**Metamorphosis to Wasp Queen**

You sit in your living room, lazily flipping through channels on the TV, seeking something interesting to watch on a quiet Saturday afternoon. A strange hum fills the air, seemingly coming from the ceiling. You glance up and see a small insect, a wasp, darting around above your head. You think nothing of it. You've dealt with wasps before. Another one won't be a challenge. Suddenly, the wasp dives at you, seemingly landing on your skin. You feel a sharp prick as it stings you and instinctively swat at it, but there is no sign of it. Immediately, a wave of dizziness overtakes you, causing everything to blur around you. "What... What’s happening?" you gasp, clutching your head. You struggle to keep your balance as everything around you starts to grow larger. No, you realize — it's you who are shrinking. The room stretches out into an enormous landscape. Your mouth tingles, and as you reach up to touch it, your fingers brush against something hard and unfamiliar. Your lips are gone, replaced by insect mandibles. Panic sets in as you gasp, but no sound escapes—only a curious clicking noise. Your hands, now tiny and feeble, cover your face in horror. Teeth are gone. Entire pieces of human identity slipping away. You feel your nose and ears vanish. You touch your face aghast, feeling only smooth chitin where they once were. "What's going on? What is happening to me?" you think desperately, but the transformation is relentless. Your back arches painfully, and with a crack, wings burst forth. They flutter uncontrollably, making it increasingly difficult to stay grounded. "No, this can't be!" you think frantically. You try to scream, but your vocal cords have disappeared, replaced by an insect's trachea incapable of producing human sound. Not even a whimper escapes. Your vision shifts, each eye swelling until it comprises half of your head. Large, compound eyes replace your human ones, and you see the world through a kaleidoscopic lens. Every detail sharpens, yet seems unfathomably alien. Your insides twist and pull, your waist slimming as an additional pair of insect legs sprout. Suddenly, your lower body morphs grotesquely. Segments form as your human shape diminishes into that of an insect. Feeling something pressing out against your lower end, you look back—your human genitalia meld into a greatly distended wasp abdomen, complete with a sharp, fearsome stinger. "Nooooo!" you think, but even in your mind, clarity begins to fade. Profound instinct overreaches rational thought. Voices, family, friends, faces blur into oblivion. You fall forward, no longer bipedal, moving on six spindly insect legs. As your human consciousness slips away, your attempts to cling to it become futile. You try to remember who you were, what you left behind, but it seems meaningless against the rush of memories and desires overwhelming you. Dim recollections of queenhood, of emerging from a pupal stage, take root. You remember the familiar crawl of males, drones, who mated with you. You feel fierce pride as instincts declare you fertile. Your large black eyes scan the enormous space now identified simply as territory to colonize. Humans, structures—what were they again? Merely obstacles, or nesting sites. A front porch ceiling seems perfect. How could you have ever been anything else? Your perspective narrows into a singular purpose: the survival and propagation of your species. You navigate through your previous home, now a vast alien landscape, finding suitable crevices and considering defensive strategies for your fragile new nation. Nothing of your former human self remains. You are the queen, regal and dominant, ready to establish and rule your new colony. All thoughts of a previous life as a human male have been overwritten by instinctual drives, experiences, and undeniable identity as Vespula germanica. This is your existence now. You always were, and always will be, a queen.