It was as if the hair was literally pouring out of Drake. His beard and mustache were exploding out of his face so fast it pulled his head forward.
He glanced at his shoulders and saw the hair on his head was rapidly cascading out of his scalp, down his shoulders and onto the ground. Mere seconds later, his beard was dragging on the floor as well.
As Drake looked down in horror at his beard, he realized he could no longer see his feet. Instead, a fountain of hair was flowing out of his pant legs and spreading across the floor.
His beard and mustache, however, began to rise. They were rising up to his eyes, as if it were being pushed up but some unseen hand. But it wasn't a hand, it was his chest hair, exploding out of the top button of his shirt. The beard continued its growth, however, and merely flowed over Drake's chest hair like a waterfall.
Then the pain began. Drake felt like he was being crushed. "These clothes! I've got to...get them...off!"
Drake looked up at himself in the mirror. It was true. The clothes he had put on to conceal his freakishness were filling up with hair so fast, it looked as if he were blowing up like a balloon. He could see, from how his beard was rising, that underneath, his chest and stomach were growing hair at a terrifying rate. He tried to bend his arms down to unfasten the button on his slacks, but his sleeves were so filled with hair he couldn't bend them. Just like his feet, hair was pouring off his hands and spilling down onto the floor.
"I can't--breathe!" Drake's eyes were wide. He was going to die from this.
There was a tearing noise. One shirt button popped. Then another. There was another rip. The back of his blazer was tearing. The seat of his pants ripped one thread at a time and was beginning to give. Millions of hairs were peeking anxiously from every seam.
Finally, it was too much.
Drake's clothes, ripped to shreds, burst off him in tatters, but in mere seconds they were completely absorbed by the growing mass of hair coming out of Drake. He was completely naked, but it was impossible to tell the young man was naked. It was no longer possible to tell the still-growing pile of hair even WAS a man. The only thing that gave him away was the top of Drake's head. His forehead, eyes, and nose continued to remain visible.
And the hair kept pouring out of him. He had no idea how long it was now. Dozens of feet. He tried in vain to scoop some of it into a pile, but as he bent down to push it into a mound, hair from his head fell down into it and he became tangled in it. Drake collapsed. He tried to kick himself back up, but the hair was so heavy and awkward, he gave up.
He closed his eyes, praying that the nightmare would end. Any minute now, he'd wake up and this whole thing will have been a dream.
But the tingling wasn't stopping. As the minutes ticked by, he could feel every pore in his body cranking out hair at an impossible rate.
Then, Drake began to feel himself rising.
He opened his eyes in alarm. The room was literally flooded with hair. The floor was covered four feet deep in hair and nothing could be seen beneath it--not the rug, his shoes, his clothes--nothing. Just curls. Curls and curls of thick hair. It creeped onto the tops of their desks, it filled Drake's closet, it pressed against the window blinds. Drake grunted and tried again to move. He was able to twist himself into an upright position, but any other movement was utterly hopeless. It was too heavy and he was far too tangled up.
And still the hair exploded out of Drake. A few minutes later, the hair filled the room four and a half, then five feet deep. Gradually getting higher and higher. It showed no signs of slowing down.
Death by hair. The very prospect made Drake chuckle. He was beyond shock at this point. In fact, since he certainly wasn't going anywhere, he now watched his beard and mustache with interest. He watched as the hairs collectively snaked off his face and seemed to scurry away from him before they disappeared into the sea of Drake's hair that had filled the room.
So this is how I'm gonna die, Drake thought, closing his eyes again and feeling the warmth of the overactive follicles spinning hair faster and faster on his back, his legs, his butt, his armpits, everywhere. He began to embrace the absurdity of the situation.
Drowning in my own body hair. Heh.
Everything was soft and warm. Not a bad way to go actually. Drake exhaled and allowed his muscles to relax. Maybe he could even fall asleep...