fall to her knees. She begins to sweat profusely, a fever taking hold.
The doors to the lab bang open as Magir falls outside, her body steaming in the moonlight. Her breaths are shallow and ragged as she crawls forward into the forest. Food. Food. That’s all she can think about. An overwhelming hunger takes her, her hands ripping grass from the ground and bark from the trees. She shovels all manner of plant life into her mouth, her sharp teeth making short work of it all. Her open mouth gnashes berries, leaves, even unidentified mushrooms. Her dark orange skin shudders and trembles, as more red hair sprouts across her arms. Her face contorts as her nose and jaw shove forward into a snout, her tall nose flattening. A guttural growl swells from her throat as her top begins to strain, the Simic’s body growing larger all over. Hair... no, fur peaks through the seams in her clothes, before bursting through it completely. Even that -- simple cotton and denim -- are eaten too, as a tail erupts from her spine. Sharp claws spring forth from her nails, her musculature now defined and powerful.
This is all soon curbed by her growing curves, a healthy layer or two of fat disguising her more predatory form. Her modest chest swells out and downwards, outgrowing her biceps and then her elongated head. They cushion her against the loamy soil as they grow fuller and fatter, stopping only once they’d make even the minotaur warriors blush. Her belly gurgles as it grows larger not just with sustenance, but with a decadent, almost haughty heft. It’s soon also covered in bright red fur, her hips following suit until they surpass her broad shoulders and then some, her haunches like many tree trunks lashed together and thrice as strong. The rush begins to subside as Magir finds herself able to smell a great deal of her surroundings... none of it very appealing to eat anymore. Now, the scent of other animals is somehow clear to her... as well as their rough directions. She sits up in the dirt, wiping loose soil and leaves from her maw, as she surveys her new form.
Now 8′10″, the Merfolk Elf Wolf Human hybrid turns her hands over before herself, giving her fingers a flex. She looks further down, unable to see her feet anymore past her chest. A quick lift assures her they’re still there, now also clawed. Dropping that tit sends her forward, almost to the ground again before she catches herself. With no mirror handy, she can’t tell what she looks like from behind, but a hearty slap lets her know her powerful rear isn’t just for function either. She gazes up towards the moon, an instinctual howl leaving her and scaring away any nearby game.
“Wolven, huh? Well, better than a lot of others,” she remarks to herself, her new voice deep and raspy. She bounds into the forest, crashing into the brush as nearby Dimir Spybugs report this to a hidden source.
