SupernaturalBeauty

Version 2

The folding chairs creaked as I moved, betraying my nervousness more than the slight tremor in my hands. Seven pairs of eyes observed me with that mixture of curiosity and empathy you only find in support groups like this one. The fluorescent light flickered occasionally, casting restless shadows across the peeling walls of the basement.

"My name is Catalino, though you can call me Cato," I said whilst discreetly tugging at the sleeves of my hoodie to ensure they completely covered my wrists. "And I am... a shapeshifter."

Get it all out at once. Like ripping off a plaster.

"Welcome, Cato," replied Pablo, the moderator, running a hand through his greying beard. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead despite the chill in the basement. "We all understand what you're going through here. This is a safe space."

I nodded without adding anything else. Pablo gave me a patient smile, the same one he had probably offered to hundreds of transformed people over the decades.

Someone knocked at the door with such force and insistence that we all jumped. Pablo stood up with a weary sigh and went to greet a possible newcomer.

"No, you've got the wrong place," he said after listening for a few seconds. "The super-secret hacker's office is next door." And he returned to his seat.

"Third time this week," commented Jorge, another member. "It's so super-secret that everyone gets the wrong door."

Pablo nodded with resignation and turned his attention back to me.

"Perhaps it would help to hear some experiences from your fellow members," he suggested, gesturing broadly at the group. "Jorge has just shared his story."

The chairs groaned under his weight, merging into one beneath that massive body. A forest of black hair stretched from his forearms, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, and those enormous hands-which would have made a beer stein look small-cradled his coffee cup with the delicacy of someone handling a soap bubble.

"As I was saying," Jorge continued in a surprisingly gentle voice, "the worst part is the clothes. Every full moon I destroy at least two complete outfits. And then there's the hair problem... finding it everywhere for weeks."

I watched, fascinated, as his sausage-sized fingers fiddled with a small glass figurine he had pulled from his pocket. It looked like a miniature bear, carved with astonishing precision.

"I use a special dog brush," chimed in an older woman sitting opposite me, her face marked by decades of worry. "I buy it at the pet shop and no one suspects a thing. I call it my 'natural beauty routine'."

"My mum makes me shave in the garden," added Lupita from beneath her hood. "She says I clog the pipes with so much she-wolf hair."

A murmur of understanding laughter rippled around the circle. Everyone nodded, sharing that common problem: the excess hair during their transformations. The basement air seemed charged with the camaraderie of those who share a secret too strange for the outside world.

I avoided their gazes. My fingers played with the edge of the chair, my nails-slightly sharper than normal-producing a rhythmic sound against the metal.

"And you, Cato?" Pablo asked when the silence became obvious. "Would you like to share anything about your experience?"

All eyes turned back to me. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling a tickle in my throat that threatened to become a purr. The question hung in the air, waiting for an answer I wasn't sure I could give.

"My problem is... exactly the opposite," I finally murmured.

"The opposite?" Jorge asked, frowning beneath his thick mane of hair.

"What do you mean?" Lupita's voice sounded genuinely curious from the shadows of her hood.

I took a deep breath. Now or never.

"I used to work as a crossfit trainer and had a YouTube channel about workout routines," I continued, surprised at how easily the words now flowed. "I was always... obsessive about hair removal. Not a single hair out of place. My daily routine included exfoliation, depilatory creams, even laser treatment. My followers joked that I spent more on beauty products than on protein supplements."

I let my gaze wander around the circle, observing their faces. Jorge nodded slowly, his dark eyes shining with genuine interest. Lupita had leaned forward slightly, her hood briefly revealing a sharp profile and amber eyes.

"My channel grew slowly, but always in the shadow of Marcos Álvarez, 'The Beast'." The name escaped like an involuntary hiss. "Six million followers. Sponsorships with the top brands. National medals in crossfit competitions."

The memory of his mocking smile made my pupils narrow involuntarily.

"At every competition, Marcos would wave his national medals in my face. 'How's your princess channel going?' he'd whisper as he passed. But his finger trembled on his phone as he obsessively refreshed the view counter: my beauty tutorials doubled his crossfit routines."

A flashback shot through my mind: Marcos, with his perfectly muscled body, leaning over me in the changing room. "People want to see strength, Catalino, not a little kitten licking its paws." The memory was so vivid I could almost smell his overpowering cologne.

