I won't conceal it: I have a sort of horror of transformation stories. I don't think it's a horror that's shared by all of us in the Pnictogen Wing—certainly not Chevalier Astolfo, who handled being transformed into a myrtle-bush with characteristic aplomb—but I feel an unpleasant thrill of "body horror" at the idea. I think it's one reason Flowey in Undertale upset me so much. When I watched The Matrix Reloaded recently I was sharply reminded by the horrific imagery of Agent Smith corrupting and transforming other persons into copies of himself.
There's a favorite horror story of mine that, I think, condenses the horror quite effectively into a single narrative, and offers a spiritual explanation of the horror that's consonant with the author's Catholic sense of morality. It's by Welsh writer Arthur Machen, perhaps best known for "The Great God Pan" (which is tinged with the same horror), and it's really an excerpt from a longer work, The Three Impostors, which I have read (partly under the influence of LSD-25). "The Novel of the White Powder" isn't very long, although its old-fashioned expository style might be offputting to contemporary readers.
I invite Cohost to read it, and thus understand me a little better (if you want.)
~Chara of Pnictogen
