Author's note: Oh my word, an update! Bet you all thought this fic had died, heh. Sorry for the mega-delay, but I've been ridiculously busy with college, hospital and music stuff. My sincerest apologies to all of you. Now, let's see if I can remember what the hell this fic is supposed to be about…

18

When Mike got home, he shut himself away in his room and refused to see anyone. His mother brought him meals every day but, although she could easily have opened the door, past experience with her son's behaviour told her not to, and she always ended up just leaving the food outside his door. Then she'd come by with the next meal to find the previous one untouched. Finally, after about a week, Mike poked his head out of his room to tell his parents to leave him well alone.
"Mike, you can't live in your room forever," his mother said calmly.
"Yes I can," Mike replied glumly – he couldn't see how his life could ever return to normal, "I can go without food and stuff…don't need it…"
Maybe he could have got away with that statement if his stomach hadn't decided to rumble very loudly right at that moment.
"Mike," his father said, "you must eat. You're a growing boy."
That was the mistake.
"I'm a what?" Mike snapped. Mr. Teavee instantly regretted using that particular phrase. Of course the last thing Mike wanted to hear right now was that he was going to get even taller.
"I…I just meant…" Mr Teavee stammered helplessly.
"Get bent." Mike growled and slammed the door in their faces.

There was a tense pause as the slam resonated through the silent house.
You had to say that, didn't you?" Mrs Teavee snapped at her husband.
"It just slipped out, OK? Sorry!" Mr Teavee retorted, not sounding entirely sorry.
"You know he's in a delicate state!"
"It was just an expression – I've used it loads of times before!"
"But that was back when he was under average height for his age! What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking maybe one of us had to step in and do something."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing!"
"You're calling me a bad mother!" her voice was rising in both pitch and volume.
"Why? Why do you have to read so much into everything I say?"
"I don't!"
"Shut UP!" Mike yelled from inside his room, but it would have gone unnoticed in the heated argument even if his voice wasn't quieter than a mouse's. He buried his head in his pillow and let his tears soak it through.
Why the hell are you crying, you wuss? Said the part of his mind that always had to keep up an unbreakable appearance, you're Mike Teavee; you don't cry!
Oh, shut up, said the part that wanted to just give up, he's tired and emotional, just let him vent.
But he's being a baby! He needs to be strong right now.
"But I cant!" Mike whispered.
You hear that? Said his gentler side, after what that deranged chocolate dude did to him, doesn't anyone deserve to cry?
Mike pressed the pillow further into his face so he struggled to breathe, feeling the relief as his lungs started to ache and his eyes stung, distracting his attention away from the pain of the stretching.
When he was just about to pass out, he threw the pillow to one side and gasped in the oxygen. He fumbled around on his cluttered bedside table until he found his cell phone. He dialled in a number and held it to his flattened ear.
"I need a doctor," he whispered as loud as he could as soon as the recipient picked up.
"OK, what seems to be the problem?" asked the hospital receptionist on the other end.
Mike paused, realising how ridiculous this was about to sound, "I was stretched on a taffy puller and now I'm three times taller than I was and I can't walk or talk properly."
There was another pause on the other end of the line.
"I'm sorry," the reply eventually came, "I didn't quite catch that. Can you speak up?"
"No, I can't!" Mike squeaked angrily, "That's the problem! That's why I need a fucking doctor!"
"I'm sorry, I still didn't quite catch that."
"Oh, forget it."
Mike flung the phone at the wall and it shattered.
He glanced at himself in the mirror, his parents' argument still penetrating the air. He suddenly felt strange. Not upset or angry, nor happy, but not confused, either. Just a feeling of acceptance.
I've changed.

A/n: I wrote this quite quickly, just to post SOMETHING, so sorry if it sucks.