He looked down at his hands. What was happening to him? His blue eyes grew wide, his body began shaking. Fear? He has lost all control.

Collapsing to the ground, he falls to his knees, he grips the earth below him. Digs his nails into the soil, lets it accumulate within his cuticles. The rocks cut and stain his white colored leggins, he wants to scream, but he is silent.

He is all alone.

His head cocks up, his blue eyes stare at the moon above him. Its glare mocks him, laughs at his misfortune. The stars above laugh, too. They surround the moon like a legion to the bully, pointing at laughing at the misery below.

He curses himself. He wants to rip out his blond hair. His hat falls to the dirt, falls to pieces, his mind, his body, falling with it.

Like a ripping torrent, he is swept into the waves of pain. His mouth open, he shouts. He screams, he pleads to the goddesses above, like nails ripping into his flesh, cutting, searing through, the blood drops to the ground.

He falls, his legs are stretched, hips stretch upwards, like a woman in the throes of birth, his arms become elongated. He screams again, his shoulder blades become dispatched. They stretch upward and outward, his spine stretches with it.

Another round of pain. He screams again.

In the Twilight World, no one can hear you scream.

His eyes grow wider, his face stretches, his nose cavity explodes. He can't breathe, he can't taste the scent. He tries to move his mouth, to cry for help, no words escape those lips again. His teeth stretch, sharpen, cut through his gums, he is bleeding again.

Tears fall from his glowing eyes. He curses the goddesses above. His lips stretch, elongate again, his snout forms, his face is cracked and distorted.

And put back together.

Another round of pain. He tries to scream again.

The human skin of his. It's gone. Replaced by shards, thorns of greyish hair, splitting through. All over his body.

Nails. Claws push through the cuticles, his fingers stretch to accumulate them. He howls, the tight ring burns, his body is on fire. Pain, pain. And no novocane to save him.

He collapses. He can't get up. He is no longer a man.

A tail forms in his back end. Like a large piece of excrement, the mound pushes outward from his cavity, once again, he's on fire, pushing out the tightness, and forming below.

No longer a man.

The moon is captivated. Its eyes watch him, curious. The stars look upon him, do they still mock his misfortune?

He can't walk, he can't move.

A feral instinct appears in his animal's mind. Yet, his eyes close. He wants to move, he wants to act. Yet, his body again betrays him, giving in to Therianthropy.

Exhausted, he finds the strength to close his eyes.

Will they ever open again?