It was around 4:00 as James walked into the student activities building, his classes over for the day. The college’s co-ed missions team was holding its annual Valentine’s day sale, which occupied every free space on the first floor (and some not-so-free spaces). If you wanted to get something out of the ordinary for someone (or possibly for yourself), this was the place. As usual, there were about eight booths selling various hand-made items to support African missions. Three of them were women selling beaded jewelry; another sold pottery (James had bought from her before; she was quite good), and yet another sold assorted origami. The largest booth was the official baked goods stand, which seemed to be the only table manned by men. There was also a separate baked goods stand, which was done by some random girl who didn’t look like she baked often. The new addition this year was a younger girl wearing glasses, probably a freshman, who was selling bath products.

She was probably the most prepared person there - she even had a professionally printed sign hanging on the wall behind her. “Artisan Scents and Soaps - Everything made locally, by hand,” it read in a flowery font. It looked very old-fashioned, which worked very nicely with her lacy tablecloth - how much did she spend on that, anyway? Must be one of those overachievers…

Having seen everything else last year, James approached the newcomer’s table and took a look. He was a fan of homemade soap; if he was going to rub something all over his body, he figured it might as well be something vaguely natural. Besides, it was hard to find decent soap that didn’t smell like laundry detergent. Maybe this would even make a nice gift to send his aunt? She’d been particularly nice with the care packages that year, and he wanted to send something in return. Something handmade on campus would be ideal, and she was crazy about lotion… He scanned the table, checking the various bottles and tins until he happened upon a tin of lavender salve with a dryad on the label. He picked it up and checked the price on the back. Ten dollars. Aaaand we’ll just set that back down.

The girl smiled sweetly. “All our products are handmade from the best natural ingredients,” she said. “You might even say they’re *super*natural.”

James chuckled politely, noting that a lot of the labels (where they were labeled at all) tended to have a mystical theme to them. That was odd; at a Christian college like Tree Haven, you didn’t see much of that outside the gaming group. Granted, James was in that group, but this was different. The gaming group’s stuff was generally either fanciful or dramatic; this almost seemed like legit mysticism that had been toned down enough to slip under the radar.

Pushing that to the side, he started looking at the soaps. Perhaps they’d be cheaper. They were an impressive array of colors and scents that created an almost tangible aura of smell around the table. The effect was quite pleasant, but it made it tricky to tell what each bar was supposed to smell like by itself. A bright green and gold bar caught James’ eye. He had always liked those colors together, for reasons he hadn’t specifically told anyone. He picked up the soap and sniffed it. If it was supposed to smell like anything other than the rest of the table, that was obscured under the plastic wrap. Turning it over to check the label didn’t help; this one was hand-written in some illegible scrawl.

“What’s this one?” he asked the girl, holding out the soap. She took it and followed the writing with a finger. James could almost swear she was making some sort of hand-sign, but it was obscured behind his potential purchase.

“‘Wisdom of Ages,’” she replied, undoing a corner of the wrapping and handing it back. The name didn’t make much sense, but whatever. Released from the bounds of the plastic wrap, concentrated, clear soap scent practically slapped him in the face. It revealed an eccentric but pleasing combination that was like a well-put-together piece of music. A vague musk played bass, while campfire smoke held down the mid-range, and something slightly acrid, almost like vinegar gave a bit of treble. In any other situation, the last bit would have been too much, but here it was like a minor chord - that little bit of unpredictability that lent sophistication.

“How much is it?” James asked, bracing himself for the worst.

“Twenty dollars,” came the reply. James’ jaw almost hit the floor. He figured there were a few possibilities: one, this person was certifiably insane. Two, she was just full of herself. Three, she was using actual gold in there (which, given the color, wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility), or four, she was expecting an absurdly large charity markup.
“...but for you, I can let it go for five,” she continued, noting his reaction. That was more like it. As normal soap went, that was still expensive, but for artisan stuff, it was at least within the realm of sanity.

“I’ll take it,” James replied, producing his wallet. “What about this one?” he held up a random bar that looked like it was probably lavender.

The girl hesitated for a second, then replied. “I can only give you a deal on one today, but maybe later. I’ll be around if you want to get another one. Between you and me, Mom’s kind of strict about doing that.”

Ah, well. Perhaps he could try this out for himself, then get one for his aunt later if it was any good.

“Okay, then.” They made the transaction, and the girl gave James a business card with a cell number written on the back - a nice touch. If she hadn’t given him one, he would have asked for it. To get more soap… Yeah, bullshit. Chick was cute, but James figured he’d never have a shot. According to the card, her name was Eva, and she ran a shop on Broad Street. It must have been new, because he didn’t recognize the name.

