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zvolyx-lord-of-chaos · 4 years

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I've been typing into AI Dungeon like a madman for 4 hours and came up with this delusional piece of hot garbage. This is the second part I guess, but you won't want to read the first part because it's even more painful. Anyway, I have this saved as "CringeGenderBendTrash" on my phone, so you know what you got yourselves into. Let the Cringe begin:

"No...no... I can't..." You can no longer find any words.

And even if you could, you couldn't say them with strange girl's voice you had now. A girl's voice. *Your* voice.

As the weight of your situation begins to set on you, your emotions catch up to you and you break down.

You collapse to the floor and begin bawling uncontrollably.

Your now longer hair gets in your face as you let tears flow freely from your eyes and you begin to choke on your sobs.

Your nose starts to drip as you continue crying, so you bring your hand up to your face to wipe it. Both your hands and face feel so small and unfamiliar.

Imagine that, your own hands and face, unfamiliar. You try to stop yourself from crying further, and fail fail miserably. After a few minutes your crying starts to die down slightly when, in a small effort to comfort yourself, you bring your legs closer to your chest and they bump against your...your...

You're hit with a new wave of emotiome as you again start to wail and choke, your eyes dry as you have run out tears to cry.

You don't even care if someone hears you, you just want to cry.

To cry as loudly as you can.

'Shouldn't it feel wrong, wanting to cry?', you think. After all, you were taught for years that you shouldn't need to.

Bu t that didn't matter now because, somehow, crying is somehow you feel... a little better.

You continue to cry, alone on the bathroom floor, thinking of all that's just happened to you, and what will happen to your life.

After a few more minutes, your sobs begin to soften into sniffles. As you regain your composure you come to the conclusion that maybe crying once in a whole isn't so bad, after all. It's a good way to get out your sadness and pain. It did htell you to, after all. That's not why you had stoped crying; however. In fact, you still wanted to cry. You had simply lost the energy and will to do so.

After a time, you get up and face your reflection again.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but nothing ha s changed about your appearance.

Apart from your wet face and red eyes, that is.

Still sniffling, which sounded painfully adorable, (and contributed to why you still wanted to cry), you wash off your face and dry it with a nearby towel.

Unfortunately, it catches on one of your horns and rips.

You sigh in dismay. You had somehow almost forgotten about them.

You turn back up to the mirror and run your hands over your horns. They were cold and smooth. And though they weren't particularly sharo, they would be easy to get things stuck on.

In total there were four horns. Two sets of two, a large one and a slightly smaller one below it on each side.

They wrapped around from the back sides of your head and curved around to the front, where they then curved in toward you face slightly and pointed down at the ends, forming a sort of strange, hook-like shape.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out they weren't completely black, and had a dark purple tint toward the bottom. Somehow, you found them quite... beautiful.

Strange. Just yesterday up you would have never been able to think of them that way, let alone compliment someone's.

You shook the thought from your head. What you thought didn't matter, after all. The fact that they were there at all told the whole world exactly what you were now– a half-demon. The downsidea to this alone were numerous– strict curfews, forbidden entry to some businesses, hatred, fear, denial of work, some people even attacked half-demons for no reason! It had been this way for years, sadly.

Around the world, all different kinda of non-humans faced numerous injustices, and your city was a no exception.

For examlple: until recently, non-human children were barred from schools throughour the country, and it took almost 5 years of protest and other pressures on the government to finally get a law passed to fix it.

You sigh and shake your head.

'This is too much to think about right now.', 'I just need to focus on what I'm going to do right now.'

By this time, the sick feeling had mostly left you, but you still hurt everywhere, and your clothes were nearly soaked with sweat. gross.

All these physical changes had taken a huge toll on your body, and you were completely exhausted and dehydrated.

After some encouragement from yourself, you manage to make your way out of the bathroom and back to your room where you search for a fresh set of clothes.

You rummage around your dresser drawers and pull out a shirt and pair of pants, hoping to get dressed so you can get some water before resting a while.

You are dismayed to discover, however, that the pants are far too big for you now, and they fall straight off, taking your, until then still on, underwear with them.

Your face flushes red with embarrassment and you snap your head upwards quickly, wishing you still had the energy to cry at least a little.

Why me? You ask yourself.

Sighing, you turn back to your dresser and dig around until you find it: "it" being a shirt your mom had bought for you online, but had selected the wrong size for.

Silently thanking your mom for her mistake, and yourself for having kept the thing, you drape the (now even more so) extremely large shirt over you. Hanging slightly off one shoulder, and covering you almost perfectly below your knees,

you are now in the proper water-fetching attire.

Exiting your room, you quickly and quietly make your way downstairs to the kitchen, the blanket-like shirt swishing around you as you move.

Ignoring the breezy feeling tickling your legs as you walk, you reach the kitchen and, with minor difficulty, grab a glass from the now slightly higher cabinet.

Finally, with your hands completely buried in your shirt's enormous sleeves, you take the glass and fill it from the refrigerator's water filter.

After you finish your drink, (and a further two after that), you put your glass in the sink. And begin to leave the kitchen.

As you're beginning to exit the kitchen, you glance at you shirt-sleeve-covered hands and an idea pops into your head.

Following through, you start shaking your arms up and down. Slowly, at first, and then slightly faster. The sleeves draping far over your hands begin to flop around every which way, making a fwwp fwwp sound as they do.

'Hehe... this is kinda fun, somehow. It's just an oversized shirt, but it's fun', you giggle to yourself.

You continue to play with the shirt's long sleeves for some time and then do a small twirl, the shirt swishing around your legs and making a small wsssh sound as you spin.

You feel yourself smiling and about to let out a small laugh when you snap back to reality.

'No! Now is not the time to be playing!', you snap at yourself internally, 'I've got to figure out... well, everything.'.

Your thoughts continue: 'Oh man I probably looked so stupid, spinning around like that...', the mental image you form is too embarrassing to think about. Blushing from the thought, you shake it and contine; 'It is tue, though. I need to start thinking about what to do next.'

You think for a moment, 'I guess I could start by–' your train of thought is interrupted when you hear a noise coming from your parents' bedroom.

Up to this point you hadn't needed to worry about anyone seeing you like... well, like this, as you had woken up so early.

But now, as it was approaching 7:00am, your parents were starting to wake up.

'Crap. I need to get back before anyone sees me.'

You hastily make your way back to your room before anyone has a chance to leave their own.

If you actually read the whole thing you need to get a psychiatrist, because there's something seriously wrong with you. With both of us.

Goodbye.

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