Hey there! ClockChaser here. I'm kinda new on here, but a friend told me that it would be cool to post my stories on here, so here I am! Feel free to tell me about grammer and spelling errors, in fact, please do. Thank you for reading my story!

So, another close friend of mine is currently getting ready to submit a new scp to the wiki that they call the wendigo parasite, and they told me it was okay to mess around with the plot. Here you go, enjoy!

NOTE: The first three chapters are kinda slow BUT I PROMISE that by chapter four, things are good.

Metamorphosis:

Noun, Zoology

a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

"The creature had metamorphosed from man to beast easily, though painfully."

Gilbert stared down at the floor, holding his stomach. His head ached, mostly behind his ears, and his legs were sore. His back ached horribly. He didn't feel well. He didn't feel well at all. He was wracking his brain in an attempt to recall how on earth he could have become so sick. He didn't know, really. He was healthy, as far as he was concerned. Very healthy. He exercised and ate well.

Maybe it was a few weeks ago. While hiking. The had been plenty of mosquitos. He was sure they had passed a sick looking man as well, but he couldn't be positive.

"Gil?" He heard a soft knock on the door of his apartment bedroom. That was Elizabeta.

He had been dating Elizabeta for a year or so now, and things were strong and steady. He had a good relationship with her, and they both cared a lot about each other. They were even talking about her moving in with him to save money.

"Yeah, Liz?" He coughed slightly.

"Are you alright?" She questioned, cracking the door open. She paused, her brow turned up in worry. "God, you're pale."

He coughed again, lightly, though it was clear he wanted to keep coughing. He hadn't ever been this sick, he was positive.

"I'm gonna go get you some Advil, okay?" She said worriedly, and Gilbert nodded in reply.

He coughed again, more intensely this time. With that he plopped back on the bed, swathing himself in the sheets. He closed his eyes, putting his clammy, cold hands to his still pounding skull.

She stepped in a minute later, holding the small white and blue bottle of pills and a glass of water. She plopped down on the bed beside him, before emptying a couple pills into her palm before handing him the water. He gave her a small, tired smile of thanks as he took the pills and started drinking the water.

Elizabeta sat there, looking at him.

"Is it the stomach flu, or something?" She questioned worriedly.

He shrugged a bit. "I'm not sure. It could be. But my head aches too. And my back and legs. I dunno what's up." He said softly, in a croak.

She had her brow furrowed, sitting and staring at the floor like he had a few minutes before.

"That's weird."

"What?"

"Your legs. I mean, I would get your back and head, but…" She shook her head. "If it gets any worse, then I'm taking you to the hospital, alright?"

Again, he just nodded.

She stood, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she glanced down at Gilbert's pitiful lump of a comforter in the bed.

"Are you sure you'll be okay here while I'm at work?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'll be fine." He huffed stubbornly, rolling over.

Her brow turned up as she left, shutting the door. A few moments later, the front door shutting could be heard.

Gilbert lay there, attempting to get to sleep and waiting for the medication to take place. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe then, he could escape the horrible headache. Hell, he didn't even want to turn on the television. He groaned and buried himself in the sheets, curled into an awkward little ball. His lower back hurt, a lot. Especially his spine. And his head behind his ears ached. His feet hurt just as much.

Gilbert inwardly wondered what sickness would make his legs and spine hurt, because he hadn't ever heard of anything like it, and as he thought, he ended up falling asleep.

He dreamed.

oOoOo

Tired eyes stared down at the snow, at bare feet. Trees stretched out about the figure that stood, hunched slightly as they turned their head, shifting the spindly limbs on their back to drag the heavy feathers across the ground.

Heavily running water could be heard not far off. Like a river, like rapids. The figure shifted forward, turning their pale face towards the water to begin tromping forward on strangely angled feet. They were like rabbit's feet, or deer's feet, though they look more like a malformed human's, toes turned forward, and shoulders hunched forward a bit for better balance. Large horns graced down over those shoulders, before being angled up as the figure looked down at the shallower water.

The figure extended a raggedly clothed hand into the water, brushing clawed fingers through it in a childish awe. The hand was pale, almost as pale as the snow. There was a snap.

The figure turned, eyes landing on another figure. It was a human, clearly, clothed in winter camouflage. They held a rifle. The figure by the water bolted, vision filled with trees as the moved their spindly feathered limbs frantically. They were not large enough for flight yet. So, the figure turned, curs grin get the following human with maw open and claws outstretched.

The snow turned red.

oOoOo

Gilbert woke suddenly, letting out a heavy breath. His headache returned, along with the other pains about his body, he groaned softly, glancing over to see Elizabeta passed out next to him. When had she gotten home? He didn't realize… he must have been asleep. He rolled over to face the door, and the mirror that stood there, and stared at a pale face, as pale as the snows outside.