"And then there was the day my face mask tutorial hit 100,000 views, triple his latest workout video. His mocking smile turned into a twitch the day he lost thousands of followers... who appeared on my profile. And then his Stories..." No. Best leave it at that. For now.

An involuntary purr escaped my throat, drawing curious looks.

"Sorry, I'm a bit nervous," I quickly clarified, feeling my cheeks flush. "After my first transformation, instead of turning into something hairy like you lot, I became... this."

I pulled up my hoodie sleeve slightly, revealing blue-grey, shiny, completely hairless skin. The fluorescent light made it look almost metallic. Bluish veins stood out beneath the surface like electric circuits.

"A Sphynx cat," Lupita murmured in awe, her fiery eyes glinting beneath her hood.

"The first time was horrible," I continued, vividly recalling that night. "I was trying out a new anti-ageing cream with some exotic plant extract promising 'rejuvenating' and 'transformative' effects."

The bathroom was full of steam, my phone screen fogging up as I adjusted the angle for the livestream. "Today we're trying the new Nefertum rejuvenating cream," I announced to the few viewers who had tuned in. "Promised for men who want perfect skin."

The jar gleamed under the lights. Minimalist label, gold on black. I opened it theatrically, showing the bluish cream that smelled faintly of lotus and something else... unusual.

"Remember to follow me for more men's beauty tips," I said as I applied the first layer to my freshly exfoliated face. "CatoBeauty always brings you the most innovative products on the market."

"And don't forget to join my live CatoFit sessions every Wednesday, where we'll whip those perfectly beautiful, smooth bodies into shape."

The tingling started almost immediately. Like thousands of microscopic ants crawling over my skin. At first, I thought it was just the cream doing its job.

But then came the burning.

"I think I'm having a slight reaction," I muttered, leaning towards the mirror. And that's when I saw it: my pupils, normally round, starting to narrow vertically like a cat's.

"What the hell...?"

My skin began turning blue. Not a sickly blue, but a shiny blue-grey, like some breeds of exotic cats.

Panic overwhelmed me. I tried desperately to wipe off the cream, but the change had already begun.

"Sorry, I have to cut this," I blurted out, fumbling for the end-stream button with fingers that were starting to lengthen slightly.

But in my panic, I only minimised the app. The livestream kept going as I watched in horror as my reflection changed in the mirror.

"The bones in my face cracked like dry branches as my jaw shifted," I recounted, shivering at the memory. "I felt every vertebra in my spine stretch one by one, rippling under my skin like trapped snakes. The worst part was the metallic taste that flooded my mouth as my fangs pierced my gums, slicing through the flesh like hot needles."

Jorge visibly shuddered. His huge body tensed as if reliving his own transformation.

"My senses exploded all at once: the bathroom lights blinded me like direct flashes, the comments from my followers on the livestream thundered in my ears like shouts in a canyon, and the smell of my own sweat was so intense it made me retch."

Pablo nodded understandingly, offering me a glass of water which I gratefully accepted. The cool liquid momentarily eased the dryness in my throat.

"I panicked and thought I'd ended the stream," I continued after drinking. "By the time I realised and deleted it, several followers had downloaded the video and captured screenshots. Within hours, 'Cat-o-man, the influencer cat-man' was trending."

A collective sigh swept the room. Everyone understood the terror of being exposed.

"I was terrified, hiding in my flat, when I got a call. It was the marketing director from LunaBella Cosmetics. They'd seen a leaked video of my transformation and, instead of being horrified, they saw... potential."

"Potential?" Jorge asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

The LunaBella Cosmetics office took up the entire third floor of a glass building in the financial district. I waited in a meeting room with frosted glass walls, trying to calm my nerves. My reflection in the black marble table showed an almost normal image, except for my eyes, which refused to return completely to their former state.

The door burst open and in strode Claudia Vega, marketing director. Tall, impeccably dressed, with an energy that seemed to electrify the air around her.

"Catalino!" she exclaimed as if we were old friends. "Or should I say... Catman?" My stomach clenched.

"I'd prefer you didn't." She sat opposite me, her eyes assessing me with clinical precision.

"What's happened to you is... extraordinary. Unique. And potentially very lucrative."

"I'd call it a nightmare," I replied curtly.

She smiled, a gesture that didn't reach her eyes.

"We're searching for perfect skin," she said, paraphrasing the company slogan. "And now we know it's in you."