The day passed uneventfully with the normal barrage of homework, and Friday came as usual. James woke up at 8:30 and went straight to his 9:00 class - the economics senior project class, which basically amounted to “sitting for the paper,” like in colleges across the pond. After that, he returned to his dorm room and got ready to shower. It was two hours until his next class, which would see him done for the day. He changed out of his clothes and into a pair of old shorts, retrieved his shower kit, towel, and a fresh set of underwear. After crossing the hall and habitually putting everything in its proper place, he remembered the soap from yesterday that he’d meant to try out. That was probably something he should do sooner rather than later, so his aunt’s package could get filled and done with. Retrieving the soap from where it sat on his cluttered desk, he unwrapped it, placed it on top of his normal stuff, and commenced his shower.

The new soap smelled fantastic, and it instantly cleared the vapors that the morning class had left. Oddly though, after thoroughly applying it everywhere, he felt slightly dirtier than he had before. This stuff is crap, he concluded, then pulled out his normal soap and started over with that.

However, even in the darkness of the unlit stall, he noticed something odd going on. His right hand, which had been holding the soap most of the time, looked like it was turning emerald green.

That can’t be right…

He took the soap in his other hand and began scrubbing the green color away. Once satisfied that he’d probably gotten it off, he inserted his hands back under the water. The water turned tan as it dripped off him, and his skin seemed to dissolve straight off his hands! Nubs of claws revealed themselves where his fingertips and nails had been, then formed themselves into wicked points, building themselves out of the cascading water. To cap it off, his ring and pinky fingers rotated outwards into a permanent, exaggerated Vulcan salute. It looked like it should hurt, but surprisingly it didn’t; it felt more like releasing from a deep stretch than anything else. As he stared, transfixed in shock, the water running off the outer edge of his hand formed two trails, leading from two small nubs that looked like they’d turn into full-fledged fingers if given some time.

Recovering some presence of mind, James pulled his hand out of the water and examined it. This wasn’t what he’d asked for at all! All he wanted was to see if some soap was any good, but now he looked like some sort of radioactive mutant! What was going on? This sort of thing just didn’t happen. Soap could clean things off, maybe apply a bit of color if there was too much dye in it, but rearranging someone’s anatomy? Out of the question! It just wasn’t possible.

Furious, panicked, and shocked, he turned off the water and opened the curtain… Someone from the adjacent suite had joined him in the bathroom. Damn. James quickly closed the curtain and began to dry off, but he stopped almost instantly when he got to the human skin on his left arm. As soon as it dried off, he was overwhelmed by the worst pain he’d ever felt; it was something like being pepper sprayed and kicked in the groin all rolled into one. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t keen on letting him get dry before it was finished.

He turned the water back on, and the burning stopped. Apparently, he didn’t have much choice but to keep going, so keep going he did. He scrubbed up his arms, then let them stay under the water as long as was necessary. Once the humanity washed away from them to reveal green scales underneath, they rapidly grew about a foot in length while his fingers bulked up and underwent more major changes. The nubs grew into full-fledged, bony fingers, which got progressively longer along with their two companions. When his former ring fingers reached a length of about two and a half feet, they quit growing, and his others maxed out around four feet. That finished, a leathery gold webbing grew between them and extended up his arm, filling the space between his fingers and hanging down uselessly from his armpit like a loose sleeve. Maneuvering those in the small shower would be inconvenient to say the least. When he let his arms hang down (which actually took some work now due to the weight of his hands), most of his fingers pointed upwards and outwards. Only his three “thumbs” still pointed towards the floor. Now that James recognized his new wings, the panic started to wear off.

Continuing on his usual showering routine, his chest and stomach came next. More of the same circular scales spread down his sides in an orderly fashion, interrupted by two things. First, the finger-webbing connected down his torso, almost to his hips, which gave him a pair of fully functional wings. Second, his chest had developed some sort of chitinous armor plating. It formed a single row of overlapping chevrons going down his centerline and extending as far as he’d bothered to wash. As those revealed themselves, his ribcage started to grow out into more of a barrel shape, so that it was almost as big front-to-back as it was wide. His freshman twenty either disappeared completely or were overshadowed by the ribcage, he couldn’t tell which.

When he got down to his groin, he closed his eyes and let come what may; he wasn’t psychologically ready to watch whatever might happen. When he reopened his eyes, there was nothing in that area at all. He involuntarily gasped. Whether he was a girl, or he didn’t have a sex anymore or… Oh wait. I seem to be a reptile. They’re just on the inside. Calm down. I bet this isn’t any weirder than anything else going on here. But the question now was, how to check? There was an armor plate covering that area. A moment’s awkward feeling around revealed that that particular plate could slide mostly up into a recess in its upward neighbor. A moment more, and he had confirmed his suspicion that he wasn’t going to need a women’s dorm.

