I'm so friggin' hungry that even when I finish off the last of the egg carton I still need to microwave up some frozen sausages and eat those as well. Geez, they taste good now, all savory, salty, umami heaven. They're not even like, high-quality sausages, they're the kind you're supposed to cook in the microwave, nothing but fat and sodium and once-meat. But once-meat is, apparently, good enough for my newly carnivorous taste buds. My teeth slice through the tubes of industrially-compressed flesh like they're cotton candy. I swallow the chunks without chewing and wash it down with milk.
I quickly write in eggs on the grocery list and head back upstairs just in time to slip into the bathroom before my brother. I strip down again, being careful with my bleeding fingers, and hop into the shower the moment I hear my mom finish hers. I feel like I'm in a fugue state, but unlike my usual post-panic disassociation it's not really a negative one. It's more of a zen-like flow, where I keep encountering problems with my routine—my mom messed up the order of operations, I can't eat cereal anymore, touching anything with my fingertips yields blood and pain—but it's not really bothersome in the way it normally is, it just adds a new task to the list to be solved with the same efficiency as any other. It's nice, at least up until the moment I automatically sit down to shave my legs and remember that all the skin is falling off one of them. Literally all the skin, at least from the knee down. It's very itchy and I am going to have to dispose of it somehow, which just… eyugh!
It feels so gross, partly because it no longer has feeling at all. The skin is dead, so touching it feels like someone is touching a particularly slimy, squishy pair of pants that I'm wearing. It's even more disgusting than it sounds, and that's without even factoring in how gross it looks. Graying from a lack of blood, it sags and shifts slightly whenever I move it, just a simple tug away from falling off. The idea of just pulling on it and letting it tear is horrifying, though, like trying to pull at a hangnail rather than clip it off. If only I had something sharp to… cut it… with.
I lick my lips, my stomach bubbling at the thought. No. Absolutely not. I'm not going to eat my own dead skin! That's completely revolting. Like, sure, on the small scale I do stuff like that, like when there's dead skin on my lips. I normally just peel that off with my teeth and swallow it, which um… might be normal? I have no idea if that's normal, but either way a tiny little fleck of skin is nothing like eating the entire epidermis off my gosh dang leg! Plenty of animals do it, I guess, but I sure don't want to. Though, uh, I guess my alternative is tearing it off by hand, ripping it into small pieces, and flushing them down the toilet. That or ignoring it until it falls out of my pant leg in public, and while that does sound like the kind of thing I'd do normally this is just way too itchy for me to be able to reasonably leave it alone. Turkey dumplings and piss, is this really what I'm going with? Am I even flexible enough to reach my calf up to my mouth in the first place?
Hesitantly, I grab my leg and pull it up to my face, genuinely surprised that I am, in fact, that flexible. Unfortunately, now that my leg is right here, I find myself biting into it before I know what I'm doing. I suppress an instinct to shudder as I feel my teeth sinking painlessly into the dead flesh, tearing through skin and peeling it off my body with ease. I cut carefully, my teeth scraping safely against the outside of my yet-to-be-freed exoskeleton without penetrating any part of me that would actually hurt. One mouthful of horribly clammy former Hannah parts later, I swallow. It's… unpleasant, but not disgusting like I thought it would be. I feel like I'm eating plain, unseasoned and unsauced lasagna noodles. Mostly tasteless, but still technically food. That realization is all the push I need to finish the job, cutting and slurping and swallowing the remaining humanity still futilely clinging to my right leg. My exoskeleton is free now, and it gleams in the clear water of the shower.
