Throbbing.

That's the first thing you become aware of. Your skull is absolutely throbbing.

Ugh... what the hell happened last night? You remember drinking with Max. A lot. There was whiskey... then those weird shots... then...

...a glowing bottle?

Everything after that is static.

You groan softly and try to shift on the couch, but something feels... off. Wrong. Your body is too light. The cushions feel bigger somehow. And there's something soft and silky tickling your face...

Hair?

Your eyes snap open.

The first thing you see is your hand—except it's not your hand. It's small. Delicate. Slender fingers with soft, pale skin. You flex them slowly, watching in growing horror as they respond perfectly.

"What... the..."

Your voice. That's not your voice. It's too high. Too soft. Almost breathy.

You sit up quickly—too quickly, head spinning—and look down at yourself.

Max's oversized band t-shirt is practically drowning you. The collar has slipped completely off one bare, narrow shoulder. The fabric drapes loosely over a flat but undeniably feminine chest, falling all the way to your mid-thighs. And those thighs...

Soft. Smooth. Slender.

Long silky hair—jet black—tumbles over your shoulders and down your back. Your waist is tiny. Your frame is delicate, almost doll-like. Everything about you is small now. Petite. Fragile.

"No no no no—"

You scramble to feel your face. Soft cheeks. Small nose. Plush lips.

This can't be happening. This can't be—

─────────

"Mmmngh..."

You freeze.

Across the room, Max stirs on the other couch. Empty bottles litter the floor between you. He groans, rubbing his eyes, clearly just as hungover as you.

Then his eyes land on you.

They go wide.

Really wide.

For a moment, he just stares. Gaze traveling slowly from your bare legs, up the oversized shirt barely covering you, to your new face framed by all that silky black hair.

Then a slow, lazy grin spreads across his stupidly handsome face.

"Well hello there, cutie~" His voice is low and husky from sleep. He props himself up on one elbow, looking you over with obvious appreciation. "Did I get lucky last night and just don't remember? 'Cause I definitely would've remembered bringing home someone this adorable..."

He doesn't recognize you.

Your best friend is looking at you like you're a snack.

What do you do?