Metamorphosis
Metamorphosis
The classroom was no longer a place of learning—it had become a grotesque cradle of transformation. Desks and chairs lay buried beneath layers of sinewy, pulsating webbing that stretched from floor to ceiling, glistening with a slick, organic sheen. Along the far wall, grotesque cocoons hung in eerie stillness, each one shifting slightly with the movement of the creatures gestating within. The chalkboard was obscured by a membrane of translucent flesh, through which faint, twitching silhouettes pulsed like shadows beneath ice. A low hum filled the room—a sound both alive and ancient—as the alien habitat fed, breathed, and waited.
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