There I was. Alone in my house. Well, actually it was more my parents' house. Father had been invited to a company dinner at the time and mother had to work. However, this information was given to them both late, so we couldn't do what I was looking forward to. The plan for all of us was to watch the film I had received for my birthday ages ago. In addition, one of the presents I didn't even write down on my wish list. I can still remember when my father told me how good this film was and that he really wanted to watch it with my mother and me, but, as I said, that was no longer possible. But I still didn't want to watch it because I didn't want my parents to be deprived of it. School was over for the week. This meant that the weekend was approaching. Instead of staying up late, as was always the case, I decided to go to bed early that day, as the tiredness was surprisingly already a bit high.
Before that, I decided to go to the bathroom to prepare myself one hundred percent for going to bed. At first glance, the bathroom looked like a second hallway, as it seemed long and reached to a window at the end of the room. In addition, there was a bathtub and a shower in this room, the latter of which I had already used two hours ago. All that mattered was that I wanted to brush my teeth. I could barely reach my toothbrush and toothpaste with my small, delicate arms (as usual), brushed my teeth in the order of chewing surface, outer surface, inner surface and spat the foam out of my mouth. Just as I was about to leave the bathroom, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I looked into the eyes of an eight-year-old girl with great courage and a strong sense of self. Her hair went down to her shoulders, her face radiated a pleasant aura and the top of her pyjamas was a pink, glittery shirt with a unicorn motif on it and the bottom consisted of my matching trousers - also in a pink shade but without a pattern. So not only what I use every night to go to bed, but also - or so I thought - looked good on me and matched my personality.
After my introspection, I walked back into the hallway and turned right towards my bedroom door. From the angle of the open door, there was my bed in the front left corner, my wardrobe to the right and a desk in the back left corner, which was tidy both on the surface and on the shelves of it. The former had absolute priority for me, which is why I headed for it almost of my own accord, lay down in it, pulled the blanket up to my head and hugged my cuddly toy - a sheep, to be precise. And after a short while I fell asleep in my bed without resistance. That was at about 9 pm.
But at some point during the night I was jolted out of my deep sleep. As if I had the feeling that I could no longer breathe. And then, this sound that came from the left side of my body. My head looked in its direction and recognised a tear on my shirt that reached far up. The only thing that flashed through my mind at that moment was that I had to take my top off as quickly as possible. But I couldn't. The piece was too pressed against my body. So I reached out with both hands on either side of the tear and pulled them apart. After this was done, my body felt free, and I could breathe decently again. Then I felt the next strange sensation. Like I was going to throw up, the only difference being that the pain was coming from my mouth instead of my stomach. Still, I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom and spent several minutes over the sink, hoping that this pain would stop. And then, after what felt like far too long, I finally spat. However, not the leftovers from last night, as I had hoped, but blood and all my incisors and front molars.
Paralysed, I backed away from the sink and leaned my back against the edge of the bathtub with a fear I had never felt before. To make my common sense, if it could still be called "common", realise that what I had seen was real, I put the index and middle fingers of my left hand in my mouth and instead of the expected resistance of the front tooth barrier, there was a large gap. And when I touched my gums afterwards, I could not only feel how unimaginably soft they were, but I could also feel the warm, red liquid at the tops.
Suddenly I heard another noise, which was exactly the same as when I had torn my pyjama shirt in two. Only this one did not come from the direction of my top, but below my waist. So my head looked in its direction to find that on the right side of my trousers this time, the seam had almost completely ripped open. And also as with my shirt, I grabbed the opening with both hands to free myself from my now tight bottom. After this was also done, I additionally noticed that the pants had also torn open at the outer parts. Conversely, it now meant that I was stark naked on the floor. And just when I thought that this was all just a dream and that the suffering would soon stop, the pain was just beginning.
Both my skin and everything under it felt as if they were on fire. This agony was so unbearable that I would have done anything to make it disappear once and for all. On top of that, I felt so much sweat leaking from my body that I had never achieved in all my sporting activities put together. By now lying on the floor, I clutched myself with both arms, also hoping to contain the pain at least a little. But as I did so, my right hand passed over my mons veneris - a term I of course didn't know at the time - and felt something that had never been down there before. It was as if I had short thorns growing from a cactus down there, as they felt pointed in a way, but also strangely pliable. Soon, however, they became longer and the sense of touch from my fingertips signalled to the brain that it might be a tuft of extravagant and very thin wool.
