Chapter 18 Part 2: The Crucible Chapter 17: The Morning After
A deep, pervasive numbness clung to me, a million invisible pins and needles swarming under my skin. It was the feeling of a dead arm, but it had consumed my whole body, leaching, the warmth and softness of last night’s bliss and replacing it with a strange, hollow ache. My chest felt tight and raw, as if something had been hollowed out and then roughly stuffed back in.
Groggily, I swiped a hand across the bedside table. My limbs moved with a leaden weakness, like they were no longer entirely my own. My fingers, clumsy and unfeeling, finally knocked against the cool, familiar shape of my com. I dragged it close to my face, blinking against the grit in my eyes until the blurry digits resolved into a verdict: 9:03. My alarm had been and gone.
Shit.
The thought was a jolt of pure adrenaline. I shot up, the sudden movement making the room swim. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and my body protested, muscles feeble, bones feeling strangely light and insubstantial. I had to move now.
The movement beside me was sudden. Silver stirred, a soft murmur escaping her lips as she was jostled from a deep sleep. She rolled over, her eyes fluttering open to squint at me in the morning light. Then I saw it: her gaze dropped from my face, down my body. Her eyes flew wide open. A beat of stunned silence hung in the air, and then a course, incredulous laugh burst from her. It was a sound of pure, unvarnished shock.
“Well,” she said, her voice raspy with sleep and laced with awe. “I certainly did not expect that.”
Confused, I looked down.
And my world tilted off its axis.
The body I saw was not the one I had fallen asleep in. My chest was… different. Softer, curved. Where there had been the hard plane of a Nate’s pectorals, there were now the unmistakable, full and large perky breasts of a Polli. I was naked, exposed, and utterly, terrifyingly transformed. The breath froze in my raw chest. I almost died of shame right there on the spot.
A frantic, cold dread seized me. My skin was crawling, every new curve and slope feeling like a violation. “I need to leave. I need a waterdrop, fuck, and FUCK-what’s happening to me?” The words tumbled out, a desperate litany against the impossible reality of my own body.
Silver’s response was so calm it was jarring. “It’s okay, Nanda.” She was propped on one elbow, the sheets pooled around her waist, watching me with an expression I couldn’t decipher, not horror, not anger, but a dawning, warm amusement. “I think you look cute,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “And I don’t care what’s happening. I think I love you.”
The words hung in the air between us, a seismic shock that nearly dwarfed the physical one. They were too big, too profound for this moment of sheer, pants-pissing terror. They didn’t fit.
“I… I need to take a waterdrop,” I stammered, backing away from the bed, from her confession, from everything. “And I need to go.”
She didn’t push. She just nodded, her smile softening. “Go take a waterdrop. We can talk later.”
Under the stinging spray of the waterdrop, my reality finally shattered. This wasn’t a hangover or a bad dream. The steam couldn’t hide the truth reflected in the foggy glass: the gentle swell of hips that hadn’t been there last night, the frustrating, unfamiliar weight on my chest. I had not had my Trembling. This was something else entirely. I was a freak, a biological anomaly. And waiting for me at home were my parents and that damn councillor, Professor Liza, ready to dissect my failure. And Silver… what did her words even mean? Love? Now? My mind reeled, a vortex of panic and confusion.
I dried myself off with a rough, frantic urgency, the towel scraping against my new, overly sensitive skin. Wrapping it around myself like a shield, I rushed into the living area, my damp hair dripping onto my shoulders.
“You look great, sweetie,” Silver said. She was leaning against the doorway, already dressed, holding two mugs of leaf. She was trying to mask a grin, but it was there in the crinkles of her eyes.
“I need to go,” I said, the words lame and hopeless. I snatched my clothes from the floor where they’d been discarded the night before. I yanked on my underwear, but they immediately slid down the new, frustratingly slim curve of my waist, puddling around my ankles. My shorts followed, the waistband gaping hopelessly. I pulled the T-shirt over my head, and it hung on me like a tent, the neckline sagging to my sternum while the fabric strained awkwardly across my new chest. “FUCK!” The cry was one of pure, unadulterated despair. I was trapped in a body that wasn't mine, wearing clothes that didn't fit, late for an appointment I dreaded.
Silver set the mugs down. Her smile wasn't mocking; it was tender, practical. “Here,” she said, her voice gentle. She pulled open a drawer and handed me a pair of her own black underwear, simple and soft. “Use these. They have a better elastic.” Then she went to her wardrobe and pulled out a simple, cute white sundress. “And maybe this. It’s forgiving.” She held it out, her eyes sparkling as she gave my body a frank, appraising look. “Though I don’t think I have a bra that can bag those puppies.” She laughed then, a warm, infectious sound that cut through my panic. It wasn’t a joke at my expense; it was an invitation to share in the sheer absurdity of it all.
I had never had breast so full so large, so painful.
“I’m so sorry… I have to go,” I mumbled, the words tangling in my throat as I gestured vaguely at the door, unable to meet her eyes. I couldn’t bear to see the pity or, worse, the disgust I was sure would be there.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Silver said, her voice surprisingly soft.
I just nodded, a jerky, frantic motion, and turned to flee. As I passed her, her hand shot out, her fingers closing gently but firmly around my wrist, stopping my retreat. A jolt went through me at her touch.
“It’s okay, Nanda. It really is,” she insisted, her thumb brushing a quick, soothing circle on my skin. “Come by the bar tonight. If you can.” Before I could process the invitation, she leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to my cheek. The sensation burned there long after I stumbled out into the hallway, my heart hammering a frantic, confused rhythm against my ribs.
I burst out of the building and into the cool morning air, not stopping to look back. I just ran, my feet slapping awkwardly against the pavement. My shoes that now felt like two sizes too big, and with every frantic step, my heels slipped out of the backs, making a ridiculous flap-flap-flap sound that echoed my own panicked heartbeat. I must have looked like a complete clown, a newly minted Polli fleeing Silvers apartment, my face still burning from the world's most bewildering goodbye.