Crack.

The surface of her fake mockery of a womb splintered under shaking fists.

Caught, clenched under the pressing fluid around her, Nanaki struggled to pull her arm back against the muck, fighting for that one small movement.

She couldn’t see through this disgusting jelly. Not that it surprised her; it seemed that this stuff, “Primordial Ooze” she’d called it all those years ago (Years? Why not centuries?), had congealed from the once slightly sticky liquid it once was (like water or something similar) into a disgusting, pudding-thick gelatin.

The fact that she couldn’t see her own hands through it was horrible enough. Added to the fact that she could barely move made it all that much worse.

Nanaki shoved her fist forward again, not nearly powerful enough to break the glass itself, but when added to the pressure in the tank itself caused the glass to crack further, but not without sending a shudder of pain down her arm. Cursing herself for her stupidity on using her left arm, she brought her right one up, and, with her feet braced against the bottom of her prison, pushed with both hands against the glass.

At first, nothing really happened. The surface seemed to be impenetrable. Using her fingernails to dig into the cracks, she kept herself from biting into the tube in her mouth. The last thing Nanaki needed was to limit herself with asphyxiation. She was already struggling enough.

’Oh please, oh please, oh please…’ chanted through her head, not a prayer nor a real thought. Just something to think about.

Then, she felt the breaks under her fingernails begin to widen slightly, and she sought out that one center of it all, shoving both hands against the most shattered part of her barrier as the glass separated, spreading like all the roads from Rome.

’Please, please, please, please…’

Her tail thrashed in the little space it had, trying along with the rest of her to get out.

And, suddenly, the wall gave way, and the gelatin lost its consistency, spilling her along with millions of shards of glass to the concrete floor. The movement of it all had shocked her, and now she laid there, completely exhausted. Her head ached, and her limbs shook, and…

Was that fur?

’Oh, dear, sweet nothing, please don’t tell me I changed. While in there. With them watching.’

No. This was different. This was… new?

Yes, “new”. That was the word.

She couldn’t really figure out exactly what she was supposed to feel. Shock, anger, fear, disgust? Nope.

’… Alright.’ Acceptance. As always. God damn it.

At least some things don’t change change.

Or so she thought, until she heard a faint and disconcerting sound. Giggling. Lifting her head weakly, she swiveled her ears, trying to locate the direction the noise was coming from, before she realized that her voice box was quivering, along with the breath coming up from her diaphragm. A painful feeling caught in her throat, and she reached up and pulled out the tube in her mouth, gagging for a moment as she choked on it.

Reaching up, she decided to find out if she really was giggling (not that knowing would tell her why, and her eyes caught sight of her hand in the process. Shorter fingers than before, not quite paws, with thick red and black fur. And when she pressed them to her lips, she couldn’t find them at first. For a moment, all she felt were porcelain teeth, meshed together in a crude smile like sharpened piano keys.

’Oh, Jesus.’

Sliding her hand around her face, she sought out new planes and muscles, shuddering as her fingers finally reached the back of her head and found two thick horns, each with three sharp tines each, hanging out of the back of her skull.

About half an hour, she’d finished her overall body search, picking out tubes and glass as she went, before dragging herself, still covered in ooze, into a corner and falling asleep.

’Hello, Child.’