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One The girl in the mirror wasn’t the prettiest one Julian Marret had ever seen, yet she was cute for sure. At least she would have been if she had been real. But she wasn’t. And for his sake, Julian needed to keep it that way. He knew he shouldn’t stare. He was aware he was watched, and that this moment of weakness would be used against him mercilessly. But he couldn’t help himself. Julian heard a nasty chuckle. He quickly turned around, yet he caught the glimpse of a girl’s expression. He saw fear in her big, blue eyes - the same he felt right now. “Just say a word, Julie,” the imp said. The little, shadowing figure was sitting on his bed. As always, it stank. The odour of sulphur, blood and decay was surrounding the creature. “You know, lassie, that your wish is my command. If you want to touch not only watch…” It smiled widely, showing its sharp teeth. Julian clenched his own jaws, looking the unwelcome guest in the eye. “You use the wrong mirror, girlie,” the creature

Jake steps in, tugging at the back where it’s snagged, but the metal bends, then snaps clean off in his hand. “Fuck’s sake,” he says, holding up the broken bit. “It’s knackered, Ben. You’re stuck.” Your hooves scrape the floor, heart hammering as the suit settles deeper, and you realise—whatever this thing’s doing, it’s not letting go. Your new hooves clatter on the concrete, a sharp, alien sound that echoes in the dim basement. You’re still reeling, chest heaving under the tight rubber as you stare at Jake, his slim frame frozen with the broken zip dangling in his hand. “Stuck?” you snap, voice pitching higher than you’re used to, a feminine lilt that makes your skin crawl—or would, if it weren’t this bloody suit doing the crawling for you. “What d’you mean, stuck?” Jake’s eyes dart over you—your towering horse anthro form, black fur gleaming where the torch catches it, the mane spilling over your shoulders. “Mate, I mean stuck,” he says, waving the mangled zip. “It’s fucked. We’ve

Kingston leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone as the glow of the afternoon sun bathed his room. It was just another lazy day—until his screen glitched. A green hue flickered across the display, lines of code flashing faster than his eyes could track. His fingers tingled as an odd sensation spread up his arms. “What the—?” he muttered, but his voice cracked, warping into something unfamiliar. His hands—no, his arms—felt lighter. The tingling intensified as his fingers elongated into sleek, black digits, rounded at the ends like cartoon gloves. His skin hardened, replaced by a smooth, matte finish. Panic surged through him, but it was short-lived—his mind felt fuzzy, like an old TV tuning into a new signal. His reflection in the window confirmed his growing fear. His head stretched, morphing into a square-like shape. His eyes widened, turning into glowing green slits. A bowtie sprouted at his collar, and his body reshaped into a curvy, toon-like form. “Why… do I feel so…