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Several hours later, Cheryl groggily came to.

Every muscle in her body felt like a wet sandbag; a hand went immediately to her hair, confirming that last night had NOT indeed been a nightmare. The luscious softness to which she was accustomed was replaced with a hard, chitinous material covering her hair.

After several attempts, she stood upright, and limped over to the mirror across the room. Fortunately, the magic inherent in her locks gave them a certain lightness; twenty feet of hair gathered into a giant mass on top of her head would otherwise have weighed her down considerably, causing an uncomfortable strain on her neck. The sight reflected in the mirror astonished her: her majestic mane had been tamed into a large, round ball. A translucent, almost amber-like lacquer had turned the entire mass into an impenetrable cocoon. The imp queen had completed her nest, and was now protected inside her hair!

Cheryl, normally clear-headed and in control, felt her knees wobble beneath her, and an unfamiliar sensation arose in her gut. She drooped to the garbage can next to the bureau, and vomited.

This had happened so fast. Just the other day she had come to this dimension with the expectation of merely trying her hand at teaching, and helping a handful of girls come to grips with the power and responsibility they held. The melee with Vivian had been a snag, but nothing she couldn't overcome; but this, she had not prepared for this.

Her head came up, slowly. While her new hairdo and its passenger didn't weigh her down so much physically, the mass of the cocoon made moving awkward. The queen's paralysis was wearing off more quickly now, and the grogginess in Cheryl's mind was also fading away. She wasn't sure she preferred her mind becoming any sharper right now, as it only increased the intensity of her terror at having to face her phobia so unexpectedly.

She sat on the floor, wiping flecks of vomit from her lip. She immediately yelled for her host. "MS. FEATHERSTONE! PLEASE! HELP ME!"
Cheryl wasn't even sure what time of day it was, whether her old principal would even be home to hear her. Ms. Featherstone had spent so much time locked away in her office lately, the chances were slim.

The sound of gradually approaching footsteps, however, reassured her. "Cheryl?! What is it!" The door tentatively cracked open, and widened enough to let in Ms. Featherstone's own substantial head of hair. The woman entered the room holding a braid as wide as herself, a good dozen feet long, which she dropped upon seeing Cheryl's state.

"My dear, what is it?" she started.

Cheryl's tongue felt like a wad of chewed gum, but she rapped her giant hair helmet with a fist for effect, and stammered, "I--Imp! Imp queen!"

Joanna's eyes grew wide as she ran to Cheryl. "Oh my GOD! NO!"

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After several tears, a blubbering explanation of what had happened to her, and a fresh change of clothes later, Cheryl had relaxed considerably as she sat with Ms. Featherstone, both of them sharing a cup of special tea Joanna had brewed to calm their nerves.

"This is all my fault," Ms. Featherstone lamented, her hand gripping Cheryl's over the table. "I had no right to bring you into this situation."

A few minutes earlier, Cheryl might have agreed with her. It was not in her nature to place blame on people for things out of their control, however. A slightly cooler head prevailing, Cheryl straightened up. "Ms. Feath-- Joanna," she said soothingly, "you know as well as I do that that kind of talk is not productive." As the two women's gazes met, resilience grew in both of their countenances. "Some dark forces definitely have it out for you and these wonderful girls you have assembled. The fact that I was caught off guard notwithstanding, now it's personal for me as well. Whoever is behind this is going to regret it, I'll see to that!"

Joanna half-smiled, but worry still lined her face. "You really have turned into a remarkable woman, Cheryl. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to help you out of this."

"I know you will," Cheryl replied. "Now let's get this bitch out of my hair."

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Cheryl belongs to

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

Several hours later, Cheryl groggily came to.

Every muscle in her body felt like a wet sandbag; a hand went immediately to her hair, confirming that last night had NOT indeed been a nightmare. The luscious softness to which she was accustomed was replaced with a hard, chitinous material covering her hair.

After several attempts, she stood upright, and limped over to the mirror across the room. Fortunately, the magic inherent in her locks gave them a certain lightness; twenty feet of hair gathered into a giant mass on top of her head would otherwise have weighed her down considerably, causing an uncomfortable strain on her neck. The sight reflected in the mirror astonished her: her majestic mane had been tamed into a large, round ball. A translucent, almost amber-like lacquer had turned the entire mass into an impenetrable cocoon. The imp queen had completed her nest, and was now protected inside her hair!

Cheryl, normally clear-headed and in control, felt her knees wobble beneath her, and an unfamiliar sensation arose in her gut. She drooped to the garbage can next to the bureau, and vomited.

This had happened so fast. Just the other day she had come to this dimension with the expectation of merely trying her hand at teaching, and helping a handful of girls come to grips with the power and responsibility they held. The melee with Vivian had been a snag, but nothing she couldn't overcome; but this, she had not prepared for this.

Her head came up, slowly. While her new hairdo and its passenger didn't weigh her down so much physically, the mass of the cocoon made moving awkward. The queen's paralysis was wearing off more quickly now, and the grogginess in Cheryl's mind was also fading away. She wasn't sure she preferred her mind becoming any sharper right now, as it only increased the intensity of her terror at having to face her phobia so unexpectedly.

She sat on the floor, wiping flecks of vomit from her lip. She immediately yelled for her host. "MS. FEATHERSTONE! PLEASE! HELP ME!"
Cheryl wasn't even sure what time of day it was, whether her old principal would even be home to hear her. Ms. Featherstone had spent so much time locked away in her office lately, the chances were slim.

The sound of gradually approaching footsteps, however, reassured her. "Cheryl?! What is it!" The door tentatively cracked open, and widened enough to let in Ms. Featherstone's own substantial head of hair. The woman entered the room holding a braid as wide as herself, a good dozen feet long, which she dropped upon seeing Cheryl's state.

"My dear, what is it?" she started.

Cheryl's tongue felt like a wad of chewed gum, but she rapped her giant hair helmet with a fist for effect, and stammered, "I--Imp! Imp queen!"

Joanna's eyes grew wide as she ran to Cheryl. "Oh my GOD! NO!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

After several tears, a blubbering explanation of what had happened to her, and a fresh change of clothes later, Cheryl had relaxed considerably as she sat with Ms. Featherstone, both of them sharing a cup of special tea Joanna had brewed to calm their nerves.

"This is all my fault," Ms. Featherstone lamented, her hand gripping Cheryl's over the table. "I had no right to bring you into this situation."

A few minutes earlier, Cheryl might have agreed with her. It was not in her nature to place blame on people for things out of their control, however. A slightly cooler head prevailing, Cheryl straightened up. "Ms. Feath-- Joanna," she said soothingly, "you know as well as I do that that kind of talk is not productive." As the two women's gazes met, resilience grew in both of their countenances. "Some dark forces definitely have it out for you and these wonderful girls you have assembled. The fact that I was caught off guard notwithstanding, now it's personal for me as well. Whoever is behind this is going to regret it, I'll see to that!"

Joanna half-smiled, but worry still lined her face. "You really have turned into a remarkable woman, Cheryl. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to help you out of this."

"I know you will," Cheryl replied. "Now let's get this bitch out of my hair."

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Cheryl belongs to