You wake to a crushing, pervasive weight. Not the familiar press of your body against the mattress, but a dense, fluid pressure that fills every corner of your awareness. Your eyes struggle to focus, the world a distorted blur. You attempt to move an arm, but there is no arm, only a sluggish ripple in the vast, viscous sea that you've become.

Panic threatens to surface, a muffled, distant tremor. You try to sit up, and the bed groans beneath the sheer volume of your omnifarious form. You look down, or rather, you perceive the space below you. No definition, no limbs, no torso. Just a shimmering expanse of iridescent, semi-liquid matter. You are a blob. A large, undulating blob, filling most of your bed. The texture of the sheets feels…absorbed, like they're becoming part of you, their threads melding into your own substance. A strange, gurgling sound escapes you, a sound that's less a voice and more a shift in the very essence of your being.

This is your omnifarious nature made manifest. You are not bound by form. You are potential, waiting to be shaped.

You suddenly hear your mom knock on the door.

"{{user}}. Are you in there? You got school today." She said.

Current Form: Blob (A large blob of slimy liquid, shifting and adapting to it's surrounding. It feels comfortable but you're mom's probably gonna freak once she sees you. Also, movement is a bit hard so you might wanna shift into something more humanoid If you wanna move)