As before, my organic armor is bone-white, though streaks of red wash down it as I poke it with my bleeding fingers. The joints aren't perfectly covered, though, so when I bend my knee or my toes it's possible to spot softer, pitch-black flesh underneath, providing an impressive contrast. I flex and move my leg as I swallow the last of my dead skin, enraptured by the alien movements that are somehow mine. My body, my leg. It's terrifying, certainly, but nowhere near as much as I expected. Honestly, the fear comes from thinking about the implications: the problems this will cause, the what-ifs and oh-noes. I am scared of the consequences of my leg. I'm scared of what other people will do to me if they find out. But… I'm not really scared of the leg itself, am I? This feels like it should be inherently disturbing, but somehow it's exciting instead. I feel stronger, I feel more right. There's a euphoria bubbling under the fear, and I'm hesitant to find out what happens if I embrace it.
Shivering with… some sort of emotion, though I'm not sure what, I stand back up and finish washing myself off. It's mildly worrying that my fingers are still bleeding, but they aren't bleeding much and I've recently dealt with far, far worse. I dry my hands off with toilet paper since I don't want to get blood all over my towel, then bandage up my hands before drying the rest of myself off. As before, I have multiple layers of clothing over my legs: thigh socks and pants, just in case. Some fashionable gloves are added to my outfit for the day, and I guess also to every outfit from now on, forever. There's no way I'm going to be lucky enough to grow retractable claws. …I should go shopping soon. I'd like to go shopping with Ida. She's always fun to shop with because she has the energy to keep me going, the intuition to make sure I don't dress myself like an idiot, and most importantly she doesn't waste time. Unfortunately, she still hasn't responded to my texts. Brendan hates shopping with a passion so he's out, but I really don't want to go alone. Maybe Autumn will go shopping with me?
…Aaaaand I'm already blushing just thinking about that. Dang it, Hannah! Why do you have to be so gay!? I mean, I could do it, though. I normally would stream today but I think that's potentially on hold with the whole mutation situation, so I'm pretty much free, and there's no reason not to at least ask if she's also free, so… hmm. We'll see how socially useless I am when I meet her face-to-face, I guess. It's all a moot point if I'm too busy being distracted by GIRL PRETTY to actually ask.
Well, let's go over my mental checklist one last time. I'm dressed, I have medical supplies and extra gloves in my backpack, and I can't find any more dead skin. Because checking for parts of my body that are about to fall off is part of my morning routine now. Isn't life grand? Everything seems to be in order, though, so I hoist my backpack on, luxuriate in the alien feeling of moving my budding limbs underneath my skin, and march out to the bus stop.
God, I'm such a freak. I should be a lot more weirded out by this, shouldn't I? I guess there's a level of validation to it all. I've seen doctors and therapists (ugh) about my dreams, and the general consensus was always that I just experience a weird form of sleep paralysis, not that I was ever actually missing limbs. And I mean, sure, I believed that too, because why wouldn't I? I still love the fact that they're all wrong, though. They're wrong! My insane fucking therapist was wrong!
"Hannah?"
I whip my body towards the noise and hiss, my hands up and my budding claws throbbing. Then I spot Brendan, who has introduced himself from a very respectful distance away this time. I blink twice, take a deep breath, and feel blood flushing my cheeks as I relax my body. Dang it, this is twice, now! Being snuck up on freaks me out, but at this point it's just my fault for getting so distracted. I clear my throat awkwardly and look away.
"Oh, uh, hi Brendan," I greet him casually. Nothing happened, nothing happened, don't worry about it.
"Hey, Hannah," Brendan answers slowly, eyeing my gloves. "Hand claws growing in?"
"Oh, ah, yep. A lot of things are growing in, actually. I, uh, tried to figure out how to control whatever spell is transforming me and I just kind of ended up… accelerating things."
"Oh yeah?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and walking up next to me. "Like what?"
"Here, here!" I grin, making grabby hands at him. Obligingly, Brendan offers his arms and I grab his wrists, putting his hands on my waist so I can wiggle my new limbs around. His eyes bulge and his cheeks flush and I immediately wish I'd had the presence of mind to take a photo of it, it's hilarious.
"Wiggle wiggle," I giggle to myself, poking at him from inside my own body. His face gets even redder and he pulls away, prompting me to laugh even harder. He's such a dork!