James’ back spasmed painfully and caught him by surprise. The transformation was hitting a snag; the front half of his chest was trying to grow, but his back hadn’t been properly scrubbed off yet. That presented about three different problems: one, ow. That effing hurt. Two, how was he going to get to his back at all? The shower wasn’t more than three feet by three feet, and he had those big wings to worry about. He took a quick look outside the curtain. The coast was clear. He stepped out of the shower just long enough to put his hands down at his sides, then darted back in and bared his back to the water. Now he could awkwardly rub at himself with his fingers. It was a hard thing to do, and his claws kept scraping the ceiling, but he got it done. This part he couldn’t see very well, save for what he could feel or imagine. He guessed that the problem was that he didn’t have enough vertebrae for his expanding ribcage to attach to, because the feeling of relief hit when he got the middle of his back clean. As soon as he cleared it off, a number of tall protrusions grew from his spine, and he could feel large scales and firm muscles. His chest seemed pleased by the new development, because it filled out and finished growing. James could feel his adrenaline-fueled heart beating wildly, like a bass drummer on a sugar high. It had never felt like that before; Either it was a lot bigger, or his metabolism just sped up enormously. His lungs seemed to be similarly enhanced, because his current rate of breathing was making him woozy.

After mentally slowing himself down, he decided to finish up his pelvis area. This would be the real doozy: if not doing his back and chest all at once caused problems, then who knows what could happen in a complex area like that if he didn’t deal with it rapidly. If his new suspicions were correct, then he had some idea of what was coming. But first, he needed more space. He had grown another inch or two while his chest finished up, and the shower stall was simply too small. He was starting to hit hit head on the ceiling, and moving his arms in any appreciable manner was out of the question.

He peeked out of the shower curtain; the person who was in there before had left, so he was alone. Working quickly, he darted out of the shower, slipping slightly due to his new center of balance, and locked both doors. Now he had some guaranteed privacy. Clearing the shower curtain out of the way, he backed into the stall and set about putting his legs in order, the same way had gotten his back. He got shorter for a few seconds as his upper and lower legs shrunk and altered their proportions. His outer three toes on each foot washed away, leaving him with two toes that were rapidly increasing in size. He struggled to maintain his balance and had to drop to all fours, at least until his feet worked themselves out. His big toes grew to be almost nine inches long, then grew an enormous claw that took up almost the entire front of the digit. His outer toes grew to about five inches long before growing a miniature version of the same claw. At the same time, the flats of his feet extended to where they were nearly the current length of his thighs. He was now fully digitigrade.

James stood up and immediately fell forwards, catching himself with his wings. His legs had stayed basically the same length, maybe gaining an inch or so, but his posture was now bent forwards, like some sort of ostrich-velociraptor-thing. That pretty much cinched it in his mind as to what he was turning into. He had all the identifiers he needed. The prognosis was good, but the consequences of transforming in the middle of freaking college where this just didn’t happen had him worried.

The growing ache at the base of his spine meant he had to continue on. He needed a tail to balance himself out. He crouched down (somewhat painfully, given that the lip of the shower was currently in the middle of his foot) and placed his rump under the water. There wasn’t much he needed to do by this point, aside from letting the water do its work. A small sprout of a tail grew from his rump, shifting his pelvis around to make room. He grimaced at the sheer awkwardness of the sensation as legs were pushed apart from each other and then rotated forwards, which made his current position a lot more comfortable. Having established a place for itself, his tail began growing until it hit the back of the stall, then curved around and kept going until it very nearly came full-circle and touched his rump. He could feel the weight of a blade on the end of it, but he decided not to look at himself until he could take everything in at once.

Water dripped everywhere as James stood up and walked out of the shower, not caring about the mess. Now he was at that truly awkward stage where only his head was left human.

One last thing to do…

It was hard not to steal a glance in the bathroom mirror as he turned around to face the shower, but he managed. He inserted his head underwater, staring at the floor. The back portion of his hair fell away instantly, revealing more scales. He began massaging his throat to ensure that the change would progress correctly, and his neck responded willingly. The base of his neck widened to match the depth of his chest, and the golden chest-plates progressed up towards his chin. His neck itself steadily lengthened, responding to his massage until it was just over a foot long. The armor plating stopped when it reached the fleshy area directly underneath his jaw, and the tall spine-spikes grew in until they nearly reached the crown of his head. Two large, backwards-facing bumps formed at the crown of his head and expanded into a pair of bone-white horns that gently curved out and down.

