"Protea spontanea," the halfling doctor said confidently.

I sat silently. Confused.

"It's a rare disorder. Very rare. In fact, you are the first recorded person to have this condition. I just coined the name, so if you think it's a stupid name, let me know." Dr. Bullfreckle looked down at his clipboard and said slowly and quietly, "Proh-TEE-yuh spon-TAIN-ee-yuh," feeling each syllable dance across his lips and tongue.

"But how? Is this some curse? I've been going through this for two years!"

"Disorder. I ran you through all the tests and the cause of your disorder is your own body. No witch can hide a hex from a class-98 detect energy ritual cast by yours truly."

"What about a class-100? Like we talked about?"

"A 98 is 98% as effective and at a quarter of the cost. I'm not burning diamonds for this." He looked down at his clipboard again and sighed. "Onto the other news, I ran a genetics test. A simple class-20 just to get an idea if we need to run a more invasive test." He looked at me and paused.

"Oswald... you're a changeling."

I sat, stunned. I peered into the halfling's face to perhaps catch a glimpse of amusement, like what would spread across his if he was about to say "Gotcha!" But no. No amusement. Not even a slight smirk. His face was a rock and my spirit crashed against it like an ocean wave, dashed into a thousand tiny droplets. I was a changeling. The most distrusted. The lowest of the low.

"But my parents were both human! I'm a human!"

But I wasn't. As of that morning, I was seven foot tall charcoal-skinned infernal with glowing amber eyes and horns like a ram. I had a devil's tail, which flicked about almost as if it had a mind of its own. My tongue felt long and slender in my mouth, and when it wasn't used for talking it ran across my sharp teeth, exploring what felt like another person's mouth. Even as I sat there, I could feel my bones slowly shift, preparing for my nightly metamorphosis.

"I knew this would be difficult to explain. But yes, you are a changeling, but your powers were somehow delayed by twenty-eight years. Some changelings have their power from birth, some develop them as toddlers, but you... this delay is unheard of. Thus, protea spontanea. It's more of a learning disorder than anything else."

"A learning disorder?"

"I mean, shapeshifting is usually wild in a changeling's early years. Actually controlling it might take five to ten years of training, but in your case we don't know... It may take longer."

"And my parents? Are they changelings and just decided to never tell me? Am I adopted?"

"Don't ask me. That's a conversation between you and your parents." He flicked a brochure towards me. "Take this." The red brochure had a picture of a human-looking child with an abnormally broad smile. It was titled, "THE CHANGELING'S GUIDE TO BEING A NORMAL KID", which was designed to look like it was drawn on with a crayon.

"We usually give that to children."

--

The brochure was crumpled into a ball and thrown into a trash can somewhere between the doctor's office and my apartment. I walked down the city sidewalk swiftly, frustrated by the truth and the questions that remained unanswered. The afternoon sun beat on my dark skin and my infernal eyes burned in its radiance. Pedestrians looked at me, mere glimpses, and then avoided eye contact. Infernals were not common in this neighborhood, so my appearance probably brought some displeasure.

My first unwilling transformation two years ago was an elderly human lady, and I was mortified by what happened to my body. The wrinkles, the sags, and the obvious change between my legs. I called out sick at work, wrapped myself in a blanket and waited in bed, hoping for that nightmare to end. The next day I was olive-skinned hunk of a man with dark wavy hair and a chiseled face. The next, a twenty-something woman with sad eyes and long dark hair. In a couple weeks, I started to take on the qualities of humanoid species besides humans, so one day I could be a short human lady with curly red hair and the next be an orc with tusks that were so tall they took permanent real estate in my field of view.

Of course, I lost my job. There was no way I would be able to convince anybody that I, the silver-haired dwarf lady, was Oswald. Friendships broke down. I either stopped talking to people or they realized my condition was just too much for them to handle. To get by financially, I began taking odd jobs. On days where I had muscles to spare, I would help move furniture or load wagons. On days where I was small and easy to miss, I stole valuables from nobles and sold them to the local fence. On days where I had looks, I'd woo people out of their coins. On days where I didn't have any of those things, I sat in my cheap apartment and moped.

After two years of that, I was uncertain if I could continue eking out a living doing this. I lived a lonely life and had many dangerous close calls from biting off more than I could chew with odd jobs. I had not talked to my parents in four years at that point, and with good reason... they were narcissistic and controlling, the definition of strict. But if I wanted answers, and maybe some financial assistance, maybe they could help me. I was out of options. I had to message them, and that is what I was going to do. Just a minute's walk to the apartment, then I could write a letter.

"Heeeey," said a voice. I stopped in my tracks and turned my head to the dark alleyway it came from. "What's the hurry?" The voice fluttered between a masculine and feminine tone, like two people speaking at once through a single mouth. It was unsettling... yet alluring.

"Me?"

"Yes, you," the voice lightly chuckled. "Want to go back to that drab apartment?"

"Not really..." My whole body turned to face the monumental void of darkness that engulfed the alleyway.

"Why don't you come with me, then? I can teach you what a brochure can't."

I paused. How did they know about the brochure? "How long have you been following me?"

"Long enough to know your tragic story," the speaker said in a jokingly pouty tone. "Poor thing. A changeling, oh poor baby! Protein-ea spork-tanea!"

"That was a private medical consultation about a private medical matter! Who gave you the right to eavesdrop?"

"Oh, I didn't eavesdrop. I just know what you are thinking. Mind-reading is a good skill for a changeling to have... Let's you know what the people want. And I know what you want, my sweet Ozzy..."

They were probing my mind. They knew what I wanted. Again, unsettling... but alluring. I slowly opened my mouth and prepared to utter a single word. Everything that I wanted.

"Control," we said simultaneously, our voices overlapping into a chorus of tones.

"Yeeeeess. I can give you that control. I taught myself... and I can teach you. Once you gain control over your body, the power can be..."

Two yellow orbs flashed in the dark, side by side, and underneath a mouthful of sharp teeth reflected the dim light of the alleyway.

"INTOXICATING..." the sharp teeth spat out the word suggestively. Eyelids draped halfway over the yellow orbs to give an enchanting glare.

I shuddered pondering just who was waiting in the darkness.

"Don't write to your parents, Ozzie. You don't want them, you want control."

I nodded silently. I began stepping forward. Out of the sunlight and past the threshold between light and dark. Bathed in darkness, the eyes and teeth of the creature came closer and closer as I walked towards them. They moved forward to meet me until the two eyes dominated my view. The small black pupils danced across my face and the wide smile of the creature grew wider. I could smell their sweet breath, like citrus fruit and flower petals. A large, slender hand landed on left shoulder. The other hand gently combed my hair until it gently, yet firmly grabbed a hold of my right horn.

"Another changeling..." they whispered, bathing me in their sweet breath. "I've waited so long..." Their pupils stopped their dance and settled on my eyes. "You have a question. Ask me."

"What's your name? What do I call you?"

"Oh, Ozzie," they whispered. Their grin grew into a wicked smile, flashing more and more of their razor-sharp teeth. "You can call me anything you want..."