James, waking up in an alley (MTF Goblin girl)

Oh man. My head hurts. It’s still dark out, but it’s got to be getting somewhat close to dawn. How did I get here? Not here, but here in life. I remember enough about last night to know how I ended up in this alley, laying uncomfortably close to a puddle that I don’t think is rain. The bar I’m behind closed some time ago, and I definitely forgot to stop drinking before I ran out of money. I probably am only waking up here instead of a jail cell because the bartender knows my girlfriend.

Well, ex-girlfriend. I can’t really blame her. I have literally nothing going for me. I chose not to go to college and instead helped my parents run a small landscaping and interior design dual business. It was honestly pretty clever of them, letting them combine both of their passions into one business they could work together at. And while they weren’t getting rich they did well enough that it made a lot of sense for me to just help them with the manual labor rather than risk this job market. I wasn’t passionate about it like them, but they weren’t going anywhere and it was solid money. A picturesque family business. And then they died in a house fire that destroyed the house I grew up in.

So here I am, hungover in an alley with no family to speak of since I’m an only child of two only children who waited long enough to have kids that both sets of grandparents died several years ago. And since the business was in my parent’s name, I can’t legally continue it even if I had the talent to pull it off. Which I don’t. I moved heavy furniture with my Dad, and planted bushes with my Mom. They told me where to pick up and put down heavy objects, I never cared for the actual effects that led to. The customers always seemed happy with the end result, but I can’t say I ever saw the point.

No home, no job, no family. Not even a girlfriend now. I had moved in with her, so I guess this alley is as good a bed as any. Might as well keep sleeping until the sun comes up. Not like I’m going to be late to anywhere. I roll over a bit… wow, I definitely drank too much. My whole body feels weird. And I think I lost my boots. I experimentally wiggle my toes. Yep, no boots. My socks feel weird though. I shift some more. Did someone throw a blanket on me? I look down and try to focus more. It’s hard to see in the dim light, but I move again to try and figure out what’s going on.

Oh, okay. That black splotch is my pants leg… why does it look like my foot only reaches the knee? I reach my hand up to rub my eyes, but it’s harder than it should be. My sleeves are way too long, and while not overly heavy I’m surprised to even notice the weight at all. While I’ve never been a body builder type, my work always meant my body was consistently in good shape. Combined with being almost six feet tall and I wasn’t used to feeling so encumbered by simple clothes. I push through and rub my eyes with my hands through my weirdly massive sleeves. Then I push myself up to a sitting position.

Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. This is a dream brought on by stress and ****. I look down at the comically large jeans I’m sitting in. As my vision gets better it’s obvious I can’t claim to be wearing them even if both my legs are inside. My grey hoodie is so large I’m almost slipping through the neck. I sit calmly and wait for this to make sense. For something to fall into place and give me a laugh at how obviously wrong all my senses are. All I get is the continued silence of the alley. There isn’t even any cars on the road at this time of night. A breeze blows through and makes me shiver as it crosses my exposed neck.

As much as I would like to just stare at the reality around me until it blinks first, it’s clear that I have other concerns. Hands still in my sleeves, I manage to pull up my hood to give me some more cover from the wind… what the fuck is wrong with my ears? And my hair? Finally annoyed with my short arms being trapped in sleeves, I pull my arm close to my body and reach up to my ear through the neck hole. I feel more hair than I should have in the way. While I wasn’t perfectly clean cut, my hair was only two inches at the longest. But now I would guess it was around four, maybe five. And my ear… feels almost as long. Why are my ears so big? And pointed? I look at my hand to see if maybe I’m just confused about its size. And… it is tiny. My hands look slender and dainty, especially in comparison to the large calloused ones I lost consciousness with. They feel so light. My whole body feels light. I put my arm back in the sleeve for warmth and push myself up.

Standing makes the whole situation feel more real. I briefly consider sitting back down to avoid that feeling, but no. The hoodie reaches past my knees, almost to my ankles. I liked oversized hoodies, but even so this was insane. My white socks hang limply around my ankles, far too large along with my boxers. I see my brown boots at the bottom of my pants, which I’m standing on to avoid my feet touching pavement. I look around the alley, noting the back door of the bar and the dumpster. It’s too dark to make out much detail of either, but all I really needed to see was how far up I had to tilt my head to be looking at their tops. I’m tiny. I’m not sure I’m even three feet tall.

Standing also hammers home how light I feel. In the grand scheme of this madness it’s a small thing, but I’m used to my body and limbs having some heft to them. Right now I feel myself sway anytime the breeze picks up a bit.

