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they are not the usual shade, instead, they are a shiny grey reflecting the half-light conjured by the streetlamps. They are not your arms; they are bulky things belonging to some large and powerful statue made of a potent metal. You do not move as you soak in the world around you, gazing without motion at the two slabs of hulking metal. Pain boils and screams in your chest as the world spins; all you can muster is watching your new motionless arms. Finally, as the miasma of haze begins to lift and you test the truth of your sight. Gently, almost timidly, you begin to flex your digits and watch them follow your command. There is no sluggish delay between thought and action, nor is there a loss of your normal dexterity. They are your arms, your hands, but so much greater.
With a groan, you lift yourself to your knees and the world once again begins to spin around you, threatening to drag you into the blackness of sleep. Pausing, you allow your body to adjust, then you right yourself to your full height. And the world around you appears small, the bench that you could once happily fit on looks shrunken and diminutive. The rails at the very edge of the city, which were once chest high, look to only reach your hip. Once again you test your hulking limb and watch the metallic muscles bulge as you flex your arms. You estimate two solid feet of growth to your new frame making you an easy eight-foot, with a generous swelling of muscle granted to your new form.
Below your feet is one of many puddles brought to being by the storm, crouching towards the shallow body of water, you peer in and study your new and bizarre reflection. It is your face that stares back, but it is different, not just because of metal that has replaced flesh. Your features are less defined, slightly altered by your new body. You can tell it is your face looking back but you could easily understand how others would not be able to notice. Reaching down you gently tap the puddle with a single finger sending small ripples in the image which soon returns to the face of iron and steel.
Then you realise that you no longer feel the rain, at least not how you used to, nor do you feel the chill that should bite at your body. Raising yourself to your feet again, this time, there is no nausea. You reach out with your wide wingspan and stretch, feeling the coiled strength barely hidden in your new form. Your arms begin to change, flickering in and out of reality, disappearing and reappearing with rapid blinks. The pain once again burns within your chest as your arms dance in and out of the material world as your head screams with pain.