At the same time, the left hand had made another discovery. The breast area, which had always been flattened before, now had two bulges reaching upwards. Here, too, the pain was great, because the breasts were gaining extra volume with every passing second. In addition, by looking down, I saw that my areolas not only took up more surface area, but also that the nipples reached further out and became more sensitive. So, among other things, I could feel the cold in the bathroom, possibly caused by the fact that the window had been open for several hours and the air from outside had flown inside.
But then I unleashed the loudest cry of pain of my life up to that point. Although the body was still burning as if I were in lava, suddenly there was only one area that was on fire more than any other. Because of this, I moved both my hands to my crotch and pressed down on it as hard as I could, as my superstition about easing the pain still lingered. Within seconds, two bulges appeared along the slit, just like on my chest, but they were longer, thinner and even softer. The second pain in this section was inside me; to be precise, where the bladder was - a word I once had explained to me by my mother. The agony was somewhat like blowing up a balloon deep in the slit that would have no resistance and could not burst. And with each passing minute, I thought that my hollow organ would soon rupture, as this goal seemed to be getting closer and closer.
Immediately afterwards, I had to spit again. This time it was the remaining teeth, i.e. the canines and four back molars. It was only at this point that I noticed that the teeth I had spat out before had not only recovered, but that new teeth had also formed from the canines onwards. Just as I was about to feel the previously non-existent resistance with my right hand, despite the physical pain, I saw more blood on it than on the other, which is why I decided in time to leave this thought, which I had only just managed to write, behind.
Afterwards, I lay on the tile for a long time, hardly moving and not opening my eyes out of fear. And then, when it had all really stopped, I fell asleep.
After a deep sleep, I opened my eyes and looked first at the floor and then at my right hand. My hand seemed to have grown bigger. I was slightly startled, but that was already enough for me to fall onto my left side. With great speed, my left shoulder bounced against the edge of the bathtub and in sheer pain - I'll call that "irony of fate" - I returned to my starting position. My right hand went to my "wounded" shoulder, but felt a crystal-like layer on it. So I pressed harder on the skin, actually to find out what it was, when I also pulled something off my palm and a large part of it stuck to my shoulder. Nevertheless, I held my hand in front of my face and could see that the layer pulled off my hand was dried blood. In order to find out better what the other substance could be, I carefully licked the palm with the tip of my tongue. It was a salty taste, also the kind found in sweat. Then I swallowed it - a strange habit that I also did during sports.
I then turned onto my right side and put my hands in a position that is also used for push-ups. I pulled my arms up, but my hair fell through my field of vision. Some of them even touched the floor, which couldn't really be. The right leg bent forward, the respective foot then touched the floor again, the upper body went into as vertical a posture as possible, and then I straightened up again with my legs. And there I stood. It was amazing that it had all worked at all. Because before I fell asleep for the second time, I couldn't and wouldn't even begin to move.
My gaze is now focused on the full-length mirror. What I saw there had shocked me and I almost fell over backwards. In it I saw a girl of about seventeen taking up the entire mirror from top to bottom. In order to establish that it was not a stranger, I raised both arms in the air, which the other person immediately imitated without any reaction time. There was no longer any doubt in my mind: it had to be me! Meanwhile, I looked at the new, outer me. My legs had become much longer than I had last looked at myself - that much was certain for me. The slit, which I could always see when I looked at myself in the mirror after showering or sometimes bathing, was now covered by a vast layer of black with some red bloodstains, which I was sure from then on had to be hair. My stomach area had not changed much compared to before. It is still flat, even if it looks a bit as if it has been stretched like a piece of chewing gum. The two bullets smeared with a little blood in my chest area were the biggest novelty for me. Not only could I literally grasp them with my hands, but the nipples also protruded outwards a little and apparently reacted sensitively to the cold air in this room. As with the legs, the arms had also become much longer. There was still some blood on the fingertips of my left hand and a combination of blood and sweat crystals on my right. The face was by far the biggest surprise for me. Of course, some features from my previous face remain, such as the colour of my eyes or the hairless line located at the outer end of my left eyebrow, but it is basically like looking into a non-familiar face, even though this one was paradoxically familiar. My hair also grew many times over. These went down to above my waist and the weight of this I felt clearly against my head. In addition, many parts of my body had also grown hair. Which is strange, because my father has body hair, but not my mother.
I lowered my arms, but could not stop looking at myself. A bewilderment prepared itself in me. Why me of all people? And how is that possible? I was washing my hands of the fluids coming from my body when suddenly the front door opened. Damn, father had already returned from his company dinner! Where should I hide from him? Or should I hide from him at all?