She nods. "Okay, I wish..."
She stops mid-sentence and looks over at you with a wicked grin. The impish glee in her voice slackens your jaw as she triumphantly sneers, "I wish that you would turn into a beautiful woman, forgetting your past life. I wish you were married to a rich man. I wish that you will grow old here and have children. I wish that you will die here."
A surreal terror throbs in your head. Terror drives your arm, a piston as you lurch forward, desperate for the stone. But the world has slowed down. The people that rushed and bustled around you and Karyn fade into a faceless, gray blur. You feel your clothes tighten against your skin, a gasp of surprise forced out of you. Karyn stands before you, the only thing in focus -- a maniacal grin slashed across her face, eyes that shine with malice. Your clothes massage and knead a fiery pleasure into your body; a hot sensitivity that slithers through your every vein, into your very being, as you watch your outstretched hand blanch from a subtle tan to a powdery, porcelain white, the square shape of your palm and fingers slimming into a smooth, feminine curves and long, pretty nails. Your whole body smolders and your face ignites with a feverish haze as you realize your skin tone has changed.
The smell of leather overpowers your senses as your watch your jeans squeeze against your legs, tracing the outline of every masculine curve. A wave of pleasure races up your back and past your lips with a lustful gasp as your legs reconfigure themselves into voluptuous feminine pillars, the denim of your pants knitting itself together into a gorgeous lattice of lace petals and folds that grab at your waist and press lovingly against smooth brown cloth that confines your legs up to your hips. The gasp turns into a yelp as your rear accommodates the generous curve offered by the skirt. Fabric stretches and groans. Your hips flare outwards and back, sloping down into a wide, smooth cup perfect for child-bearing.
You don't even have the time to screech out Karyn's name in protest before your shirt blossoms, stretching, separating, like two lovers in a dance. A firm hand wraps around your throat as your shirt's collar leaps from your chest to your jaw. Needles pierce the lobes of your ears as elaborate ornaments wink into existence and hang like tiny chandeliers at your jaw line. A firm hand wraps around your throat as an elegant brown choker drenches your neck and the top of your chest; brilliant diamonds and pearls sprout on silver chains, rhinestones in a rainbow of colors reach luxuriously for your collar bones. Your shirt pushes out into two bountiful cups lined with a tender swatch of silk fringed with lace that spills over past the cusp of what, you realize with mounting anxiety, will be an ample bosom. Sheets of smooth brown cloth flow over your shoulders as they rearrange into smooth, pale hills, and down under the cups, forming a harness that terminates in a ribbon. You feel your collar bones press tenderly out of the bottom of your neck, forming a round cusp to top your chest: a perfect guide for tender kisses. Just as your eyes widen and you reach for your throat does the cloth of your shirt sleeves groan in protest as they race down your arms and balloon into elegant gloves that press your arms into a delicate shape. Ribbons tie themselves around your wrists. A haze of flowery French perfume chokes your senses, filling your mind with images of exotic moon-lit nights, of warmth pressing against your chest, loving sighs and hot, moist breath blossoming against your lips -- images that stab into your mind, put away by the trepidation mingled with the powerful longing growing between your legs.
Waves of overpowering desire flood your being. Sunlit estates, memories of staring into mysterious pools of blue eyes, sensations of warmth blossoming in my belly; Memories winking in and out of being, drowned by the inner noise of your trepidation. Just as your eyelids droop into a lustful gaze and your lips slip open -- the fluid warmth in your belly rising to your throat as a yearning sigh, your tongue sensually teasing the edge of your lips -- your face shifts in a liquid dance of flesh, snapping you back into terror. Your gasp multiplies in your throat to muffled screams of "Mmf! Mmmph," drowned out as the choker tightens around your neck. A fluid veil of hot, most flesh flows over your eyes and lips, reconfiguring the structure of your face. A smooth, pointed face emerges from the sea of flesh: one of high, smooth cheekbones, colored in rosy blossoms of red and pink, of gentle green eyes widened with panic, framed by arched lines of sharp eyebrow. Full lips, perfect pads for kissing, pillowed above a pointed, royal chin.
Jon only had time to look down as gorgeous locks of voluminous brown hair flowed over the empty cups of his dress. With a pop and a rush of heat, two perfect drops of breasts flowed into the space offered by the cups: bountiful, round things, perfectly curved, longing for a newborn's grasp; a mouth gently pressed over the sensitive nipple, suckling mother's warmth from her bosom. The weight is supported perfectly, almost lovingly, and you cannot help to suppress a sigh as they blossom into being. Your screams are compounded by your surprise at how feminine your voice sounds: it sounds maternal, tender. The sound of it is airy, like whispers between two lovers joined forever in warm embraces.
Your arm stretched out forever, locked in elegant curves and hills of tight, warm cloth, reaching for Karyn as she disappears in a flash of light; A blinding mirage of light reflected off of every surface floods your vision as London slips into bright obscurum. You feel the Door open up behind you, a thousand hands wrapping around you, pulling you towards it: his hand squeezing your breast, teasing the nipple as you sigh into his lips, rubbing your tongue against his; The firm grip on your smooth, naked thigh as the yearning between your legs turns to need; Fingers softly weaving through your hair on the back of your head as you press your lips against his; His strong, supportive arm pressed against your supportive curves; Breath, hot and moist, draped across the top of your breasts; Lips kissing your neck under an exotic moon, sensually aware of your own perfume; The smell of leather filling your senses as he undoes your clothes; Your dress falling to the floor, breasts laid bare, yearning for his warmth; Him slipping inside, your mind going blank, warmth racing through your veins; Your whispers joining his, two lovers joined forever in warm embraces; His warmth atop yours; Groaning, sighing as he fills you with his heat, the liquid warmth spreading in your perfect belly, a smooth, ideal cusp for child-bearing; Your lustful, loving yelp as your mind goes blank, the fiery pleasure slithering through your veins.
Thoughts fill your head like witch's fire.
A fever haze compels you to surrender --
-- to let the hands of fate pull you through.
You try your hardest to resist.
But you belong to Me now.
The hands of fate pull you through.
The Door shuts.
