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Mid-brushstroke, Cheryl stopped. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion overcame her, so much that her mind became a tad foggy. Wow, maybe all this schoolteacher business really was taking a toll on her...

She closed her eyes, lumbered over, and fell face-first onto the bed. The sweet oblivion of sleep called to her, yet...something seemed..OFF.

An ember of thought deep in the shrouded fog inside her head wouldn't die. Something was happening, it knew. Cheryl's eyelids felt like dead weights, but she willed them open.

A creature, almost reptilian, the size of a small dog, stood on the bed next to her, meeting her gaze. The tiny spark of life in Cheryl's mind ignited just enough to terrify her, yet not enough to let her move or react. It was an imp!

In her many dimensional travels, Cheryl had heard tell of these. In her line of work, she was surprised she hadn't run across one sooner. Now here one was, in the flesh. Imps were simple creatures, with simple needs: a soft place to make shelter, and an insatiable appetite for magic, on which they fed. They absorbed it, in a process not unlike osmosis. They were fond of talismans, wands, or magical objects with which they could scurry away back to their nests, and absorb the power from them. Cheryl knew a magician who kept one around to leech the magic out of cursed objects.

What had made them a nuisance to some of her own clients, however, was a fondness for human hair. Imps had razor-like claws, and were particularly attracted to the sound of brushing. They were expert at slicing away locks of hair from unwary victims, scurrying away with it, and using it to make their nests. Hardly life-threatening beasts, or as vicious and dangerous as a Hairmask, or a Kamikiri demon; though unwanted, to be sure.

At first, Cheryl was almost relieved; an imp would have no luck slicing any of her indestructible hair. The goopy, amber-colored resin dripping from its fingers reignited Cheryl's terror, however.

This was a Queen!

That explained the fogginess in Cheryl's mind, and the now total paralysis that she was now noticing had come over her. The slimy hands smeared onto Cheryl's scalp, as a slithering tongue spread the resin over a wider area of Cheryl's locks. The resin, Cheryl knew, first immobilized its victim for a time. But then, as it dried, would harden into a natural lacquer. If Cheryl's gag reflex hadn't been immobilized, it would have had a reaction at her next thought:

The imp Queen was making a cocoon out of her hair!

Cheryl's mind fought the increasing weightiness; this didn't make sense! Normally they only made cocoons out of already-severed hair, cut from a paralyzed victim. Why was this one making one here, now, on top of her?

It must have seen Vivian's failed attempt to cut her hair! The queen was on top of her now, gathering more locks of hair, smearing resin on it, and molding it into her nest. Cheryl understood. The queen knew that a cocoon made of this hair would be impenetrable, unable to be cut apart. Cheryl's phobia of having something crawl around in her hair was now becoming a terrible reality, made even worse by the knowledge that queens only made cocoons...so they could give birth.

Her eyes closed. The effects of the resin were too much. Her fear became swallowed up in unconsciousness...

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Cheryl belongs to

Description
Support the creation of DangerCurls on Patreon!
www.patreon.com/dangercurl

Mid-brushstroke, Cheryl stopped. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion overcame her, so much that her mind became a tad foggy. Wow, maybe all this schoolteacher business really was taking a toll on her...

She closed her eyes, lumbered over, and fell face-first onto the bed. The sweet oblivion of sleep called to her, yet...something seemed..OFF.

An ember of thought deep in the shrouded fog inside her head wouldn't die. Something was happening, it knew. Cheryl's eyelids felt like dead weights, but she willed them open.

A creature, almost reptilian, the size of a small dog, stood on the bed next to her, meeting her gaze. The tiny spark of life in Cheryl's mind ignited just enough to terrify her, yet not enough to let her move or react. It was an imp!

In her many dimensional travels, Cheryl had heard tell of these. In her line of work, she was surprised she hadn't run across one sooner. Now here one was, in the flesh. Imps were simple creatures, with simple needs: a soft place to make shelter, and an insatiable appetite for magic, on which they fed. They absorbed it, in a process not unlike osmosis. They were fond of talismans, wands, or magical objects with which they could scurry away back to their nests, and absorb the power from them. Cheryl knew a magician who kept one around to leech the magic out of cursed objects.

What had made them a nuisance to some of her own clients, however, was a fondness for human hair. Imps had razor-like claws, and were particularly attracted to the sound of brushing. They were expert at slicing away locks of hair from unwary victims, scurrying away with it, and using it to make their nests. Hardly life-threatening beasts, or as vicious and dangerous as a Hairmask, or a Kamikiri demon; though unwanted, to be sure.

At first, Cheryl was almost relieved; an imp would have no luck slicing any of her indestructible hair. The goopy, amber-colored resin dripping from its fingers reignited Cheryl's terror, however.

This was a Queen!

That explained the fogginess in Cheryl's mind, and the now total paralysis that she was now noticing had come over her. The slimy hands smeared onto Cheryl's scalp, as a slithering tongue spread the resin over a wider area of Cheryl's locks. The resin, Cheryl knew, first immobilized its victim for a time. But then, as it dried, would harden into a natural lacquer. If Cheryl's gag reflex hadn't been immobilized, it would have had a reaction at her next thought:

The imp Queen was making a cocoon out of her hair!

Cheryl's mind fought the increasing weightiness; this didn't make sense! Normally they only made cocoons out of already-severed hair, cut from a paralyzed victim. Why was this one making one here, now, on top of her?

It must have seen Vivian's failed attempt to cut her hair! The queen was on top of her now, gathering more locks of hair, smearing resin on it, and molding it into her nest. Cheryl understood. The queen knew that a cocoon made of this hair would be impenetrable, unable to be cut apart. Cheryl's phobia of having something crawl around in her hair was now becoming a terrible reality, made even worse by the knowledge that queens only made cocoons...so they could give birth.

Her eyes closed. The effects of the resin were too much. Her fear became swallowed up in unconsciousness...

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Cheryl belongs to