It was around three in the morning when Ethan tossed and turned in his bed at the university fraternity house. The silence of the house was broken only by the distant hum of a refrigerator and the ticking of the wall clock. He had drunk too much, he knew that, but it wasn't just the alcohol that tormented him: a vague sense of unease gripped his chest, as if something was wrong, as if his own body no longer fully belonged to him.

Still half-asleep, he turned onto his side and felt a tingling along his legs. His muscles seemed to move on their own, stretching in an unusual way, as if his skin were becoming smoother, tighter. He ran a hand along his side: that curve had never been there before. A jolt ran down his back, but he was too tired to fully wake up. "A dream..." he murmured through clenched teeth, his voice hoarse.

But the dream went on. He felt his chest compress and then slowly expand, a new and unfamiliar weight taking shape across his torso. His breathing grew deeper, his heartbeat slowed, as if his heart were searching for a new rhythm to follow. In the dim light, his silhouette, lying above the covers wearing only a bra and nothing else, moved like in a slow cocoon.

A final shiver ran down his spine and then, for a moment, everything stopped. Silence returned to fill the room, and Ethan slipped into a deeper sleep, unaware that, upon waking, he would no longer recognize the reflection in front of him.