It was supposed to be just another sweep.

You and Ellie had done runs like this before — low-risk, short-range, in and out. But this time she spotted something. A gap in the wall of an old library, half-buried under books and collapsed shelves. Curiosity got the better of her. Of course it did.

“You coming or what?” she said, already halfway through.

You followed her down past a twisted stairwell to a dim sublevel. The air was sterile. Shelves lined the walls, full of broken vials and rotting labels. FEDRA stamps everywhere. Ellie brushed dust off a crate. “Creepy shit,” she muttered.

She wasn’t wrong.

She found the vial by accident. Rolled it in her fingers, squinting. “Gen-X-VR13? Sounds fake.” She joked, “Maybe it’s a puberty booster. Grows you boobs overnight.”

Then her boot slipped. The tray tipped, a vial jabbed her thigh. Sharp, fast. Emptied in seconds.

“Ah—fuck!” she hissed, stumbling back.

You rushed to her, but she yanked the needle out. “It’s fine. Doesn’t even burn.”

She limped a bit but laughed it off. You believed her.

For a day or two, it seemed like nothing.

Then she got hungry. Not just hungry — ravenous. She devoured anything and still grumbled. “I could eat a fucking horse,” she said, cradling her stomach.

You figured it was stress. Maybe a growth spurt. She was still young. But she started moving more. Stretching, pacing, twitching. “Growing pains,” she guessed. “Took long enough.”

Then things shifted.

She reacted faster. Picked up faint sounds before you did. Beat you at every dumb game. Reflexes sharper, focus tighter. She called it her “spidey sense.”

Her body didn’t change much — not yet. But jeans clung differently. Her hips had the hint of curve. Waist a little tighter. Hoodie didn’t fall the same way.

And her chest... no longer flat. Barely anything. A soft rise under her shirt. You caught her checking herself once, eyes narrowed.

Later she mumbled, “Guess I’m finally catching up. Thought I’d stay built like a twig forever.”

Her voice had more weight now. Her walk, more confident. Smiles wider. Laughs louder.

She picked up a pipe and bent it one-handed, barely noticing. Then dropped it like it was nothing.

By the next morning, her hoodie rode high on her belly. She cursed, tugging it down. “Clothes shrank or something.”

But they hadn’t.

Her arms were leaner. Eyes sharper. She moved like she belonged in her skin. Still her — just… more.

“Probably hormones,” she muttered one night, stretching till her back popped. “Puberty’s a bitch.”

She had no idea.

Not yet.