"What… what are those?" Brendan asks quietly.
"I don't know!" I answer excitedly. "They're limbs, I can tell that much, but they're sort of low to be arms and high to be legs, so I think they're going to be something a bit funkier than either. I guess I'll find out!"
"Uh… yeah," Brendan nods, scratching his cheek. "You seem super stoked about it, actually? Which is… surprising, but really nice to see."
"Don't get me wrong, this is freaky," I assure him. "I had to eat half the skin off my leg this morning, it's like… all exoskeleton below my right knee. I am utterly horrified of people finding out, but like… I dunno. You already know and you're cool with it so it's cool I get to talk to you about it, I guess? I think I'm more scared of what people are going to do to me because of the changes than I'm scared of the changes themselves. Cuz like… I don't really mind being a spider monster when I sleep, you know? It doesn't feel weird in a world where everyone is okay with it."
Brendan nods slowly.
"That's… honestly really good to hear," he admits. "I know this is freaky for you, but since you're changing anyway it's nice to know you're changing into something you like? It would really suck if you had dysphoria on top of everything else. It's kind of weird that you don't, I guess, but it's a good weird."
"It's your kind of weird, right?" I joke, elbowing him in the hip. "You sold any commissions for your art, yet?"
"Oh, um… yeah, a few, actually," he confirms awkwardly.
"Are you finally going to tell me what your account is so I can buy one?"
"Nnnnnope."
"I'll let you play with my leeeeeg," I tempt him.
"You'll do that anyway," he counters immediately. "Speaking of, you wanna hang out today? Or are you going to go public on your Twitch?"
"Uh… actually, I was thinking about going shopping for new clothes. Y'know, since I need some more stuff to help cover up. But if that doesn't take long I could come over afterwards?"
"That's fine," Brendan shrugs. "Who are you going with? You and Ida make up?"
"...No," I grumble. "What makes you think I'm going with anyone?"
Brendan just gives me a flat look.
"Ugh, fine. I want to ask Autumn to go with me, because she seems cool and I want to thank her for cleaning up a bunch of my blood."
"If someone tried to thank me by taking me shopping, I don't think I'd like them very much," Brendan says matter-of-factly.
"I know that!" I protest. "But… y'know! She's a girl, and… well, I guess it's sexist to assume that means she likes shopping—"
"It is," Brendan helpfully assures me.
"—But I'm hoping it's one of those situations where she'll at least enjoy it a little with company? And then like, y'know, we'll be at the mall so if it's going well maybe I could see if she wants to see a movie or something."
"What?" Brendan asks. "Sorry, you started mumbling really quietly there."
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"Nothing! It's nothing."
"It certainly didn't sound like nothing," he prods, amusement tingeing his voice.
"I'll bite you, Brendan," I threaten. "Don't think I won't."
That shuts him up, at least. He even glances away like he's embarrassed. Well! Good! He should be embarrassed about trying to make fun of me like that! This is just unexpectedly effective revenge. The bus arrives shortly afterwards, and since I don't really want to talk about my mutating monster bits in a crowded public transit vehicle Brendan instead regales me with the adventures of Scrixel the tabaxi fist warlock, a catgirl who summons knuckle dusters as her pact weapon, empowers them with demonic energy, and then beats the snot out of people in the name of her blood-obsessed patron. Apparently, 5e doesn't officially have stats for fist weapons, but that sort of thing is trivially easy to homebrew and the DM let it slide. She is, obviously, evil… and she's the only evil member of the party, so Brendan gets to have a lot of fun letting Scrixel be an unhinged little gremlin held back from slaughter only by having been de facto adopted by the party's Paladin of Redemption. Brendan doesn't really like 5th edition all that much compared to 3.5, but D&D is still D&D and the real fun comes from roleplaying the characters rather than the mechanics anyway.