Meanwhile, rivulets of water left little trails of green and gold across James’ face, leaving diminished portions of his ears, conspicuously bald patches in his sideburns, and no mustache at all. The middle of his upper lip felt stiff and pointy, his lower lip was getting progressively smaller, and the bridge of his nose was making definite motions towards… something. It wasn’t quite obvious yet, but his nose wasn’t making it out unscathed.

James stopped massaging his neck and threw his head upwards, pointing his face straight into the water. A single brush of his hands did away with his last scraps of hair, and the final remnants of his human skin faded. His ears completely disappeared, leaving no trace of their prior existence. Next, his forehead changed its slope, becoming flatter and bringing his eyes upwards. That left more room for his nose, which was quickly being pushed forwards by the rest of his face. As his mouth and nose extended outwards into a muzzle that took up most of his face, James opened his mouth and let it fill with water. It too began changing, despite never having touched the soap directly: his teeth developed into a more canine configuration and grew in number, and his tongue elongated and became forked. At the same time, his nose entirely integrated with his snout. The cartilage in the middle expanded in the front, which pointed his nostrils sideways and slightly backwards to help him breathe while flying at high speeds. The middle of his upper lip anchored to his upper jaw, forming a small, almost beak-like protrusion at the very front of his face. Meanwhile, his lower lip receded almost completely, being much overshadowed by his upper. His cheeks split in two as his lips ran almost all the way to the back of his mouth. Lastly, his closed eyes tingled faintly as they grew larger and made some as-yet-unknown structural alterations.

James took that last tingle as a cue that the transformation was over. He opened his eyes and backed out of the shower. The the array of new sensations was overwhelming; he was basically seeing in HD, and his sense of smell was several times more sensitive than it had ever been - which was only debatably a good thing in a college dorm. But he didn’t have much time to examine himself yet; he had to get out of the bathroom and into his own room before someone came to investigate why the place was closed off. Fortunately, everyone else on his side of the suite was at classes this time of day, so he grabbed his stuff (particularly the soap), unlocked both doors, and darted across the mini-hall into his room.

Once in the safety of his room, he closed the door and curtains and set down his stuff, still dripping water all over the rug. That done, he opened his dresser. There was a mirror on the door, and it would show him what he had become. The first thing he saw was, obviously, his face. His nose and upper lip formed a rather fetching inverted triangle at the end of his snout, he thought. His eyes were now golden with slit pupils, instead of their original sky blue. Around his eyes, there was a golden birthmark that sort of made a figure eight-shaped pair of glasses. The part that crossed up and to his left tapered off and ended below and above the respective eyes, while two somewhat perpendicular lines trailed off the bottom right and top left (one going up his forehead and the other down his cheekbone). He flexed his face experimentally, trying to figure out exactly what he could do with it. His mouth could open a lot farther than it could before, and his tongue could do things that were once anatomically impossible - with all that length, he could lick the top of his snout if he reached around from the side. His lips were almost completely immobile at the front, but they got increasingly flexible as he got further back; the corners of his mouth would be where he did most of his emoting. He also noted that he had pink dinosaur-cheeks near the back of his mouth, inside his lips. The feeling of having them there would take some getting used to.

Turning his head to look at himself from the side, he could see the ridges on his back. They were sparse, golden osteoderms that were at their tallest right between his shoulder blades. They looked wickedly sharp. Heaven help whatever decided to attack him from behind - or anyone who wasn’t careful touching his back, for that matter. He’d have to watch out for those. He also saw that he had golden tiger stripes running along his back, only slightly more densely arranged than his spikes. Next, he opened his wings, such as he was able. If he stood in the middle of the room, he could almost open them all the way if he pointed them corner-to-corner. That would make his wingspan about seventeen feet, to match a total length of probably nine feet. Standing normally, which was leaned over with neck held upwards like an ostrich, he was about four and a half feet tall, down from almost six.

The urge to flap his new wings was overwhelming, but common sense took over for the moment. If he did that, he’d probably knock over everything in the room. So he settled for experimenting with his tail. It only bent slightly up and down, enough that he could sit down comfortably. Side to side, however… a slightly overzealous swipe embedded his diamond-shaped, golden tail blade in the back of his office chair. He’d have to fix that later.

He closed the mirror and flopped down onto his bed. On the wall above him was a collection of pictures he’d commissioned from various artists on the internet. Most of them were of one character in particular. To his friends, it was just his favorite OC. To himself, it was his alter-ego: a green and gold wyvern. Now, James and the wyvern were one and the same. Art had become reality in the most literal of ways, which was pretty freaking cool as far as James was concerned. His roommate could deal with it; James could explain it to him later, more or less.

He reached for the girl’s business card; he had thanks to give and some very important questions to ask.