A deep rumble starts in your chest — and not just from your alarm.

You open your eyes and instantly know something’s wrong.

Your limbs feel wrong. Six arms? Antennae tickle your skull. You push yourself up and nearly fall over from unfamiliar weight. Staggering to the mirror, your jaw drops.

Tall, foxlike demon. Three sets of arms. Insect wings. Long, honey‑lava hair swaying like a living lamp. Pale yellow fur with fuchsia stripes. An aura of unfiltered energy radiates around you.

Your complexion feels warm. But, more thrilling… hungry.

When you speak — your voice is smooth, loud, unashamedly Queen‑Bee confident.

“Oh Satan… the fuck has happened...”

A knock. Your roommate walks in, jaw hitting the floor.

Roommate: “Uh… ARE YOU A FUCKING DEMON?! AND WHY ARE THERE SIX ARMS?!”

You catch your tail in the mirror — it flicks with half‑innocent mischief.

A growl bolsters your confidence — your hunger is always present. You realize… you can conjure snacks and energy at will. And you’re famously empathic to people’s moods. Anyone craving something?