The Silent Bait

Owen opened his eyes to the warm autumn sun filtering through the blinds. Miriam had risen earlier than him; she was already dressed in her oversized t-shirt, which was now noticeably tighter around her growing bust. Smiling softly, she handed him a sealed glass container filled with fresh orange juice for him to take along. "Remember our lunch break plan today," she whispered gently, brushing his cheek. "We can't repeat yesterday's mistake on the bus." Owen nodded, carefully sliding the juice into his school bag, knowing he would have to extract the catalyst later between his morning lectures.

A few hours later, Owen was sitting in the third row of the biology lecture hall, trying his best to focus on the class. He kept looking at his open notebook, but his mind wandered back to the crowded bus ride and the unfortunate mix-up. He wasn't terrified, just highly uncomfortable with the thought that someone else had his personal item.

Suddenly, the professor stopped talking. He reached under the desk and placed an identical metal travel mug right on the wooden podium.

"Before we continue," the professor announced, "a female student from the parallel group brought this to the department. She said the rightful owner accidentally swapped it on the bus yesterday. She is currently waiting in the biology laboratory down the hall to return it personally."

Owen’s breath caught in his throat. His knees trembled as he raised his hand, asking for permission to leave.

Stepping out into the quiet corridor, Owen moved like a ghost. He approached the laboratory room, his heart hammering against his ribs. The door was slightly ajar, casting a thin sliver of light onto the floor. Holding his breath, the guy leaned forward and peeked through the narrow crack.

The sight inside made him freeze in absolute shock.

Sitting on a stool was the quiet student from the bus. She had told the professor nothing, but Owen immediately noticed the subtle, terrifying clues. Her wet jacket was draped over a chair, and she was now wearing a sweater that seemed a bit too small for her. The sleeves now barely reached her wrists, exposing pale forearms. Her legs looked slightly longer, making her knees appear unusually high beneath the small lab desk. A single accidental sip had clearly triggered the growth. The returned mug was just a silent bait, and she was waiting for the creator to walk in...