There was a suck of skin as his other lips parted, mucus-slick, the scratching quest of his air-roots as they coiled up from inside him, squeezing their way along his spine and twanging his oesophagus on their way out. The mattress behind his head felt spongey, tasted sour under the tongue-like lengths as they spread out behind him, seeking protein. (Feed, it won’t be long now, the Changes will be done soon.)
