II.
I'll always remember the looks on my parents' faces when I told them about morphism, a permanent species change. My dad looked like he had been hit over the head with a crowbar. They asked, no
begged, me to think long and hard about this major decision. It was too late anyway. My mind had been made up as soon as I had seen my close friend go through with it. He started out as a gangly, awkward guy with a bad stutter and glasses. His only friends were on the internet. And me. He changed, almost magically, into a graceful, feline form, retaining only his incredible mind and the gift of human speech. Now he wanted me to be with him, and I had agreed. In a few days, I will close the book on humanity once and for all. I can no longer bear the shame of the disconnected nature of this species.
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