There was something wrong with his skin, seriously wrong. Oh, not its shade, as his usual olive tones were the same as always, and no signs of his allergy were apparent
The wrongness came instead from its structure.
He stared disbelievingly at the thick, spiky hairs which had apparently grown from his arms overnight, like those of some monstrous insect. He had thought back to the drug ampule he had been stabbed with only the night before. It contained a new nano-drug using DNA taken from beetles, designed to transpose with human DNA and enact the changes not only genetically, but in phenotypical trait-expression as well.
It restructured his body over time with its army of injected nano-bots, like a sadistic horde of tiny surgeons with instructions to alter him completely, or put another way, to rebuild an engine while it ran.
And it wasn’t just the hairs, but the increasing hardness of his skin, as he was growing a chitinous shell from his fingertips, already beginning to spread across his hands and wrists, with no end in sight. It grew even as he looked at it in horror.
He looked desperately about, to try to bandage his hands and arms to hide his deformity. But the room was empty. They had locked him in a cell, he suddenly realized. They knew this would happen, and were using him as a guinea pig! They knew!
He looked about and struggled to his feet. He screwed up the courage to look at himself in the mirror at the other end of his cell. Oddly, his vision had fragmented into something grainy, with multiple images, and as it continued, he looked closer, trying to focus.
And so looking, he saw himself in full. And he screamed.