[1.15] Imp (Part 1)

“Deactivate Transfiguration.”

Angelica’s entire world went dark, though not due to blindness or any other condition. She had shrunk, and her shirt had fallen over her face. When trying to wrestle herself free, she found that grabbing the fabric felt strange in her hands, and to add to the aggravation, it was like the garment was being snagged around her head, meaning she couldn’t get it back through the neck hole. So instead, she had to escape out the bottom, also having to escape her pants that were now laying flat on the floor.

When she went to look in the mirror, though, to see her new form, she found it impossible. The girl was now so short that she couldn’t see into the mirror above the sink, unable to even reach the countertop to try to pull herself up. She would need to boost herself, but there was nothing available to aid in that endeavor. Then as another problem, the small thing couldn’t even reach the knob of the bathroom door she’d closed behind her to let herself back out into the rest of the apartment.

[Transfiguration activated]

Apparently she didn’t actually need to say the words, just think them. And that was another worry gone, since she was immediately able to transform back into her human self—fearing that she would have been stuck. She went back to the main room and wheeled her desk chair into the bathroom, setting it in front of the sink before plopping down and deactivating Transfiguration once more. Her plan worked, and her much smaller body stayed in the seat.

But now there was another problem. Angelica was able to see herself now in the mirror, but all she really saw was hair, hair that she couldn’t stand to look at. It was matted, knotted, stained and slimy like it had been dunked in a dumpster full of goo. And that was when it hit her: the stench, the reeking unbearable odor that made her eyes water to the point of impairing her vision.

Her anguish for the past week made sense now. She hadn’t actually been cleaning herself, not since that first night. The rankness of her life had been compiling ever since the trash fiasco, all the days since of properly running and exercising, the stinking sweat marinating what was already a putrid mess. It became overbearing to the point that she could not bear her own existence, feeling an overwhelming urge to correct the problem immediately.

Angelica leapt at the tub, making the few-feet jump in a single bound and landing with a splash into the now quite-cold chemicals that she hadn’t drained earlier. The little creature writhed around in the liquid like a child throwing a tantrum, making sure to cover every inch. Fortunately, her loofah had been resting on the side and was within reach. She scrubbed vigorously, everywhere she could reach until her body felt raw. And where she couldn’t reach, she backed against the scrubber and rubbed as if she was an animal in the woods trying to sate an itch against a tree.

When she was finally satisfied, Angelica opened the drain, allowing the gloop-laced chemicals to siphon away. Then on top of that, since she could just barely reach the controls for the faucet, she turned on the tap and squished her small body under the torrential water. As a human, it was barely enough to register the flow, yet at this size, it felt like a raging waterfall splashing her from above. But she didn’t care, even though she was practically waterboarding herself at times. She was getting clean, at last.

Feeling completely refreshed, Angelica clambered her way out of the top and back into the seat of her chair, finding it reasonable to be able to jump up and pull herself the rest of the way. Another glance into the mirror left herself disappointed, since she could still only really see hair, and now it was completely soaked, dripping limply. She’d need to deal with that first, especially since it was all falling into the seat of her chair.

The living wet wig hopped toward the sink’s counter, managing to knock her hairdryer onto the floor before joining it with a squishy thud. After turning the small appliance on, though, she found it difficult to hold and control with her short reach. So instead she laid it down and let it blow out toward her, once again rolling in front of it to dry all sides. Then she pulled down a towel from her wall and wrestled with it to finish off the job.

Angelica gave herself a pat down to confirm she was dry everywhere she could touch before once more jumping up into the chair, yet she was still unsatisfied. Now the hair was completely frizzed and puffed out, as if she was a sentient afro, so she grabbed a hair brush and comb, dual-wielding them as she attempted to tame the mess. It didn’t take too long, finding the frizz amazingly amenable, able to be guided to a more natural resting state.

Then after a lot of effort, the young girl could finally see herself as she was properly in the mirror. This was her now, the real her. The conundrum with the smell had proved it. Why else had she not gotten clean this past week despite all her efforts? And the fact that she’d been constantly using Transfiguration further solidified the reality. Angelica had been mimicking her old self.

This was her truth laid bare. Ever since the night she’d summoned herself, she’d ceased her existence as a human entirely. Somehow that process had completely transformed her at her core, changing her into an entirely new species. There was no further point in denying it. Angelica was now a Demon.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

…A rather unintimidating one, at that. So she really was just hair, or that was her outward appearance. In actuality, the strands weren’t all that long, maybe a few inches before they stopped at her body, her very round body. She attempted to part her hair to see what lay underneath, but didn’t really get anywhere. Coupled with her short height, she basically looked like a fluffy ball that someone would kick around for sport.