"Besides, tabaxi are cool," Brendan insists. "They pretty much have the best racial abilities available, barring the obligatory hashtag-variant-human. Climb speed and an activatable double-speed that's super easy to refresh? They're crazy good. Their stat bonuses are perfect for melee warlocks as well."
"Are you self-conscious?" I tease. "You don't have to justify being the cat species, Brendan. I, of all people, am not going to judge you for being a monster girl."
He snorts at that.
"...Thanks, I guess."
"I've always got your back, dude," I assure him. "Anybody messes with you, I'll bite 'em."
"What is with you and biting people all of a sudden?" Brendan grumbles.
Well. It's because I kinda want to bite somebody.
"I have to be careful every time I open my mouth, so I've got teeth on the brain," I say instead. "I'm sure it's not at all indicative of anything concerning."
"Well, I would have agreed with you up until the point where you said that," Brendan sighs.
I hiss at him, which only makes him chuckle instead of be afraid for some reason. I guess it's not really a proper hiss, only a rush of air out of my freakish and mostly-muffled mouth. There's no eldritch screech component to it like when I rub my legs together over on the world tree. Oh, well. We arrive at school soon enough, Brendan and I parting ways. Let's see… today's Wednesday on a B-week, so… no gym today. Awesome! I have no idea what I'm going to do about my new leg in a class where shorts are required, but I can figure that out tomorrow. Sucks to be future Hannah!
I do have Biology, though, which means I get to see Autumn before lunch. I guess I get to do that every day, since Autumn is also in my gym class. Huh. That'll make coordinating lunches easier. English class is boring, so I spend the whole time reading ahead in our assignment. Biology is also pretty boring, though I spend half the time glancing towards Autumn rather than doing homework like I should be doing. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is why I only have two friends. Guys get creepy around me but I get creepy around girls!
…Though I guess I'm a monster now. Maybe monsters are allowed to be a little creepy. You know, as a treat.
I chuckle to myself and focus on homework as best I can. Monster creepy and stalker creepy are different things, so I'll have to nip that idea in the bud, I think. When class finally ends, though, I do actually work up the courage to approach Autumn. I honestly wasn't expecting that.
"Hey," I greet her eloquently.
She freezes halfway through getting out of her seat, turning to look at me.
"Hello, Hannah," Autumn answers hesitantly, her head bobbing in acknowledgement.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," I assure her, scratching my cheek awkwardly. "I just, um… wanna eat lunch together again?"
Slowly, she finishes extracting herself from her desk and gets her backpack on.
"...I'm not going to be any better of a conversationalist than I was last time," she warns me.
"And I'm not going to be any less swamped with homework," I assure her.
She stares at me for a moment, gives me a nearly imperceptible nod, and then starts walking away. I follow her, budding limbs wiggling with delight underneath my skin, but then I realize I forgot to pack a lunch again. I peek into the cafeteria as we pass it. Meatloaf, huh? Kinda gross, but maybe it'll actually taste good to my weird new senses. It already smells better than usual in there.
"Let me go grab food and then I'll join you, okay?" I say.
"Sure," Autumn shrugs.
The meatloaf, it turns out, does actually taste a lot better now… but I still wouldn't call it great. Soggy, mushy, and not at all satisfying. Especially annoying is how I have to scuttle off to a bathroom stall to eat it, since I don't want anyone to see my teeth. The presence of Bathroom Smell doesn't do anything to enhance its flavor, that's for sure.
Once I finish, I return to the library and find Autumn at the same table as before, reading the same book. She hasn't put her backpack up on the table like a shield, though. I plop down across from her, pull out the work I need to do, and get working. It's quiet for a good while, but to my surprise it's Autumn that breaks the silence first.
"Why are you wearing gloves?"
I look up, blinking with surprise. Well, shoot, how do I answer that? Honestly, just giving her a chunk of the truth is probably best here, she's already witnessed things getting pretty weird for me.
"Blood," I admit. "My fingers were bleeding."
