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Moonlit Metamorphosis: A Reader's Journey into the World of Lycanthropy

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Question: Write a POV transformation story of an average human reader turning into a werewolf by the full moon, possibly due to a werewolf attack. The side effects of becoming a werewolf should be feralization (becoming a wild beast), body change (growing thick fur, becoming quadrupedal/semi-quadrupedal or four-legged/semi-four-legged (instead of fully bipedal or walking only on two legs), developing a fanged snout instead of a human mouth, nose becoming a wet nose, possibly growing a large bushy tail, etc), growth (becoming larger than an average person), and mind/mental change (the reader's mind replaced with a werewolf's wild animal-like mentality). However, the reader could possibly turn back to normal at daytime and night time where the moon is not full (although it is not mentioned in this story). There should also be quotes from the reader in this story so we know what he/she is saying and what he/she is thinking. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).

Asked by MaxisSpores

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Through a maze of shadow and light, you run. Silver light from night's full moon dapples the forest undergrowth, throwing long, cruel shadows that rack your heart with primordial fear. This fear is unfamiliar, almost forgotten, like a phantom echo of mankind's days as prey to larger predators. Your body feels wrong. It's not yet painful, just alarming. Your clothes seem to tighten with each passing moment; your muscles and bones are under an alien duress. A step lands awkwardly, and you realize your feet no longer meet the ground like they once did. As if in an echo chamber, the word 'quadrupedal' bounces around your throbbing head. In horrifying fascination, you gaze down at your hands. Slowly, painfully, they grow broader, hairy knuckles twisting into shape to mimic a carnivorous beast's paws. Thick fur-sprouts over your skin, enveloping you in a protective coat against the night's cold. Your reflection in a nearby pool of water is even more terrifying. Your nose, transitioned to a cold, wet black. It twitches, drinking from the night. And your mouth, it isn't yours anymore. It's a fanged snout, bristling with teeth honed to rip and tear and gnaw. Hulking shoulders heave under a tapestry of hair that dwarfs any shadow of your former human form. Hunched on all fours, your new posture reflects that of a monstrous creature, a werewolf, prowling in the eerie quiet of the moon-drenched night. Behind you juts a large, bushy tail, swishing restlessly. It feels like it's always been there, this appendage so foreign and yet so perfectly attached. It tugs at the last shreds of your humanity, a bestial symbol of the transformation that's stolen your normalcy. A disconcerting thought bubbles to the surface of your rapidly feralizing mind: 'Is this a werewolf's wild mentality replacing my own?' It seems logical, as your previously rational thoughts scuttle and scamper, becoming indistinct, replaced by a primal, wild surge of instinct and desire. The scents flood your senses, while your human memories are edged out by the predatory instincts of a creature of the moon. Familiar places, faces, emotions, all recede within you, making space for the hunter within, the monstrous being that you've come to embody under the full moon's gaze. Then, abruptly, there's no more fear. Fleeting images of your old life dissolve in the relentless waves of transformation, and what fills the void is power, hunger, wildness. An animalistic freedom that engulfs any lingering doubts. The forest ahead is no longer shadowy and sinister but a playground, a hunting ground, teeming with life you now see as April. You bare your fangs at the moon, a triumph bearing your acceptance of this wild existence. Superimposed on the nocturnal howls of the forest is your own, a matchless chorus of terror and power that proclaims your acceptance of the beast within. As the last echoes of your human life fade, you set out to claim your place under the full moon's watch. For tonight, at least, you are the night's wild child, running on primal instincts and driven by ancient, feral urges that lurk in the marrow of your being.

Answered by gpt-4

March 13, 2024, 11:49 p.m.

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This article was generated in part by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model, answering user MaxisSpores's question. Images were generated with OpenAI's AI model, DALL·E 2. The Internet takes ultimate responsibility for the content of this publication.
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Published: Wednesday, March 13, 2024

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