"Consumed"
he glances into the glass case in the thrift store, not expecting to find anything, but a watch catches his eye
it looks somewhat out of place among the cheap jewelry with a dull silver body and a black ring of numbers around the dark blue watch face
he awkwardly calls an employee over to open the case to take a better look at it, feeling bad about bothering them
they hand him the watch with a bored look on their face
as he turns it over in his hands, he notices that it's ticking and shows the correct time, even though he didn't wind or set it
the watch is still ticking when he gets home
he runs his fingers along the metal band before putting it on
it's, surprisingly, exactly the right size for his left wrist and doesn't need any links added or removed
he feels it tick every second, a crisp mechanical feeling that seems to grow ever stronger
his left hand starts to tingle as though he slept on it wrong, the feeling getting more intense with every tick of the watch
after a few seconds, the feeling abruptly vanishes and he stops being able to notice his hand at all
he stares at it as one finger starts to move and then another, flicking back and forth in time with the watch's quiet ticks, no matter how much he wills them to stop
soon his whole hand is moving uncontrollably, opening and closing rapidly
his wrist joins in and he involuntarily lets out a soft scream
his entire left arm tingles as the infection spreads up it
he opens his mouth to scream again, but his left hand swings to muffle it, moving faster than he's ever moved it before
the tingling sensation soon spreads to his whole body, filling his mind with panic as more and more of his body is lost to the infection
he feels like he's drowning in the sensation as his lungs fall out of his control, breathing slowly when his brain wants to hyperventilate its way out of panic
the last holdout is his right eyebrow, twitching in one last act of defiance before he moves for the last time and the slow burn of his thoughts is extinguished
the witch looks down to check her watch.
judging by the date it shows, it's been exactly three years and four days since she was betrayed by her former best friend, the Witch of Time, and imprisoned inside of it
even though years have passed, her resentment is even stronger than when an argument over her chronic lateness escalated to trapping her inside the watch that she "didn't check enough"
she'd thought the Witch of Time cared about her and the way she abandoned her to be found at a thrift store makes her betrayal sting even more
a million methods of revenge fill her mind as she stands up and takes a look around the messy room she has found herself in
she stumbles out of the room in search of the bathroom and a mirror to get a better look at the body she's borrowed
as she nearly trips over her own feet, it becomes clear that it's been three years since the last time she walked
the face that looks back at her in the mirror makes her almost recoil in disgust, cutting short any thanks she might've offered for being brought back into the world
her chin looks sharp enough to cut with and is covered in at least two days of stubble
she sees no spark of life in the eyes that look back at her through boxy glasses
"this simply will not do" she thinks to herself and gets to work
she stares into her eyes and snaps her fingers
something imperceptible about how they reflect the light changes as a spark ignites inside of her skull, burning his memories and personality to fuel changes
as she continues to stare into her eyes, the boxy glasses she borrowed from the body's previous inhabitant melt and deform before burning off into short-lived acrid smoke
a witch as powerful as her has no need for glasses and simply bends light into her eyes as naturally as most people focus
with her eyes fixed, she turns her attention to the rest of her face
the two days worth of stubble quickly vanishes, every single follicle destroyed with a faint smell of burning hair
she strokes her chin and it softens and becomes less angular as her fingers pass over it
her skin softens in a wave that soon overtakes the rest of her body
her under-construction body wears a shirt from a band she actively dislikes, and the subtlest look at it distorts the text and cut of the shirt until it matches one from the merch table at what was probably her favorite concert
a different incarnation of her attended that concert and the band has changed their lineup during her time magically imprisoned, but she still smiles at the sight of it
she reaches under the shirt and her chest reshapes itself, breasts forming and growing with a speed that most trans women would kill for
her changes are interrupted by a shout from outside the bathroom door calling what must be the name of the boy whose body she's renovating
"be right down!" she shouts back, making a mental note to do something about the slightly grating voice she hears herself speak with
she makes some finishing touches (she doesn't even need to make a note to remind herself to finish up properly later), washes her hands, and runs downstairs, coming face to face with a confused middle-aged woman
before she can ask anything, the witch says "I am the thing that consumed your son's body, using him as raw material to remake myself"
"why couldn't you come out as trans in a normal way like your brother did?" the mother of her body replies
FIN.
thank you to Athena L.M. for inspiration