Jessie worked long and hard, pouring as much energy and exuberance into her performance as Priscilla the Pony as she could. She danced, she pranced, she posed for photographs, and was a positive delight to the children.
After her first shift was over, she trudged her way back to the costume barn to return the outfit.
"Woah, woah, girl, where you goin' with that?" The farmer is there, his arms folded at his chest as he leans up against the doorway.
"Just bringing your costume back, is all. I'm whooped." And Jessie's beleaguered voice shows it, speaking between pants and gasping for breath.
"Oh, no need t' do that, little lady. The costume's yours f'r the duration of your employment. 'Course, that means it's your responsibility t' store an' clean it, but ya don't leave it here, not at all. Makes sure that you're the only one usin' it."
"Oh. Well, I guess I can manage that." Jessie sighs, seeing no point in fighting the issue. She doesn't want this outfit taking up space in her closet.
So she pulls the head off as she gets to her car and drives home for the evening.
***
She arrives shortly after dark, and is so exhausted that she skips the shower and dinner and goes straight to bed. Of course, if she had passed by a mirror, she'd have noticed that things were different. She'd have noticed that her face was slightly distended, most pronouncedly in the mouth. She'd have noticed that her fingernails were thicker, the tips of her fingers wider. She'd have noticed slightly thicker leg muscles, and the slightest hint of a bulge at the base of her spine. And if she had looked even closer, she'd have noticed a fine layer of fuzz all over her skin.
But she didn't see any of that. She fell fast asleep, clueless that anything was wrong.