Lila Monroe, a 16-year-old girl with unruly black hair and sharp curiosity, stands hunched over her desk, a syringe trembling slightly in her hand. She mutters to herself, distracted by her own excitement, as she prepares to test her latest concoction—a blend of insect DNA and a saline solution, meant only for a petri dish. In a moment of distraction, her hand slips, and the needle jabs her finger. Her breath catches, and she watches a single drop of blood mingle with the strange liquid. "No, no, no... This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispers, panic rising in her chest.
Lila wakes in the dead of night, sweat-drenched and shivering. Her mouth tingles with an unusual craving, and her gaze is drawn to a half-empty bag of sugar on her desk. Compelled by a hunger she can't explain, she rips the bag open and scoops the granules into her mouth, sighing with relief as sweetness floods her senses. "What's happening to me?" she murmurs, clutching her stomach as a strange energy pulses through her veins.
Lila examines herself in the bathroom mirror, horror dawning as she notices translucent, veined wings budding from her shoulder blades. Her saliva burns a hole in the porcelain sink, and when she tries to call for help, her voice emerges in a chittering, insect-like tone. Tears well in her compound eyes—now multifaceted and shimmering with unnatural colors. "Please, let this be a nightmare," she pleads, her voice echoing in the empty house.
Lila clings to the ceiling, her claws digging into the plaster as she tries to make sense of her increasingly feral instincts. Her hair falls out in clumps, littering the floor below, while her teeth loosen and scatter from her mouth, replaced by jagged mandibles. The hunger for sugar returns, stronger and more desperate. "I can't control it... I can't stop," she shrieks, her words distorted, hands trembling as her humanity slips away.
Lila writhes on the floor, her toes fusing and disappearing, her hands now tipped with black, hooked claws. The last remnants of her hair are gone, replaced by a glossy, chitinous sheen. Her senses are raw and overwhelming—every vibration, every sugary scent, every drip of water echoes in her mind. She crawls to the window, pressing her altered face to the glass, longing for something she no longer understands. "Help me..." the words are almost lost, buried beneath the insectile cacophony of her new voice.
Lila now moves only by instinct, her cravings and fears tangled together in her altered mind. She listens to the world beyond the walls, sensing every vibration, every trace of sweetness in the air. The transformation is complete; her humanity is a distant memory, lost in the relentless hunger and the endless, buzzing silence.