She slid a tablet towards me. On the screen, a contract with a figure that made me blink several times.

"We want you to be the face of a new line we're launching, with you as the brand's flagship. Complete exclusivity, of course."

"But my skin... my transformation..."

"That's exactly what we want to show. Controlled, of course." Her smile widened. "Our scientists are already working on a modified version of the cream. Don't worry, it won't transform anyone else like you. It'll just... enhance your most camera-friendly features."

"'Perfect skin exists', they told me". I sighed, recalling my naivety. "They wanted to make me their corporate image. That's how the # SupernaturalBeauty campaign was born. Overnight, I went from fearing discovery to being paraded as an exotic rarity."

My hands moved instinctively as if holding jars and applying creams, gestures I'd repeated in hundreds of photo shoots.

"They developed an experimental cream that gave me some control over the transformation. I could maintain a human appearance except for a few... select features that looked good on camera."

I took out my phone and showed them some campaign photos: my face with golden feline eyes promoting an eye mask; my torso with a subtle blue shimmer for a body lotion; my hands slightly transformed, with elegantly elongated nails, holding a perfume bottle.

"The problem was you never knew exactly which features would decide to manifest in each photo shoot. One day my eyes would turn completely golden with vertical pupils-perfect for the 'Feline Gaze' eyeliner campaign-and the next, small blue spots would appear on my cheekbones, which the art director called 'supernatural beauty constellations'."

To illustrate, I let out another purr, this one entirely intentional.

"Another side effect is that I now purr when I'm nervous or excited. I can't control it." I looked at Jorge with a wry smile. "Imagine being in the middle of a million-dollars contract negotiation and suddenly sounding like a car engine idling. My agent learned to kick me under the table whenever I started."

Soft laughter rippled through the circle. For the first time since I'd arrived, I felt truly understood.

"And how was fame?" Jorge asked, resting his huge hands on his hairy knees.

"Explosive," I replied, feeling my voice grow stronger. "In three months I went from being a nobody to having fifteen million followers."

The photo studio was a controlled chaos of technicians, stylists, and assistants buzzing around their queen bee: me, sitting on a golden throne with Egyptian motifs, while a make-up artist put the finishing touches on my bluish skin.

"More shine on the cheekbones," the creative director ordered. "We want it to catch the light like liquid mercury."

My body ached. I'd been in the same position for hours, maintaining a partial transformation that required all my concentration. I could feel my facial muscles tense from the effort of keeping my pupils vertical.

"Five-minute break!" someone finally shouted.

I stood up, stretching my numb muscles. In a corner of the studio, a screen showed the latest posts with the hashtag # SupernaturalBeauty in real time. Thousands of young people applying bluish make-up, wearing vertical pupil contact lenses, attaching fake ears to their heads.

My phone vibrated with a notification: Marcos had posted a video. I opened it instinctively.

"Real beauty is in strength, not painting yourself like a clown," he said, lifting weights while staring challengingly at the camera. "Some people sell smoke and faked looks. I offer real results."

The comments were a mix of support for him and passionate defences of me. A digital tribal war.

"Thirty seconds," the production assistant called.

I locked my phone, took a deep breath, and returned to the throne. The transformation advanced a little further than planned due to my agitation. I felt my ears stretch slightly, becoming more pointed.

"Perfect!" exclaimed the photographer. "Hold that exact expression."

My gaze darkened as I recalled the worst moment.

"Everything was fine until the Madison Square Garden presentation, right on the full moon. It was supposed to be a controlled transformation, but..."

My voice dropped to a whisper.

"I completely lost control in front of thousands of people. The transformation was total. And instead of fleeing in terror... they went wild with excitement."

"What happened?" Lupita asked, leaning forward.

"They chased me. Thousands of people trying to touch me, pull out hair I don't have, take selfies, wanting to 'be like me'. I had to escape through the emergency exits."

Pablo offered me a glass of water when he noticed my breathing had become irregular.

"That night I realised I'd traded one type of prison for another. I no longer feared being discovered, but now I couldn't walk down the street without being recognised, pursued, worshipped like a feline deity."

I opened my backpack and took out a small case I always carried with me.

"This is my survival kit," I explained, spreading its contents on the central table. A collection of cheap wigs, fake moustaches, false eyebrows, make-up in various shades, non-prescription glasses, and other products from the Spy Shop. "From ideal # BeautyNotBeasty influencer, to having to hide under layers and layers of hair, unable to enjoy the fame and money. The only way to walk through Madrid without being chased."

