Everything I touched turned to slugs. Fun at first; horrifying shortly after.
Due to my low energy intake (three meals, plus snacks) and high energy output (millions of slugs), I was technically a perpetual motion machine. The government soon caught wind of this and hooked me up to a large generator, which transformed boiled slug dust into electricity for people's homes.
Eventually the situation changed, so that even the food I ate turned into slugs – hundreds of them – which wriggled and escaped my mouth. I vomited a lot. I could not eat food any more.
Soon I was feeling the first effects of starvation. But they didn't want to lose their perpetual motion machine, so they tried everything. The government rep tried hooking me up to an IV, but the second that first particle of fluid touched my vein, it erupted into a thousand slugs. This was painful. I refused to try it again.
I tried ingesting nutrients a few other ways, but to no avail. Each time, I was met with the same result.
Nutritional powders? Turned to slugs in my mouth.
Inhaling protein-enriched vapours? More slugs. I don't know if you've ever breathed slugs in their gaseous, vaporised form, but it's absolutely disgusting.
Rubbing a special vitamin-enriched shampoo into my scalp? Slugs.
Eventually they settled on sending out a team to catch real slugs, which would be sautéed in garlic by a French chef and served to me on fancy crockery. This, I appreciated. I'm nothing if not a fine diner. This worked because when something was already a slug, that slug could not be transformed into a slug – how can you turn something into that which it already is?
Now, I know what you're thinking. The Man Who Cried Gasoline was a more obvious choice for being co-opted as a government fuel source. But, one – his energy efficiency was much lower than mine. If you care about the environment, that's all that should matter. And two – he was nowhere to be found. Unlike me, the Man Who Cried Gasoline was smart enough to cover his tracks. He could be anywhere by now.
I, on the other hand, could only be in one place – government custody.
After inadvertently transforming several of my friends and family into slugs, I tried to isolate myself. I also wore rubber gloves at all times. Skin contact had to be avoided where possible.
But they soon found me.
The operatives who had captured me for use as a power station – they always wore hazmat suits. They'd learned their lesson after the first two grabbed me by the arms, and dissolved into writhing masses of slugs. Now they were slugs, they'd have to avoid all salty food and seawater. Without those things, a lot of fun activities are closed off to you. I myself try to avoid seawater, because morally I can't stand what happens when my skin brushes against a fish, the fish becomes 50 slugs, the slugs make contact with the salty water and they explode into showers of guts.