Ruth was walking home. The car was due to be repaired by tomorrow, so the mechanic had now claimed. However, he’d claimed the same thing yesterday, and here she was on her feet again.
She regretted buying a house about a mile out of town; her legs just weren’t up to it, or so she claimed to herself. Actually, she was perfectly capable of walking the fifteen-minute walk, it was her mind that wasn’t conditioned to it. Convenience had come at a price, and she was a definitely a car person. The sun was setting, and the moons were paper-thin crescents, soon to follow it. Ruth tore her gaze away from the cloud-free sight and focused on the TV she was going to watch that evening – not much, it was a poor night. The only good stuff was late into the evening, and she had to get up early for work. Idea. Have a little nap when she got home, then wake up and watch the late-night entertainment before retiring to bed for the rest of the night. It might just work.
It was then, passing a few trees, that Ruth was enveloped by a mist; a strange, grey mist. It stung as she breathed it in, and seemed to cling to her body and clothing. There was a strange smooth and soft feeling around her chest area. For a few seconds she couldn’t see anything, and then it was gone; departed like the morning, erm, mist. Thinking little more of it, Ruth walked on.
Ruth awoke from her nap. She had set her alarm clock well, it was nearly time for TV. Then she looked down, and there was something wrong with her breasts. Something badly wrong. Her breasts had changed. Instead of her lovely set of breasts, two rows of two, her best feature, she now only had the top pair. Where her bottom pair had been there was just flat, soft skin. As green as the rest of her.
Ruth threw back her four arms, opened her lips-less mouth, angrily flicked her tail, and screamed sorrow and anger and pain and defiance, all in a deep bass howl, at the strange two-breasted thing she had become.
Back to John Malcolm story page