I showed them a Vogue cover photo on my phone, where I appeared mid-transformation, my blue-grey skin shining under the studio lights, my hypnotic golden eyes staring straight at the camera.

"This is me according to the world," I said. Then I pointed to myself, showing my fake 'wolf chest' hair, typical of a real macho man, with a bitter gesture. "And this is me escaping from that world."

The shopping centre was bustling with Christmas activity. I moved along with my head down, under a cap, fake beard, and non-prescription glasses. A completely hairy and anonymous version of myself.

It had worked for almost an hour. I almost felt normal, shopping for presents like anyone else.

Then I saw it: an entire shop dedicated to # SupernaturalBeauty products. My bluish face on gigantic posters. Teenagers queuing to buy the make-up kit that "turns you into Catman".

I approached, fascinated by that commercialised version of my nightmare.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind me. A shop assistant smiled at me. "Interested in the feline look? We've got a special offer today."

The irony made me laugh, which I quickly turned into a cough.

"No, thank you. It's not... my style."

"Oh, you never know until you try," she insisted, picking up an applicator. "A touch of blue on the cheeks might suit you, even with that beard." I instinctively stepped back.

"Honestly, I'm not interested."

That's when I felt it, the familiar itch on my skin. Not here, please. Not now. The full moon was near and my transformations were becoming harder to control.

A drop of bluish sweat slid down my temple. The assistant noticed, confused at first, then increasingly astonished.

"Wait... are you...?"

I didn't wait for her to finish the sentence. I ran, feeling how the fake beard began to peel away from my increasingly blue skin, in front of a mob that seemed to want to lynch me with kisses and caresses.

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket. No one knew what to say. The irony was too stark: while they feared being discovered, I was hiding from my own fame.

Jorge was the first to break the silence with a deep sigh.

"It's sad. I almost prefer my situation," Jorge murmured, running a hand through his beard. "At least I can be myself most of the time."

"How can you hate it?" an older woman asked. "You're famous, rich..."

"And the paparazzi hound me, trying to catch my transformation. I get hundreds of messages asking for 'the special cream'," I said. "I'm only myself when I'm alone, locked away in hotels," I said. "And the contract..." I paused to purr. "My golden eyes reflect every night in the black phone screen. A million followers waiting. Three million in fines if I miss a single night. The threat of a lawsuit for breach of contract weighing on my shoulders like an invisible cage. I feel like a caged cat, as if there was a cat_ch."

Lupita, silent until then, touched my hand.

"We can hide," she said softly. "You can't, neither as a monster nor as a human."

"Thanks for the 'monster' bit," I replied, a tear split in two by my pupil.

"The irony," I continued, my voice breaking, "is that we feared being hunted like beasts. The reality is worse: they turn us into products. The real monster is the one who hands you a contract and says 'Sign here, You are a natural. Moreover, you are a super... natural'."

Several nodded. Even Pablo, with all his experience, seemed moved.

"Last week," I added, "I found out something else. LunaBella isn't satisfied with just me. They've been experimenting, looking for other 'specimens' for their # SupernaturalBeauty line. Different transformations for different product lines."

Jorge frowned, his huge body visibly tensing.

"Are you saying they're trying to create more... like us?"

I nodded grimly.

"According to documents I found in the lab, they're experimenting with different formulas. They want a whole 'zoo' of supernatural beauties. The werewolf for the traditional men's line. The fox-woman for luxury Asian products. And they were particularly interested in developing..." my voice broke, "an amphibian version for their moisturising range."

The creak of the door interrupted the moment. Everyone turned their heads simultaneously.

The door opened slowly, revealing a damp, trembling figure. Greenish, shiny skin. Bulging eyes scanned the room in panic. Abnormally long, webbed fingers clung to the doorframe.

My stomach clenched as I recognised him. Marcos. My old rival. The man who hated me and mocked me online. Now turned into a grotesque parody of a frog-man.

Pablo stood up with his usual calm.

Marcos swallowed visibly, an exaggerated movement in his new amphibian throat, repositioning his long tongue. His bulging eyes darted back and forth.

"Welcome to Shifters Anonymous," Pablo said, extending a hand to the newcomer. "You're in a safe place."