Beverly sat in the doctor’s office, her heart pounding as she waited for the results of her medical tests. She had hoped that the battery of bloodwork, skin scrapings, and imaging would provide some answers, some explanation for the strange changes happening to her body.

But as Dr. Patel entered the room, her expression grave, Beverly felt her hopes sinking.

“I’m afraid the tests were inconclusive, Ms. Anderson,” Dr. Patel said, settling into the chair across from Beverly. “We couldn’t find any clear cause for your symptoms. No known allergies, no autoimmune markers, no signs of infection.”

Beverly’s hands clenched in her lap, the raised rings on her fingers feeling more prominent than ever. “So what does that mean? What’s happening to me?”

Dr. Patel sighed, her eyes sympathetic. “At this point, our best option is to do a skin biopsy. We’ll take a small sample of the affected tissue and examine it under a microscope. That should give us more information about what’s going on at a cellular level.”

Beverly nodded numbly, trying to process the news. A part of her had been hoping for a clear diagnosis, a name for the condition that was turning her body into a stranger. But another part of her feared what the biopsy might reveal, what new horrors might be lurking beneath her skin.

As she left the doctor’s office, Beverly couldn’t shake the sense of dread that clung to her like a second skin. And in the days that followed, her fears only grew as her physical symptoms continued to worsen.

The rings on her skin, once flat and discolored, now rose from her flesh like strange, fleshy ridges. They itched constantly, a maddening sensation that left Beverly clawing at her skin until it was raw and bleeding.

And then there was the mottling, the way her skin seemed to be changing color and texture before her very eyes. Patches of it took on a grayish, almost translucent hue, while other areas became rough and scaly, like the hide of some prehistoric creature.

But the most disturbing development came one morning when Beverly was getting dressed. As she pulled on her shirt, she felt a strange sensation around her waist, a tightness and pressure that made her gasp.

Looking down, Beverly’s eyes widened in horror at what she saw. Four small, fleshy nubs had sprouted from her skin, evenly spaced around her midsection. They were no more than an inch long, but they were unmistakably there, pulsing slightly with each beat of her heart.

Beverly’s mind reeled as she stared at the growths, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Were they some kind of tumor? A side effect of whatever was causing her other symptoms?

She thought of the biopsy, of the tiny piece of herself that would soon be under a microscope, dissected and analyzed. Would it hold the answers she so desperately needed? Or would it only reveal new depths of strangeness, new levels of aberration?

Beverly closed her eyes, fighting back the panic that threatened to engulf her. She felt like she was losing herself, like her very identity was being erased and rewritten by the changes happening to her body.

And yet, even in the midst of her fear and confusion, Beverly couldn’t shake the sense that there was something else at work, some greater purpose or meaning behind her transformation. It was a feeling that had been growing steadily over the past weeks, a whisper in the back of her mind that spoke of destiny and transcendence.

She ran her fingers over the raised rings and fleshy nubs that now adorned her skin, and as much as the changes terrified her, as much as she longed for a return to normalcy, Beverly couldn’t deny the strange, electric thrill that ran through her at the thought of what she might be becoming. It was a feeling that both exhilarated and terrified her, a dance on the edge of the unknown.

Not. The. End.