This piece is a response narrative for the Autofiction x Worldbuilding submissions call.  It was inspired by this Autofictional seed. For this call, we asked people to write a response to another author’s autofictional submission, based on the original piece and this bit of cryptic world lore.

This, and other Worldbuilding pieces are being published to a Wiki, which will allow contributors to edit, link, and otherwise annotate their work and that of their peers.

The Univeral Law of Perpetual Transmogrification

Later, when he had words, he would say he was first aware of the smell. It was dank and thick. It burned his throat, sulfuric and bitter. Gasping, he swallowed as much air as his lungs would allow. Gasping, choking, gasping, and choking until his breathing and heart rate slowed. He used his palm to push the snot away. His head fell back as his eyes adjusted to the world around him. Stars glimmered against the fading sun. In the trees at the edge of the water, a scarlet macaw screeched. Something of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He had been terrified as he clamored to the surface, desperate to breathe, but the sky was comforting somehow. Oddly, he felt at home.

His attention was drawn to his hands moving rhythmically with the gentle push of the ocean as his arms splayed away from his body. His feet paddled as well, keeping his head above the water. The macaw shrieked again as it circled overhead, and his hands moved to each side of his face, pressing gently against unfamiliar growths. He pressed again, and the bird’s song sounded far away. Curious, he thought. Breathing deeply through his mouth, he turned about, examining this new world.

As he peered over his left shoulder, the water seemed to be without end. Bobbing to his right, he instinctively moved towards the shore, and his toes made contact with the sand. He stopped abruptly, slowly lowering his heels. He flexed his calf muscles as his breathing grew shallow again. Tentatively, he pushed his right foot forward. His ankle buckled, and he dropped below the water’s surface. Sputtering, he forced his head up, his arms thrashing and grabbing at the air. The ocean was no longer his home.

Before he had words, he had emotions. Before emotions, sensations. Days before, he became aware of something brushing against him. That was his first rise to consciousness. He realized he was floating and buoyant, bobbing along with his lower extremities dragging over coral. To his right, a squid nibbled at him. One of his arms smacked it away. The attacker retreated and hovered nearby, confused. Hunger overtook him, and the gelatinous ooze down his throat was pleasurable. His stomach stopped thudding. The corners of his mouth tugged. The next time a squid pecked at him, he would not push it away.

He began scuttling along the ocean floor, hunting for squid. When they were unavailable, he settled for crab or shrimp, sometimes smaller octopuses. His appetite could not be quenched. Soon, he couldn’t squeeze into the glass jar he called his home. A piece of abandoned pipe provided a haven before he was unable to fit inside it as well. He remembered his first home, where warm water seeped through fissures, and he scurried across the coral reef, hoping to find a den large enough for his girth.

As he grew near the deep spring, he allowed himself to float along, enjoying the warm water. Dens and crevices were filled with females, many of whom were guarding their eggs. The only other males were tiny hatchlings who burst from their sacs and swam away from their mothers to begin foraging for food.

A female floated in front of him, her eyes wide and her skin shifting from red to purple. She reached out one of her arms and ran it along his as if searching for something. One of her tentacles poked at him. He suddenly realized two things. He was not interested in a mate, and he did not want to die. She smacked him, this time with more force, and her skin turned a dark brown. He tried to push her away, but her arms were strong as they tightened around his torso, and he struggled to breathe. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him go slack. Her coloring turned pale when she released him. Later, he assumed she let him go because she thought he was dying. His hands grabbed at his throat, and his feet desperately churned. She turned away, bored, as he propelled himself up toward the water’s surface.

Now, as he made his way towards the shore, carefully setting each foot on the seabed before taking another step, he scanned the water’s edge for animals. He recognized leatherback turtles nesting, but the squirrel monkeys scampering from one tree to another were unfamiliar, and their chattering made him anxious. He told himself he was the larger animal and they should be afraid of him. He almost convinced himself this was true.

At the shoreline, he turned and faced the ocean. The water grew a deeper blue as the sun began to creep towards the horizon. His feet were steady, and he was able to maintain his balance. He examined his pale brown skin. Grimacing, he held his breath as he tried to return it to its natural purple. He stamped his feet in the sand, hoping the exertion would help, but it didn’t.

He stroked his face and felt an unexpected softness. Touching the top of his head, he drew his hand away tentatively. The softness was there as well. Looking down, he realized the toes belonged to him. His eyes wandered up his legs where, to his surprise, the softness was there, too. In the water, he noticed an animal staring. It was caressing its face, too. It touched its head when he did. It pointed towards him as he extended his hand.

This animal was unlike any he had seen. White fur covered its head and encircled its mouth; wispy strands of white fur covered its belly and legs. This poor creature was missing six of his arms. Had he lost them in a terrible fight? This was certainly possible. And he was standing on two appendages, which could be arms. He slapped the mosquito on his shoulder at the same time as the animal in the water.

Angrily, he grabbed at the animal, but his fist contained only water. He snatched at it again. The animal was as angry as he was, his face contorted and pinched. It lashed out, too, but it didn’t touch him. After several attempts to catch the creature, he ran his hand over the surface of the water, and the image rippled with the current.

He dropped to his knees, and his screams rose into the trees, scattering the macaws and the monkeys.