Karyn wanted to cry, but since she didn't have tear ducts, she couldn't.
'I can't believe it, this isn't real! I can't be a... no way, it's not true!' Try as she might, her body continued to thwart any demands she made upon it to move from her sitting position. 'It-it can't be true, I'm dreaming, this is a nightmare!' Her back refused to cool down, her ass still stuck rather solidly to the floor and that weight still on her chest... until the air filling her left breast, now a cushion, filled far enough to push the beanbag, which had been balanced precariously on her edge, suddenly roll forward, plopping to the floor with the sound of a sandbag rolling to the floor.
With a silent pout, and a silent, totally mental sniff, Karyn realized that she didn't feel much pity for those guys.
It didn't take too long, really, for Karyn to move beyond the denial phase and into depression.
'So it's true? I'm a couch?' She wanted to shiver, but without the proper equipment that was impossible, 'I can't believe it but it's true... So what happens to me now? Do I just sit here for the rest of time? Just... sit here?' Some tentative experimentation revealed that, yes, that was exactly what she would be doing. 'Oh, god, I'm going to be a couch forever! Wishes can't be taken back! I'm going to be a couch forever!' It didn't help her state of mind that she couldn't even cry. Crying is an underappreciated release valve, and being unable to perform even such a primal thing as crying, the first thing that every baby does upon the very moment of birth... it was a horrible thing.
She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there. Once those guys had gone quiet, the only things to remind Karyn that there was a world outside her own mind was the constant heat and noise of the water heater and other appliances in the space around her in that basement that she would be spending the foreseeable future in.
'I wish Jon was here...'