Okay. I… I need to go home… shit. This alley basically is my home now. But not really. I… need to go to the hospital? Yeah. Yes. This definitely counts as a medical emergency of some kind. I just, don’t know what kind. And I have no way to pay for any medical care. Most of my parent’s wealth was tied to the house, and without the business I’ve been on borrowed time for a while. There’s no way I have enough for… whatever this is.

I take a deep breath… damn it. Every time I focus on a new part of me I notice something else. I feel my teeth with my tongue. Why are they all pointed? I reach up with my hand, rolling up my sleeve a ridiculous amount to free my fingers, and confirm what my tongue felt. Small pointy teeth, as if each was a short canine. There didn’t even feel like there was much difference between any tooth, besides the side teeth having double ridges. But even those two ridges were pointed. I doubted I could grind my food much, but I would slice through most meat with relative ease. This revelation shakes me even more than the others.

First my ears, now my teeth. These changes aren’t just about my size, they make me question if I’m even human. Would a hospital even know what to do with me? The panic at the edge of my mind advances from where I’ve been keeping it at bay, and I let out a nervous laugh. And another. My light and clearly girlish giggling, far from relieving stress, piles it on as I panic more with each heave of my lungs. Of course my voice is different. I’m tiny, so I guess the new high pitch shouldn’t surprise me. But something tells me it’s not just a matter of pitch. Namely the lack of anything bumping between my legs. I wasn’t anything special down there, but with no underwear I should feel some dangling.

I get my breathing under control… barely. I need to do something. I have no idea what to do. What can I do? I was already screwed beyond belief, I have nothing left to deal with this. The only thing I have left to my name is… my car. Okay. That’s… not a plan, but at least it’s a goal. I look down at the pavement… no. Not in socks. I sit back down and struggle to shove my now tiny feet inside my oversized boots. I’m lucky I was wearing them and not sneakers, as this at least gives me a chance to tighten the laces around my legs. The short boots almost reach up to my knees now, and no matter how hard I tighten them it still feels ridiculous. I try to ignore the girlish grunts my struggle brings out of my mouth.

After that I rummage in my pants pockets to collect my phone, wallet, and keys. After stowing them all inside my hoodie pouch pocket, I pick up my pants only to drop them. Yeah, carrying that while also waddling in these massive boots and trying to keep my valuables from falling out of my pouch, which is hanging at about knee level, isn’t a good idea. And besides, I clearly am not fitting into them anytime soon. Leaving my pants and underwear behind, I head out of the alley towards the street lights.

As I step out of the alley into the deserted sidewalk, I squint away from the lights. I must still be a little hungover. The craziness going on might make that seem minor, but I guess I’m not getting even the slightest of breaks today. I walk down the street, trying to spot my car while keeping my hood up. My new height probably makes me look like a child out way past their bedtime. After what feels like too long, I use my key fob to unlock my car in the hopes of finding it. A car beep sounds behind me, and I hurry back. How did I miss it?

I stand in front of a light brownish Ford sedan. Same model as mine, but mine is bright red. I tap my fob again to make sure, and its lights blink with a beep. Sure, why not. My car changed color. Small potatoes compared to everything else. I reach up to the handle, and struggle far more than I should have to in order to open my own door. Finally I manage to get it to slowly slide open by pulling with all my weight. Okay, great. Now I just need to pull it closed from inside.

After struggling more to close it and hop in without it slamming on me, failing to latch it the first time and having to try again, I finally can sit in my drivers seat comfortably. Well, in terms of feeling safe in my car. The seat itself is far too large, and I can’t hope to see over the wheel or reach the pedals, let alone both. Yeah, driving anywhere is not safe for me even when the **** has left my system. Shit.

I get on my knees to look around easier, and see myself in the side mirror. It mostly confirms what I already suspected, but there are two surprises. One is my hair. I knew it was longer, but I’ve mostly knocked my bangs out of my eyes without noticing much. Now I can see it isn’t just longer, it’s also a dark blue. I don’t even get to keep my brown hair. The second thing is my face. I usually kept clean shaven, but I had let myself go recently with everything happening. But I see no evidence my cherubic face had ever been blemished by facial hair. My eyes are also a dark blue that matches my hair, rather than my natural brown. I can see nothing of my former self in my new face. I look away, not sure what emotion is trying to hammer into my thoughts, but certain I wasn’t going to be able to do anything once I let it in to inspect it.

I rack my brain for a next step, and realize I don’t know where I would drive even if I could. I look at my phone. There’s no one I can reasonably call about this, and I doubt a search engine is going to provide me with any answers. Shit.