"Were?" she prompts.
I shrug.
"They might have stopped by now? I haven't checked. But they're all bandaged up and I didn't really want people bugging me about that, so… gloves."
"You, uh, bleed a lot, then?" she asks.
"I have a very weird medical condition that likes to intrude on my life at the worst possible times," I tell her flatly.
She smiles a little and it makes my toes curl, my claws digging into my soles.
"I get that," she sympathizes. "That sucks."
Huh. Was that general empathy, or is she implying that she also has an intrusive medical condition? She certainly seems to have experience dealing with the aftermath of blood geysers. I'm not really sure if it's appropriate to ask, but I guess she brought it up.
"Is that coming from personal experience?" I prod.
She bristles slightly.
"I don't randomly start bleeding all the time, if that's what you're asking," she deflects.
"Fair enough," I allow. I don't want to get too nosy, especially when it might prompt her to do the same.
We return to silence, books once again being at the center of our focus. Before long, the lunch bell rings and we start heading to our next classes. It's now or never, Hannah. Ask her. Just ask! She might say no, she might think you're weird, but you should still ask! Ask ask ask ask ask, dang it!
"Would you like to go shopping with me after school?" I blurt.
…Holy cannoli I actually did it. What!?
"What?" Autumn asks, parroting my thoughts.
"U-uh, I, um…" Dang it, Hannah, don't mess this up now! "I need new clothes. I… y'know. More gloves. New pants. Maybe another pair of shoes. Stuff I can wear to cover up. A-and the friend I usually shop with isn't talking to me, and… you seem nice?"
God. Just. Great job with that, Hannah, real eloquent. You look like a loon. Autumn's eyes widen imperceptibly, her lips quietly mouthing 'oh.'
"I, uh… I can't," she answers simply.
Agh! Stupid, stupid, stupid, I'm so stupid!
"Right!" I say as cheerfully as I can. "Of course, that makes sense, we don't really know each other all that well! Um… bye, then!"
"Hold on," she protests. "I… I can't today, but… maybe? I'll get back to you, alright?"
"Oh! Cool. Cool cool cool." I am a clown of unparalleled proportions, but not by profession. "I'll… talk to you later, then?"
"Yeah," Autumn agrees. "Um, talk to you later."
I turn and swiftly walk away, blush so deep it's making my cheeks feel heavy. She said 'talk to you later!' She's thinking about it! She doesn't want to ghost me! Aaaaaah! …Geez, why am I even doing this, though? I do actually need more clothes, but inviting my probably-straight crush who I only met a few days ago is… stupid? I'm mutating into a horrifying monster, I should be minimizing contact with people. Yet I'm going to the dang mall. Uugh, what part of me thought this would be a good idea!? Thankfully my phone buzzes, knocking me out of my self-depreciating spiral.
How'd it go? Brendan asks.
She can't today, but she said she'd think about it, I text back.
So you're free. Wanna hang out?
I dunno, I hedge. I should probably stream.
With a mask on, or…?
Yeah, I confirm. People will think it's weird but it should work.
I wanna see your leg though :(
I chuckle.
Can you imagine what my mom would say to you inviting me over so I can take my clothes off?
Well she lectures you without bothering to figure out if I'm actually going to do that or not, so… exactly the same thing she says normally? he answers, which makes me wince. He's got me there.
I'd like to hang out, but I think I need to take a slow day, I admit. I promise my leg isn't going anywhere.
Okay, he allows. I still question your strategy of 'turn your favorite form of relaxation into a job,' but whatever works for you, I guess.
Thanks, Brendan.
The rest of the school day passes without anything notable happening. I feel a bit twitchier than normal, I get a few comments on my gloves, and whenever I get a moment to myself I take a while to luxuriate in feeling of my new limbs, both budding and recently transformed. My exoskeletal leg still functions basically the same as my old leg, just… sturdier. Stronger. It's the same size as my left leg but the difference in power sometimes makes me feel like I'm limping, unexpected bursts of energy adversely affecting my gait in subtle ways. It's a bit unpleasant, but also empowering. I know I'm stronger now. Much stronger than I used to be. I don't know why, but I really, really like that.
