dumb tfm fanfic i wrote as a joke im sorry

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Years ago, my friend introduced me to this mouse game named "Transformice." It was honestly utter trash. The mice ran slowly and couldn't jump worth a damn. Most of the time you had to get help from this bigger mouse called the "shaman." Most shamans didn't even do their job and just laughed with their friends. Plus, to complete many levels you had to perform this trick called "wall-jumping" where your mouse wiggled its ass back and forth to propel itself up a wall. Wall-jumping was hard as hell, and my younger self was unable to grasp the tactic. The other players laughed at me and called me a "noob" and a "lixo kkkk." Discouraged by the game's controls and its community, I decided to quit.
A year later I had a strange dream. In the dream, I was playing "Transformice." I had not thought of "Transformice" in months, so this dream was unexpected. I was playing what appeared to be "vanilla mode" as a black mouse wearing an entirely black outfit. I nailed every single first as a normal mouse and saved every player when I was a shaman. The room's chat was filled with praise directed towards me. I was mouse king, and the players in the room were my servants.
I woke up in confusion. Why had I had a dream about that crappy old flash game? "Transformice" wasn't exactly something I actively thought about. However, the dream had awakened my interest in the game. I logged onto that game that night. "Transformice" was just as frustrating as I remembered, with its obnoxious controls and unenjoyable gameplay. Just as I was getting ready to log off of this unbearable mouse grind, I noticed that my old friend who had introduced me was online. I selected the "whisper" option on my friendslist and started up a conversation with her. She was shocked that I had logged on again and apparently was upset that I had quit the game in the first place. Desperate to get me to stay this time, she tried to train me in the ways of "Transformice."
My friend’s training was superb. I finally started to enjoy “Transformice” and began actively playing it. Months later, I was the ultimate “Transformice” professional. Just like in my dream, I obtained every single first and rescued every little mouse. My mouse avatar was clad in black clothing. Everyone in the room spammed “GJGJGJGJGJGJGJ” whenever I got a first. I felt so much pride in my mouse abilities. However, I didn’t realize that I was hopelessly addicted to the game. I spent every single moment of my free time in this mouse hell. I bought hundreds of dollars’ worth of the game’s premium currency “fraises” and had nearly every item from the shop.
I eventually noticed highly unusual glitches in the game. The terrain would randomly disappear, which would cause my mouse to fall to its death. The background would also suddenly flash pure black. Plus, random mice that weren’t controlled by actual players would suddenly spawn into the room and lag everything up. The strangest thing about these glitches is that I was the only person who seemed to be affected by them. I asked all of my professional mouse friends about these errors, and they all said that they had never seen anything similar. Thinking that my computer had a virus of some sorts, I decided to try playing “Transformice” on other devices. I still encountered all of the same glitches. Not only was my experience getting wrecked by these bugs, but a bunch of strange mice started whispering me. Their whispers were unintelligible, consisting of a long string of spam letters. On some days I did not receive any whispers, but on other days I was incessantly bombarded by them. The mice who were whispering me were also using guest accounts, which were not supposed to be able to whisper anyone. Thinking that some sort of hacker, who jealous of my prowess in obtaining cheese for mice, was trying to mess with me, I emailed the company who owned the game. They sent me a reply stating that I should try clearing my cache and that such hacking was impossible on “Transformice.” Annoyed with the support’s idiocy, I decided to go to sleep.
That night, I had another dream similar to the one that had reignited my interest in “Transformice.” I was once again playing in vanilla mode with my little mice friends praising my every move. Much to my dismay, the glitches that plagued me in the real “Transformice” began affecting me in my dream. However, this time the glitches seemed much worse. Many more “playerless mice” began flooding into the room, and sometimes maps would load up without any terrain at all. The other mice also began to take on a strange appearance. Their mice had longer snouts and claws feet, and their eyes were now entirely black with no shine in them. Then, my speakers blasted out “Transformice” music. I was taken by surprise, because I usually have the sound on “Transformice” muted. The music now sounded slow and demented, with random screeching violins echoing in the background. Suddenly, a sinister man appeared on my computer screen. He was wearing a black hood and had bloodshot eyes. I realized that it was Tigrounette, the French man who was one of the creators of “Transformice.” When he opened his mouth to speak, many highly realistic “Transformice” mice erupted out of his throat.
“Mortal, you have failed your mouse family. They have sent out their army to wreak havoc upon your land. You have been fueled by greed for firsts and stats, which have clouded your ability to supply for your mice brethren. You shall be punished,” Tigrounette boomed, as his body suddenly transformed into a multitude of mice.
I woke up in a cold sweat. I was terrified for a few seconds, but then I calmed myself down by reminding myself that it was a dream. I attempted to go back to sleep, but I noticed that something was off. The atmosphere felt different, like some sort of weight was pressing down upon me. The distances and objects in my room appeared distorted, and a black mist seemed to be seeping through the room. I got out of bed to turn on the light. Once I put my finger on the switch, I heard a booming voice behind me.
“BEHOLD!” I heard Tigrounette scream.
I turned around, and thousands of highly realistic “Transformice” mice began to flood through my room. Every object seemed to turn into a mouse. The carpet twisted and turned and formed into a mouse. Little mice rained down from the ceiling. Everything was turning into a mouse.
Terrified, I bolted out of my house. The mice that formed in the walls sprinted to keep up with me. I pushed the large mouse that was supposed to be a door aside and leaped into my front yard. Large cloud mice swooped down and attempted to nip at my head. The moon mouse blasted massive lasers from its eyes. Suddenly, I felt a stirring inside me. I looked at my hand, which was slowly turning into a large mouse. Smaller mice were erupting from my arm. I felt a stirring in my skull, and my two eyes popped out of their sockets with a resounding crack and ran away as mice. The mice in my mind convulsed and squeezed out of my ear holes. My entire body was mice. My mouse form ran into the night, chattering like a madman. The other mice settled down and turned back into normal objects.
Tigrounette taught me a valuable lesson that night. He showed what horrendous things greed can change someone into. To this day, my mouse body haunts the “Transformice” servers and tells my story to innocent mice. If they let greed take over, they too will turn into mice. However, is that truly a bad thing? The mice will rule the earth. The humans will not be able to stop us. We are mice. We are mice. WE ARE MICE. WE ARE MICE. WE ARE MICE.