“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.
…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.
She’d need to find a measuring tape, but just by her best guess, she was roughly a foot-and-a-half tall, maybe a bit more, about the height of a newborn baby. Well, actually definitely a bit more if she counted those new weird mounds on top of her head. Angelica reached up, barely able to reach the tips with her fingers that were more like paws. She padded around the hard structures, confirming clearly that they were in fact a pair of horns on either side of her head—short, stubby, rounded tan horns that looked like someone had glued wide cones to the top of her head. It explained why she felt weird imaginary lumps on both sides of her head on that first morning despite only getting hit with the book once.
The small Demon felt around a bit more, trying to target the irregularities she felt elsewhere on her body. Through this process, she found her arm joints oddly flexible, able to reach areas that she felt she shouldn’t. Around her shoulderblades there were slightly pointy nubs. After turning around and parting the hair for the mirror, she found… wings?! They were sad, little baby wings, but they were definitely wings. Angelica tried to flap them, finding it difficult, like trying to wiggle her ears. She eventually got them to move, just barely. They weren’t going to be providing lift anytime soon, especially not to her rotund figure.
In a similar vein, there was another nub around her rump. It was hard to say specifically where that was, since her whole existence was kind of like a rump, but there was a definitive crease. Then just above that crease, she was able to also slightly maneuver the nub, confirming its existence as a tail—not a tail that would be useful in any way, but its presence was unmistakable. She wondered briefly if it would wag when she was happy, but quickly put that out of her mind.
With the new stuff out of the way, it was time to get down to specifics. First, her arms. At rest, they were essentially invisible, blending in with the rest of her hair. Then when she used them, the hair and skin sort of came with it, kind of like a flying squirrel stretching. And for her legs and feet, well, she didn’t really have any. But as she did a quick lap in her chair’s seat, her bottom worked as she was used to, able to shift around in a bipedal nature that didn’t feel wrong. Her stride was certainly far more short and restrictive, but manageable.
For color, her hair was the same as it always was, a very standard blonde. At least that felt familiar and comforting, able to cling to the identity of her old self. Though despite the thorough cleaning, her hair was still stained with splotches. But they certainly weren’t grime. Instead, they looked like intentional highlights, and the color… orangish-pink, the same as the paint she’d used to make the Summoning Circle.
Perhaps some had carelessly gotten into her hair while she made it. That wouldn’t surprise her in the least. And then whatever force created this form had used that color concept as the base. It was the same for her eyes, the large beady eyes that were the one thing that stood out amongst the hair. They were the exact same pink shade.
If she’d known all this would go into her metamorphosis, she would have certainly picked out a different color. Angelica was never really a pink girly, much preferring dark, cool colors. She definitely would have gone with a fierce purple or deep blue to contrast her blonde.
Unlike her eyes, she didn’t really have any ears or nose that she could find. But the senses appeared to be working just fine, and she was breathing out of unnoticeable nostrils. The Demon definitely had a mouth, though. When she opened wide, she was shocked at just how wide it was, stretching nearly the full length of her frontside. Trying again a bit more normally, it felt like a more realistic proportion that wasn’t so weird. For the most part, her teeth looked about the same, though bigger, and with a few more of them to cover the space. And her canines were a bit longer and sharper, sort of making her feel like a vampire.
Overall, she was actually pretty content with this form. It felt comfortable to exist in, honestly more natural than the false human body she’d been parading around as, though that could have just been the aches from exercise and self-inflicted misery. And on top of that, she honestly found herself a bit cute, certainly far more adorable than any of the other Demons she’d seen in her special book. Hell, Angelica would even go as far to say that she’d buy a plushy of herself. Not like a premium plushy, but if she saw it in a bargain bin and had some pocket change to spare.
It honestly surprised her how well she was taking this whole revelation. Learning that she was no longer human was the kind of thing she felt should throw her into a depressive spiral for quite some time. Maybe she knew all along and just wasn’t accepting it, or perhaps she’d had a while to learn to cope as she steadily got more suspicious. Perhaps her new instincts as a Demon just told her there was nothing to worry about. And honestly, there wasn’t, at least not that she could immediately think of.
If she was careful with the secret and could turn human again whenever she liked, would this really negatively affect her life? Sure, taking baths and showers would probably be a bit more of a hassle, especially with all the extra hair, but she’d get used to it. Then with the new abilities and improvements she’d gotten, it felt like a fair trade.
There was maybe dealing with Summoners, and other Demons, and Malignants, she possibly had to worry about. But if she mostly stuck to her hermit ways, it shouldn’t really impact her too much, right? Speaking of, the lingering urge of her Contract with Garvin was steadily starting to prick her ever slightly more. It wasn’t enough to make her rush out and deal with it immediately, but it did remind her of her duty.
Before she got down to completing the Order, though, there was something else she wanted to confirm. Apparently, there was a power she was supposed to have but knew nothing about, and she wanted to try it out.