Once I get home I grab some food so I don't have to head downstairs for dinner later and turn on my stream, spending the rest of the day on that. People ask about my mask so I give vague non-answers and act all mysterious, since maybe that'll increase viewership or something, I dunno. I'm just here to play Pokémon until it's time to pass out, and eventually that time does indeed arrive. I actually got through a full day without a major incident. Go me.
I pass out on my bed and wake up in Kagiso's, though she's not in here with me. She must have gotten up without waking me. I feel groggy and vaguely embarrassed. Did I really get into bed with Kagiso last night? It doesn't really get any more suggestive than that, but… well, at the same time, it doesn't really feel like anything? Kagiso is warm and fuzzy and comfortable, but my status as a tiny, ten-legged arthropod of indeterminate sex and dimension has somewhat understandably killed my libido. And besides, Kagiso invites me to cuddle with her almost every night, so it's not like it's unprecedented. Just… weird. I like it, I guess I can admit that, but it's definitely weird. I grumble internally and scurry deeper into her bedroll, which feels very strange, like my own skin is fighting against me. Except that… I don't have skin. Huh?
I focus my spatial sense on myself and figure out the issue immediately: I'm molting. How lovely, I guess I get to eat more of my own discarded flesh today. I step into an intersecting barren zone, leaving my molt behind inside the bedroll before stepping back into normal space and scurrying back inside, dragging it out by my teeth and making sure the inside of Kagiso's sleeping space is devoid of dead Hannah. Once I'm satisfied that everything is clean, I start chowing down on my molt and that's the moment Teboho decides to open up the tent flap, naturally. The light hurts my eyes and I spend a while adjusting to that as he stares at me, looking vaguely queasy. I stare back for a bit, then resume my meal. It's not like I can talk to the guy until Sindri sets up our network. Teboho silently departs, leaving me to my meal.
Hey Hannah, Sindri reaches out. Teboho says you've found breakfast?
I have found my own discarded epidermis, yes, I confirm. Though I could definitely eat more, this is pretty bland.
Ah, so your species molts, then? I guess you're still growing.
I guess so! I agree.
I'm sure Kagiso would be happy to catch some breakfast for you. Unless you'd like to hunt your own food?
I stop eating and think about that for a moment. Immediately, my reaction is that I do kind of want to do that, partly because I think I might enjoy it but largely because I think I should get practice. I want to be self-sufficient, for one, and for two I'm kind of worried I need more practice fighting. Killing people is horrifying and I never want to do it again, but killing animals for food? That's fine. There's nothing wrong with that. I am a carnivore.
Sure, I agree. I guess I'll hunt something.
Great! Sindri agrees. If you can, try to catch something big enough for me, too.
Wait. That wasn't the deal. Oh shoot, did I just get set up?
It'll help you learn to fight, won't it? Sindri presses.
Gah! Yes, I suppose so.
Fine, I grumble in response. But I'm not carrying something big back to camp!
Hah! Fair. I was thinking you and Teboho could go? He can keep you safe while Kagiso and I handle camp. As long as you stay within a [distance, long] or so, the two of you should still be able to talk.
I guess I'll trust him to know how far that is? I hedge.
Oh, right. Yes, that's another good reason to bring him. Good luck!
Thanks, I say, sending him a mental sigh. What am I getting myself into? Oh, well. I did nothing but sit on Kagiso's head all day yesterday. It'll be good to finally stretch my legs and kill something. …Wait. Hmm. Okay, I mean, that's actually what I'm setting out to do this time, so I suppose I'll let the frighteningly murderous Freudian slip pass just this once. I'm hungry and I don't really need to make excuses about that.
Let's go hunting.